Revenant (3 page)

Sage’s teeth flash in the single streetlight as he smiles at me. “Whatever you say, princess.”

I would hit him, but I’m too amused. A strange place and time to find humor, but I’m not one to discard the chance to lighten the mood if it makes him feel better.

Sage dozes on my shoulder as the hours pass. Iosif promised his men would take us to the border of Slovakia, bribe our way across. It was the best he could do, but it will mean we are out of Ukraine and, with the new papers in our possession, it’s enough.

I refuse to worry what I now owe the Mafia leader. He’s no Ukrainian, Russian by birth, from what I understand. But unlike other Russian leaders, he has adapted to our country, made himself comfortable, adopted us as his own. The cold and terrible emptiness in the hearts of other Mafia leaders I’ve met is absent in Iosif. He is either an excellent actor—able to fool even a werewolf—or he genuinely cares for the people. An odd combination for a man steeped in organized crime. His own code of ethics could get him in trouble one day.

I will be there on that day to make sure he is the victorious one for what he’s done for Sage and me.

A pothole jars the van, lifting me from the floor slightly, slamming me back down again. Sage surges awake, a growl on his lips. He turns to face me as the two guards cock their weapons, looking suddenly fearful. As they should. Sage’s eyes have gone wolf.

I turn toward him, reaching for him with my magic, fear surging in my heart. Is this the time, when the revenant begins to show? Were we in the palace, he would be dragged from his cell and to the throne room, to be beheaded and then cast upon a pyre to burn to dust. But he’s here, with me, and if I’ve chosen wrong, it’s possible the two guards will die for my foolishness.

But when I fix my gaze and power upon Sage, I realize there is no madness in him. The wolf has risen, barely to the surface, a reaction to being startled. But he is sane and present, the scent of him as fresh as ever, though now filled with the musky depth of a wolf.

His snarl retreats, dark eyes returning to their sea green, my own canine vision crisp even in the low light.

“Sorry,” he mutters, shaking his head. “What happened?”

I laugh nervously, just for his ears, before glaring at the two Mafia guards. They are shaking, eyes wide. Iosif must have warned them about Sage. Did he give orders to kill us both if my love began to turn? I wouldn’t be surprised, despite his claims of trust. He has his “concerned parties” to worry about, after all.

“He’s fine,” I say, cold, commanding. “Cowards.”

That raises frowns, anger. The bald one uncocks his handgun, though he remains stiff, while his friend looks forward toward the driver.

“How long?” His Ukrainian is rough, uncultured. Another foreigner in my country. I shake off my irritation and listen for the reply.

“Two more miles.” The driver is a slim man with a ragged scar on his cheek. He chain-smokes filterless cigarettes, his window wide open to the cold. I shiver and pull Sage to me, feeling his wolf retreat until it is gone.

The bald guard nods to me. “The border,” he says in even harsher Ukrainian.

I wave him off, speaking Russian so I don’t have to listen to him butcher my mother tongue with his uncouth mouth. “We’re ready.” My new backpack rests behind me, a softer place to lean on than the cold wall of the van.

They seem more than happy to see us go. And the feeling is completely mutual.

I peer over the driver’s shoulder, nose flaring at the heavy scent of smoke, wolf’s gaze catching the distant glimmer of lights signaling the border crossing.

“Arrangements have been made,” the driver says in a cheerful tone. He, at least, is Ukrainian, judging by his accent. “This will be but a moment.”

I nod, begin to sit back, before freezing in place when I feel them against my shielding.

Enforcers. I jerk back into position, eyes narrowing, searching the sky over the rapidly approaching border. They are nowhere in sight, but I sense the pressure of their power. Femke is looking for us.

For a moment, I consider turning us in. At least Femke will be fair, treat Sage with courtesy and kindness. But she is bound by law, and will have no choice but to return us to my grandfather. So, no. We must avoid her Enforcers at all costs.

“Stop.” The driver is startled, drops his cigarette with a curse, slamming on the brakes at the grating sound of my voice in his ear. “We must get out here.”

The bald guard joins me behind the driver’s seat. “What is it?”

I shake my head, turning to Sage who stares at me with growing anxiety.

