Forge and Fire: The Replacement Book 1 Page 5

  Objectively speaking, Fedir was stupidly handsome. So it was a good thing his personality was off-putting, because otherwise, looking like Romeo-meets-shifter, she’d be in danger of crushing.

  “Are you deaf?” he asked.

  Tatiana smiled. “Nope.” She slammed the window shut and was rewarded with an open-mouthed look of shock. Immediately, she regretted it and listened hard for her parents, Pavel, or Babusya moving about, but the house remained silent.

  She went downstairs, tiptoeing past her snoring father on the couch and out the front door.

  Fedir waited, arms crossed and glowering. “I must be a fool for doing this.”

  “You said it,” she answered. She had no idea where they were going, but for drama’s sake, she thought her words were best punctuated over her shoulder. “Not me.”

  6

  Fedir/Fenik

  “Fedir!” The exchanged girl hurried after him, but Fenik didn’t wait. He ignored her use of his false name and strode down the driveway. Her boots clomped over the ground. She was a noisy thing, huffing and puffing. Stomping.

  No one who was this loud could survive in Korolevstvo. The hungry would hear her from miles away, and would be tempted by her human-appearing flesh. It wasn’t until they got a bite that they’d realize she was only sticks and stones and the humid breath of the rusalka.

  What had the creature been thinking, making a replacement? Not since the world began to forge itself out of metal had the feia stolen babies. Fenik sighed.

  “Goddammit, Fedir, stop being an asshole and wait.”

  Huffing, he spun and crossed his arms, ready to glare, but one look at her had him hurrying to her despite himself. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he growled. He got to her just as her knees gave out. He swept her into his arms and studied her.

  Her cheeks were pale and her lips tinged blue. She’d braced herself when he’d swung her up, and now he glanced at the cool hand resting on his chest. Her nail beds were blue and her fingers, a bloodless white.

  “I… did.”

  An unfamiliar pang of guilt assaulted him. He should have slowed. He knew her lungs and blood were filled with the iron of this town. Fenik didn’t like guilt: it confused him and made him angry. What did he have to feel guilty about? He was saving her life. “I will be glad to be rid of you.”

  “Well, I won’t cry when I watch you flip-flap away, Robin.”

  “I gave you a name to address me,” he said as he continued down the road. For a moment, he wondered if he could lift her while he flew, but the metal affected him too, and he wasn’t certain he’d be able to carry her without dropping her. If his feet touched the ground, she wouldn’t die should he drop her.

  “I like Robin,” she said. “I wish you’d let me name you. Oh!” Her voice was still breathless, but held a teasing humor that hadn’t been there when he first lifted her. “I’ll call you the Boy Wonder.”

  “I’m not a boy, and why is this neighborhood covered in sparkles?” He could hide his wings from prying human eyes, but it would be easier if he only had streetlights to contend with. “I don’t understand why every home is illuminated. How do people sleep?”

  “People from all around come to this neighborhood to see our lights. What we don’t have in size, we make up for with enthusiasm.”

  They passed the end of a driveway, tripping some sort of motion sensor because the dim lights suddenly flared into an explosion of red and green, complete with a fat, bearded automaton that began to chant. “Indeed.”

  They continued for a moment in blessed silence. The girl’s long hair grazed his chest a second before her head rested against his shoulder and her breath chilled his skin. Confused, he stopped, staring down at her.

  Tatiana had fallen asleep. Her dark lashes contrasted with her pale white skin, and in the vulgarity that was the lighting in this neighborhood, he could see the veins along her cheekbones.

  She would have quite a surprise when she breathed in the air of Korolevstvo. It would fill her lungs without pain, and her body might actually heal.

  He’d left that part out when he told her he’d bring her to her true home. Fenik was uncertain whether her body had deteriorated too far to heal. Korolevstvo might not save her, but if she was to die, then at least she’d die surrounded by her own kind.

  If there had been any creatures like Fenik, he’d want to be with them at his end. But every member of his family was dead. Burned up by humans who wanted them for healing or feia who wanted them to reanimate the dead. He was all that was left, because he knew not to trust anyone.

