A New Life

[Elias Donovan]

In the aftermath, rage subsided and euphoria flooded in. The heat of a thousand volcanoes and the ice of a hundred glaciers collided within him with such vehemence that thought his body would be ripped apart by the forces. It swelled all the anger buried deep in his soul to the surface, but the ferocity was carried on the wings of joy immeasurable. He felt like he was screaming but nothing emerged from his throat. He felt powerful. Invincible.

In the midst of the rush, his senses focused on the ice below him. More so, they focused on the water beneath. The overcast sky reflected no beams of sunlight to blind him and through the lenses of rage, joy, and power he could glimpse tiny shapes darting in the blackness underfoot. Fish, most likely, but nothing large enough to warrant whatever was seen nearer the riverbank.

He took a random step, but although his footfall was gentle, the moment it touched the ice, splinters crackled out around him. He tensed and hesitated before taking another step. Images of the office crumbling around the Dean in Wellington flashed through his mind. At the time, the effect served an intimidating purpose, but now, given that he was positioned on a river of ice, Elias was less inclined to see the present surroundings crumble.

He saw a shadow dart beneath the polished ice. There wasn't time to discern his own safety as rage, joy, and power whipped out around him. He took another step to follow it. The ice crackled beneath his shoe like broken glass. It disappeared down river, and he ran after it, leaving spheres crackling behind him as he gave chase. He could hear the river breaking apart behind him.

The power gave him an incredible sense of balance. The muscles of his legs corded beneath his skin as he ran. His coat flooded out behind him like a cape, and faster he went, but the shadow darted faster than he could run and as they reached the snow covered river once more, it disappeared beneath the blanket and Elias could no longer follow.

He skidded an attempt to stop but Rage drained as power leaked from every pore in his body. His feet were swept out beneath him, the sky twisted overhead and he fell, landing hard on one hip. His cheek prickled wet, safe, where he lay on unbroken ice when he'd stopped running.

He panted to catch his breath without knowing how it had happened. From where he lay, he could see the devastation to the river left behind.

But the shadow was gone. He knew it.

He rolled to his back and grunted in frustration. At this rate, he'd never learn what his uncle was chasing. Damn.

[Tony Soloyov]

After a tense moment of crumbling ice and frantic dashing Tony let loose his held breath. Elias skidded to a painful stop on stable ice ending whatever madness had possessed him.

"Make sure he is alright,"
he told the other four. He could have done so himself, and held the power ready just in case, but it was better that his companions learned quickly - and that meant using their power as often as possible.

Hans sprang towards Elias, joy on his youthful face. "I don't know what the hell you did, but it was incredible! Can you teach me?"


Dan murmured in appreciation while Veso swatted Hans over the head with a chuckle. The usually quiet Yuri stretched a huge arm out to help towards Elias to help him back up onto the bank.

"That was dangerous,"
Yuri said in a soft rumble. "You can't help your uncle if you are dead."


Tony grinned to himself in amusement. It appeared Yuri had taken a liking to the brash young man. It might also save Tony some trouble keeping Elias' impatience in check.

Tony flicked his hand free of the last few stains of blood. "Well, that was something I'd rather not do again. Did you get a look at the thing? I think we have found what killed those men. Bastard nearly cut my hand to pieces."


Hans nodded. "That's right, it looked like you were following something. Last time I checked sharks didn't poke through ice to stab people, it has to be some kind of intelligent creature."


"And I doubt a human would be swimming in this weather, let alone under the ice killing people who get close."
Dan added.

Elias did not look happy, and Tony fared not much better. His grin turned downwards. They were walking blind towards someone or something that could and likely would kill them all and they were no closer to an answer. He could only hope Elias could glean something from whatever it was he did because Tony was clueless.


Edited by Tony Soloyov, Aug 11 2014, 02:45 AM.

[Elias Donovan]

Moments later, Hans, Dan and Veso were standing above him. Yuri lowered an arm and helped Elias to his feet. Hans' was excited, but Eli did not feel the same vibrancy. His powers were long gone, and he was glad that Yuri cut them off.

