Chapter 6

Anya hit the log in front of her, grinning when it split cleanly in two. She liked the ax in her hands and the strength in her shoulders when she took out her frustration on the woodpile.

Thuck. Fuck weird firebird men. Thuck. She was alone. Thuck. She was not. Anya stopped her ax mid-swing and spun to find a man sitting on a horse staring down at her.

"Dobryy vecher," he greeted with a charming smile. He had a thick black beard and long black hair tied at the nape of his neck. He slid off the horse, and Anya gripped her ax a little tighter. He was the biggest freaking Russian she had ever seen and smelled unpleasantly of horse sweat, camp smoke, and blood. Anya stepped back from him.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a tone that suggested she wasn"t interested in helping him at all. Her famous glare didn"t work on him either.

"I hope so. I"m trying to find my brother," he said.

"Try at the village. Many people wash up in a place like this," Anya replied. She gave him a helpful smile and hoped he would go away. He didn"t.

His black eyes looked her over, and cold pressure, similar to what she'd felt with Tuoni, crept through her mind. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the sensation, and then it squeezed. Anya lowered the ax, a silent command gripping her brain and opening her mouth.

"I"m about to cook something to eat. Would you like to stay the night?" she asked. Anya rubbed at the sudden pain in her forehead. Why had she just asked him that? She didn"t even know him.

"Thank you. I"d appreciate that," he said and held out his hand to her. "I"m Vasilli."

Run! A voice cried out in her mind. The cold pressure silenced it, and she grabbed his hand, giving it a friendly shake. Static snapped between the palms, and she let him go with a laugh.

"I"m sorry. I didn"t mean to zap you! Static. I"m terrible for it," she rushed to apologize. "I"m Anya Ven?l?inen. There"s an empty stall in the barn if you want to put your nice horse away. I think there"s a storm coming tonight."

Vasilli laughed, a joyful sound that could have charmed the devil. "There certainly is."

Anya waited until he had disappeared into the barn before hurrying inside to find Yvan. Now that she wasn"t standing in front of Vasilli, a wave of cold sweat swept over her.

"Yvan? Where are you?" she whispered, searching the house. There was a soft cooing, and the firebird tumbled out of the fireplace where it had been hiding. In the smoothest transition she had seen, it transformed into Yvan.

"Anya! Be careful. That"s Vasilli!" he said urgently, grabbing her shoulders.

"I know, and I invited him to dinner," she replied. "Yvan, I swear I didn"t mean to. It just came out!"

He turned her hands over and studied them. "The firebird can feel Vasilli"s compulsion on you. You don"t know how to fight it, so the best thing you can do is play along. It might make him get bored and leave you alone." Yvan squeezed her hands, eyes full of unspoken emotion, and Anya"s worry mounted. "It"s going to be okay, Anya. Keep him entertained, and I"ll escape the farm as soon as he"s sleeping." He transformed again and jumped back into the fire.

"Ah, I was wondering where you had gone," Vasilli said, coming in.

Anya quickly grabbed another log and built a wall in front of the firebird. "I wanted to get the fire going. It"s going to be freezing tonight."

Vasilli didn"t look convinced, and Anya"s smile widened until it hurt. She was so fucked.

Anya didn't knowwhy Eikki had always taught her to be polite to the people who hated her, but now she was silently thanking him in the afterlife. She kept calm as she and Vasilli ate together before settling by the fire in the sitting room. She regretted getting a bottle of vodka from the cellar because now she was torn between drinking out of politeness and not wanting to get drunk enough to tell him about the firebird who was hiding in the chimney.

How did this become my life?

"Ven?l?inen," Vasilli said slowly, rolling the name over his tongue. "A strange name. It means "Russian" in Finnish, doesn"t it?"

"Yes," Anya replied and laughed a little. "It"s what the Finns who ended up living on the Russian side of the border sometimes took as a surname. My ancestor, Ilya, apparently used to get called by that name because this part of Karelia didn"t have many Russians back then. When he settled here, he dropped whatever his Russian name had been and took Ven?l?inen instead. I don"t even know what the old name was."

Stop rambling, Anya.She couldn"t help it. The more Vasilli studied her with his glittering black eyes, the more secrets she wanted to tell him.

"Names are funny that way. They can shape us and change our identity," Vasilli replied. "They are good things to hide behind."

"Do you think that"s what your brother is doing? Hiding under a different name?"

"Perhaps. Though Yvan was always very proud of who he was and the place he came from," Vasilli said with an unpleasant smirk. "Also, he would lack the imagination to want to change it."

"Can I ask why you are trying to find him?" Anya wasn"t entirely sure she trusted Yvan much more than Vasilli, and she certainly didn"t want to get in the middle of his family feud. At least Yvan didn"t put a compulsion spell on you.

"We had a disagreement many years ago. You know how brothers fight over stupid things."

"No, not really. I"m an only child, though I liked the idea of having a brother." Anya"s parents had been talking about trying to have another baby before they died. They had even asked her how she felt about being a big sister. Her father had never hidden his disappointment that she was a girl and was still determined to get a boy to carry on the family name.

"You are better off without them, trust me. I was the middle son. Dimitri was the eldest. He died a few years ago. The youngest and most favored was Yvan. They were both incredibly disappointing, but family is family, so I need to find him."

"What was the fight about?"

Vasilli smiled. "A woman, of all things."

"Oh? Have you asked her if she has seen him?" Anya tried and failed to imagine two such intense men besotted enough over a woman to want to kill each other over it.

"She died long ago."

"I"m sorry. It"s the worst feeling in the world losing someone you love," she said, not needing to fake her sincerity.

Vasilli laughed, shocking her. "I didn"t love her. She was just the thing we fought over," he corrected. He looked her over in a way that made her want to shower. "You know, you actually look like someone I loved once. Same winter white hair, same spring green eyes." He reached over and brushed a thumb over her cheek.

"That"s a nice compliment. Thank you. I don"t get many of them." Anya"s smile froze, and she pulled gently out of his reach. Something deeply female inside of her was now assessing him for an even more significant threat.

"You know, ask in the village tomorrow about any newcomers. We get a lot of seasonal workers here," she said and got up. "There"s a small spare room in the barn that you are welcome to use. I need to get some sleep. You know us farmers, in bed at dusk and up at dawn."

Vasilli took the hint and rose to his feet. In a strangely unexpected gesture, he bowed, took her hand, and kissed it. "Thank you for giving me hospitality tonight, Anya Ven?l?inen. You would make your ancestors proud."

"You"re welcome."

Anya followed him through the house to the back door and watched him disappear in the windy, dark night. As quickly as she dared, she shut the door and locked it for the first time in years.

Back in the sitting room, she pushed the half-burned logs out of the way to check the firebird was still there. It ruffled its feathers irritably at her, not making any sign it was going to move.

"Fine, stay in there. I"m done entertaining surly freaking Russians for one day," she hissed.