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Maksim spoke when he was addressed, but he largely sat quietly and absorbed the sound of so many voices. He lingered long enough to consume three pints, then purchased a jug for his father and left the tavern to walk home. The moonlight illuminated the cobbled streets.
On the outskirts of the village, Maksim heard someone clear their throat and call, “Pardon me, good sir. I was hoping you might spare a moment to speak with me.”
It was the stranger from the tavern, who’d apparently followed Maksim. He didn’t recognize the accent but could understand the words, which had been uttered in fluent Russian. He looked at the man in the elegant suit with wary curiosity. “What do you need, stranger?”
The man nodded and came a few steps closer, leaving Maksim plenty of personal space. “I’m trying to find a man named Timofey. I’ve heard he resides nearby. Would you happen to know him?”
Maksim was instinctively suspicious of strangers, and his father hadn’t been to the village since Elizaveta’s death. He doubted there were any humans left who had any idea that a hermit lived deep in the mountains, let alone knew his name. It had been at least a decade since the oldest residents had asked about Timofey, and no one else would have any knowledge or cause to speak about him.
His body tingled with the awareness that this stranger was other, but his preternatural senses were undeveloped, so he didn’t understand the input. “Who is asking?”
The man smiled, and unease slid down Maksim’s spine when he thought he saw the tip of a fang. “Excuse me. I’m terribly sorry about that. I failed to introduce myself. My name is Jean-Pierre.”
“Maksim.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I was sent to find Timofey and convey a request for assistance from a friend who shares many of his values and viewpoints.”
Anyone who knew enough to mention his father’s opinion on Therians hadn’t found him based on anything he’d learned from the people here. Maksim had watched his father suffer in exile all his life. He was angry and resentful toward the kinsmen who’d cast Timofey aside. He decided to listen to what Jean-Pierre had to say. Passing on the message remained to be seen.
“I know the man you speak of,” Maksim agreed.
Jean-Pierre smiled. “Excellent! Do you mind if I ask how you know him? It’s been difficult to get reliable information.”
“Timofey is my father.”
Jean-Pierre’s eyes widened. That was the last response he’d expected, and he tried to dampen his excitement. “What has your father told you about vampires, Maksim?”
He shrugged. “Next to nothing. He usually rants about Therians.”
Maksim’s answer seemed to please the other man, who smiled warmly. “Would you care to retire somewhere more private so I can tell you what has brought me to this lonely valley?”
Maksim was desperate to learn more, but his natural wariness kept him from immediately accepting. “How can I trust that you mean me no harm?”
Jean-Pierre grinned, not bothering to hide his fangs. “Can you tell truth from lies?”
Maksim shrugged. “I’ve had little cause to develop the skill.”
“My name is Henri,” the vampire lied.
Maksim jumped in shock. “What in the hells was that?”
“Apparently, that is what lies feel like to you. Try this for comparison. My name is Jean-Pierre.”
Maksim grinned. “That’s a useful skill.”
Jean-Pierre nodded. “It is. Now, listen with your senses open. I mean you and yours no harm, and I come bearing an invitation for you both to be the honored guests of our vampire matriarch. Do you feel the truth?”
Maksim waited for the twinge that indicated a lie, but he felt nothing. “I do. Very well. Let us retire to somewhere with no eager ears and have a gentlemanly discussion. There are a great many things I wish to know that my father refuses to discuss.”
The vampire smiled. “I have a room at the tavern. That should provide an appropriate setting.”
They returned to the building and went to Jean-Pierre’s room, locking the door to ensure they wouldn’t be interrupted. While Maksim got comfortable, Jean-Pierre pulled a bottle of fine vodka from his luggage and poured them both a drink.
“I must confess, I found your home and spoke to your father. He refused me outright,” Jean-Pierre began. “I want to start this out with honesty. When I approached you, I did not know who or what you were. I thought you were just another human I hadn’t questioned.”
“What do you think I am?” Maksim asked warily, glancing at the locked door. He set the minor lie aside in favor of gaining the information he wanted.
“Unless I’m much mistaken, you’re a singularity—a hybrid born of a Therian father and a human mother. The only one to survive infancy and a powerful ally for my queen if you so choose.” Jean-Pierre took a sip of his vodka.
