The Dead May Rise ✓ (GxG)

Six

The light from a lantern made Aedona stir. She turned over in her bed, blinking her eyes open and shut a few times—-this was followed by Aedona rubbing her eyes. The six year old girl pushed her blanket aside as she gripped her plush bear tightly.

    She swung her legs over the end of the bed, letting her feet touch the floor. She stood. Then she tipped toed across the cold, wood floor.

     Pyotr, who was nine, was sitting down, lantern lit beside him, skimming through some book he must've gotten from a shopkeeper earlier that day. He seemed so engrossed and enthralled in his reading that he didn't even notice his younger sister making her way toward him, stuffed bear in hand.

     "Petey," young Aedona began to call out to her brother. "What are you reading?"

    Pyotr looked up, slamming the book shut and almost blowing out the light from the lantern. "I told you not to call me that!"

    Aedona sat down beside her older brother, snuggling up against him. "Why not?" She began to inquire. "You call me Donnie all the time."

    Pyotr inhaled. "Would you rather that I didn't call you that? That I just call you Aedona?"

     Aedona shook her head. "No! I like it."

    "Well," Pyotr began saying to his younger sister, "I'll call you Donnie… and you'll refrain from calling me Petey."

     Aedona giggled. "Whatever you say, Petey."

     Pyotr rolled his eyes.

     Aedona reached forward with one hand, pushing her small fingers between the pages of the book, opening to the page Pyotr had bookmarked.

     "No," Pyotr began, closing the book again. "You can't see this."

     Aedona pouted. "Why not?"

     Pyotr huffed. "You're young… too young to see this stuff."

    "I am not too young!" Aedona shouted.

     From the room nextdoor, Pyotr and Aedona's mother—-Inga Stavayeva-—hollered, "Go to bed!", which startled both of the children.

     Aedona looked back at Pyotr. She batted her eyelashes at him. "Please… I wanna see."

    Pyotr raised an eyebrow. "Do I have your word you promise you won't get scared?"

     Aedona nodded. She held up her right hand. "I, Aedona Agafonova Stavayeva, promise to not get scared by whatever's in that book." She put her hand down, smiling a little.

    Pyotr inhaled-—he held it; then he exhaled. "Okay." He opened the book to the page he had bookmarked.

    "Razzhigatel 'voyny?" Aedona asked as she read the text on the page.

     "Da," Pyotr said in response. He tapped his finger on the page. "This is Amvrosiy Kryvichyn… the Warmonger." He wetted his lips. "Legend has it that he died during the Anglo-Russian war… and ever since then, his ghost has haunted those on the battlefield. He's got big horns and sharp teeth meant for devouring his prey. He prowls amongst the fallen, waiting for the right time to strike…" Pyotr lurched forward, making his sister gasp and move backward. "Legend also has it that he looks… that he watches… He preys on young girls… just like you."

     Aedona's eyes were wide as she stayed silent.

    "So, you better sleep with one eye open tonight," Pyotr told his young sister. He shrugged. "The Warmonger might just snatch you up in your sleep."