The Seven Pieces of a Feuilleton

Chapter 25

On the bucket list of places the twins had desired visiting, the tiny country of Moldova had never been one of them. In fact, had it not been for a political science project at university wherein Brandon was assigned the country of Moldova, he may have never known the former Soviet republic existed at all.

As the plane dipped over mountainous regions and lush green valleys as far as the eye could see, Brandon thought that Moldova may have been a nice visit under normal circumstances.

At present, however, it held his sister against her will for the entertainment of at least one man who had already previously demolished her life and therefore, Brandon automatically disliked Moldova.

Their arrival occurred on schedule. A car waited, as it always did when travelling with Finn Cavendish. Erica carried the conversation with her excitement over their earlier, brief stop in Switzerland. Brandon remained quiet as he scrutinized the equally silent Dylan, whose hand clutched at the translated document. Dylan's gaze trailed over passing houses until he triumphantly yelled out the one matching the address in his hand.

"This is the home of Bartos," said the deep, melodic voice from beside the driver. "This is your stop?"

"Yeah, this is it," Dylan answered.

Tall in stature and blessed with the muscles of a weightlifter, Maxim Evanko with his brush up quiff of copper red had been assigned to their mission whilst Valerie tied up loose ends on her other, more cryptic one. Born in Ukraine to Russian parents but raised in San Diego, Maxim spoke fluent Russian and enough Romanian to hold a conversation. He had evidently become quite smitten with Erica already, for he laughed boisterously at the stories she shared of being raised the adoptive daughter of Iris McKay.

As soon as the driver stopped the car, Erica, too, descended into silence and followed her brother into the Bartos residence. It was admittedly larger than Brandon had expected, but still significantly small compared to the houses of his familiars.

Then again, half of St. Paul may have comfortably relocated to Dylan's house alone.

They were greeted by a woman who appeared around their age, or perhaps a bit younger. Her eyes, shaded in brilliant tones of sea green, darted across the group as they stood in her doorway.

"Dylan? You are Dylan?" she asked Brandon in careful English.

"That's me," Dylan said. "You Zinaida?"

"Yes," she slowly replied, her gaze drawn to Finn, "I Zinaida."

Finn flashed a dazzling smile, causing Zinaida to blush and look away.

"Not now, Cavendish," said Dylan. "First, we find Brenda; then, you can flirt to your heart's content."

"I was merely being polite," Finn protested.

"Man, if that's what you consider being polite, no wonder Brenda claims half the population's in love with you," Dylan said.

"Half the population?" Erica asked.

"An exaggeration, I think," said Finn. "I believe it's more of a third. Perhaps less than a third, now that Brenda has chosen your brother." He turned his smile on Erica.

She cleared her throat and locked her gaze on Maxim.

"That's me. I'm her brother," Dylan noted. He looked at Brandon, who chuckled.

"A friend flirting with your sister? Can't imagine that."

Dylan sighed. Finn again protested that it was only proper decorum. Brandon shifted his focus to Maxim's conversation with Zinaida.