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The last vestiges of daylight had vanished as they talked. The deepening shadows of the forest seemed to reach toward the firelight like long, crooked fingers. Annja shivered as a breeze twisted around them, and the snowflakes stuck to her face before melting.
Far off in the distance, a howl punctured the serenity of the coming night. Gregor seemed unfazed by it. “Wolves,” he said simply.
“You have a lot of them around here?” Annja asked.
“Siberia is full of them,” Gregor said. “But they keep their distance. This time of year they are still not that hungry. If this was February, then we might have a problem. For now, no problem.”
“Small comfort,” Bob said. “That howl just brought back memories of those old horror movies I used to watch.”
Annja grinned. “Doesn’t help that it’s close to Halloween.”
Gregor let a genuine smile escape. “You think maybe these woods are haunted? That perhaps there are creatures living here who would do us harm?”
Annja looked at him. The firelight made shadows jump across his face, contorting his features and making him look almost comically terrifying. “I think I’ve seen a lot of things in my life that defy explanation.”
Bob said nothing, but seemed to be searching the darkness for something.
Gregor held up one hand. “I come from this area, Annja. I am no stranger to legends. Or to being scared in the woods like this.”
“I’m not scared,” she said.
He smiled. “Of course not. But here we are, in the snow and dark, with just the fire to keep the evil away. Many other people, they would find this intimidating.”
“Like me,” Bob said. “I think my mind is getting the better of me.”
Annja rubbed her hands together. “I guess this wouldn’t be a good time to tell ghost stories, then, huh?”
“Ghost stories are a way of life for those who live in Siberia,” Gregor said. “But perhaps Bob would prefer it if we did not talk about such things while his mind is busy replaying movies from his youth.”
“I can’t help it,” Bob said. “I’ve got visions of the werewolf running through my head.” He looked at Annja. “You have to admit, it fits the situation pretty well.”
“Just because we’re in the woods?” she asked.
“I was talking about that howl we heard.”
Another howl sounded in the night air. Bob jumped. Annja and Gregor both laughed.
Bob pointed a finger at Annja. “No one finds out about my fear when we get back to civilization. I just don’t think I ever outgrew those crazy flicks I used to watch as a kid.”
“I used to watch them, too,” Annja said. “I just think it’s great that a guy like you who is so accomplished and relatively fearless—I mean, you bike and camp everywhere—gets freaked out by the woods at night.”
“Yeah, well, my therapist suggested I confront my fears as much as possible. So I make a point of camping out whenever I can,” he grumbled.
“But you don’t like it,” Annja said, laughing.
“I hate it.”
Gregor laid a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “I tell you the truth—I don’t like it, either. I have to do it in the military and since then at a few times when I am on job. But I do not like being out in the dark, either. I always feel like someone else is out there watching me. No matter how much I am hidden or how concealed I make myself, it always seems like someone out there knows.”
“You feel vulnerable,” Annja said.
“Yes.”
“It’s probably a pretty common feeling. I know I’ve felt it during my life, as well,” she admitted.
Bob sighed. “Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”
“I’d say you’re dealing with it the best way you possibly can,” Annja said. “At least you’re not letting it paralyze you into inaction. I know of people so utterly paralyzed they let their fears dictate how they lead their lives. Most of them sit at home rocking back and forth afraid to do anything.”
“Well,” Bob said, “I couldn’t do that. After all, as much as I dislike camping at night, I love cruising everywhere on my bike.”
Annja smiled. “You see? You’re successful even in spite of your fear. I think that’s what makes us better human beings. Those of us who are able to take our fears and still generate a positive life despite the things that scare us. That’s the mark of success. At least in my book.”
Gregor nodded. “I agree with Annja. She is very wise, this woman. I appreciate her thoughtfulness in this matter.”
“Thanks, Gregor,” Annja said.
“Now we drink,” Gregor stated.
Annja sat back. “What?”
Gregor produced a small flask from his jacket. He took their cups and emptied the pine-needle tea out of them. Unscrewing the flask top, he poured equal amounts of clear liquid into them and then handed the cups to Annja and Bob.
“Now.” Gregor smiled at them both. He raised his glass then tilted his head back and threw the drink down his throat.
Annja glanced at Bob and then did the same. As the icy vodka hit her throat, it burned a path down her esophagus and then pooled in the pit of her stomach. Her head swam briefly but she managed to stifle the cough.
Bob, who had apparently been with Gregor enough times to have gone through this before, merely shot the drink down and then set his glass down. “Let everybody be healthy,” he said.
Gregor smiled. “Now we have a trip to embark upon.”
Annja was about to hand him her cup when another sound shattered the night.
But this time, it was no wolf howl.
It sounded like a human scream.
6
“What the hell was that?”
Annja peered out in the darkness. Gregor seemed poised to launch himself out into the woods.
Bob pulled them back to reality. “I don’t know, but it’s nothing nearby.”
Annja glanced at him. “You sure about that?”
He nodded. “We’re high up on a hill. Sound carries for quite a distance in these parts. That sound could have been twenty miles away from us. If we start thumping around in the pitch-black, we’ll get lost and we’ll all be injured before we find anything.”
“Was not a sound,” Gregor said. “Was a scream.”
“A human scream,” Annja said.
Gregor looked at her. She could see his eyes gleam in the dark as they caught the twinkling firelight.
“Yes,” he agreed.
Annja wanted to say something, but there didn’t seem to be anything else to say. What could they do? For his part, Gregor also looked concerned. The prospect of someone needing help seemed to stir something within him. Annja wondered if he might have an angel complex—a need to be a savior in order to feel good about himself.
