Wilder Family Halloween

WILDER FAMILY HALLOWEEN: A Darkness Chosen Epilogue

Copyright 2012 by Christina Dodd

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the express,

written consent of the copyright holders.

Wilder Family Halloween is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed herein are fictitious and are not based on any real persons living or dead.

Zorana and Konstantine Wilder have moved into their new home, a fabulous house built to replace

the one that burned in the cataclysmic fire at the end of the Darkness Chosen saga. They built it on

their own land, among the grape vines and tall trees in the high valley of Washington’s Cascade

mountains. Now they have four bedrooms upstairs, one for each one of their sons and their wives, a

master suite downstairs, and a huge attic where someday the grandchildren they have hoped for

and imagined can sleep and play. Most important, Zorana has a big kitchen with stainless steel

appliances, a table long enough to feed their family and friends, and a six-burner gas range and two

ovens. (“Two ovens? Woman, why do you need two ovens?” “Husband, for the same reason you

need a new tractor with a heater in the cab.”) End of discussion.

To celebrate their new home, Zorana and Konstantine plan a Halloween party …

Konstantine Wilder gloated as he walked beside the long kitchen table laden with food: Ukrainian

foods from their homeland, foods like varenyky, delicious dumplings, some savory and filled with

potatoes and beef, and some sweet with dark, ripe cherries. Then there were pickled mushrooms,

and black caviar on shaved white ice with toast and butter. And American foods like caramel corn

with mixed nuts, pumpkin bread, and his favorite, red candied apples. For the children, Zorana had

prepared a bubbling bowl of black punch with a frozen hand floating in it.

The frozen hand had been his idea.

Such a fabulous bounty to share with their friends and neighbors who had helped them after their

home had burned.

But they had a half-hour before the guests were supposed to arrive, and he was hungry.

No one would miss one cherry varenyky…

He reached out a hand.

“Papa, stop that right now!” Firebird paused in the doorway, a tray laden with shot glasses and a full

bottle of fine Russian vodka.

“No one wil miss just one.” His voice rumbled deep in his chest. He had raised this child. She should

show him respect.

And she did … except her respect for her mother outweighed her respect for him, at least in the matter of food.

“If you could stop at just one, that would be fine. But we all know you can’t, so pull that hand back or I'll go and tell Mama.” Firebird glared at him threateningly.

He drew himself up to his full height. He lifted his chin. And he pulled his hand back. He pouted as

he returned the glare of his darling daughter. For that was how he thought of Firebird, now and

forever.

She was dressed like a Cheshire cat and as she looked him over, she grinned like one, too. “Wow.

Papa. I like the bunny outfit.”

Konstantine touched the fuzzy brown tip of one ear. “At my request, your mother made the costume.

I did not wish to frighten the children.”

Firebird walked close, stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I can’t imagine why any child would be

frightened by a six-and-a-half foot tall bunny.”

“Nor can I.”

Tugging his head down so she could whisper in his ear (his real ear, not the brown fuzzy one), she

added, “Especially not a bunny who has a new grandchild on the way.”

“A new grandchild? Another child? You … you’re expecting? You will have a babe to join Aleksandr

in our family?”

Aleksandr was three and a half, the smartest, most handsome child in the world, and coincidentally,

the only Wilder grandchild.

Now delight fil ed Konstantine’s heart, and he held out his arms to hug his daughter.

But she handed him the tray. “Douglas is bursting with pride — ”

“As he should be, to have two fine children.”

“— And we will all look forward to this birth in the spring. Now go put the tray in the living room

before the guests arrive!” She walked around him into the kitchen to polish off the final preparations

for the party.

He followed her, intent on getting to the root of this mystery which Zorana had set before him.

“Firebird?”

She turned to him, glowing with the blessing that carrying a child bestowed. “Yes, Papa?”

“What is your mother wearing to the party?”

“I don’t know, Papa. She wouldn’t tell me.”

“Humph.” Turning, he went into the gigantic living room Zorana had decorated with warm colors,

comfortable furniture, large area rugs, and lots of pillows and pictures.

But he had done his part, too, dangling skeletons from the high ceiling, draping spider webs over the

lamps, and carving fearsome faces into pumpkins grown in Zorana’s own garden. Now the lights

were low, the pumpkin goblins glowed … and only his family realized that goblins were real and

terrifying, and haunted the winter night.

Well. After the great battle the Wilders had fought to break the thousand-year-old deal with the devil, maybe a few of the neighbors had figured out there was more to fear in this land than what they

could taste and smell and hear. But they nobly pretended they knew nothing of the Wilders’ contacts

with the Other World, and gave generously of their friendships anyway.

He placed the platter on the tall buffet, poured a shot of vodka in each glass, and wondered why

Zorana had made such a mystery of this costume she had created, and why it was taking her so

long to dress. In mere moments, the guests would arrive, and it was not like his woman to be late.

At the sound of someone walking gingerly down the stairs, he turned and saw his daughter-in-law,

Ann, dressed in a kangaroo with a joey in her pouch.

“Ah, my darling Ann.” He waved her over. “You know what Zorana is wearing to the party, don’t

you?”

“No, Papa, why? Wouldn’t she tell you?” Ann came to his side, taking care not to trip over her own

big, fuzzy feet.

“No,” he said grumpily. “She said she would wear a costume appropriate to her role in the family.”

Smart-mouthed Ann said, “Then maybe she’l be a cook or a mechanic or a gardener or a

housekeeper or —“

“Here.” He picked up a herring from the platter of appetizers and stuck it under Ann’s nose. “Eat this

and be quiet.”