“Nothing you can help us with,” I say as I lunge for Sage and our backpacks. “Tell Iosif thank you. Your duty is done.”

The back of the van opens easily under my hands, the well-oiled hinges telling me we’re not the first ones forced to sneak out before the journey is over. The bald guard slips out the back with us, breath rising from his lips in a column of mist as he points off to the right.

“Tsurl,” he says. “Small town, you can hide there.”

I look to the left. “And that way?”

“Train tracks.” He shrugs, washing his hands of us as he leaps into the back of the van and pulls the doors shut.

I pull Sage off the rutted road as the van makes a U-turn, the driver waving a jaunty farewell with his glowing cigarette. Tall grass and brush are an excellent hiding place in the dark, but only for a short time. I glance up the road toward the border, waiting to see if the van’s departure has been noticed.

Nothing, no movement. And the Enforcer presence is steady, as though waiting, not actively searching. So we are in no worse shape now than before.

Sage shoulders his pack, turning right, toward town. But I’m already slinking across the road, heading left. He hurries to catch up with me, hand on my arm. “Where are we going?”

“Enforcers are waiting for us at the border.” Femke has to uphold law, even werelaw. The magical safety of Europe is her responsibility and having Sage running around—a known revenant in her territory—means she’s now forced to pursue us. Sage grimaces, looks back over his shoulder. “We’ll find a way across.” I pull him along by his grip on me, feeling his hand slide down to take mine. “But, for now, I don’t feel like walking, do you?” He shakes his head. “Then let’s go catch a train.”

***

The train is the perfect choice, at least. And Sage surprises me in how easily and courageously he boards the slow-moving boxcar. We luck out. The section of track near the border is curved and steep, offering an excellent opportunity for us to board safely. When I grin at him from the dark of the boxcar after a daring leap, he grins back.

“Not my first time traveling,” he says.

We settle among piles of boxes on the steel floor, a large sheet of discarded cardboard our only cushion, but enough to keep the chill of the metal from seeping through and into us. I position myself with a clear view of the partially open door, eyes locked on the horizon rolling past. Sage rummages through the bag Iosif gave him, snuffling at the foil-wrapped bundle he pulls free before his eyes light up.

He manages to control his hunger long enough to offer me some of his roast beef sandwich, the bread thick and homemade, fresh cut from the smell, but I wave him off, amused by the relief in his smile as he devours his meal. I’m certain another sandwich hides in my own bag, but I’ll save it for later. I’m far too tense to enjoy food right now and Sage might need it later.

Sage finally slips back, resting his shoulders against a box, pressed against me, sighing softly as he brushes crumbs from his jacket. “Man, I’ve never been so starved.”

I don’t comment, though worry pings. Young werewolves are often voracious eaters. I then have to remind myself he’s not a werewolf at all, but a human turning revenant. That just adds to my anxiety.

I hardly needed the reminder.

Sage’s hand slips around mine, fingers warm through the leather of my glove despite the cool evening. I slip my fingers free so I can touch his skin, heart aching for him as I suddenly realize my family and my problems aren’t the only consideration.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the dark, the rattling of the train almost swallowing my words. But his ear is very close to my lips and he turns to face me, a little frown on his brow.

“I am, too,” he says. “I’ve ruined your life.”

I squeeze his hand, leaning my head on his shoulder. “Your parents,” I say. “I’ve been so focused on getting us to California, I forgot you have family.”

Sage stiffens, clears his throat. “I don’t know what I’d tell them,” he says, voice thick. “I guess I should try to call them or something.” His thumb traces circles over the back of my hand. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know what to say.” His free hand runs through his dark hair. “They're used to me rambling around, but this? 'Hi, Mom, Dad, I'm turning into a supernatural creature and could be executed for it?' How do I explain this when I don't truly understand it myself?” Sage’s lips brush my forehead. “At least they will still have Zach and Peach.” Sage’s twin siblings, a boy and girl, half his age. I wish now I’d had a chance to meet his family. He’d offered, several times, but I resisted, knowing we couldn’t be. Would it have made things easier for me, if I’d gotten to know them? Or harder?

It doesn’t matter now, either way. And this conversation isn’t about me, anyway.

