Page 38 of Casting Butterflies

“I hope so,” my chirped reply as I left.

The hallway held more people than expected. While most of the doors were closed, some had been left ajar and folks stood around in clusters either chatting or heading somewhere to avoid stewing in their tight cabins. While I did see a sign indicating a cafeteria and lounge, I chose instead to emerge onto a deck with a railing, high and sturdy enough to keep even my clumsy ass from tipping into the cold sea. I chose to stand by it and stared out at the water, the ripples barely visible in the illumination cast by the three-quarter moon.

“We meet again,” said a familiar voice.

I turned to put my back against the rail and saw the man from the bar. “Hello.”

“Given we are sailing companions, I dare say introductions are in order. I am Grigory.” He held out his hand.

“Florence.” I gripped his extended fingers, the flesh of them hotter than expected and got a jolt, not of awareness but of pain, as if my very body rejected contact. I quickly tugged my hand free and resisted an urge to wipe it on my pants.

“Nice to meet you, Florence. Where’s your husband?”

“Checking out the ship. Are you travelling alone?”

“Yes. Alas, my last companion proved to be more trouble than expected. She stole something of mine that I’ve yet to recover.” He shook his head. “My own fault for not realizing she retained such a willful and rebellious side. I won’t make that mistake again.”

I blinked, uncertain how to reply. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“The problem with being complacent and making assumptions. Next time, I’ll ensure my treasure is better guarded and that anyone living with me is properly secured when I’m not around.”

Had he just implied he’d be locking up his next girlfriend? Creepy and my cue to leave. “I should probably head back to my cabin and wait for Misha.”

“I’m surprised you put your faith in the Luxalis so quickly. Then again, I doubt he’s told you everything.”

Hearing the fancy name for Misha’s people, I froze. “Excuse me?”

“The Luxalis do like their secrets but hate outsiders. I’m sure their elders are quite perturbed a human is carrying their precious Anivivi. One has to wonder if you’ll make it to their enclave. Such a long journey with so many perils. And then there’s the fact they don’t allow outsiders entry.”

Despite suspecting, I still asked, “Who are you?”

The slow smile gave me the shivers. “Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin.”

“The Rasputin?”

“I see you’ve heard of me.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“The stories of my death have been grossly exaggerated. Before my arrival to Earth, I used to be known as Duke Valefor, a title I lost when I as banished to this place. Not that the Luxalis knew of my true identity when they took me in. They thought me some poor simple Umbradriad who’d accidentally wandered through a rift and offered me sanctuary.”

“You’re the dude Misha told me about, the one who stole the spirit.” And he was here. In front of me. Could I assume Grigori wouldn’t do anything given the number of witnesses sharing the deck with us?

“I’m surprised Misha told you that much. Such a close-mouthed bunch usually.”

“What do you want?”

He arched a dark brow. “As if you need to ask. I want what is mine.”

“The spirit doesn’t belong to you.”

“And?” he taunted. “One could argue it’s not yours either.”

“The voice in the necklace chose me.”

“Which is unfortunate for you because I will have it back. However, you do have a choice. You can hand it to me willingly, or I’ll rip it from you by force.”

I hugged my upper body. “I’m not giving it to you.” A brave thing to say that also had to do with the fact I had no idea how to divest myself of the spirit either.