  Not a feia and not a human. And certainly not—he glanced at Tatiana as he approached the entrance to Korolevstvo—something like her.

  7

  Tatiana

  Tatiana had been to one county fair in her whole life. For fifteen glorious minutes, she’d spun on the teacups with Pavel. The world around them had blurred as they twisted the center wheel as fast as they could. When the ride had finally stopped, she’d promptly vomited and they’d gone home.

  Her head spun like that now. Just like on the teacups, her eyes couldn’t focus. Each time she thought she made out a form, it disappeared in a whirl of color. “I’m gonna puke.”

  Slowly, she became aware she was held tightly in someone’s arms, and she opened her eyes. “Ugh.” She shut them again quickly. Everything was still spinning.

  “You’re here.” The voice made her snap her eyes open again. Ignoring the potential for barf, she pushed at the chest she was held against until her feet touched the ground. She held onto Fedir’s arms tightly, focusing her eyes on a spot right below his chin.

  Mashing her lips together, she waited for her stomach to settle. Then she sucked in a breath and stepped away.

  Whatever she’d been expecting when they got to Korolevstvo, this wasn’t it. Fedir turned into an owl. So she’d imagined something ancient. Maybe moss covered trees. Elves singing.

  A hobbit.

  Not, a dingier, danker version of Nativity, Pennsylvania.

  They stood in a factory, the floor covered in decades of dirt and dust. The walls were stone, but broken and cracked. Tatiana tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling. Huge holes revealed a star-filled sky. Automatically, she began to search for the Big Dipper.

  “The stars are the same.”

  Tatiana whipped her head in the direction of the voice. “Grisha?”

  He stepped out of the shadows into the square of light made from the hole in the roof. “You met the bird.” His voice was toneless, devoid of humor. And the smile that had come so readily when he’d blown through her room was gone as well.

  “Fedir. He followed you,” she said carefully. The way Grisha was now, he seemed different. More dangerous. If this man had formed inside her bedroom, she would have—what? Kicked him in the balls? She’d done that.

  Coming to Korolevstvo was suddenly the dumbest decision she’d made.

  Grisha’s eyes glowed in the dark, the way a dog or cat’s would, as he glared at Fedir and then back at her. “Fedir. I see. And you decided to come back with him. Why was that?” Each word was flung at her angrily.

  “What are you trying to say, Grisha?” Fedir asked. “Are you accusing me of something?”

  Grisha rounded on him and Fedir’s wings shot out. He flapped them once, lifting himself into the air so he hovered above the auburn-haired man.

  Shoulders heaving, Grisha seemed to grow in front of her eyes. At first, Tatiana thought it was a trick, but the top of his head was as high as the window now, and his shoulders were broader than it was wide. It wasn’t a trick. He was Hulk-ing out.

  “I find it interesting that the offer I made her was declined, and in a matter of hours, you show up, and then appear here. With her.” Grisha’s hand shot forward to grab Fedir by the neck. With a twist, he flung the other man into a wall. The force of it shook the building and a large chunk of stone fell from the ceiling to the floor.

  It was clear Tatiana had in
itiated a pissing contest.

  “Hey!” she yelled, but the two idiots ignored her. “Hey!” She reached down for a piece of the rock and flung it toward them.

  It glanced off Fedir’s leg and he rounded on her. “What—”

  Grisha had turned when he did, and she let a second rock fly. She might not have played baseball, but her aim was good. The rock hit Grisha in the shoulder, bouncing off him. “Why would you do that?” he asked, eyes wide, and if she wasn’t mistaken, hurt.

  “I want to explain,” she said. When it appeared they wouldn’t attack each other again, she continued. “I had time to think about what you offered, and what it would mean to my family to have their real daughter back. Fedir appeared, answered my questions, and here I am.” She hoped he could hear the honesty in her voice. For some reason, it mattered to her that he’d been offended. Grisha had been kind, and she didn’t want to hurt him.

