Darling - K. Ancrum Page 0,58

if Peter had just taken her straight to the party instead of ruining everything by running her all over the city, she probably would have felt like it was worth the risk of sneaking out. It was better than the cool-kid parties she’d seen on TV back home, and it was certainly much better than she had imagined. The mirror/strobe combination alone was completely out of this world, not to mention the confetti installation. She did not feel like this was worth the drama she’d suffered tonight, but it was entirely too late for that.

Fyodor slung his arm over her shoulders and moved closer to yell in her ear over the music. “Ominotago and Tink have to say hi to family,” he shouted. “Stay with me. We will go upstairs.”

Wendy had been so distracted by the flashing lights that she hadn’t noticed Tinkerbelle waving at her.

Five minutes, Tinkerbelle mouthed as Ominotago pulled her away. Stay with him.

Minsu and Charles were also leaving. Charles held up his wallet and nodded over at the bar. Fyodor held up three fingers and nodded. Wendy twisted around to see what had happened to Peter, Curly, and Nibs, but only managed to glimpse the bright shock of Nibs’s red hair as the three boys disappeared into the crowd.

Fyodor leaned in again as he guided Wendy to the mezzanine stairs. “Hunting,” he said.

Wendy didn’t know what that meant, but it still filled her with dread. She allowed Fyodor to use his large body to push through the crowd so she wouldn’t have to struggle past drunk screaming people on their way up the stairs. He muscled his way to one of the couches, which were all occupied, and sat on the arm. The guy sitting next to the couch arm scooted over to get out of Fyodor’s way, and Fyodor took the opportunity to slide down onto the seat. The other kid, clearly unhappy at being way too snugly seated next to a boy he didn’t know, got up. Fyodor scooted over even further, brushing up against the kids on the other half of the couch, and smacked the now empty seat next to him. Wendy wasn’t sure what was ruder to do, so she just sat down in the vacated space.

Fyodor leaned in again. “Charles and Minsu will be here soon. Then, we talk.”

Wendy wanted answers now. “What did you mean by hunting?”

Fyodor made a tight expression and looked around before continuing. “This—” he gestured around at all the people, “—is a place where he finds boys to bring home. He can tell, somehow, who is hungry. Who is lonely. He tracks them like a hunter, impresses them. Reaches out with a hand of treats, da? Like he’s bringing in a little kitten?” Fyodor put his hand out, cupped like he was coaxing a cat out from under a bush. He looked around again to make sure Peter wasn’t nearby.

“Some come out. Some, not so much. Maybe he’ll try again later, maybe not.” Fyodor shrugged. “He is a picky man and very smart. Dangerous.” He raised an eyebrow at her emphatically. “This, you know.”

“Is this where he met Curly?” Wendy asked loudly. The music was screaming, and this very much felt like a conversation that should be had in whispers, but it couldn’t be helped.

Fyodor shook his head. “Curly came to him. Sometimes there are worse things out at night, on the streets.” After the expression Wendy made when hearing this, Fyodor frowned deeply. “Do not judge Curly,” he said fiercely.

“I’m not!” Wendy replied quickly. “I’m just worried and scared for him … among other things.”

Fyodor accepted this and instead looked very, very tired. He rubbed his eyes and put his head in the palm of his hand, leaning over his knee. “It will be good when this is finished,” he said.

Minsu and Charles elbowed their way through the crowd, followed closely by Ominotago and Tinkerbelle. At the sight of Ominotago, the kids on the other half of the couch got up and wandered off, clearly recognizing her.

“Sorry,” Ominotago said, handing Wendy an apology drink. “My cousins helped set this up, so I had to at least say hi.”

“Oh … thank you, but I don’t drink,” Wendy said, looking into the cup suspiciously.

Ominotago shrugged. “It’s just soda with some maraschino cherries in it. I didn’t want to assume.”

“I do,” Fyodor said, and snatched one of the shots Charles was balancing on a platter in the cradle of his arm. He threw it back with the