But just as she thought she might have found something warm within his soul, Gregor cleared his throat and shook his head. “We can do nothing about it. We should get to sleep.”
“Good idea,” Bob said. He got up from his seat and helped Annja into the lean-to shelter.
As she lay down on the pine-needle bed, Annja felt the blanket of sleep come over her. Bob got two of the survival blankets from their gear and laid them on top of Annja and then himself.
Gregor poked his head into the shelter and dropped a pile of pine boughs on top of the blankets. “These will help preserve your warmth, as well.”
Annja looked up, her eyes now heavy. “Aren’t you sleeping?”
Gregor shook his head. “Not just yet. I will take first watch.”
“First watch?”
Gregor looked at her. “We are in the woods. They are an old woods, filled with many stories and the potential for many dangers. It would be foolish of me to simply lie down to sleep. I might not ever wake up again.”
Bob turned over. “Wake me when it’s my turn to take over.”
“I will.” Gregor’s head vanished.
Annja watched him resume his place on the log in front of the fire. Even from there, she could feel some of the residual heat make its way into the shelter. More snow started to fall, giving the night an eerily quiet feeling, despite the strange noises they’d heard only minutes before.
She watched Gregor toss some more wood on the fire. And then, rather than stare into the flames, he turned himself around so that his back was to the fire and to the shelter. He stared off into the night.
Annja watched him for another few moments before her eyes drooped one final time and sleep finally overpowered her. The thought of her concussion made her briefly wonder if she might never wake again.
But she was sure that Gregor would not have permitted her to sleep if he thought she might die. Strange as he was, she couldn’t quite shake the idea that he was deeply concerned about her well-being.
W HEN A NNJA’S EYES SLID OPEN , darkness still enveloped the entire campsite. Inside the shelter, Annja felt warm and snug. The pine boughs Gregor had placed over her earlier in the night had done their job. The scent of pine hung in the air.
Her head didn’t seem to hurt anymore, much to her relief. Annja shifted and heard the dull snore of Bob snoozing nearby.
She knew hours must have passed, but what time was it? Why hadn’t Gregor woken Bob to relieve him on guard duty?
Annja frowned and shifted again, working her way out from under the pile of boughs. The survival blanket made a noise like aluminum foil being crushed and Annja winced. The less noise she made, the better she felt. No sense waking Bob if she could get out of the shelter and give Gregor a break herself.
Annja poked her head out of the entrance of the lean-to and winced as the cold night air greeted her. There was a distinct bite to it and her skin, which had been warm inside, seemed to stretch taut against the cold.
Embers glowed a deep red in the campfire pit, but it appeared to have been some time since fresh wood had been added to it.
Gregor was nowhere to be seen.
Annja frowned. Had he abandoned them? She didn’t think that made any sense. Why would he have gone through all the trouble of helping Annja with her concussion if he’d intended to desert them all along?
She moved out of the lean-to, hugging herself as she did so. The howl of wind broke the night, rustling the tall trees above her, making them strain as they leaned one way, then another. The sky overhead showed no stars, only the dark clouds of an approaching storm.
Annja’s footsteps crunched into the fresh layer of snow that had covered the landscape while she slumbered. There was maybe an inch on the ground, but no more. Still, looking at the sky again, Annja sensed that there’d be more in the coming day.
That meant they needed to get to Yakutsk as soon as possible. Annja’s run-in with the giant truck had cost them plenty of time. It couldn’t have been helped, but Annja felt marginally responsible for slowing down the team.
She didn’t like feeling hopeless. Or like some wounded puppy that couldn’t hold its own. She knew Bob would never say anything, even if he could be incredibly focused on sticking to a schedule.
They’d need to get going as soon as daylight broke.
But judging from the sky, it seemed that dawn was still a good way off.
Another blast of wind rattled some of the snow from branches high above, sending clumps of it down into the fire. The embers hissed as the snow melted into water that instantly sizzled and turned to steam.
Where was Gregor?
Annja turned and walked the perimeter of the camp. She didn’t think he was the type of guy who would fall asleep while on guard duty. Not a man with all sorts of military and organized-crime experiences in his background.
So where had he gone?
She retraced her steps to the fire and knelt down by the log where she’d last seen him sitting. Annja felt the log and found it cold. He’d obviously been gone long enough for the log to lose the warmth his body would have left.
Her hands felt the muddy ground. She found the dull impressions left behind by his boots and followed them as they headed away from the fire in a straight line.
Ten feet from the fire, they vanished. Annja sighed. His footsteps were easy to find close to the fire because the ground was warmer there. Any snow that had fallen had melted into the ground, turning it muddy. As a result, Gregor had left tracks.
But farther away, the ground was cold and hard, and Gregor’s tracks didn’t show nearly as well as they had a few feet back.
Still, Annja felt the straight line leading away from the fire told her something important—whatever had attracted his attention, Gregor had headed straight for it.
There was little ambient light to work with. Seeing in the night was proving difficult for her, but what if Gregor was in trouble?
Annja stepped carefully through the snow, knowing that even a shallow layer could prove slippery. She didn’t want to add a broken leg to her list of injuries.
The ground sloped down away from the camp. Annja closed her eyes and visualized the sword. It hovered there in front of her, ready for use. But did she really want to bring it out right now?
She opened her eyes. Which way to go?
Her instincts told her to move to the left.
She smiled, ignoring the pain for a brief moment. The decision had certainly come to her without hesitation. Maybe she was getting the hang of listening to her instincts a bit better.
She seemed to be walking parallel to the side of the mountain. To her left, the land sloped up, back the way she’d come. To her right, it leveled off for some distance and then seemed to disappear into the darkness.
The wind continued to howl all around her.