  As Tatiana approached him, he began to shrink back to his normal, giant size. Behind him, Fedir tucked his wings away, landing on his feet with a bounce. He crossed his arms, but didn’t make a move to physically engage the other man.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Grisha. Had you returned, I’d have asked you the same questions I did Fedir. And I would have come to Korolevstvo with you.”

  Grisha nodded. He glanced over his shoulder at Fedir. “Did you heal her?” he asked

  “For a moment,” he replied. “Just so she would know.”

  “How do you feel now?” Grisha asked without looking at her. It took a second to realize he was speaking to her, and another one to realize that she felt… good. Better than good. She stood without being out of breath. Her bones didn’t ache, and she wasn’t tired.

  “Is this what normal feels like?” She’d always wondered, and then, because she was a realist, she asked, “Will it last?”

  Grisha and Fedir exchanged a loaded glance before Fedir answered, “Your body is healing now that it isn’t being poisoned by the air in the human world.”

  Tatiana nodded. This place, Korolevstvo, was meant to be her home. She wanted to see it. She went to the window, leaning on the sill so she could see the world.

  “This is it?” In the distance, she could hear a river. It was so loud she imagined the water rushing over rocks and slamming into the shore. “A dam?” she asked, looking at Grisha.

  He nodded.

  The world was laid out in front of her in irregular shapes. Buildings, taller than any of the ones in Nativity, blocked her view of anything beyond their imposing size. They stretched toward the sky or leaned precariously to the side. Some of them had odd appendages hanging off them or set on their roofs like radio antennas.

  There was no electric light shining out of the windows. No headlights as people made their way around. She could see no cars, no trains. Just a city, misshapen and dark.

  “Where are the people?” she whispered. It reminded her of an abandoned city, like Pripyat, after Chernobyl.

  “Just because they don’t announce their presence with horns and loud voices doesn’t mean they aren’t there,” Fedir said. “Unlike humans, we don’t make a spectacle out of ourselves.”

  Tatiana faced him. “Oh really? Was it another man who turned into an owl as he flew through my window?”

  “I’m not human,” he retorted. His eyes glowed gold as he moved closer to her. “Therefore, I’m not a man. Don’t insult me by calling me one.”

  Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she turned back to the window. “So where do you think the real Tatiana is?”

  “Is that really what you want?” Grisha asked. “To find the girl you replaced?”

  “My family deserves to be happy.” Tatiana ignored the first part of his question. She couldn’t answer it without lying.

  “And you?” Grisha asked. “Will you be happy?”

  She shrugged. “I’m happy if they’re happy.”

  Fedir laughed. “Don’t lie to us, exchanged girl. Dishonesty doesn’t suit you.”

  “Fedir…” A thousand insults flooded her brain, but she locked them away. He smirked at her, waiting. When she was sure she could open her mouth without screaming, she continued. “Let’s find my fake twin. I know you’re anxious to get rid of me.”

  Fedir rocked back on his heels and frowned. He couldn’t be hurt by her repetition of what he’d said himself. He collected himself, striding toward a set of wide wooden doors, rotten with age. “Yes. Come on.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Grisha said before Tatiana could take a step.

  “Why?” Fedir asked. “You’re unneeded, Roamer—”

  “But not unwanted,” Tatiana cut in. “I’d like it if you came, Grisha.”

  He smiled at her, and it warmed her like the sun.

  “Do you forgive me?” she asked. “For not coming with you?”

  He studied her. “It matters to you.”

  “Yes,” she answered. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. If you had come back before Fedir, I’d have come with you.”

  “You’re supremely ungrateful,” Fedir called.

  “Shut up,” Grisha said, but with a smile. “I was coming back. Had you not arrived when you did, I’d have whisked back to your window.”

  Tatiana couldn’t help smiling back at him.

  Fedir pushed the doors open so hard they slammed into the outside walls. “Hurry up.” His wings extended and flapped, lifting him for a brief second before he landed back on his feet.

