Red Devil (Dangerous Spirits) (15 page)

Chapter 18

He’d taken it back, he told himself when he woke, heart racing. He hadn’t thrown away everything he and Cat had sacrificed to earn his freedom here. But the itch remained in Alexei’s pawpads, though he scrubbed them clean in the morning and again once he arrived at work. In between carrying boxes around, he scraped claws around the pads on his palms until they were sore and tender.

The day was overcast and drizzly, doing nothing to help dispel the pall of his dream. In the sunlight and reality of dust and heavy packing boxes, his conversation with Konstantin felt unreal, the more so because he had called Rozalina in the morning, with light just glimmering through the kitchen window. It had been strange falling back into Siberian, but easy, perhaps because of the dreams.

Rozalina had told him that the name Bogdan Chichikov wasn’t familiar. She had checked the phone listings in Moskva and had not found him, but there were other places she could look. He said that his sister had met the fox in Vdansk, so Rozalina promised to check there as well and to call him back if she found anything. Her warm, motherly attitude had reassured Alexei, but it did not stop him from worrying about Cat, nor from thinking about his dream.

Even if the threat of Konstantin felt less substantial during the day, Alexei had to wonder what it said about him that he had agreed to give up his pursuit of Mike—and more, give up being gay, or at least acting gay. In the waking world, he could tell himself that he’d taken it back, that it would be only until Cat was safe, that it would be only until Konstantin went away. But all the same, it required him to accept Konstantin’s belief that he
could
give it up.

The way Konstantin had phrased it: deny what is in your heart for the good of all—that stuck with Alexei. He couldn’t really see where denying his attraction to Mike, or to males in general, would benefit anyone apart from perhaps Konstantin himself. Still, all of his accomplishments from Saturday night now scraped like grit in his mouth.

But as the relentless normality of Monday pushed his dream farther back into memory, Alexei’s confidence rose. He would perhaps get a call from Rozalina that night, or the next, with the phone number of this Chichikov, and then he would set up the meeting with his sister, and he could tell Konstantin to leave him. Maybe he would have to get Meg to look up a ritual to dismiss him, but he would be free, he would have his date with Mike, and everything would go well from here on out.

When he got home, he walked into his bedroom, saw the blank space on the wall above Sol’s bed, and realized that he’d forgotten to pick up the repaired picture again. He stood staring at the wall, tail swishing against the bed, trying to decide what he’d say to Sol.
I am sorry, I was distracted by this dream I had where a ghost told me to give up being gay so he could rescue my sister.
He shook his head. Best just to say nothing. He pulled his sister’s letter from his desk, more to look at her handwriting and feel her presence than to read the words again. He had promised to help her and protect her, and even though he told himself he was doing his best, the feeling of powerlessness made him shove the letter back into its drawer and get out his Siberian metal music again.

In the morning, Sol said nothing about his painting. In fact, he did not say much at all, but Alexei did not talk much either, preoccupied with wondering why Rozalina had not called, and why he had not dreamed of Konstantin. Waiting was worse, because the longer he went without hearing anything, the longer he thought about his sister at their father’s mercy. What if he’d beaten her for stealing money, for sneaking out of the house? His mother had always—usually—protected them on the rare occasions when their father had completely lost control, but what if she, too, were angry with Cat? What if they had gone too far?

While Sol was in the shower and Alexei getting dressed, he turned to the window. The morning sun caught the dust from the construction site, playing with it in swirling patterns. Alexei watched the lazy dust motes float through the air. Funny, he thought, that one looked like a “K.”

It was a “K,” he realized with a jolt. And other letters formed beside it, Siberian letters. The first word of a question:
What
.

He stayed frozen where he was, fur prickling, as the dust drifted lazily into more letters, the question forming slowly. He wished Sol would come back, wished Meg were awake. He tried to call, but his mouth would not move, his tongue dry. A short, soft whine forced its way out of his throat, not enough to be heard anywhere else, not through Meg’s door, not over the noise of the shower.

What is answer?

