Kindred by J. A. Redmerski Page A

back here it might not be in one piece.”
    A tiny gasp escapes Genna, her dainty little fingers resting gently on her lips; her emerald-green eyes are wide and focused.
    “You don’t mean that literally …right?” I say.
    Nathan, Isaac and even their sister, Phoebe, who stands beside Nathan, all nod in unison like the bobble-heads my stepdad, Jeff, had on the dashboard of his truck.
    “She’s not a traitor like Sibyl,” Isaac says to me. “But Nataša can easily rip Sibyl in two pieces without even thinking about it. It’s why my father later lost interest in Sibyl, because Nataša was more powerful,” he adds, though still looking toward Nataša as she weaves her way to the front of the room near the large rock fireplace. I look to Nataša and then behind her at the painting of Trajan and Aramei, back and forth, wondering briefly about this odd series of relationships.
    I hope this sort of thing doesn’t run in the family.
    “Love?” Isaac says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    I snap out of the reverie and turn back to him.
    “Yeah, I was just thinking.”
    The corners of Isaac’s mouth lift into a smile. He brings me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me from behind and nuzzles his lips against my ear. “About what?” His breath on the side of my neck sends shivers dancing across the skin there. But I can’t let him soften me right now. Not with that tall, terrifying werewolf, the one worse than Isaac’s mother , standing dominantly in the room like a tyrant.
    The pages from that old book flash in my mind again suddenly. I shift in Isaac’s arms and tilt my head to see his face. “What did you say her last name was?”
    Isaac looks down at me confused, maybe because I seem so distracted, because I am, and then he says, “Vargasavi c . Why?”
    I look across the room at Nataša again, chewing on that name, looking for the connection.
    “Isn’t that Viktor’s true last name?”
    There is a very long pause as Isaac looks at me more contemplatively. His eyes crease inward, wrinkling the spot just above his nose. “How did you know that?”

 
    7
     
     
     
     
     

    I SWALLOW A HUGE gulp of air and feel my eyes get bigger in their sockets as I realize the can of worms I just opened. But for the moment, I’m saved by a voice as intimidating as the body it carries from.
    “I see leeadership here ees been vaning,” Nataša says, her solid, narrow chin held high and imperially. She appears to be gazing at each and every body in the room with indignant disapproval. And she has a strong Serbian-English accent. Almost sounds Russian to me. But then, I really wouldn’t know about that sort of thing. Vaning ? I’m pretty sure she meant ‘waning’.
    No one else dares speak over her.
    I see dozens of hard, engaged faces staring across the room. Those in the front row stand with their backs straight and their hands folded together, resting at the pelvis.
    Nataša raises a hand and slowly her index finger unfolds from the others. The gesture produces a giant man who had been standing off to the side amid the crowd, near the foyer exit. His arms are as big around as both of my thighs, rippling with muscles and hard, pronounced veins. His head is square-shaped and I can’t imagine where his neck disappeared to.
    Nataša says something to him in her native language and he bows and turns on his heels to do her bidding.
    Her voice rises over the crowd once again. “Vukašin has neeglecteed thees haus too l ong.” My stomach hardens when her gaze falls in our direction. She moves her head side to side once slowly, as if dissatisfied. “Hopefulee Natheen vill doo vut needs to be done.” She looks away coldly and adds, “But I doubt eet.”
    Wow. What a bitch....
    I glance over at Nathan carefully, as though worried my movement might attract Nataša’s attention, and I notice right away the boiling resentment in his eyes. But he doesn’t say anything to defend himself. It’s probably best, but