Page 62 of Spring's Arcana
“Lots of questions.” He halted, turned slowly on one heel; his boots were the same, and their toes glittered viciously. He didn’t seem to notice she was in her pyjamas, which was probably a blessing. “So, you went downstairs. Who was it, eh?”
“Coyote. He had silver on his hat, like your—”
“Oh, him.” He wasn’t going to let her finish a sentence, it looked like. “Never mind him,zaika,he just a dancing fool. You hungry?”
Oh, for God’s sake. The irony of the thought wasn’t lost on her; still, it wasn’t blasphemy if everyone said it on television, right? “It’s fine.” Miraculously, he didn’t interrupt, so she continued. “Shouldn’t we… isn’t there a doctor or something?”A god doctor? Hygieia? Hippocrates? Trapper John, M.D.?“You look…” Words failed her as he glared from under a messy shock of dark hair, slurping at coffee that had to be too hot.
Just as the man in the silver-banded hat had last night.
“Look at you.” He smacked his lips and grinned. “Pretty girl all worried for Dima. Maybe I show you so you forget just what we doing here, huh?”
Well, she had been feeling some sympathy, but if he was determined to ruin it, fine. “And maybe I can find another ride to where we’re going.”
“Oh, sure. Go on, see what happens. At least Baba keeping you safe until I get my hands on it,zaika. Old granny probably thinks you better for her than your momma Mascha. Ever think of that?” He bore down on her with all the fluidity of a jungle cat, one soft,heavy step at a time. “You trust too much. Better toughen up and start thinking how to keep me from eating you. Chomp, chomp.” His teeth snapped together, a heavy click like billiard balls meeting.
“I heard someone could eat that Heart.” Nat’s chin lifted slightly. “What would that do, I wonder?”
He stilled, peering over the top of the mug. “You hungry as your mama, girl?”
“She could have eaten it before, right?”Helluva stomachache, Coyote said.“But she didn’t.”
“And smart little girl wondering why. It’s no good to your mama; she need different food.”
That was interesting, but Nat had another question. It bolted free of her before she could close her mouth, probably spurred by lack of caffeine. “So de Winter had it, and you did what she said. Right?”
“Oh, you think you hold it and make Dmitri little errand boy?” He lowered the coffee mug and examined her from top to toe, dark eyes burning behind swollen lids. “Maybe I do that. Bring pretty girl some pretty things, show you a good time.” His smile widened, finally became lascivious, and Nat was hard-pressed not to shudder.
“I don’t want anything you’re likely to bring me.” Stolen goods weren’t her cup of java, and hadn’t Bonnie and Clyde died in a hail of bullets? Some women might like that sort of thing.
But not Maria Drozdova’s daughter.
The leer turned into a scowl. “Too good for me, eh?”
Isn’t that just like a man?It was something Mom might have said, and Nat’s pre-coffee temper threatened to break. “Is there a reason you’re in here, Dmitri?”
“Coffee.” He waved the mug, threatening to slop whatever was inside in every direction. “And maybe I wanted to see what you sleep in,Drozdova.”
She should have known he would turn out to be just like every other male except Leo. “Fine. I’ll get ready and we can go.”
“In a hurry now?”
“Will you just stop? For God’s sake.” Her fingernails bit her upper arms, and her legs trembled.
But he just gave a bitter little laugh and sauntered past, slurping at the mug again. “Exactly,” he said, as he reached the door. “Egg-zack-ly,zaika. Godsake. Oh, you a funny little girl for sure.”
Everyone was finding her hilarious lately. He toed the door as he passed, and it shut with a sound far heavier than it should. Maybe he just wanted to irritate her before the day’s drive.
In that case, he’d succeeded. But it also left Nat wondering just why in hell her mother stole a god’s heart and created a cross-country scavenger hunt.
It didn’t seem very efficient, and not like Maria Drozdova at all.
RUNNING FROM SOMETHING
A second coffee pod, a quick shower, and a protein bar scarfed in the wide white luxurious bathroom readied Nat for another day of travel; the sleek silver room-service trolley that appeared while she bathed remained unplundered, though the gangster gave her plenty of curious sidelong looks once she was finished getting ready and knocked on the connecting door.
She’d done her best to block the bathroom door with her backpack, and kept looking through fogged shower-door glass to make sure it wasn’t moving. Dmitri had also taken the opportunity to clean himself up, too, because he was in yet another suit a few shades away from true black, with sharply ironed creases and a tie the color of an oil slick.
The boots were still the same, though.