The letters hung in the air, and there was no question for whom they were meant, nor to what they referred. So Konstantin
had
heard his retraction and still required him to answer. “I,” Alexei squeaked, staring at the dust as though he could will their improbable message away, as though he could force them to break apart. If he turned around, he would no longer see them and he could walk out of the room. Or if he could close his eyes and open them again, the letters would be gone; it was impossible that they were there in the first place. But they remained, stubbornly hovering on the other side of his window.

“I don’t know,” Alexei forced out. “I need more time!”

Movement behind him broke the spell, made him whirl and see Sol, a towel wrapped around the black wolf’s middle. “Okay,” Sol said, “but don’t take too long or we’ll miss the bus.”

Alexei spun back to the window. Nothing floated beyond the glass except formless dust.

If Konstantin could come into his world, as Sol said Niki had done once, then that made things more dangerous, his bargain more binding. More than once as he lifted and moved boxes at work that day, he was tempted to call his parents, demand to talk to his sister. They would hang up on him, he was sure, but at least it would be something he could do. The problem was that doing so would make things worse for Cat. If he called and let them know that he was working with her, then they might make it harder for her to get away when the time came.

Is it more important to me to go out with Mike, or to rescue my sister?
When put like that, the question was ludicrous. But Cat had helped him escape, had told him he should go first and she would follow. Live life, she had told him, and I will come when I can. Still, he knew what his answer should be, and he was furious at Konstantin for making him choose, furious at his parents for creating the danger to his sister, furious at himself for taking such a long time about it.

So Tuesday evening, in the continuing drizzles, he took out his frustration on the practice field. Mike and Kendall and most of the rest of the VLGA’s soccer team showed up drinking beers. Kendall wanted to tell everyone about some store chain that had just adopted benefits for same-sex partners, attributing the change, of course, to the petition he’d started on the Internet. The discussions of same-sex partners and lives together prickled the memory of Alexei’s dream until, restless, he took the soccer ball and just did footwork drills by himself, the way he’d done back in Samorodka.

Sol came out to work with him, which reminded him that he still hadn’t picked up the picture. At least tonight he had the excuse that they were practicing, and he wouldn’t want to bring the picture to the park. Still, guilt over forgetting one more time on top of the rest of his turmoil kept Alexei quiet and focused on his exercises. When the rest of the players joined in and they moved on to game drills, Alexei dedicated himself to stopping anyone who tried to drive the ball past him, to kicking with force and precision, and to working as hard as if he were playing a game. Wet grass slipped under his feet, but he was the only one who didn’t fall at least once. When it wasn’t his turn to work with the ball, he left Sol and Kendall talking on the grass and ran two laps around the park.

He felt the need to prove himself, much as he had that weekend, but in the course of running alone with the wind whistling past him and the light fading, with drizzle seeping into his fur, he wondered whether he was proving himself to Mike or to Konstantin, or simply to himself. If he were to give up his gay life, as Konstantin demanded, should he simply leave them all and keep running, past the border of the park, out to the street and down the pavement and home? Should he run beyond that, out to Millenport, perhaps, a larger city where he could begin over, with people who didn’t need to know that he was gay? Was this something he could run away from?

Shadows lengthened around him. He felt he could just slip into one of them and vanish, reappear somewhere else as a different fox, a fox who had fled Samorodka not because he was not allowed to love there, but because he wanted a better life. And then he came around a corner of trees and saw Sol talking to Kendall, Mike standing by himself near the beers bending over to get another bottle, and a powerful rush of belonging surged through his chest. Run away? Start over? No, he had a good life here, and he would remain here. Konstantin couldn’t force him to leave.

He slowed, panting, breathing in the humid evening air across his tongue. The flood of rebellious determination reminded him of that rare confidence he’d felt Saturday night. Tonight, it had been focused on everyone rather than just Kendall; he had tried to show them up in the practice and then had drawn apart from them while he ran. Konstantin, maybe, again. He shook his head to clear it, looked up, and stopped where he stood.

