Page 123 of Close Quarter
Vasil Kutsera stood on the promenade deck and looked out into the New York Harbor. Early morning sun cast pale golden light onto the green hue of the Statue of Liberty.Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning tobreathe free, the inscription read. Well, he was one out of three. Tired. Very, very tired. He still could not sleep at night, even after Mr. Quint and Mr. Matherton had told him the upyr were gone.
Destroyed.
He'd cleaned up the ash in the garden before anyone else had discovered it. The blood too.
Disposed of the razor-sharp shards of silver. Later that day, maintenance had replaced the cracked paver. Thank the Lord no one had asked about that.
Dreams haunted him. Nothing that made any sense. Fire and sand. Wings. The achingly beautiful face of a woman with long black hair and eyes as dark as storms.
Prayer helped a little. He'd taken to clutching the tiny travel diptych his brother Jan had given him before he'd signed on to the cruise line. The Pantocrator and the Theotokos.
"You'll see such interesting things!"Jan had said.
Vasil swallowed a bitter laugh. If only he had known.
The cruise ship moved lazily in the water, following the pilot boat. According to the logs, it had been an amazingly uneventful cruise. Except, of course, for Mr. Quint being leshii and Mr. Matherton being--whatever it was that he was.
And the upyr biting him. Vasil rubbed his neck. No scar left, but for the one inside.
The one that allowed him to see what shouldn't be seen. Streaks of color wound through the sky like streamers in the air. But overwhelmingly, green ribbons fluttered and wove, tying the land to the ship. They curled around the deck, around Vasil, and slipped under the door into the ship. When Mr. Matherton and Mr. Quint pushed those double doors open in tandem, Vasil was unsurprised to see the green light wrap around them.
He was also not shocked when the pair came toward him.
Vasil rubbed his eyes. The leshii was inhumanly beautiful. Everything the stories had ever said. Most of the time, it hurt to look at him, so Vasil focused more on Mr. Matherton. There was a touch of the wild in him, but he was merely humanly gorgeous. Today he wore jeans and a black T-shirt emblazoned with some rock band's image in dark gray. Odd contrast to Mr. Quint's tan slacks and red polo shirt.
"Vasil," Mr. Matherton said. "How are you?"
"I'm well, thank you. And you?"
He liked Mr. Matherton, despite everything.
Had he not been a passenger and had he not been so obviously in love with Mr. Quint... But it was what it was. Like so many other things in Vasil's life.
"Are you?" Mr. Quint asked. Another stream fluttered against the breeze. It twined around the leshii's arm.
Vasil smiled. Or tried to. "Of course."
Neither man looked convinced.
Mr. Matherton glanced at the deck before speaking. "I have something for you."
"I'm not supposed to take gifts. Tips for the staff--"
"It's not from me. Or Silas."
Vasil glanced at Mr. Quint. He'd gone still in a way humans did not.
Mr. Matherton cleared his throat, his face reddening. "You asked me...that night..."
Oh.Vasil fought the urge to step back and won. But cold tendrils wrapped around his arms and legs, much as the strange light wrapped around the men in front of him. "You met an angel."
Mr. Matherton nodded. His eyes were wide with memory. Vasil could almost touch the awe.
"And I asked if he'd pray for you. He said he would."
Lord have mercy.He struggled to find words in Ruthenian, let alone English. "Thank you. I don't know what to say."
"He also asked me to give you this." Mr. Matherton fished into the front pocket of his jeans, then held out achotkis. The beads glinted in the light, flashing the same colors as the ribbons that danced above the harbor.
