Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
The Void is darkness, the Void is peace, I am within it, wrapped in its cold embrace, and I am at peace…
“You do not call. You do not answer. Is your phone broken? No? You probably unplugged it again. You do not send a word with one of your critters. For three days I have waited.”
Nothing reaches the Void for it is the beginning and end of all things…
“Finally, I come to check on you and find you surrounded by some zarazas who try to shoot my bird, you look like death warmed over, and all you can say to me is, ‘yes’?”
Within the Void I am serene.
“What an ungrateful son I have. Why haven’t you killed them yet? What have you been doing?”
Chernobog, grant me patience.
“As you can see, I have company.” Roman glanced at Finn. “This is Finn, Morena’s new priest. Finn, this is my mother, Evdokia, the Head Witch of the Witch Oracle.”
The raven pivoted to Finn, who stared back like a deer in headlights.
“Finn is my guest. The dickheads outside are soldiers-for-hire, and they’ve been hired by their client to apprehend Finn. If I kill them, that wouldn’t solve the problem, would it? It would just postpone it because we don’t know who the client is, and they will try again.”
The raven peered at Finn.
A few seconds passed.
A few more.
“Ha!” The raven cackled. “Karma!”
“What?”
“That’s the consequence of your own actions sitting in that chair. And this one was a long time coming.”
Roman stared at Finn. No, there was no way. “He isn’t mine.”
“Would that he was! If he were your child, that would be a miracle. One I would joyously welcome. If you managed to sire a son, I would strip naked and run around the woods like one of those Beltane nudists.”
Roman squeezed his eyes shut before his brain had a chance to grapple with that mental image. “Mother!”
“What is wrong with you? You are thirty-four years old. I can see gray hair on your head. How is it you haven’t made any babies yet?”
Void…
“Have you had yourself checked?”
“For what?” he snarled.
“For low sperm count.”
Roman groaned.
“How is your testosterone? Or is that you are having trouble sealing the deal? If you’re having equipment malfunctions, I have herbs for that—”
“Mother!” he roared.
“And now you are yelling at me. Because why not, go ahead, yell at your mother, who was in labor with you for two days.”
“Every year the labor gets longer. Maybe your memory isn’t what it used to be.”
The raven fell ominously silent. Oh shit.
“It’s been twelve years, sweetheart,” Mother said, sadness filling her voice.
Oh, Nav no.
“Every year you and I reenact this play, where I come and nag so you know we care, and every year you run away and refuse to talk about it. Let it go. Nobody blames you. Nobody ever blamed you, for it was never your fault. It’s time to rejoin the living, don’t you think? Find someone to love. Stop punishing yourself and let yourself breathe a bit. We miss you. Your father—"
Anything but that talk. Not again. He grabbed the drawing of the wheel and thrust it in front of the raven. “What does that look like to you?”
The raven sighed and studied the drawing. “Some New Age otsebyachenna. It’s not even symmetrical.”
“Do you think Dad might know?”
“Your father is into his third cup of medovuha. He told me he loved me a few minutes ago, so I wouldn’t count on it.”
The raven pivoted to Finn again. “Is your sister coming?”
“Yes,” Finn said.
“Good.” The raven turned to Roman. “Life comes full circle, son. If only I was here to see it. Unfortunately, your own sister just walked through the door, so I must go. Deal with your mess and come down to see your family. Bring your guests, too.”
The awareness died in the raven’s eyes. It sat there for another moment confused, shook its feathers, and flew out the back door.
Full circle. Now why did that ring a bell…?
Something stirred in his head. Some weak fragment of a memory.
“What’s otsebyachenna?” Finn asked.
“Made-up nonsense. Something you came up with yourself without any foundation or research.”
Full circle…
The flock of kolovershi rushed into the room, followed by the iron hound.
“What is it?”
Something sparked on the edge of his awareness, a jagged, nasty kind of magic like lightning woven of razor blades. They had run out of time.
Roman rose. “The client is here.”
7
Two people stood at the boundary of the property. Both wore garments of gray and bright egg-yolk-yellow. Finn’s nightmare had come to life.
Roman reached for his binoculars.
The one on the left sported a layered robe with the familiar hood and yellow over-robe. The hood was up. The face within it was solid gray, painted with some sort of pigment. A narrow vertical stripe of bright yellow bisected it, running down the forehead, over the bridge of the nose, and over the lips and the chin. Impossible to say if it was a man or a woman, young or old.