68°19'0.82 "N 59°40'52.1'' E – Khaypudyr Bay, Nenetsia

  27.05.2024 – 22.50 UTC +03.00

  My axe swung true, almost lustfully so, seeking blood where it was promised by honor.

  Shura’s head rolled by a large ficus, while her body crumbled, emptying her dark green blood over the floor. I swung the axe back and brought it near for inspection. I grimaced at the sight of Shura’s blood tainting Lopt??, and I swung it once more to let the blood scatter from it over the wall.

  “You are a dishonorable, filthy lot indeed,” I said.

  “I raised no finger, lyubovnik,” Valeriya said, trailing her accent in the last word. Lover. “That is your filth. But I am glad your head works independently.”

  “Tsk. Is there something we can steal from her? She mentioned gifts.”

  “Plenty, but we risk being tracked. And although I broke no law, you are my lover. I am sure some Daughters will not take this lightly.”

  “The rest?”

  “The rest will be happy. She was pawning off information that she should give freely to all of Ippolit’s. Someone would cut her, sooner or later.”

  I glanced over the young woman’s body. Her blood repulsed me, and I wondered if Valeriya had the same Curse-ridden hue on hers.

  “Let’s go then.”

  “Where?”

  “The port. We have a boat to book.”

  ? ? ?

  By the time we reached the port, the sun had already risen above the horizon again, having enjoyed only a momentary dip behind the Bay’s left-most cape. I gazed at the dark sea, painted redder as the sun revealed itself. Frozen breeze numbed my face and turned small drops of water on my cheeks into icicles.

  I was standing at the edge of one of many port platforms, looking at the crashing waves. Valeriya was inside a building nearby, negotiating our passage to the Isle of Yuzhnyy. We had already tried with a couple of agencies, but all somehow turned hostile when we referred to the specific route. Either the routes were closed, boats were in maintenance, or no longer operating.

  I had suggested more violent approaches, but Valeriya had opted to try to convince owners on her own charming ways, but suggested I stay put for her because I was “devoid of all and any kinds of charm”.

  So, I did. I gazed at the dozen long Easter Republic ferries resting in the Bay’s safe waters for the late hours. They were impressive mechanical beasts at the command of one of the most fearsome military forces in the world. I wondered what their presence meant in such a godforsaken place like Nenetsia. But perhaps even most curious I was about the blimps: two of them slowly drifting back and forth in the sky.

  I had also noticed them when we were driving in the Bay earlier in the day, and I thought they were commercial. But they carried some kind of banner insignia on them that I could not recognize. Neither Eastern nor Chinese. I did not even recognize the alphabet.

  “??galej,” Valeriya’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

  I turned to her. She looked disappointed, but not entirely.

  “So?”

  “An annoyingly extortionate fee. But there is a boat on Wednesday morning that we can join. And then it takes three days to get there.”

  “That’s two and three, five days in total. Won’t you miss your Coven?”

  “I believe not. I will miss the first days, but not the ones that matter.”

  I nodded and looked upwards.

  “Do you know whose these are?” I asked, turning to her again.

  “The blimps?”

  “Yeah.”

  Valeriya looked up and squinted, and then she promptly shrugged. “Maybe we should sleep.”

  ? ? ?

  I could not sleep.

  Valeriya lay on the bed covered by the cheap linen provided by the cleaning service.

  I was not actively watching her; I wanted to respect her privacy. But it must have been around three in the morning when she spoke in her sleep. Begged for something, unintelligible. I then came in to find her asleep, vulnerable, but frowning at the contents of her own dreams, and decided to watch her until I was convinced her sleep was undisturbed.

  While I was there, her sleep seemed peaceful, too peaceful even, and innocent. Only rarely did she frown when her dreams got unexpected, perhaps, or when worried thoughts crossed her mind. But while I was sitting next to the bed, she was calm.

  Like a lamb, knowing there is a guard dog nearby, feeling safer closer to its jaws.

  I felt disgusted. It was impossible to sleep, and I knew she did not want me as a guard dog or anything else. I was supposed to execute her.

  “But not now, while I am in love,” I mumbled.

  I had to get out of there.

  ? ? ?

  Finding a place with vodka so closely resembling rubbing alcohol that my insides turn into a numb hell was not difficult. But finding a place that was not crowded at four in the morning was. The Russians in the Bay would get even more rowdy at this hour, and the last thing I needed was sailors getting on my nerves. Risking me losing my temper.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Eventually, I found a small pub, not farther than ten minutes walk from our hostel, a wreckage of an establishment that reeked of alcohol just passing by it. It was half-full, which was good enough.

  After a third of a bottle of their worst vodka, it was perfect. I reached that point where I could just look into my glass and not see or think about anything.

  Transparent, but burning, water of a tearful river. Like Valeriya and her grey eyes. Why did the Pyrisbyd?mos assign me to hunt her to begin with? Was it a set-up? Just for our eyes to meet?

  “Come on, pathetic,” I whispered, and I downed another glass. I should not be thinking about her.

  ? ? ?

  “Valeriya?”

  “You are a bit of an idiot, aren’t you?” she said. She sighed. “Of course you are.”

  My head was spinning; everywhere but her face as she spoke. She raised her left hand and brought it near me.

  “What are you doing?” I tried to ask, but I choked. “What doing?” was closer to what I said.

  “Sh, sh,” she shushed me, and then I felt a burning sensation in my right eye. My vision turned blurry and green for a moment. “It will be fine, just stay still.”

  I trusted her, although I needed to scream.

