Gunmetal Magic(82)

Wow.

Roman shifted his bird staff into the crook of his elbow and petted her nose. “Good girl. See, we can ride.”

“Together on one horse?”

He grinned.

“You’re a dirty volhv,” I told him.

“Okay, okay, I’ll walk.”

“No, it’s your horse. Besides, I’m a big girl. I can make it home on my own.”

“No.” He shook his head. “If you walk away, I’ll just follow you. I’m going to see you home safe.”

His jaw muscles were set, giving his face that telltale stubborn expression. Great. My dark volhv turned out to be a Southern gentleman. I had struck some sort of uniquely male chord in his soul. In his head, abandoning me alone on a night street clearly did not compute.

“There are some women who’d be offended in my place,” I told him. “I’m not helpless and I turn into a monster.”

“Maybe I’m afraid and I want company.” He pretended to shiver. “I may need a big strong monster to protect me. You wouldn’t leave a defenseless attractive man out on the streets alone, would you?”

I laughed. “Okay. You win.”

Soon the two staves rested securely in a leather holder attached to the saddle and my tower was packed into a saddlebag. We walked, Roman with his hand on the horse’s black leather reins embroidered with silver thread and I next to him, carrying a compound bow and a quiver of arrows I had gotten out of the car.

“So why the Chernobog?” I asked. “I’m sure Russians have other gods, besides the deity of cold, evil, and death.”

“It’s the family trade. Our pantheon is all about balance. Where there is light, there must be darkness. Life is followed by death and the decay nourishes new life. Belobog, the white god, and Chernobog, they are brother gods, you see. My uncle is a white volhv, one of his sons will likely be a white volhv, too, and our side is the black volhvs. So that’s why I’m Chernobog’s priest.” He turned to me and grinned. “And also for the chicks.”

Ha! “The chicks?”

“Mhm.” He nodded, completely serious. “Women like a man in black.”

I laughed.

“Admit you were impressed,” he said.

I kept laughing.

“A little bit?” He held up his index finger and his thumb about an inch away from each other. “Not even a little bit?”

“I was impressed.”

“See?”

“It’s just you seem really funny and easygoing.”

“I do enough bad shit to keep ten city blocks awake at night wrapped up in nightmares. I don’t need to maintain an image. At least not all the time.” He glanced at me. “I’m really quite a nice fellow in my time off. I even cook.”

The street ended. Below us a vast graveyard of broken buildings stretched, some little more than heaps of concrete dust, some still faintly recognizable as their former selves. The moonlight gleamed on a million shards of glass. Wooden bridges spanned the wreckage. To the left, behind the empty shells of the buildings, turquoise and orange fog rose, like a faint aurora borealis that had fallen from the sky. Unicorn Lane, the place where magic raged and bucked like an infuriated wild horse. We would be keeping clear. Only fools visited the Unicorn when the magic was up.

We started on the long bridge.

“So what about you?” Roman asked. “You seem different.”

“How?”

“You were all clenched up before.” He drew his hand over his face, turning his expression somber. “Very serious. Robot Andrea.”

Robot, huh? I showed him the edge of my teeth. “You liked me anyway.”

“Well, how can you not like this?” He indicated me with his hands. “I’m only a man.”

“You are shameless.”

He grinned. “But no, seriously. Something happened? Or is it just because Katya was there?”

“Katya?”

“Kate. Your friend.”

“Oh. No, it’s not her.” I shrugged. “I spent a long time locking up a part of myself. I thought it was best that I suppress my animal side. You know, the bad part.”

He nodded.

“But it wasn’t bad. Turned out I had been smothering something essential inside myself. Maimed it. I hobbled myself like a prisoner in leg irons and then heroically limped through life. When I think about all of the fun I could’ve had, all the chances I could’ve taken, it makes me a little sick. But now I’m free. Maybe a little too free, but I’m enjoying it.”

“Enjoying is good,” he said.

“You understand about letting go, don’t you?” I asked. He probably didn’t get to let himself off the chain that often either.