Forge and Fire: The Replacement Book 1 Page 7

  11

  Tatiana

  Fedir stared at her and then studied their surroundings. He breathed in deeply, wrinkled his nose, and coughed.

  He stared over her shoulder, back the way they came, and Tatiana followed his gaze.

  “The air was different,” Fedir said. “Back at the gate. I breathed in, and it washed away all the”—his lip curled—“poison, from your world.”

  “The smell doesn’t make me sick,” Tatiana explained, pointing to the fountain. “I can still breathe. I still feel good. I just don’t understand why everything looks the way it does. Polluted.”

  In the distance, something crashed, and a wave of dust rose into the air. The clouds absorbed it, becoming darker and heavier. And then, something roared.

  “We need to find a place to stay.” Grisha glared in the direction of the sound. “Feia are waking up, moving around.” He side-eyed her. “Doing all the things you haven’t seen yet.”

  “You don’t have a place?” Fedir asked. “Truly?”

  “I’m between places right now,” Grisha answered. “Are you willing to share?”

  Fedir tucked his wings against his back to land lightly on the ground. He approached them. “No.”

  “Fine,” the other man answered through clenched teeth. “I’ll find somewhere safe. Find us when the sun goes down.”

  “You misunderstood me.” Fedir moved fast, snatching her hand away from Grisha’s and lifting her into his arms. “I don’t share with you. We’ll find you tonight.” And with that, he rose into the sky.

  “Fedir!” Grisha yelled.

  The world blurred and Tatiana’s ears popped. “You can’t leave him there!”

  “Of course I can.” Fedir’s gaze was hard and his jaw set.

  She elbowed him. It didn’t escape her notice that her elbow met rock solid muscle. “You can’t.”

  “We can go back and forth as long as you like, but I’m not showing the roamer where I live. I have too many enemies.”

  A gust of wind hit them, pushing them backward. Fedir grunted with the effort of flying against a head wind, and Tatiana shut up. The last thing she wanted was to distract him, not when they traveled a hundred feet above the ground and only one of them had wings.

  Fedir called out, but the wind was so loud she couldn’t hear him. She twisted her head, trying to see his face to read his lips, but the wind took any sound he made away.

  There was a scent on the wind, something like smoke or dust. Tatiana coughed, turning her head to the side so she wouldn’t get a lungful. Her eyes burned and watered. “What is that?” Stupid. As soon as she opened her mouth, she got a great mouthful of smoke. Choking, gasping, she tried to catch her breath.

  The wind blew across her body, this one somehow different than the first. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but it was warmer. She could face forward now and could see a cloud of dust in front of them.

  Fedir ascended, to get above the dust she supposed, but even he was coughing. He held her in front of him. Her legs dangled against his, but he had his arms wrapped around her chest beneath her arms. This left her free, but damned if she was going to put her arms out and pretend to be a bird. No. She clutched to Fedir like she had claws. No doubt when they finally landed, he’d find crescent shaped nail marks along his forearms.

  There seemed to be no end to the cloud, it went up and up, and now Fedir was choking too. He curled around her, no longer moving forward. At least he was aloft, that was something.

  The wind blew again, sweeping away the gathering clouds. “We have to land!” Fedir said between coughs. He didn’t wait for her reply but began the process of landing.

  Clouds moved toward them, surrounding them. Fedir’s grip felt looser. If it hadn’t been for the cross breeze, he would have dropped her, she was certain of it. As it was, the breeze allowed him to catch his breath, regain his hold on her, and drift toward the earth.

  Finally, their feet touched the ground, and they both collapsed onto their knees. Fedir kept one arm around her body, holding her to him while they tried to catch their breath.

  A huge gust of wind pushed against them, and then Grisha appeared next to them. He coughed and choked as well. “Metal.”

  How was that possible? There was no metal here.

  “Impossible,” Fedir got out. He pushed her, and they began to crawl. Grisha moved next to her, so she had one man on either side.

  She had no idea where she was going, but she knew she couldn’t go on much further. Her lungs burned and the smoke only seemed to be getting thicker.