  “Where are we?”

  “In the hotel bathroom. You showed up like a mess and then passed out in the bathtub,” Valeriya said with a voice like a lullaby. My eyelids felt heavier. “It’s okay if you need to sleep.”

  I raised my right arm, pushing hers away.

  “I don’t need your hexes, I am fine.”

  She paused, and I could see her grey eyes unflinching. As if she waited to see who would blink first. Angry that I even dared to deny her hexes.

  “Give me that,” she said, grabbing the bottle of vodka, still in my right hand. “And stay still.”

  I did not resist. Her hands, soaking wet by the Curses of the river she bore, burned as they touched my bruised skin.

  But they did touch it.

  ? ? ?

  “I guess you are as good as any. Not that I had any. Your lot killed all my friends and sisters. But then I had no one to talk to for nights on end. And being this, not all nights and days are easy. Sometimes you need someone. Even if that someone won’t remember a thing when they wake up. I guess you are better than any. You exist.”

  Her soft voice begged for attention with every word, thinking I could hear none in my stupor. But I did.

  ? ? ?

  Waking up in a bathtub was not the most comfortable. Definitely better than a hostel’s leather couch or the floor. At least I was used to it. I could wake up, get undressed, and shower on the spot. Ought to shake off any bender faster than waking up wrapped in a blanket.

  I followed the same routine that day, almost forgetting I was sharing the room with a woman. After a cold shower, I was ready to go back to the room without even a towel, but then I opted to dress myself first.

  “Left some hot water for me?” Valeriya asked as I was dressing.

  “Plenty.” All of it.

  “Good. I got us some pastries for lunch. Well, my breakfast, and now your lunch. It’s late.”

  I looked at myself in the mirror. I had never looked as good after an overnight alcohol marathon, and I was sure I had Valeriya’s Cursed touch to thank for that. I could vaguely remember her burning touch.

  I touched the cheekbone below my right eye. It was sore, but it did not look hit. And my facial hair had seen better days – maybe I needed to shave it before it formed a stubble.

  I stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in last night’s clothes, which indicated I had gone into some kind of fight. First thing I looked for was Lopt??, and to my relief, the axe was lying on the floor by the entrance.

  I turned to Valeriya. She was sitting by the window, with a plastic plate on her lap, crumbles of pastries on it, while she drank tea from a plastic cup. Another plastic plate was on the TV table next to her.

  “I guess we can spend a day relaxed, before we go on the boat tomorrow morning,” she said, and I approached the plate.

  I felt all the hair on my neck rise. It was unmistakable.

  I walked to her and grabbed the plastic cup.

  “Let me have some of that.”

  Valeriya looked at me, shocked by my gesture, but my eyes tried to convey a simple message: Trust me.

  I turned around, holding the cup still. I knew it was somewhere in the room. I could feel it watching.

  “??galej?”

  Right there. Above the bed, in the corner, behind the nightstand.

  “It’s alright. Don’t open the window,” I said.

  I poured the contents of the glass on the floor, and I jumped over to the nightstand, charging to trap it by the cup. I felt it flutter as I trapped it inside.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Valeriya said, but now intrigued, stood up and came closer.

  “I am paying attention, lyubovnitsa,” I said, keeping the plastic cup firmly sealed on the wall. Inside it, the small, annoying creature buzzed from wall to wall, trying to seek an exit. “Find a vase, something with a cup. Something we can use to keep it trapped.”

  Valeriya did not waste a second. She grabbed a small vase half-full of jam and brought it to me.

  “Keep what trapped?” she asked.

  “On three, trap it inside the vase, okay?” I said. Once she nodded, I counted: “One, two,…”

  I lifted the cup, and Valeriya jumped in and sealed the little bug into the vase of jam. It buzzed hopelessly, seeking an escape route.

  “Is that a bee?” Valeriya asked, examining the bug holding the vase near her eyes. The question seemed innocent enough, but this was not an arctic bumblebee. It was a honey bee, a domestic one at that. Impossible to survive in the Arctic.

  Except if trained to be.

  “It is a spy,” I answered, and I looked around. I could not feel another one nearby, and I could neither see nor hear one. “A Cursed one. Yushkov breeds them. From the Hunters.”

  “She looks like a bee ??galej,” Valeriya said, still examining the jam. “But if it is a spy, shouldn’t we kill it?”

  “These things are maniacs, trust me. And no, we can’t. Then he will know that someone killed it, and he will investigate. Leave it trapped, we dump it in a dumpster, and leave it to die when oxygen runs out. We will find another place to rest tonight.”

  “Sounds like a…” Valeriya was about to say, but

  Cracking sounds. Like shots. Explosions, maybe, far away? Is that…

  “Fireworks?” I asked, looking out the window. Yes, these were fireworks. The blimps – now three of them – were shooting pyrotechnics in yellow and red colors. They were bright, even if it was noon.

  “Spanish. They are Spanish,” Valeriya said, “you asked me yesterday, and I was wondering too. On TV, they showed similar footage in Spain. They were celebrating something… Something about their Colonies?”

  “But what are they doing in the Arctic?” I asked. Same as yesterday, looking at those blimps in the sky filled me with an ominous feeling. Even while they shot fireworks in the sky. “They are up to no good.”

  “Have some optimism,” Valeriya said, and called me to join her by the window, to watch the show. She was still holding the vase, half-full with jam, and the bee struggling to escape.

  We stayed watching the fireworks for a good couple of minutes.

  All I could see was fire in the sky and a spy in Valeriya’s hands.