"Are you holding a woman called Yulya hostage?"
Saiman blinked.
"Her husband is very upset and is offering to let us both go if we can produce Yulya for him. Unfortunately, he's lying and most likely we both would be killed once said Yulya is found. But if you're holding a woman hostage, you must tell me now."
"And if I was?" Saiman rubbed his jaw and sat in the chair opposite me.
"Then you'd have to release her immediately or I would walk. I don't protect kidnappers and I take a very dim view of violence toward civilians, men or women."
"You're a bewildering woman."
"Saiman, focus. Yulya?"
Saiman leaned back. "I can't produce Yulya. I am Yulya."
I suppose I should've seen that coming. "The man was under the impression he's married to her. What happened to the real Yulya?"
"There was never a real Yulya. I will tell you the whole story, but I must have coffee. And nutrients."
I poured him a cup of coffee. Saiman reached into the fridge and came up with a gallon of milk, a solid block of chocolate, and several bananas.
Chocolate was expensive as hell. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had some. If I survived this job, I'd buy a couple of truffles.
I watched Saiman load bananas and milk into a manual blender and crank the handle, cutting the whole thing into a coarse mess. Not the chocolate, not the chocolate… Yep, threw it in there too. What a waste.
He poured the concoction into a two quart jug and began chugging it. Shapeshifters did burn a ton of calories. I sighed, mourning the loss of the chocolate, and sipped my coffee. "Give."
"The man in question is the son of Pavel Semyonov. He's the premier volhv in the Russian community here. The boy's name is Evgenii and he's completely right, I did marry him, as Yulya, of course. The acorn was very well guarded and I needed a way in."
"Unbelievable."
Saiman smiled. Apparently he thought I'd paid him a compliment. "Are you familiar with the ritual of firing the arrow?"
"It's an archaic folkloric ritual. The shooter is blindfolded and spun around, so he blindly fires. The flight of the arrow foretells the correct direction of the object the person seeks. If a woman picks up the arrow, she and the shooter are fated to be together."
Saiman wiped his mouth. "I picked up the arrow. It took me five months from the arrow to the acorn."
"How long did it take you to con that poor guy into marriage?"
"Three months. The combination of open lust but withholding of actual sex really works wonders."
I shook my head. "Evgenii is in love with you. He thinks his wife is in danger. He's trying to rescue her."
Saiman shrugged. "I had to obtain the acorn. I could say that he's young and resilient, but really his state of mind is the least of my concerns."
"You're a terrible human being."
"I beg to differ. All people are driven by their primary selfishness. I'm simply more honest than most. Furthermore, he had the use of a beautiful woman, created to his precise specifications, for two months. I did my research into his sexual practices quite thoroughly, to the point of sleeping with him twice as a prostitute to make sure I knew his preferences."
"If we get out of this, I need to remember never to work for you again."
Saiman smiled. "But you will. If the price is right."
"No."
"Anyone will work for anyone and anyone will sleep with anyone, if the price is right and the partnership is attractive enough. Suppose I invited you to spend a week here with me. Luxurious clothes. Beautiful shoes." He looked at my old boots, which were in danger of falling apart. "Magnificent meals. All the chocolate you could ever want."
So he'd caught me.
"All that for the price of having sex with me. I would even sweeten the deal by assuming a shape preferable to you. Anyone you want. Any shape, any size, any color, any gender. All in total confidentiality. Nobody ever has to know you were here. The offer is on the table." He placed his hand on the counter, palm down. "Right now. I promise you a week of total bliss – assuming we survive. You'll never get another chance to be this pampered. All I need from you is one word."
"No."
He blinked. "Don't you want to think about it?"
"No."
He clamped his mouth shut. Muscles played along his jaw. "Why?"
The TV screen ignited. Evgenii appeared in the glow. Saiman strode to the screen with a scowl on his face. "I'll make it short." His body boiled, twisted, stretched. I shut my eyes. It was that or lose my precious coffee. When I opened them, a petite red haired woman stood in Saiman's place.
"Does this explain things enough?" Saiman asked. "Or do I need to spell it out, Evgenii?"
"You're her?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe it."
Saiman sighed. "Would you like me to list your preferred positions, in the order you typically enjoy them? Shall we speak of intimate things? I could recite most of our conversation word for word, I do have a very precise memory."
They stared at each other.
"It was all a lie," Evgenii said finally.
"I call it subterfuge, but yes, in essence, the marriage was a sham. You were set up from the beginning. I was Yulya. I was also Siren and Alyssa, so if you decide to visit that particular house of ill repute again, don't look for either."
Oh God.
The glow vanished. Saiman turned to me. "Back to our question. Why?"
"That man loved you enough to risk his own neck to negotiate your release. You just destroyed him, in passing, because you were in a hurry. And you want to know why. If you did that to him, there's no telling what you'd do to me. Sex is about physical attraction, yes, but it's also about trust. I don't trust you. You're completely self-absorbed and egoistic. You offer nothing I want."
"Sex is driven by physical attraction. Given the right stimulus, you will sleep with me. I simply have to present you with a shape you can't resist."
Saiman jerked, as if struck by a whip, and crashed to the floor. His feet drummed the carpet, breaking the herbs and fledgling ferns. Wild convulsions tore at his body. A blink and he was a mess of arms and legs and bodies. My stomach gave up and I vomited into the sink.
Ordinarily I'd be on top of him, jamming something in his mouth to keep him from biting himself, but given that he changed shapes like there was no tomorrow, finding his mouth was a bit problematic.
"Saiman? Talk to me."
"The acorn… It's coming. Must… Get… Roof."
Roof? No roof. We were in the apartment, shielded by a ward. On the roof we'd be sitting ducks. "We can't do that."
"Oak… Large… Cave-in."
Oh hell. Would it have killed him to mention that earlier? "I need you to walk. You're too heavy and I can't carry you while you convulse."
Little by little, the shudders died. Saiman staggered to his feet. He was back to the unremarkable man I'd first found in the bedroom. His stomach had grown to ridiculous proportions. If he were pregnant, he'd be twelve months along.
"We'll make a run for it," I told him.
A faint scratch made me spin. An old man hung outside the window, suspended on a rope. Gaunt, his white beard flapping in the wind, he peered through the glass straight at me. In the split second we looked at each other, twelve narrow stalks unfurled from his neck, spreading into a corona around his head, like a nimbus around the face of a Russian icon. A bulb tipped each stock. A hovala. Shit.
I grabbed Saiman and threw him at the door.
The bulbs opened.
Blinding light flooded the apartment, hiding the world in a white haze. The window behind me exploded. I could barely see. "Stay behind me."
Shapes dashed through the haze.
I slashed. Slayer connected, encountering resistance. Sharp ice stabbed my left side. I reversed the strike and slashed again. The shape before me crumpled. The second attacker struck. I dodged left, on instinct and stabbed my blade at his side. Bone and muscle. Got him between the lower ribs. A hoarse scream lashed my ears. I twisted the blade, ripping the organs, and withdrew.