The entire house had been furnished for practicality yet coziness. Winters here were long and dark but Piotr’s house would be cheerful with a fire on the big hearth and the kitchen bubbling with good smells.
Even in summer, with the light lingering, the kitchen held thick, warm scents. Piotr’s wife, Irena, came to greet them, a ladle in her hand. When introductions had been made, which included Irena pulling Rae into a firm embrace, she led the way to the kitchen, waving the ladle and telling them she hoped they’d brought appetites.
Irena was not as bulky as her husband, but her face was as pink, her eyes as bright, though hers were hazel. She had a blue scarf over her hair, so Rae could not see its color, but her brows were dark. Irena wore a long skirt and blouse, which she moved around in with ease as she served a meaty stew plump with dumplings.
She had beer for the Shifters, coffee and tea for whoever wanted it, and water for her sons, no matter how much they protested they were old enough to drink beer. One was nine, the other seven.
The kids already loved Zander and didn’t seem too worried about Mason and Broderick. The clamored to tell Zander all about the cool things they’d done since they last saw him and wanted to show him Dad’s new snowmobile and other things.
Finally Piotr raised his voice. “I cannot hear a word in my own house. Zander is a guest. Let him eat his meal in peace, volchok.”
Zander rumbled a laugh. He gazed across the table at Rae, his dark eyes holding her. “That’s what I call you. It means Little Wolf.”
Rae’s face went very hot, especially under the interested looks of the entire Ivanov family. “What’s Russian for big-ass bear?” she asked, sounding innocent.
“Zander,” Piotr said, and then roared with laughter.
The others laughed too, the meal ending jovially.
Rae had never known that humans could be as close and loving as Shifters, though she admitted she’d never had much contact with them. Humans were the people who’d locked away Shifters, but since she’d met Zander, she’d realized that humans had degrees of good and evil, just like Shifters.
Once supper was over, Piotr led them out to his big shed where he stored his snowmobiles and kept his forge.
Rae wasn’t certain what she’d expected when Zander had said “forge.” She pictured a wide hearth with a roaring fire, a big anvil, and iron everywhere, but she’d never seen a real smithy, only read about old-fashioned ones. Piotr gestured them to a box about two feet square that rested on a stand, with propane bottles nestled on the stand’s bottom shelf. The opening to the firebox was on the forge’s side, to contain the heat inside, Rae supposed.
Piotr flipped a few switches and got the forge going. “Takes a little bit to warm up,” he said. “You think it will be safe for your sword?”
“Sure, if we don’t plunge it in and leave it to melt,” Zander said. “This is why I asked Broderick and Mason to try. They know how to work soft metals without ruining them, and the sword already likes Broderick.”
“Don’t remind me,” Broderick said, grimacing. “I was glad to see the back of that thing.” The sword, which Rae had laid on a workbench near the forge, hummed once then went silent. Broderick glared at it. “And I hate when it does that.”
Piotr, who’d heard nothing, glanced curiously at them then went back to setting out his supplies on the workbench. He had several anvils of different sizes, hammers, files, and other tools Rae didn’t recognize.
“What do you make?” she asked him. “Horseshoes?”
Piotr grinned at her. “I’m not good with horses, so no. Though one of my neighbors down the road has horses and uses my place to make the shoes. No, I make handy things like pump parts and pieces for my boat and also some decorative trinkets.”
He moved to a table on the far side of the room, pulled a brightly colored blanket from it, and stood back to let her look.
The table was strewn with wrought-iron art. Some pieces were meant for fences or gates, Rae could see, but others had been made to be hung on walls or porches for the sheer beauty of them. One piece was a frame that looked like an arched Tuscan window, with the spaces between the vertical rods filled with delicate iron leaves and curlicues. Another was a tall, narrow room divider, its patterns intricate, the metal twisted into thin spirals.
Piotr had also made crosses, strong yet lovely symbols of his faith. Rae had seen plenty of church crosses in human towns, but Piotr’s had a second, shorter crosspiece near the bottom. The Russian Orthodox cross, Piotr told her. He lifted a smaller piece that looked like a picture frame but its negative space was decorated with iron leaves and flowers, all of them burnished with gold.
“For you,” Piotr said. “You hang it on your wall and remember Piotr.”
Shifters didn’t usually make polite protests when offered a gift, but she put her hand to her chest.
“I can’t,” she said. “It’s too beautiful. It must be very valuable.”
Piotr scoffed. He lifted the frame and put it into her hands. “I made it for you. When I came home, I said—I must make something for that nice Rae for putting up with me and my friend Zander. Take it. It is yours.”
Rae held it gingerly. The iron piece was heavy and delicate at the same time. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I will treasure it.”
Zander was watching her. His enigmatic dark eyes told her nothing, and he turned back to Broderick, helping move the tools and anvil he and Mason had chosen.
Rae had never watched anyone do metalwork before. Her brothers fixed up cars and motorcycles, but it wasn’t the same thing. As Mason gently took up the bottom half of the sword’s blade in a pair of tongs, Rae touched her lips in trepidation. It was like watching her child be approached by a dentist with forceps. She was sure it would be fine, but . . .
As Mason started to ease the blade into the forge’s heat, Rae asked abruptly, “Won’t melting it erase the runes?”
Mason stopped just shy of the forge and looked back at Broderick. He’d donned goggles and his gray eyes blinked behind them.
“Who knows?” Broderick answered. “It’s your call, Rae. Your sword. What do you want to do?”
For once, Zander didn’t offer an answer. He only looked at Rae, waiting for her to decide.
Rae wet her lips and hugged Piotr’s gift to her chest. “Go ahead,” she said. “Get it over with.”