He met the gazes of the three men in turn with a sigh parting his lips. "I know, Yuri. Rest assured, I prefer not to die."
He began to swipe the frost of white from his clothing. Together, they returned to the riverbank.

"I'm not sure what I did, but I saw the shadow and had to follow it. Hans, I don't know if I could teach you if I wanted to."


He paused his explanation to look back at the space above the river. At the time, his body had become an enraged conduit of power, like water spraying from a bent hose, it was forceful and erratic, yet also focused and sharp.

They reunited with Tony. Eli said nothing about the man's wounded hand. "I did not get any more of a glimpse of it. I hoped it would turn to face me: confront me as it had you. But it is gone now."


Hans and Dan offered their theories. Sharks could survive in freshwater despite popular opinion. In fact, they had been thriving in the Amazon, Mississippi, Congo and Zambezi Rivers. While some have been reported hundreds of miles inland, they were presently standing on a river that drained into the larger Volga watershed and eventually the Caspian Sea. While the Caspian Sea was more saline than other inland lakes, there were no known shark populations within its waters. The Volga, into which the Moscow River flowed, was technically connected to the Baltic Sea, but it was a very slim suggestion that the shadow beneath the ice was a shark.

Snow crunched nearby and more than one of their group snapped toward the direction of the sound. They were all on edge, and Elias sensed every single one of their number flinch with power. Their combined Rage was enough to send shivers down his spine, yet he did not move. The men instinctively formed a wall, shoulder to shoulder.

A lanky, older man wrapped in heavy winter clothing, carrying a snow-stick walking cane, emerged between the trees. His head was wrapped in a heavy fur hat and an equally warm-appearing scarf dangled free from his neck. His cheeks were blanched red and his jaw was tense. He held a shotgun in the crook of his arm.

"Who are you!"
Dan demanded.

The old man with a voice as clear as his blue gaze. "Rusalka!" he responded with a snarl.

Elias and Veso exchanged a look as Hans spoke next.
"Your name is Rusalka?"


The old man pointed a thick-gloved hand at the river. "No fool! The spirit of the river, the Rusalka. You fools have disturbed it. The river dead. Unclean. The spirit of one who died in the river."

Elias felt Hans and Dan relax their stance on the power, but Veso and Tony remained alert. As did himself.
"A ghost?"
Eli asked.

"Yes a ghost!" his voice snapped like twigs. If he was disturbed by the presence of strangers, he did not show it. He only sneered contempt toward the river. He turned and waved that they follow him.

"COME. We must make amends to the spirit. You've awakened the bloodlust. It will require a sacrifice. I told those fool Americans the same, but they did not listen. In the end, the Rusalka's lust was satiated."

The old man cast a glance in the direction of the corpses. Elias blinked. Americans?

Eli spoke quietly to Tony. "I think we should go with him."
He cast his gaze to the rest of the guys, silently willing them to agree.

Elias was the first to follow.

[Tony Soloyov]

Elias gave the rest of them no choice but to follow or be left behind.

Tony nodded and his four students fell in line to follow. Yuri looked like he would rather eat a fist-full of rusted nails but straightened his shoulders and pounded on with heavy steps. Looming large like that, full of power emanating from his body he had the air of a bear woken from hibernation. A polar bear - the largest of all their kind - with the white snow lacing his jacket.

"Shit,"
was all Hans said with a scowl directed at the old man's back. Veso and Dan held themselves with more poise but all of them remained tense.

The old man's words were as ominous as the creature had been. A ghost? And what sacrifice would be required?

Of course, Tony would be damned before he invoked some superstitious ritual but he did not have the same single-minded opinion of the arcane as he had before the strange power had manifested in him.

The other four knew it too. It may be a fine line they would have to navigate. No longer did they have the luxury of dismissing something that was most likely superstition but trusting too far was equally as dangerous.

It seemed the old man didn't notice the tense atmosphere that followed their trudging through the snow. Tony spared a fleeting thought for their SUV that was abandoned in the middle of nowhere and the distinct possibility that they would have a hard time making it back if they their journey took much longer.

