Alexander, Soldier's Son by Boykin Alma

Author:Boykin, Alma [Boykin, Alma]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-10-17T04:00:00+00:00

Alexi knew better than to ask his grandmother if she was certain she’d seen a firebird in her vegetable garden. If she and Ivan said it was a firebird, then it was a firebird. After putting the children to bed, Alexi dug out the mythology and folk-lore books he kept locked away from Peter and Theodora. These were not the fairy stories they read for bedtime, but the oldest accounts and tales, compiled over centuries by people who had to deal with assorted Slavic nasties. He read, skimmed, and studied for an hour while his wife curled up with her latest fire-science book, leaning against him on the couch. Finally he removed his drugstore reading glasses and shook his head. “It just is.”

Catherine Mary looked at him over the top of her tome.

“The actual firebird. Where it comes from no one knows. It eats fruit, its feathers glow, and sometimes it barfs pearls. And it is bad luck, which makes me wonder if someone cursed it way back when.” Not that anything from Russia or the Ukraine needed much help in bearing disaster, bad news, and misery with it, he sighed. “And there is usually a bad guy who owns or tries to own it.”

“That explains the tomatoes. Does it really drop flame, like that nasty one we met on our first date?”

He had to smile. “Supposedly no, but Baba Yaga’s not supposed to be able to cross oceans, either, so it probably does.”

“Well, given the fire loads on the Front Range, a firebird will be bad luck for the whole area. Can you, oh, rig up a bird-chaser to make it go away?” She frowned over the top of the book, her black eyebrows making a lumpy caterpillar. “Like the water spray on the motion detector Father Dominic used on the dogs at the priest’s house at St. Elias?”

He’d rather use a shotgun or a pressure-washer, but those might damage the garden and he’d be in even worse trouble. “I’ll see. I hope Babushka just wants it shooed off.”

“That should be Ivan’s job.”

“You would think so, wouldn’t you? Maybe I could persuade him to drag the last data-overuse bill of his out onto the porch and wave at the firebird.” What did the cat do to need a gigabyte in two weeks, anyway? Watch every cat video on the internet? Did someone have a live catnip cam? Maybe he was hacking into the Berlitz Russian language courses, or the Russian embassy, or something. That would be Ivan the Purrable in spades, Alexi snorted.

“What?”

“Wondering if Ivan is hacking into the Russian embassy or something, to need that much data.”

She made the Orthodox sign of the cross. “Do not even say that, Alexander Zolnerovich. Do not even think that so loudly.” Then she sighed and closed the book. “Although he’s probably planning a DDoS attack on PetFoodWorld dot com so he can change the order again. Or hacking the vet’s office to make it look like he’s had his shots already.”

“That, my love, I can believe.

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