Behind a large oak tree at the back of the practice field, partially hidden by the shadows of the leaves and trunk, a figure stood motionless. At first, Alexei took it for one of those people who took advantage of shady corners to drink, or to smoke not-quite-legal substances. But this figure was not smoking, nor drinking, and its large, vulpine ears pointed straight up, and a long, bushy, vulpine tail snaked out from under a long square-shouldered military coat, and the eye that glittered from above the broad, flared collar of the coat appeared to be looking directly at Alexei.

He stared back, and the figure did not move. His chest grew cold and hard as ice, his lungs compressed so that he had to labor to draw breath. His tongue hung out, but he could barely force air over it, and his throat felt raw.

It couldn’t be. This wasn’t a video game or a dream. It was just some other fox behind the tree, someone dressed in an overcoat.

“Hey,” Mike said, walking over with a Bolt. “We’re winding down. Thought you might like a…” He stopped three feet from Alexei when the fox didn’t turn. “Are you okay?”

Alexei tore his gaze from the tree, looking up into Mike’s wide, honest eyes, framed by those golden curved horns. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Alexei jumped, stumbling backwards a step. “What did you say?”

“I just—” Mike frowned and set the energy drink down. “Hey, you’re shaking. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Alexei took another step back as Mike walked toward him, arms out. He swung his head around to look at the tree where the vulpine silhouette had been standing.

It was gone. There was nothing there but the tree.

Mike followed his gaze. “Oh, shit, is that guy back? The creeper?”

“No.” The ice in his chest had melted; humid warmth drenched Alexei. With an effort, he forced his ears upright. “Did you see someone? A fox in…in a long coat?”

“Sounds like a flasher. Oh, uh, a guy who, he’d be naked under the coat and then he’d…” Mike frowned, looking down at the fox. “Are you sure you’re okay? What did that guy do?”

He reached out and put a hand on Alexei’s shoulder. The fox jumped again and swatted at Mike’s arm, knocking it away. “I’m fine,” he said, loudly. “I am fine.”

Mike held his wrist for a moment, his eyes hurt. “Fine,” he said. “Sorry.” For a moment, he just stood, the silence between them awkward, and then he turned and walked back.

Alexei’s throat closed up. He wanted to run after Mike and thank him, tell him he wanted the Bolt and wanted the touch and wanted the affection. But the remembered glitter of the eye in the shadow held him transfixed, the overcast sky bore down on him, and the dirt when he finally walked forward again felt soft and moist. He scratched at his paw pad, walked past the Bolt without touching it, and sat down alone at the side of the field. He didn’t even care that Mike and Kendall were talking, shooting glances his way. He sat where he was until Sol came over to take him home.

On the bus, Sol asked him twice whether he was okay, and by that point Alexei had recovered some of his composure. Even though his heart still beat quickly, he tried to talk to himself logically. His date with Mike was a whole two days away. Anything could happen in that time. He just had to keep control of himself and not act too crazy. He wished he’d thought of this before leaving the park, so he could apologize to Mike, but at least he had the sheep’s phone number and could text him.
Thanks for the drink,
he wrote
. I am sorry for acting strange. Thought I saw someone I knew.

Mike hadn’t answered by the time they got home. The rain had increased, so they hurried up to the front of the building. As they slipped in the front door, Sol said, “Hey, I don’t mean to press, but, uh, do you know when the picture will be ready?”

“Oh,” Alexei said. “It should be soon. I know that we have practice today and the game tomorrow, but I think Thursday for sure.”

“Okay,” Sol said. “Just wondering.”

And Mike wrote back just then saying,
Hey, no problem. Talk to you tomorrow.

So Alexei felt better, and as Sol was sitting down at the desk, the fox sat on his bed facing the wolf. “Sol,” he said. Sol’s ears flicked, and then he turned to look at Alexei. “I am sorry if this is difficult, but…when you were having dreams, when things were coming back, as you said…”

Sol looked away, but his ears stayed mostly up and his shoulders mostly squared, not slumping. “Yeah?”

“I know that there were some things…” Alexei stopped. “Did…did you ever think a person might have come back?”