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Not at all. Elise moved back inside her guest room and sat down on the edge of the bed. What can I do for you, Irina?
I found something today, and I am wondering if it might be of use to you.
What is it?
Well, I was putting some of Petrov's things in storage and I found a shoebox containing some of his deceased brother's personal effects. They're mostly mundane...photographs, jewelry, some monogrammed desk items, that sort of thing. But at the bottom, I found some old handwritten letters wrapped in a folded piece of embroidery. Elise, these letters that Petrov's brother was keeping...he must have spent weeks writing them, but they're filled with nonsensical ramblings. I can't be sure, but I think it might be the same odd things Petrov had begun writing in the time before he went Rogue.
Oh, my God.
Do you suppose the writings might be of some help to you?
I'd really like to see them to find out. Excitement shot through Elise as she fished a pen and some paper out of her purse. Would you be willing to let me have them?
Yes, of course. That's why I called.
Elise glanced at her packed bag, biting her lower lip. She could leave for the States anytime. This potential new information was more important. I can be in a taxi in just a few minutes, Irina. Give me your address and I'll leave as soon as I can.
A cream-colored Mercedes taxi idled at the end of the gated drive, which had been under Minion surveillance since dawn. From his vantage point several hundred yards away, concealed by the thick green of the surrounding forest and peering through high-powered binoculars, the Minion watched as a slender blond woman hurried out to meet the waiting car.
The bitch appeared to be a perfect match for the video image he'd gotten via e-mail from his Master. To be certain, he pulled the picture out of his jacket pocket and took another look. Yes, that was her all right.
The Minion smiled as the woman got into the taxi.
Showtime, he murmured, letting the binocs swing from the cord around his neck as he clambered down out of the tree where he'd been hiding. He jogged over to his car, ditched on a narrow private lane nearby. He hopped in, turned the key, and rolled out after his quarry.
Irina Odolf lived in a small, tidy town house on a tree-lined residential street on the outskirts of Berlin's west end. Elise was surprised, though not shocked, that the woman had decided to make her home outside the Darkhavens after losing her mate to Bloodlust. She likely would have done the same in her situation.
There were just so many reminders of what I was missing after he was sent away, Irina explained as she and Elise sat down for coffee in the sun-filled dining area. Glass doors shaded by vertical blinds overlooked the community's snow- patched common courtyard that ran along the backs of the houses. Petrov and I have many friends in our Darkhaven, but living there without him was too difficult. I suppose if he comes home--when he comes home, she amended, idly smoothing the lacy edge of the tablecloth. When he comes home, then we'll return there and start our life over again.
I hope that day comes soon for you both, Irina.
The Breedmate looked up with a teary-eyed smile. So do I.
Elise took a sip of her coffee, dimly aware of a slow pound building in her temples. It had been present since she got into the taxi that brought her here, a trip that had taken her through the center of the city, where the din of human thoughts had battered her through the metal and glass of the car. But she used the focus that Tegan had shown her, and the worst of her psychic pain had faded to a manageable level. Being this close to a lot of humanity was certainly a test. Irina's neighborhood was a tightly packed cluster of homes, with a steady stream of cars traveling up and down the street outside, bringing even more noise to the chatter filling her head.
And underneath the general rumble of discontent she was receiving, Elise detected something darker...just out of her reach.
Would you like to see the letters?
Irina's voice snapped Elise back to attention. Yes, of course.
She followed the woman out of the dining room and into a cozy little den at the end of the hall. A man's desk sat across from an inviting reading nook, the masculine furnishings impeccably polished and organized, as though awaiting the imminent arrival of their owner.
Irina motioned Elise over to the desk, where an open shoebox sat next to an old weaving that had been laid flat. A stack of folded papers rested on top. Here they are.
May I? Elise asked, reaching to pick up the collection of letters.
At Irina's nod, she unfolded the first one and glanced at the page. It was filled with a hasty, violently uneven scrawl. The words were barely legible, written in what appeared to be Latin, by a hand that seemed guided by madness. Elise fanned through the other papers, finding more of the same on them.
Do you think it means anything?
Elise shook her head. I can't be sure. I'd like to show it to someone, though. You're sure you don't mind if I take these?
Do what you'd like. I have no use for them myself.
Thank you. Elise glanced at the weaving that lay on the desk. It was incredibly beautiful and obviously very old. She couldn't resist tracing her finger over the intricate stitches of the medieval garden design. This is lovely. The detail is incredible, like a painting done with a needle.
Yes, it is. Irina smiled. And whoever made it had an interesting sense of whimsy too.