Dan grunted suddenly and gathered more of the power. "I smell death and decay."
The others hung by a thread, ready to strike at any moment.

Old Man was not aware of the mood. "Hurry up! No time to waste or you'll end up like the Americans!"

Before them a rotting wooden house rose like a thorn in a white sea of snow. The stench of rot now reached Tony's nose and he fought to control the urge to wretch.

"Come, we must go inside and prepare the sacrifice," Old Man prodded.

Veso stepped forward with a grim determination. "What is the meaning of this, old man? We are not going anywhere until you speak."


"Fools!" Old Man cried not even turning back. "Fools, all of them!"

Old man reached the door and the smell that eminated from the opening hit them like a fresh wave. "Come, quickly, quickly!" he said, then disappeared into darkness.

The five of them stood silently for a moment, eyeing the house. Nobody spoke the question that was on all of their minds.

Finally, Hans cleared his throat. "What do we do now?"



Edited by Tony Soloyov, Aug 21 2014, 12:30 AM.

[Elias Donovan]

Elias remained on the old man's heels as they trudged through the snow. Along the way, he realized their primary means of escape, the SUV, was abandoned behind them, and the distance only grew farther. They were quite literally alone, surrounded by gnarled trees and white fields. He told himself he didn't care and blocked out the emotion creeping up his spine.

The doorway into the old man's house was a black portal that surely led to wretchedness. Hovel and grime wafted from the passageway, and Elias turned to cast a grim glance back at the others.

Veso shook his head. The others were none to eager to be the first to follow. Then all their gazes turned to Hans when he posed the question they were all thinking.

Elias took a deep breath. A corpse-like smile of acceptance etched the corners of his mouth. "I guess we will sacrifice something."
His gaze shifted to Tony, and his tone turned serious. "You don't have to do this. I can go alone. Its my uncle; my search."
His attempt at self-sacrifice was not well-accepted. They were in this together. He could accept that, but if they were all murdered in there, he'd be saving himself first and anyone else second.

He pluged himself inside.

He was blinded by darkness. His footfalls were creaks on a wood floor that softened under his weight. Rotted. The scent of decay Dan warned them about was mold.

In a flash, power rushed through the house and Elias whipped around to witness Veso crafting their forces into a sphere of orange fire. The hallway was cast in an eerie glow, but at least they could see.

Elias studied the fire until he thought he would be able to reproduce it if necessary. His own power was slippery, and to reach for it right then he knew would be to grapple at wave-worn rock. Veso pushed his way nearer to the front of the group so they might follow his light. It hovered over their heads and Elias could discern more of their surroundings.

They passed a stairway that he had no intention of ever climbing. The old man yelled from the back of the house, but his orders echoed like bellowing souls caught on the breeze, but Elias paused at the bottom step. Wood-rot frames with broken glass hung askew against peeling wallpaper. The nearest one held a portrait of a little girl with long black hair. Her eyes were empty, though. As though the photograph had actually inhaled her soul.

"Come on,"
Elias said quietly, more so than he intended. As though his subconscious was unwilling to disturb the uneasy weight of their surroundings.

They filed into a room Elias could only guess was meant to be a kitchen. A brick fireplace roasted a small, propane-fueled fire. Scampering feet skuttled in the ceiling above. Elias stayed still while the intruder scraped its way down the inside of the wall and disappear under the floor. He shared a glance with Hans, but while the other man cringed, Elias was ice.

He backed in to make room for the others to join when his boot dinged gently against glass. Huge jars filled with cloudy liquid sat on the floor along either side. The bottom of his coat brushed up against their dingy surface, and Elias quickly pulled his gaze away. Whatever stewed within he did not want to know. When a glint caught his eye, he turned toward the gleam half hidden behind a cabinet door left ajar. So uncharacteristic in an otherwise infested, withering home, he could not help himself but to pull the door open.

Cleavers. Stored neatly. Pristine and shining. Their handles were pure black. The steel sharp enough to split a hair.