  “Get down,” a strange voice said. Something heavy landed on her back. Two eyes glowed like twin fires before the thing covered her head. She heard something, like the flick of a lighter, before she was surrounded by heat and the scent of burning fur.

  Tatiana thought for certain she would die, that she would be consumed by fire, but the smoke cleared and whatever was on her was whisked away.

  “Are you all right?” A dark hand was held out, palm up, in front of her. Tatiana followed it, up to a muscled arm, broad shoulders, and dark face. The man let her stare at him, his bright orange eyes glowing like stars as he waited for her. “Can you speak?”

  Next to her, Fedir wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her to stand. Grisha moved closer to her side, and then in front of her. “Was that your doing?” he asked.

  The man’s gaze cut to Grisha. “Mine?”

  “Smoke and dust. Fire and fur.” Grisha reached down to pick up a heavy fur coat and shoved it at the stranger. “Miner.”

  “You saved us,” Tatiana said. She touched an edge of the coat as the man flung it around his shoulders. “You covered us with the coat and protected us from the fire.”

  “Which he set!” Fedir retorted. He sniffed. “The dust was from a tunnel collapse, wasn’t it?”

  The man shrugged, effectively ignoring both Grisha and Fedir. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Ta—”

  “You don’t need to know her name.” Like he had inside the factory when she arrived, Grisha grew, blocking her view of the man. “Go on your way.”

  If the man was a miner, how was a tunnel collapse his fault? Tatiana was from Pennsylvania. Mining and steel making were a proud part of its history. So one thing she knew: an accident was never one man’s fault.

  “Guys.” She moved around Grisha to better see the man. He honed in on her. “No fighting.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Tatiana,” she said before anyone could stop her. “You kept us from dying. Thank you.”

  “We can’t die in Korolevstvo.” Fedir shifted next to her, his wings extending to brush against her back like he was staking a claim. “Or at least, we couldn’t. Who knows what the miner did to release metal into the air?”

  The man ignored him. It reminded Tatiana of what Fedir often did to Grisha, and from his expression, Fedir didn’t like it. Good. It could be a lesson in how to treat people. She’d be sure to point it out later on.

  The man hadn’t released her hand, nor had he reacted to Fedir’s accusations. “Shubin,” he said, and Fedir sucked in a breath.

  White teeth flashed in the man’s dark face as he lifted Tatiana’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “You’re surprised I’ve given her my true name.” Shubin held her hand so close his breath skated across her skin. He kissed it once more and lowered it. “Because you haven’t given her yours.”

  He released her and stepped back, his smile gone. Tatiana studied him, and from his steady gaze and the way he held so still, he was letting her. Shubin was as tall as Grisha, and she was fairly certain the latter hadn’t returned to his usual size. His hair was short, shorn close to his head, and his skin was dark brown, contrasting with his bright orange eyes. He wore a fur coat, not like the ones she’d seen on ladies going to the opera or on men in Siberia in the dead of winter. His coat was shaggy, massive, like he’d killed and skinned the animal it had come from himself.

  His hands, when he’d held hers,
were rough, and she’d noticed something dark, blacker than dirt, ground around his nails. It made her think that no matter how much he washed his hands, the material was part of his skin.

  She took a deep breath. He had a sharp smell, not bad. It was like campfire with a hint of ash. It made her nose tickle, and she rubbed it. “What do you mean, your true name? Grisha and Fedir told me their names.”

  “I doubt it,” he said, and now that she thought about it, he was probably right. About Fedir at least.

  “Grisha did,” she stated.

  He lowered his head, looking at her from under his lashes. “I doubt it.”

  She turned toward him, searching Grisha’s face for a sign Shubin was wrong, but he couldn’t hold her gaze. Oh. “Names have power,” she repeated, gaze traveling between him and Fedir. She released a breath, and along with it, some of her hurt. Fedir and Grisha didn’t know her, and they had no reason, as of yet, to trust her. “I understand.” She touched Grisha’s hand. “I understand,” she said again, then addressed Shubin. “Of course, I have no way of knowing you’ve told me your true name.”

