“Ian?” Rumor asked again.
He pulled his hand out from under his blanket and traced the lines of the tattoo for her. “This symbol represents a wolf,” he said, tracing the shape near his shoulder. “And this shape is a doe,” he then explained, tracing the shape on the lower part of the upper arm. “You see, they are entwined together. And this,” he said, motioning toward the middle, “is a symbol for eternity.”
“Very romantic,” Rumor said thoughtfully, “the wolf and the doe.”
Jamie looked at me. I could not meet his gaze.
“You will feel better soon,” she told Ian and then rose.
I stepped aside, clearing the door for her. She paused as she exited.
“Sergi, how does it look?” she asked the doctor in dialect. Her eyes were on Ian.
“Bad,” he replied in the same.
“Fix it. I want this one,” she said again in dialect.
“Da,” he replied, nodding affirmatively.
She turned and looked at me. Her eyes held mine. She smiled softly, one corner of her mouth pulling into a sardonic little grin, then walked away, Katya following her. Her perfume hung in the air long after she had gone.
Chapter 26
On the way back to our room, we stopped to check in on Frenchie.
“You were right, Layla,” she whispered once we were inside.
“What happened?” I scanned the room. The girls were lying in bed, but they were not yet sleeping. They looked exhausted and scared.
She shook her head. “Nothing, but every eye here is on my children. There are no other kids here. We’ve made a terrible mistake. We need to go back.”
“Something tells me they won’t be inclined to allow that,” Jamie told her.
Frenchie looked horrified.
I hugged her tightly and then sat down on the bed beside the little girls. “Not sleeping?” I asked, tucking them in.
They shook their heads.
“Tell us a story, Layla,” Kira said.
“Layla is busy, honey,” Frenchie said.
“It’s okay,” I said, “I know a good story. It is a very old story. My grandmother used to tell it to me. Far, far away there is a city called Kiev. Once, long ago, a Prince lived there; his name was Vladimir. The Prince put a man named Stvar in jail. Stvar was a rash man who made hasty decisions and talked too much. When his wife, a strong and wise woman, a bogatyrka, named Vasilisa Nikulichna heard about it, she knew she had to save the one she loved. She dressed like a man and put on all of her weapons. Once she got to court, she told Prince Vladimir she was a foreign prince, Vasily. She demanded his dearest object, his daughter. The Prince did not realize Vasilisa was a woman. He devised tests for her. He asked her to best his warriors in strength. She fought hand-to-hand against the soldiers, defeating them in turn. He tested her precision. She shot her small bow longer and farther than the others. The Prince’s daughter suspected Vasilisa was a woman so asked the Prince to invite Vasilisa to steam in the bathhouse. Vasilisa, however, had wit. She rushed inside the bathhouse, wet her head, and finished the bath before the Prince arrived so he never saw her body. Thereafter the Prince agreed to give his daughter in marriage. Later, at the celebration, Vasilisa asked the Prince for a harp player, but the only harp player he had was Stvar. The Prince released Stvar from prison. Once Vasilisa’s husband was free, she revealed the true identity. Ashamed, the Prince let the couple go free.”
By the time I had finished the tale, the girls had gone to sleep. I scanned the room, finding the mini-fridge. I rose from the side of the bed. As quietly as possible, not wanting to wake the girls, I raided the fridge.
“That stuff is long dead,” Frenchie whispered as I dug around inside.
I found what I was searching for: salt. There was a small travel shaker hidden on the door. I popped it open and dumped a line of salt in front of the door leading to the hallway. Frenchie’s room also had a sliding glass door that led to a balcony. I poured salt all along the entrance.
“Salt?” Jamie asked.
“Grandma Petrovich always said it keeps evil spirits away, that they can’t pass salt. We can at least try,” I replied.
“Thank you, Layla,” Frenchie said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Get some sleep. I’ll be back in the morning,” I told her. Then, almost as an after-thought, I pulled a vial of holy water from my vest. “Here,” I said, handing it to her. “Just keep this on you. It’s holy water.”
“Holy water?”
I nodded.
Frenchie looked at me in amazement. “What have we done?”
I hugged her again and then Jamie and I headed to our room.
Back in the honeymoon suite, I blocked the door then sat on the side of the bed and uunholstered my weapons. I pulled off my boots and clothes, leaving on a t-shirt and panties, and slid under the covers. I was exhausted.