"So, you're saying that—"
"No! I never said—"
"Well, you implied that—" And then a crash.
No, it wasn't a fight. Well, ok, it was. But it wasn't a fight, fight. A spat, I guess. A 'lovers quarrel'. My parents were infamous for them; there were hardly ever any times of peace at my house, at least growing up. There was always noise. Shouting, and yelling, and laughing. Always noices. Even now, I can close my eyes, and hear it. The games played outside, Logan being pushed down the stairs when he annoyed me, you know, wholesome stuff. My mothers laugh, when my father did something to amuse, or annoy. I used to love to sit and watch her, listen to her. I used to imagine that I would grow up and look just like her, act just like her. God, was I wrong.
"Вода?" I jerked awake, as the stewardess spoke to me. I just stared at her with a blank expression- and some drool drying on my cheek, I'm sure.
"Вода?" She repeated. Luckily, my white knight was there to step in and, ur, translate. It seems as if when you take a Russian flight, they actually expect you to speak the language. Weird, huh? I suppose, if it was a commercial plane they wouldn't have expected it; we were in the Pack's private plane. At least it was comfortable, extremely so.
Nik leaned over from the next seat-one of only a dozen or so- and spoke to the woman.
"She wants to know if you want some water. She can get you anything, though." He looked at my expression, and added, "She can get you something stronger." I shook my head. He didn't turn around though. The stewardess moved on, but Nik kept giving my face the third degree. I refused to look into his eyes, though, and eventually he faced away from me.
Nik had turned out not to be as horrible as I expected. Although, he kept looking at me like he expected me to break down or something. For the past four days he had been looking at me like that- ever since we met up.
It had taken me three days since that night, the night I decided I could leave, to actually call the phone number. From then, I had to wait another week until I could meet up and leave with them. I guess they had some documents they had to get ready, as I was still a minor and they would be removing me illegally from the country. I guess that would take certain skills.
I met them at there hotel, carrying only my backpack. I had kept that backpack with me at all times, not even taking my eyes off of it when I was in the washroom, not even letting it go whiel I slept. Everything ,everything, from my past life was in that bag. There was no force in hell or heaven that could make me relinquish it from my personal possiession.
Inside, there were my treasures.
My first rabbit, the one that Jaime had gotten for me as a baby; it was bitten up now. A beautiful, platinum, heart shaped locket my Uncle nick had gotten me for my tenth birthday. Inside the locket there were two small pictures. On the left, there was a picture of my mother holding Logan and I. It was taken shortly after we were born and she looked, well, like a Goddess. Her hair was long and tangled, her face sweaty, but there was a triumph there. You could see the love in that face, a face that was glowing with pride and adoration. It was one of my favorite photos of her. On the right side of the locket there was a picture of my Uncle and Father as teenagers. It was taken in the summertime, with both of them leaning against come old car. When Uncle Nick gave me the locket, my Dad looked at the photo and explained it was his first car- a definite step down from the Porsche. Still, you could see the brotherhood in it, and it was obvious that they were happy then. Two precious memories from before I could remember, but that I could trust they did until the last.
There was also a small photo album, only a dozen pages or so. It had belonged to my mother. Jeremy had given it to me after her death, and I hadn't opened it. Ever. Still, I wanted the option, so I was taking it with me.
Logan's navy blue colored sweatshirt. I couldn't pack anything else of his without arousing suspicion, so the sweatshirt would have to do. Besides, as his twin I was kind of a keepsake to remind myself of him, anyway.
There were a few other odds and ends, but those were my favorites. Not much, I guess.
If someone asked you to fill a backpack of your life, what would go in?
How would you decide?
Then again, if you were abandoning everything you ever had, would you really want reminders? That was my thought process. I didn't want to much too remind me of what I was losing. I was more focused on what I would be gaining.
We were going to land in half an hour, and I would finally meet the rest of the pack. We were to land on their private runway, in the countryside by the estate. They lived outside of Aldan, a city in the Russian far east. I could alreadt get the feel that they had a lot of money to throw around – and, unlike my… Unlike Uncle Antonio and the rest, this was dirty money.
Some people compare the Cabel sorcerors to the mafia.
They aren't. From what my new 'best friend'( just call me 'Nik') Nikolas had been telling me, the Russian Pack was older than dirt, and was a mix of the mafia that erupted during the USSR days and the aristocrats of the Tsar days. Although, it was best not too ask too many questions.
There was one Pack leader, as I had assumed. His name was Viktor. He was 68, and in typical werewolf fashion was known for his brutal force. He had no sons.
His brother, whose name I was not told, did have boys. Four. One died shortly after they took him. (Yes, took.) The other three were alive. The eldest nephew, at 42, to the Alpha was called Yuri. He wasn't too bright, as Nik described him, and spent most of his time away from the estate. (AKA mutt hunting) The middle nephew, a decade younger, was Damien. Finally, the youngest was Sergei, at 28. He was supposed to be the burly enforcer, with a "heart of jewel" (Nik meant 'gold' I think).
Beyond the Alpha's nephews, there were few with power. Nik was Sergei's best friend, and that was how he scored the business/Pack trip to America.
"Nervous?" Nik asked as he sidled up to my seat, right after telling me we were preparing to land,
"No, not really."
"Fearless then, sweetheart? Good for you. I wouldn't want a little lamb in with the wolves."
"I'm more wolf than you are, sweetheart."
"That so? I guess we will see soon enough." Then, we moved in closer, to whisper against my ear. With five other werewolves- including the man from the alley- on the plane, he had to get that close for privacy.
"Come off strong, they will respect that. Viktor wants you there, you remember that. You remember that, and don't take shit from any zhopa. You may be fresh meat, but you aren't anybody's meat. You need help? You tell Viktor. He's scary guy, but he will look out for you, if you play it right. Got me?"
After that, I prepared to land.