Turning pale, she pushed it away. “No. Please. Papa. It makes me sick.”

“Sick? Why would a herring make you sick? It has never made you sick before.” Leaning down, he

peered into her suddenly shy eyes. “You are expecting!”

“Sh!” She covered his mouth with her hand. “Yes, yes, I am, we’l have a baby in the spring, but

Jasha and I were going to tell you and Mama together.”

“Don’t worry. It will be our secret.” He watched proudly as she went to the kitchen to help Firebird

spoon sour cream over the varenyky with cherries.

The front door slammed, and Konstantine’s last two daughters-in-law ran in from the barn, their noses red with the brisk October autumn.

Tasya held a handful of straw, and she stuffed it in her chick costume. “This stuff pokes right through the cloth and scratches me,” she complained.

“Would you rather dress as a princess?” Karen asked.

“No.” Because Tasya had truly once been a princess, and she wouldn’t trivialize the grief that honor

had brought her. “But Karen, you are a beautiful mermaid.”

“Thank you.” Karen had been raised by her father to be a tough woman, a construction manager in

the world’s most dangerous places. It was in one of those places she had met Adrik, and been held

captive by him, and hated him. It was only after she had escaped, and he had been sent to the

world’s darkest pit of despair, that he had learned to be a man worthy of her.

Their courtship had been a bumpy one.

Al of his sons’ courtships had been bumpy.

Not his. Not Konstantine’s, who had been the first male in his family in a thousand years to fall in

love, and his Zorana had fallen right back in love with him.

Of course, when he kidnapped Zorana from her clan, she had stabbed him.

He grinned.

But only once.

Now Karen preened, showing off the glimmering scales on her glittery tail, always happy to wear

something decorated with sequins and pearls. Then she paused, hand pressed against her waist,

and winced. “This darned costume fit me better when I bought it. Now it’s tight around the middle.”

Tasya laid her hand on Karen’s stomach. “Are you going to have guppies?”

“Guppies? No! I’m only going to have one, er, guppy.” Karen put her hand over Tasya's and looked

at her sister-in-law. “I hope.”

“You, too?” Tasya exclaimed. Realizing what she had confessed, she looked first pleased, then

horrified. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Konstantine clapped his hand over his mouth.

How could he possibly keep so many secrets? Secrets from Zorana? The woman possessed a

frightening ability to sense when he withheld information, and an all-too-pleasing way of worming

those secrets out of him.

Yet Zorana also had a way of knowing when another woman was pregnant. Maybe it was because she understood all people and the mysteries surrounding them.

Maybe it was because she was a gypsy witch.

Tasya continued, “Rurik and I were going to wait until I was farther along before we told anyone.”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell, either,” Karen admitted.

“Both of you are with child?” Konstantine held out his arms to the wives of his sons.

They hugged him, then hugged each other, and their cheer brought Firebird and Ann from the

kitchen to make known their secrets and rejoice with the others.

Konstantine assured them, “Don’t worry. I will never tell, not even under torture.” He was safe in

saying that; he was almost positive Zorana would never tie him up and torture him.

“You have a very funny expression on your face, Papa,” Firebird said.

“I am having happy thoughts,” he answered.

“We want to name our baby Antai, after my father,” Tasya confessed.

“Or perhaps Jennica, after your mother,” he suggested.

The four girls viewed him doubtfully.

“It is true, in a thousand years, we have had only sons born from my family’s loins. So a daughter

would be a miracle.” Konstantine stroked his long, bunny whiskers. “But in this family, we are familiar with miracles.”

The women agreed.

Miracles had a way of happening to the Wilders. His voice was low and deep with sincerity when he

said, “Our mere survival is a miracle for which I every day thank the Good God.”

Ann started to sniff.

Firebird wiped her sudden tears on her tail.

Karen and Tasya both held out as long as they could before they both broke down and cried.

Konstantine sighed. He remembered every one of Zorana’s pregnancies, and the months when

Firebird grew large with Aleksandr, and those times had been rife with weeping. Now with four

women shedding tears, he would be wiping wet eyes and making comforting noises all the time.

But he could buy stock in Kleenex, and he figured that was a small price to pay for four more intelligent, beautiful and mischievous grandchildren.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to pay that price by himself.

His sons would take most of the load.

His sons, who were descending the stairs.

Jasha wore a lamb costume.

Rurik was dressed like a mouse.

Adrik was a puppy.

And Douglas, like his father, was a bunny — but a pink bunny. They came to their father and lined

up, looking at each other and nodded approvingly.

Their wives gazed at them, at the five giant, strong, dangerous men dressed as the meekest animals

they could find.

Although Konstantine couldn’t comprehend why, the women fell on each others’ shoulders, now

almost crying with laughter. “Never going to fool …” “Yeah, like that’s going to work …” “The sil iest

thing I’ve ever …”

“Why are they laughing?” he asked.

His sons shrugged.

He shrugged. Over the sound of female hilarity, he asked his sons, “Where is your mother? What is

she wearing? Where is Aleksandr?”

“Mama has Aleksandr, I don’t know what she’s wearing, and she said they were coming right down,”

Douglas replied.

Konstantine turned his gaze to the top of the stairs, and there she was: the love of his life, the

warrior at his side, the bane of his existence … his wife, Zorana.

She descended the stairs, graceful, serene, dressed in a black, calf-length wool skirt, black heeled