Hunter’s Scars – Bonus Prologue
Anya
It doesn’t feel right to wear this much black.
Nikolai wears black every single day but since Ivan’s funeral it just feels… different. Everything is too somber. Nikolai has spent so much in his office that I don’t know how to help. I keep trying to rack my brain as much as I can to think of something that will get him out of his funk.
Last night he mentioned something about appointing a new right-hand man today. Somebody from within the ranks that has really proved himself. I think it can only be a good thing. Nikolai has me, of course, he always has me, but Ivan was special to him. A friendship like that isn’t easy to replace and I know that one way or another he needs to fill that role for himself or else the power vacuum will keep, well, sucking.
I know that there was absolutely nothing that I could have done to help save Ivan. I know that it was out of my control, but I still feel somewhat responsible. I just want to do… something. Nikolai is processing as best as he can. Which leaves me here, sitting on the couch watching yet another documentary about my favorite artists. It’s always been soothing to watch art being created. I love listening to them talking about their processes and the way their ideas come to them. At least, I usually do. Today, I have popcorn and snacks and all matter of unhealthy things piled out on the table in front of me while I lounge in my comfiest clothes, one of Nikolai’s shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. But the documentary is mostly just background noise. I can see it happening, the lights and colors dance over the dimmed room that I’m sitting in, but I can’t really hear any of it. Not really.
I don’t even notice the body lingering in the doorway. I’ve gotten far too accustomed to Nikolai’s men hanging around. I think it would be more unusual to not have a giant, muscled man watching my every move. I don’t like dehumanizing the bodyguards, but they are just a constant, permanent fixture in my life now. They don’t even seem to like to talk much. They are good enough to me and I know that they make Nikolai feel safer with me being out and about, so I tolerate them.
Which is precisely why it doesn’t even register when Horus appears with ice cream until he sits down on the couch beside me.
“I was not sure how you liked your Sunday’s, Mrs. Volkovich, so I hope that it is alright that I guessed.” Horus speaks in his accented lilt as he settles into the seat next to me. I notice that he, too, has a large ice cream bowl in his hands. The flavors of his are different, and the toppings slightly more varied but I’m more than happy to indulge in any ice cream whatsoever, so I help myself to the bowl that he brought me.
“That’s very kind of you, thank you.” I answer, pushing around the freshly whipped cream with my spoon, “but, please, just call me Anya.”
“You looked like you could perhaps use some company,” Horus continues. “I know that I am a new face that you are growing accustomed to, but I hope that I am not intruding.”
He was right. I did need some company. “No, please, anybody can watch tv.” I smile softly at him, even if I don’t feel the true emotions behind the gesture.
“I hope that it is not too forward for me to ask, but how was your day at work?”
The question strikes me as funny. “My day?” I asked with a more genuine laugh. “I think that the events of my day would bore somebody like you greatly.”
Horus angles his head as he looks at me. “Why do you say that?”
“Well it’s not nearly as interesting as what you guys do, is it?”
The corner of Horus’ mouth tilts upward. “And just what do you think that we do all day? I will grant you that certain days are much more interesting than others, but we do not run around shooting things up and rescuing damsels all day every day.”
In truth, I think that is something along the lines of what I thought that they did. The sheer amount of paperwork that I have seen Nikolai do has somewhat disenchanted me from the whole thing, but I thought that was the exception, not the rule.
“Do not delude yourself into thinking that the work that you do with the doctor is any less valuable. I assure you that you are just as vital as I am,” Horus says before he eats some more of his ice cream.
Only for it to fall right off his spoon and onto his very expensive looking tie. He swears under his breath and leans forward to place his bowl down. He grabs a napkin and starts to very carefully blot at the mess and swears again.
The first time I hear him say the word in Arabic, I’m not sure that I hear him right, but when he repeats it I am certain. One of the few languages that I happen to be fluent in.
I can’t stop the smirk from claiming me as I answer him in perfect Arabic. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Horus answers me without thinking. “My mother would turn over in her grave to hear such words.”
It is only after he finishes speaking that he seems to realize that I spoke to him in his native tongue. The shocked look on his face is perhaps that very best thing that I’ve seen all day long. This time, my laughter comes out easily and freely. It feels so good to laugh until my cheeks hurt at the sign of the Bratva second in command, shocked over me and wearing ice cream on his clothes. It’s so desperately human that it cheers me right up.
“I am pleased that my misfortune amuses you, Mrs. Volkovich.”
“I am sorry. It’s not funny,” I say quickly, trying to reign in my laughter and failing miserably. “It’s not! I promise! Can I get you anything? And I did tell you to call me Anya.”
Horus pulls off his tie and carefully folds it into his pocket. “No, I simply need to be more careful, Anya.”
“Now that, I am sure that your mother would be pleased to hear. Tell me more about your family. Where are they?” I ask him conversationally. I’ve forgotten all about the documentary playing in the background.
“Dead, unfortunately. I came to work for Nikolai shortly after I turned eighteen. I had lost my family the year before.” Horus smiles tightly. The pain of losing them so young likely still stings.
I can relate to that. “I’m sorry.”
“It happens all of the time, I am sure. It feels good to speak their language again, though. I feared that I would never have the opportunity. My father passed of a heart attack, my mother of a broken heart shortly after and I left my country and never looked back…”
“Well, I am happy to be the one to bring some joy to your life then, Horus. I know how happy my husband is that you are serving at his side now.”
“I hope to do him proud. I owe Mr. Volkovich a great deal for taking me in, for teaching me skills, letting me climb in the ranks as he has. I am partially the man that I am today because he took a chance on me.”
I would imagine so. I remember Nikolai telling me something similar about the way that his own father made him climb the ranks to earn his position. Perhaps Nikolai sees something of his own journey in Horus’.
“I think that everybody needs somebody in this world.” I admit. “I know that I do, anyway. It can get lonely when you’re on your own, it starts to feel too big. That’s why I’m so happy to be here, helping in whatever way I can.”
“I know that feeling all too well.” Horus admits. I can see the sadness behind his eyes, the hope for a friendship that I think that we both desperately need. “But now we are here, part of something bigger than ourselves. A type of family of another kind.”
“Exactly.” I beam. I lean forward and give him a can of soda, which looks horribly out of place in his hand, but he accepts it anyway as I lift mine into a toast. “To finding friends, however they get here.”
“To new friendships, and bright futures.” Horus tapped the aluminum brim against mine, and we both deink.
When I smiled, it doesn’t feel forced at all.