  Now that they were outside, Tatiana could really take in Korolevstvo. This was where she’d spend the rest of her life, however long it was. She thought about asking Fedir or Grisha how long an exchanged girl would last, but decided against it. Too morbid.

  If she was feia, she’d last as long as any other feia. Fuck being morbid. This was an entirely other species. She was a different species. For crying out loud, she was made of sticks and rocks, and the swamp breath of a hag. Was she looking at thirty years? Sixty? “How long will I live?”

  Her question made Fedir trip over a crack in the pavement. The road was as wide as a two lane highway, and cut a swath through the land. They were going downhill, but the buildings got taller and taller as they walked, like they were crowding toward the center of the road. Tatiana glanced up at the small slice of sky visible between the towers.

  “Exchanged children. How long do we typically last in Korolevstvo?”

  Fedir stopped, waiting for them to catch up. “Roamer?”

  “You can call me, Grisha,” he said. “Like Tatiana does.”

  “Fine, Grisha. Since you and Tatiana are such close friends, why don’t you tell her about her kind.”

  My kind. Would other exchanged children be her brothers and sisters? Or did they have to have the same mother? So many questions…

  “Well.” He struggled for a moment, opening and closing his mouth. “I don’t really know. Replacement children, exchanged children, changelings, they are meant to take the place of a human baby for as long as it takes the thief to get away. They rarely last more than a week.”

  “But the other ones who are here?”

  Grisha and Fedir exchanged another look. With one step, she inserted herself between them. She placed a hand on both of their chests to get their attention. “Tell me,” she said. “Stop exchanging these all-knowing looks and just say it.”

  Fedir lowered his yellow gaze to hers. His wings stretched up, extended, and then tucked back. She was beginning to think he did that when he was agitated. Something about her question bothered him. “No other exchanged child has returned to Korolevstvo. Their mothers don’t return for them, and as far as I know, not one has found its way back here.”

  “Never?” she asked. Fedir nodded sharply and started walking again. The deeper they moved into the city, the colder the air felt, and she shivered. “But you found me. You knew what I was. Have you never found another baby and brought it back?”

  “No.” His answer was brief, concise.

  She put a ha
nd on Grisha’s arm to get his attention. “And you? In all your wandering, you never saw another exchanged baby?”

  “I saw them,” he answered. He kept his eyes glued to his boots, and everything he didn’t say was as clear as the stars.

  “But you never brought one back. You never saved one.”

  “Time moves differently here, Tatiana,” Grisha said quietly. “When I last saw an exchanged child, it was already dead, abandoned by its human parents to die in the elements. They knew what it was and rejected it.”

  “What?” People didn’t do that. They didn’t leave their babies in the cold. “How would they even know?” She realized she still had her hand on his arm and began to drop it, but he stopped her. He stared at his hand on top of hers before peering at her. His ruddy brows were drawn together, and his blue eyes held hers. With his lush mouth and strong jaw, Grisha was a handsome man. He wasn’t beautiful in the way Fedir was; his features were too large and his expressions irregular, but he wore his heart on his sleeve. Just now, he seemed to be asking something of her. Maybe her understanding, or for her to withhold judgment of him.

  “You said your babusya knew what you were,” Fedir said. “What else did she say?”

  Tatiana glanced away from Grisha, but felt him take her hand in his. He gave her a little tug to keep her moving. “Um.” She tried to think back. Her babusya had blamed her mother. “A broom in the corner. A red thread tied around her ankle.”

  “Scissors over the cradle. A knife under the pillow.” Fedir eyed their clasped hands and looked away. “Humans used to know how to keep feia away. But not anymore.”

  “It wasn’t my mother’s fault,” she answered quickly.

  “Well, it wasn’t not her fault.” Fedir turned a sharp corner, away from the wide road. At first, the buildings were just as tall and menacing. They loomed over Tatiana like living things. She could feel something watching her, and she looked over her shoulder again, and again.

  “It’s watching,” Fedir said.

  Tatiana stopped and spun around, studying every dark corner. She squinted into the darkness, studying the closest building, but all she saw was rock and broken glass. “What’s watching?”