“If something happens to me,” Sage says.

“You’re going to be fine.” The words snap out of me, growled in the voice of a wolf.

Sage doesn’t say anything for a moment before his body rises and falls in a sigh. “Just, please, tell them something. Make up a story, an accident, something. Don’t leave them wondering if I’m alive or dead.”

Tears sting my eyes, my mouth tight as I fight off the quiver in my lower lip. “I promise.” I won’t have to fulfill that promise, so it’s easy to make. “Tell me about them?”

He seems surprised. I’ve never asked before, and, in fact, I’ve shut him down in the past when he’s tried to share. Sage doesn’t need further encouragement. I close my eyes and picture his family as he tells me stories about family adventures, like the year they spent in Guatemala volunteering and building schools, his mother’s first skydive, his father’s passion for snowboarding. They are an incredible family, I can tell from every word he speaks, and his love of them washes over me as I absorb Sage’s memories.

“You’ve been away from them for a long time.” I can’t remember the last time he went home to visit, though it’s possible he didn’t tell me because he stopped asking me to join him.

“A year,” he says. “I meant to go home for Christmas. Hoped to talk you into coming this time.” He laughs, without bitterness. “I guess that’s not going to happen, is it?”

I don’t comment. I can’t. There’s nothing to say. I’m silent so long Sage drifts into sleep, breathing regular against my forehead, heartbeat slow and deep. I can’t find my own calm, awake with my mind turning for hours, though I’m grateful he manages to get some rest.

I’ve treated Sage like a toy, at times, a secret love I told no one about. And though I’ve known all along he has his own feelings, hurts, desires, passions, I’ve ignored them in favor of my little fantasy. But this is a real life, his is an existence outside my personal experience. And now he’s at risk, his whole world, the people who love him about to lose him.

I’ve been so selfish. As much as I want Sage to be cured, I can’t put my desires first. I must find a way to save him and return him to his family, even if that means we are truly done forever.

I wince inwardly. When I chose to let him go before, it was a girl’s vanity and pride that drove me. This time, if I get the chance to release him, I will do so out of love, not the call of duty or petulance about my future. I will make sure Sage is safe and happy, without me.

***

WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?

I almost leap out of my skin at the shout in my head. I must have dozed off after all, weakening my shields. My heart pounds painfully as I gasp a breath and shove Syd back.

Please
, I send as I wall her off,
stay out of this
.

Charlotte
. Her words worm their way into my head.
Stubborn, bull-headed, frustrating weregirl!
Damn it, let me help you
.

I won’t have you put the family in danger for me
, I send back, firmly closing the gap
. I won’t, Syd. And neither would you in my place
.

She fights me, but I win at last as Sage sits up, eyes wild, but human.

“What’s wrong?” He’s reaching for his pack while I climb to my feet and take my own, slipping the straps over my shoulders and pulling them tight. The rumbling of the boxcar we’re using for transportation makes it hard to hear him, even for my sharp wolf-assisted ears. I head for the partially open door, looking out into the dark. It’s been a long night. We’ve crossed the country once again, it seems, heading for Luhansk far to the east to lay false trail. But now that Syd has found me, we have to disembark and find another route. I wouldn’t put it past her to come looking for me and I just can’t have that.

I look out into the very late night and hear, to my relief, the engine ahead begins to gear down, the rattling slowing as the train reduces speed. “We must be coming up to a station,” I say.

“Luck is with us,” Sage says, tightening up the straps on his own bag. He winces as the left strap cuts into his shoulder, but never complains.

“It is,” I say. “May it continue so.” I feel Syd prod my mind, but she misses more than she hits. Our movement is making it hard for her to pinpoint me. Which means we need to catch another train, hopefully toward the border. Doing so should shake her off.

“There’s a town.” Sage leans far out, one hand holding the door. “Not far. We should jump before the train stops.”

I nod. “Ready.”

We wait another minute until the train is barely moving before we leap out into the brush at the side of the tracks. I crouch there, watching the cars pass, waiting for signs we’ve been spotted, but nothing happens. Sage is grinning again and I wish he wouldn’t. Because I smile back, as though this is fun somehow and not life and death. His life and death.