  “Yes, you do.” Why did it matter to him what she thought? His stare was intense, hypnotic. It held her in place while he spoke. “You can feel the power behind my words, can’t you?”

  Could she? Tatiana wasn’t sure how she would feel power. She felt the wind. She felt Grisha’s hand in hers, but power? She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t feel power.”

  He pursed his lips, regarding her steadily. “Maybe you will, one day.” Stepping back, he sighed. “The metal was not my doing, though my tunnel did collapse.”

  “Korolevstvo was unhappy with you,” Fedir stated.

  “No,” Shubin replied. “That wasn’t it. When I’ve insulted or injured this place, it gives me a warning. A flicker of light. A shake, deep in the bowels of the mine. This time there was nothing. One moment, I dug, then rocks and dust piled on my head. I made it out alive, only to be nearly choked to death by a cloud of poison.”

  “How could metal be here when it could kill all feia?” Tatiana asked. “I thought this place was safe.”

  “It is,” Grisha said. “There is no metal in Korolevstvo.”

  “There is now,” Shubin said. “I didn’t know that my fire would ignite it. But the particles were small enough to burn. We were lucky.”

  “Yes,” Fedir replied, though from his tone it was clear he thought he was anything but lucky. “If what you say is true, then thank you. The cloud is gone, and it’s time we move on. It’s daylight.”

  “You’re going to leave your exchanged girl out in the open?” Shubin asked.

  Fedir took her arm and pushed her to walk. He strode next to her, his fingers so tight around her bicep she would have bruises.

  “Too tight,” she whispered, and he immediately loosened his grip. He threaded his arm around her waist, dragging her closer to him as he lengthened his stride.

  “She’s sticks and stones,” Shubin said, matching his speed to theirs. “Covered in human skin. Other feia will think she is a meal.”

  “That’s why I’m hurrying,” Fedir replied. “And you are bringing too much attention to us. Be on your way.”

  “My home is but a few paces from here. You’ll be safe there.”

  Tatiana struggled to keep up with Fedir. They were moving too fast for her to get a good look at the land, but from what she could see, this place was more open than what they’d just left. The ground was dusty but flat. Her shoes scuffed against the ground, revealing brick in some places, and packed dirt in others.

  Ahead of her, rows of wood houses stood in various degrees of neglect. Each house was exactly the same. One level, a porch, two glass picture windows, and a pitched roof. Shubin pointed to one in better repair than the others. The roof sagged a little in the middle, but the windows gleamed in the dim sunlight.

  “Factory housing,” she said. That’s what it looked like. In Nativity, there were parts of the town built by the steel corporation. Rows of single family houses, all exactly the same, lined the roads to the factory.

  “Like that,” Shubin answered, “yes.” He jogged in front of Fedir and Grisha and stopped. “Don’t be stubborn. You can’t be in broad daylight with her. Come to my home until nightfall. I promise no harm.”

  “Your word means nothing,” Grisha said.

  Tatiana touched the back of his hand, and he glanced at her. “You’ve both kept me safe. Saved my life. I took a risk with both of you, but I’m glad I trusted you. I don’t know anything about Korolevstvo, but I believe Shubin. I have the same feeling about him that I did about you.”

  “You kneed me in the balls,” Grisha reminded her.

  “And you named me Horny,” Fedir added.

  Tatiana crossed her arms and huffed a breath. “I didn’t say I was perfect, I just said I gave you a chance. Look. I’m sorry I kicked you, and Fedir, I’m sorry I teased you. But I really don’t want to be breakfast. Can we please go inside?” The back of her neck prickled and itched, and she scratched it. “Please?”

  Grisha didn’t answer. He studied their surroundings, staring off in the same direction that was wigging her out. “All of us go.” Turning back to them, he glared at Fedir. “Got it?”

  Rather than answer, Fedir’s form shimmered as he shifted into an owl. He made a lazy circle around their heads before flapping toward Shubin’s porch to land on the railing.

