Feathered Friend

Chapter 11

~ It Can't Rain All The Time – Jane Siberry

I woke from a half remembered fever-dream, huddled against the base of the wall of our old building. Lightning crackled across the sky again and thunder boomed in response to the light show as the water dropped out of the sky once more.

I felt my connection to my feathered guide grow stronger as it shook its feathers, puffed up against the blustering wind that blew in harder from the North and cawed in despondency at its failure to locate our next target. I blinked as water began to fall on the porcelain, emotionless features of my sleep roused face. I could feel the disappointment radiating from my familiar and I decided it was my turn to play hound dog.

I recalled the lighter that I'd taken from Firebug and I concentrated on the feel of the cold metal against the ice cold chill of my fingers when I'd held it. Something had flashed across my mind when I'd touched the evil symbol of his power, but in the fury of our altercation I'd ignored it.

Chasing that fleeting image in my mind I sat up on my haunches and wrapped my coat tightly around me as I tried to block out Mother Nature and concentrate on the clue that I had ignored the first time round.

I saw that elusive flash of red and yellow again. And as I focused in on that memory, the bird cawed again, flew down to where I huddled and perched on my shoulder.

The ordinary sound of a Crow came from its beak and yet I understood its question. "Who do you see?"

It was a girl.

One of their favorite playthings I thought, from my impression her drugged out appearance and the Russian beer bottles on the table in front of her as she squirmed in the lap of one of the 'brothers'. The bird cocked its head to one side and cawed again, drawing my attention to the vision of the brother I was seeing as I remembered the flash and chased it through my memory. I frowned as I tried to concentrate harder on the face of the man, but it wasn't clear enough for me to see.

"Look outside the square." The bird told me. I raised one eyebrow in question until I thought about the beer on the table.

Not too many places in this neighborhood that would sell that kind of product. Well what do you know... a clue.

.......

The phone beeped on the side table and Arkadi picked it up and said with a broken-sleep roughened voice, "Da?"

The voice on the other end of the line told him who the fingerprint belonged to.

His face broke into a smile in the darkness, as a burst of white light from outside in the storm lit his cruel expression.

I wasn't the only one with a timetable. He'd been given his first lead o finding out what would still hurt me. It wasn't a question of accepting a dead man was responsible for the deaths of his brother and the poor excuse for a cousin that he'd put on his payroll. The Russian folklore his grandmother had brought him up on negated his modern sensibilities about such things. He just accepted an angry spirit was walking the world and called someone he thought would help.

"Babaya?" He asked when the call was picked up at the other end.

"We have a problem." He stated at the affirmative response. "An angry Domovi has come into the world to take its revenge on me."

Arkadi nodded and said, "I'll be over in 30 minutes."

His Babaya would know what to do.

.......

I stood in front of the third Liquor Store I'd been to in the past half hour and banged on the front door. The closed sign swung on the other side of the glass window as a face peered out in the night and a cantankerous voice yelled through the barrier, "We're closed Dumbass!"

"You sell Russian beer?" I shouted back.

"You want Baltika you come back when we're open." The garrulous old guy yelled and disappeared from view.

Bingo.