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Authors: Christina Dodd
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of the earth to keep them out of sight.
Not that any of that mattered. If the Varinskis came looking for them, they would be found. He knew them by reputation. He recognized them in his blood.
From the day he was born, his father had trained him to expect trouble, to be prepared for trouble, to walk unseen and hear every sound. Konstantine had trained his sons—and his daughter—for the Varinskis' inevitable appearance. Rurik wasn't surprised that they'd arrived now; he was surprised only that it had taken them so long to find him.
"No one will ever spot us." Tasya brushed at her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair. Dirt showered everywhere. "We're part of the earth."
He marveled at her naivete.
She glanced up and caught him staring at her. "What? Why do you look at me that way?"
"Come on." He drew Tasya away from the tomb, leading her swiftly across the Isle of Roi, hoping they could escape before they were spotted. Perhaps he could commandeer a fishing boat? ... Or the ferry?
"I've been thinking about how to get off the island." She followed close on his heels. "My ultralight is here."
"An ultralight?" He stopped so suddenly she almost ran into him, and swung around to face her. "What do you mean, an ultralight?"
"You know—small, fixed-wing airplane designed to fly short distances at a slow speed?"
"I know what an ultralight is," he said in irritation. "Why is it here?"
"I like to fly. It's beautiful here, and the skies aren't crowded." But she glanced aside.
She didn't want him to look into her eyes. Why not? "When did you bring it?"
"While you were gone."
"When did you start flying?"
"I took lessons last time I was in the States."
Lessons. Last time she was in the States. "Why now?"
"Why wait?"
"Where did you land?" An ultralight. The damned things were notoriously unstable. A person could get killed—
"I've got the plane," he shouted as he grabbed the controls.
A stark mountain face loomed before them.
The missile was almost on them.
He drove the plane up and to the side.
They weren't going to make it —
"There's lots of flat ground here to use as a runway." She was getting annoyed.
Good. "Again— why did you bring an ultralight to Scotland?"
"What is it with the interrogation?" she burst out. "What's wrong with having an ultralight? Lots of people enjoy them. You know, hobbies and stuff!"
A hobby. She thought flying was a hobby. "Lots of people enjoy their ultralights when they're home. But on an island in the North Atlantic? Where you visit only occasionally? Where the wind currents are treacherous and a good storm off the ocean will push that ultralight into the drink?"
Rurik drove the plane up and to the side.
They weren't going to make it —
He breathed hard, trying to throw off the memories. "It is very convenient that you brought it just when we have trouble. I don't trust convenient."
"All right. Maybe I suspected there might be trouble because of the book I've written about the Varinski family and specifically nailing the Varinski Twins."
The Varinskis.
He forgot the plane. He forgot the ultralight.
The Varinskis.
He felt exactly as he had when the tunnel collapsed. Stunned, winded, unable to grasp the magnitude of the disaster.
She stood and looked up at him, his mouth agape. "Great teeth."
He snapped his jaw shut. "Give me more information."
"My publishers have me set up for an interview on GMA as soon as I lay my hands on some proof of their legend. I'm pretty sure having them blow the tomb that I happen to be exploring will put me and my story on the front page."
"I'm pretty sure you're right. Tell me all about it when we're off the island." Grabbing her arm, he marched her toward his hiding place.
"Besides, you've got survival gear hidden on the island. That's convenient, too." She was panting, but she snapped as briskly as ever.
"My father taught his children always to anticipate every threat, then be thankful if danger doesn't rear its ugly
Not that any of that mattered. If the Varinskis came looking for them, they would be found. He knew them by reputation. He recognized them in his blood.
From the day he was born, his father had trained him to expect trouble, to be prepared for trouble, to walk unseen and hear every sound. Konstantine had trained his sons—and his daughter—for the Varinskis' inevitable appearance. Rurik wasn't surprised that they'd arrived now; he was surprised only that it had taken them so long to find him.
"No one will ever spot us." Tasya brushed at her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair. Dirt showered everywhere. "We're part of the earth."
He marveled at her naivete.
She glanced up and caught him staring at her. "What? Why do you look at me that way?"
"Come on." He drew Tasya away from the tomb, leading her swiftly across the Isle of Roi, hoping they could escape before they were spotted. Perhaps he could commandeer a fishing boat? ... Or the ferry?
"I've been thinking about how to get off the island." She followed close on his heels. "My ultralight is here."
"An ultralight?" He stopped so suddenly she almost ran into him, and swung around to face her. "What do you mean, an ultralight?"
"You know—small, fixed-wing airplane designed to fly short distances at a slow speed?"
"I know what an ultralight is," he said in irritation. "Why is it here?"
"I like to fly. It's beautiful here, and the skies aren't crowded." But she glanced aside.
She didn't want him to look into her eyes. Why not? "When did you bring it?"
"While you were gone."
"When did you start flying?"
"I took lessons last time I was in the States."
Lessons. Last time she was in the States. "Why now?"
"Why wait?"
"Where did you land?" An ultralight. The damned things were notoriously unstable. A person could get killed—
"I've got the plane," he shouted as he grabbed the controls.
A stark mountain face loomed before them.
The missile was almost on them.
He drove the plane up and to the side.
They weren't going to make it —
"There's lots of flat ground here to use as a runway." She was getting annoyed.
Good. "Again— why did you bring an ultralight to Scotland?"
"What is it with the interrogation?" she burst out. "What's wrong with having an ultralight? Lots of people enjoy them. You know, hobbies and stuff!"
A hobby. She thought flying was a hobby. "Lots of people enjoy their ultralights when they're home. But on an island in the North Atlantic? Where you visit only occasionally? Where the wind currents are treacherous and a good storm off the ocean will push that ultralight into the drink?"
Rurik drove the plane up and to the side.
They weren't going to make it —
He breathed hard, trying to throw off the memories. "It is very convenient that you brought it just when we have trouble. I don't trust convenient."
"All right. Maybe I suspected there might be trouble because of the book I've written about the Varinski family and specifically nailing the Varinski Twins."
The Varinskis.
He forgot the plane. He forgot the ultralight.
The Varinskis.
He felt exactly as he had when the tunnel collapsed. Stunned, winded, unable to grasp the magnitude of the disaster.
She stood and looked up at him, his mouth agape. "Great teeth."
He snapped his jaw shut. "Give me more information."
"My publishers have me set up for an interview on GMA as soon as I lay my hands on some proof of their legend. I'm pretty sure having them blow the tomb that I happen to be exploring will put me and my story on the front page."
"I'm pretty sure you're right. Tell me all about it when we're off the island." Grabbing her arm, he marched her toward his hiding place.
"Besides, you've got survival gear hidden on the island. That's convenient, too." She was panting, but she snapped as briskly as ever.
"My father taught his children always to anticipate every threat, then be thankful if danger doesn't rear its ugly
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