When he showed the others, his gaze narrowed, considering what it meant. "I guess he likes to cleave things."
Stating the obvious, a morbid smile ghosted his lips.

The others did not find the same humor Elias did. He shrugged and pushed the cabinet door securely shut.

The old man burst in, arms laden with supplies.

[Tony Soloyov]

Tony reconsidered his description of 'house' as Elias and Veso led the unwilling group into the proverbial abyss. House was definitely not the right word, he decided when Elias opened the cabinet. Abattoir was more suited to the dank, mouldy corpse of a building.

Six heads whipped around as Old Man burst into the room. Fresh stench abused their senses as he bustled about and barked his orders. "Quickly now! Come, come. You must observe."

A slab of red-slick meat was thrown down upon a rotted table that nearly buckled. Blood oozed like honey from the cracks and hit the floor with a sickening slow drip.

Dan's face was grim and his grip on the power tight but Yuri placed a giant paw on his back, shaking his head. The giant man fared no better though, his face pale and the determination in his eye gave Tony a glimpse into the history of his livid scars.

Hans' grimace turned into an angry sneer. "Prepare? Why don't you tell us what the fuck is happening first, old man? What the hell is that?"


For once, Veso did not try to calm the youth. Quite the contrary, he stepped up alongside Hans, although his tone was much more controlled, anger leaked through. "We have followed along this far. I think it's about time you told us what this is all about."


Tony watched from the side. All four of his students were on the edge of violence. He himself was far from comfortable, but Elias' reaction mirrored his own far more than the others. Inexperienced as he was with the power, he had a head on him.

Before Veso and Hans got them kicked out of Old Man's house, Tony stepped in. He donned a pleasant smile. "My apologies, sir. That monster -the Rusalka? - has made us all uneasy. Would you mind telling us what we have to do? We are anxious to appease the spirit."


Old Man's blustering indignity stopped short at Tony's words. Also thankfully short of the cleaver cabinet he was moving towards. Nonetheless, he ripped his chosen cleaver free and slammed it down on the table with unnecessary force and glared at the group.

"Listen now. Sacrifice requires blood. Each will cut a piece, each must give some blood." Old man made a slicing gesture across his palm. He then turned away from the group and started hacking the meat into seven pieces.

"We aren't really going to do this, right Tony?"
Veso said with derision.

Tony looked at Elias and nodded. "Of course we are. Don't worry, I will heal you afterwards, if you are worried about sanitation. Veso can heal me. Besides, I have an idea."


As Tony filled them in, slowly they all agreed and each in their turn mixed their blood with that of the sacrifice. Nobody dared ask Old Man what kind of meat it was.

[Elias Donovan]

Elias paled at the old man's palm. It wasn't sanitation that worried him.

Before he could change his mind, he was the first to strip the skin apart on his own arm. He did it around the back of his forearm, a few inches above the wrist. The idea of a palm wound made him want to cringe. Hands were man's greatest tool, and while Tony promised a healing, the idea of momentary vulnerability did not sit well with Elias.

His cringe soon transformed into focus as he mixed his blood with that of the meat. Why cold, uncooked meat would satiate a river spirit he did not dare ask. But it seemed logic was not on the forefront of the old man's priorities this day.

Yet there had been something in the water. They would soon return there and, if all worked out, they would see the thing again. This time, it wouldn't get away.

As they left the house, the old man seemed satisfied with what was coaxed from pulsing veins, but the faces of the men who followed were varying mixtures of annoyance. All but Tony himself. Elias watched him as he fell in step alongside each of them in turn. They all looked up to Tony out of respect rather than coerced loyalty. Envy pulsed behind the levies of Eli's heart, but he shut the emotion down cold as Tony finally joined him.

Eli pulled up his sleeve as they walked and offered out his arm. The wrist beneath was slender and pale. He was too lean compared to the more robust and healthy young men of his age. Suddenly the gauntness to his eyes fell deeper inside his skull than the illusion of eyeliner should otherwise allow. It wasn't the sickness of winter where the sun was long absent from the vitality of human flesh. Nor was it the distance of a quest that went unfulfilled. There was something more profound, like a plague of the spirit rather than the body, that afflicted Elias. As he watched Tony Heal him, he doubted very much that the other man would be able to remedy it.