  Tatiana smiled. “Fedir agrees.”

  Shubin returned her smile and gestured toward his home. “You are welcome in my home.” He glanced toward Grisha. “All of you.”

  He led the way up the front stairs to his door. Tatiana noticed there was no knob on the door, but it was closed. Shubin placed his hand on it, shut his eyes, and pushed. It swung open, and he glanced back at her.

  “Magic?” she asked. He lifted his eyebrows, and didn’t answer. “Of course. More secrets. I should be used to it. I’m beginning to regret being an open book.”

  “You should.” Fedir strode past her, his wings almost too tall to get through the door. She noticed that Grisha and Shubin both had to duck their heads.

  Tatiana followed, wondering how they would all fit inside the small house with the size of their attitudes.

  12

  Shubin

  Shubin opened the door to his home, and let the strangers inside. He made himself stand up straight and meet their gazes, but he was certain that the owl and the roamer could see right through him. His confidence was a ruse.

  This was a mistake. What had come over him? If pressured for an explanation, Shubin could claim he rescued the other feia incidentally. Incinerating the cloud had been necessary for his survival, and the others had benefited by default.

  But that wasn’t why he’d covered them in his coat.

  He pressed his fingers to the familiar surface. The coat hadn’t left his shoulders since he’d been tricked to wear it. It had saved his life more times than he could count. It protected him from explosions, from collapses, from being smothered and choked.

  And he’d draped it over the strange girl without a second thought.

  He watched as her blue-eyed gaze roamed his home. What did she think of it? It wasn’t much, just a place to keep his treasures. Rest his bones.

  She went to his display cabinet. Some of the stones she wouldn’t recognize; they had no counterpart in the human world. But some she might: the jade. Amethyst. Anthracite.

  “How did you know I wasn’t human?” she asked suddenly.

  Her question took him by surprise. Asking a feia how they recognized another feia was like asking someone how they recognized color. They just knew.

  Anyone with eyes could see she wasn’t human. But her skin, the way she seemed to glow with light, it would confuse feia for a moment. Make them curious like he’d been curious.

  Shubin shrugged. “I just did.”

  “I didn’t know I wasn’t human,” Tatiana told him. “I’ve seen a hundred doctors. I
have a heart. Blood. Bones. There’s nothing to distinguish me from a human.”

  He stared at her in disbelief before glancing at the two feia who protected her like guard dogs. “You haven’t shown her?”

  Fedir shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Show me what?” she asked.

  He reached for his knife, flicking it open. Her eyes widened, and she jumped away from him. “You said metal was poison.” She stared at Fedir and Grisha accusingly.

  “It’s obsidian,” he explained. “I need a lock of your hair.”

  Her hands went to her head. “My hair?” She raked her fingers through it, pulling it over one shoulder. It was wild, wind tossed.

  “Just a lock.”

  She eyed the knife in his hand before glancing at the others. It bothered him for some reason that she would need their approval and their promise that she was safe. He was no danger to her.

  Hadn’t he rescued her? Told her his true name? And wasn’t he now about to reveal how he knew she was feia? She had no reason to distrust him.

  “Okay,” she said and held out her hand.

  It took him a moment to understand what she wanted. The knife. He handed it to her, handle out, and she took it. In one smooth motion, she cut a hank of hair. She held it between her fingers, staring at it like she could see her otherness in it, and then shook her head. Sighing, she held it out to him so he could take it.

  “Watch.” The curled lock sat on the palm of his hand. He breathed in. Oak. Birch. Maple. She’d been made of all these things. Her hair, dark as chestnuts. She was very different from the feia in Korolevstvo. Here, they were all changed things, part magic, part… something else. Something polluted and ruined. Something that had been changed and twisted.

  He supposed she was changed and twisted, too, in her own way. He conjured the fire from his fingertips, and touched it to her hair. Immediately, it changed shape, crackling into dry, dead leaves before twisting into the air like smoke and falling in ashy flakes to the ground.