Zahkar smiled. “Surely, when you met the lion, his accent scared you a little.”
No. His accent made me want to fuck him.
There was no need to tell Zahkar. This dinner was about my learning about him, not the other way around.
“Why do you think Americans sound so evil to each other?” I asked.
Zahkar pulled out a pipe. His wife snapped her attention to him for a minute and scowled.
He paid her displeasure no mind, taking out a small wooden box and setting it on the table. “I would say it all goes back to the Cold War and the tension between Russia and America. Our countries told us to fear the other. To see each as an enemy.”
“That’s an interesting point.” Feeling a little bit comfortable, I grabbed my own glass of wine. “And your name, Zahkar. What does it mean?”
“It means remembrance of God.” He opened the wooden box, took out a little tobacco, and filled his pipe. “You don’t mind if I smoke do you?”
“No.”
“My wife hates it.” He shrugged and lit his pipe.
“Are you a religious man? I’m asking because of the name.”
“I’m religious as much as any man could be.” He tapped the end of his pipe, inhaled, and then exhaled smoke. Surprisingly, the air filled with a fruity scent instead of the usual nasty cigar smoke.
I spied Kazimir watching me on the side. For some reason, it made me nervous, like I was being examined by him and needed desperately to pass this test.
It’s fine. Kaz is just being protective.
I took another sip of wine.
Zahkar switched to Russian. “They told me you’ve been learning our language fast.”
I responded in Russian. “It’s not easy, but I’m getting it.”
“Death has a way of speeding things up.”
Was he referring to Kazimir and my killing Sasha or other deaths?
Zahkar leaned my way and displayed a wicked grin. “What is your darkest secret?’
“I’m a serial killer.”
A dark laugh left him. “No wonder Kazimir adores you. That sense of humor is amazing.”
I said nothing else.
“Since you won’t confess, I’ll tell you mine.” Zahkar leaned in closer. “I have a gun fetish.”
“Most do.”
“Yes, but I like to put my guns in other places for fun.”
Anja tapped his shoulder and went into hurried and whispered Russian. I could barely understand her, but within seconds, Zahkar put that pipe out and straightened in his seat.
So she’s the one running things.
Just when I was about to spark up more conversation, another man and woman walked up to me. I’d recognized them as the couple who sat on the other end of the table. Apparently, they’d decided to jump up and introduce themselves.
Zahkar’s expression went neutral.
I took in the other couple. While Zahkar and Anja appeared like a professor with his glamorous but very unhappy wife, passion radiated from these two.
The woman grabbed my attention first. Sheer white material made up her gown. It must’ve been gossamer. It was like a spider web or wedding veil but with tons of layers. Feathers covered the bust.
She looked like a virginal swan while her man appeared to be the evil sorcerer who’d captured her. He had on a tuxedo, but I could barely make it out due to the heavy black fur cloak around his shoulders. A top hat sat on his head.
He lifted the hat and half bowed.
I did my best not to laugh.
The evil sorcerer spoke. “Zahkar, just because you are near the mouse does not mean you will be talking to her all night. Hello, Emily. My name is Nikolay.” He gave the hat to the swan and extended his hand to me.
“Nice to meet you, Nikolay.”
Dark tattoos covered his entire hand. I shook it and took in the symbols of crosses all over his fingers and palm. Each cross was different in some way. Some were very small. Others somewhat big. Many had names or words written in them. I was struggling with the Russian alphabet and had no idea what they said.
Is this a count of all the people he’s murdered or is he religious?
Nikolay kept my hand. “How did you get Kazimir’s attention?”
“I still don’t know.” I took my hand away.
Kazimir glanced over his shoulder, took in Nikolay and me, and then returned to his conversation with the other man. I wasn’t fooled. I knew his attention remained on us.
Nikolay didn’t appear to be going anywhere as he dragged his chair over to us and sat down. His swan remained standing with a silly grin on her face.
Zahkar frowned and tilted Nikolay’s way. “What are you doing?”
Nikolay waved him away. “I’m getting closer to her.”
“Why?” Zahkar frowned. “Sucking up won’t matter.”
Nikolay sniffed the air and laughed. “She smells good. No wonder the lion is pussy whipped. I would be too.”
I kept my expression neutral.
Kazimir turned around and gazed at Nikolay. “My mouse can also speak Russian, so be a gentlemen in both languages.”
Nikolay didn’t look perturbed. “I’m well aware that she can speak Russian.”
For the first time ever, I witnessed Kazimir roll his eyes.
A smile hit my face.
Nikolay returned to me and switched to English. “With everyone...gone...someone will have to put the lion in his place.”
Good point.
I leaned a little further. “And that’s you?”
“Me?” He grinned. “Kazimir is not smart enough to listen to me.”
Although Kazimir’s back was to us, he shook his head. He’d definitely heard Nikolay’s comment. At this point, Zahkar gave up on continuing our conversation and began talking to his wife.
This is interesting. Lots of little internal things happening here.
I directed my attention back to Nikolay. “How did Kazimir and you meet?”
Nikolay scooted the chair closer to me and crossed his leg. “We met at his stepfather’s funeral.”
“That’s a sad place to meet.”
“No. Not for us. It was an elegant affair.” Nikolay gestured to the ballroom. “It was at Vagankovo Cemetery. Have you been?”
“No.”
“Oh, Vagankovo is a gem in itself. It’s been around in Moscow since the 18th century. Over 100,000 graves. There’s the dead from the Moscow plague riot of 1771. There are people buried from the Battle of Borodino, the Battle of Moscow, and the Khodynka Tragedy.”
I didn’t know the significance of those battles, but I was impressed. It was always easy to get excited about something when the person talking about it was super enthused.
“There’s the dead from the artistic and sports community of Russia and the old Soviet Union.”
“Enough, Nikolay.” Kazimir turned around. “She doesn’t need to hear about all the dead.”
“It’s a fascinating cemetery.” Nikolay turned to me. “And his stepfather, The King, was buried in Vagankovo. You should have been there, Emily.”
I grinned.
Nikolay spread his arms out in front of him. “As you Americans would say, ‘mafia royalty.’ Like one of those Italian mob movies they make in your country. All the men standing around the grave in pinstripes and gold watches. Women in black dresses and diamonds. Even the bodyguards looked expensive.”