They could speak on it later, if Tony brought it up. For now, the group had returned to the river and each filed along the bank, ready to offer their sacrifices. Elias kept a sharp eye for the shadows beneath the freshly wind-swept ice.

[Tony Soloyov]

"I hope the sea monster likes our offering. I might be offended otherwise,"
Hans quipped after a short gasp drawn from his lungs from the effects of healing.

"I am sceptical,"
Veso said with a frown aimed at his recently healed palm still slick with blood. "will this really work?"


Dan answered with a nod. "Many of the old tribes of the world still believe blood has power."


Yuri nodded gravely, his voice soft. "Bloodshed is ancient."


Tony repressed a wince, eyes drawn to the man's scars. Some wounds could not be healed.

Tony then turned to Elias and placed a hand on his palm. As the wound healed, he saw exhaustion embedded deep in the man's eyes. The moment of vulnerability was telling. For all his hard exterior, it looked as if he was pushing himself to the limit. Yuri's words earlier made more sense now.

"Let's finish this,"
Tony said with an air of finality.

[Elias Donovan]

The men lined themselves along the riverbank. The old man took position in the middle and was flanked by the younger. Elias held the slab of meat warily, thankful it was wrapped in paper once more. He was drenched in black, but he was not keen on the idea of blood smeared across his chest. The washing alone.

Out of no where, the old man shoved a spike through the ice. It broke into awkward shards, and water splashed up and over the hole. Eli exchanged a look with Veso, whom stood alongside. Either of them would have done the deed with far easier efforts, but the old man hacked and jabbed forcefully. They let him have his way. Eli smiled to himself.

Once the riverbank was free to slosh at their feet, the old man had them all kneel. Quickly, the snow turned his kneecaps into cold, wet discs, but Eli was too flushed with excitement to care. His eyes dived through the black waters, begging to see that shadow dart, begging like a man dying of thirst in the desert. He needed to see the thing again. His soul ached to catch it.

And do what? They'd soon find out.

Seven packages of paper were unwrapped and one by one tossed into the water. Where river met meat, pink splashed up and on top of the edge of that icy ceiling. All eyes were on Tony, who was the last to admit the sacrifice, and the group held a collective gasp when he released it into the water.

The old man flattened his face to the ground, babbling on in his old language what sounded like the phrases of a chant, and Elias watched what might happen with baited breath.

A minute later, the old man crawled to his feet and clamored off without turning back.

Eli's gaze drew dark. Nothing had happened. "I think we've been had, boys,"
he said with a shark-like gleam of hatred.

[Tony Soloyov]

"I think we've been had, boys,"
Elias said with a scowl darker than the river depths.

Tony worked quickly before Elias could do anything dangerous. Not that he blamed him. Tony still loathed the bastards who had destroyed his family after 10 years. To be so close before being taken in by a farce hurt.

"Let's not jump to conclusions yet. It might take some time. The river is quite large, so I've heard. That beast could be anywhere."


Hans caught on while Veso scowled at Old Man's back with Elias. "Yeah, that old kook sounded terrified. He probably wanted to get out of here before it comes back."


Ten minutes later and there had not even been a ripple. Tony sighed softly. They were all agitated after the events of the day, it tasted bitter to have it end this way.

"I'm afraid Elias has the right of it,"
he spoke into the silence. "But try not to blame the old man. If you have to blame someone, blame me. We took a chance on the word of a senile old man, what do you expect? It was our only shot."


Tony smiled broadly. "But I'm not done just yet. I still haven't paid my debt for the bloody hand,"
his eyes met Elias' and his smile turned into a thin razor of anger, only slightly exaggerated. "However, it is getting late. We should regroup and rest for now."


Tony turned away to face the river and his expression dropped low with his furrowed brows. It was true that he hadn't given up yet, but he would need every shred of brain-power at his disposal to come up with a plan.

As it was, he didn't have a damn clue.