Chapter Seven

“We are blessed to have a city that is steeped in such rich history.” He held the door for her, and she slipped into the cold interior.

She remained silent until he was inside, as well, and had started the engine. “If I had known, I would have booked a longer stay. I know I’ll be back to Moscow, someday.”

The ride back to her hotel was tinged with sadness. Cleo was going to miss him. Serge pulled up to the front door and put the car in park.

“I’ll be here in the morning to take you to the bus.”

Blinking back some tears, Cleo nodded. “I’ll see you, then.” Leaning across the interior, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Spokojnoj nochi, Serge.” Before the tears could come, she slipped out of the car and hustled into the warmth of the hotel without looking back. With a wave and a smile to the receptionist, Cleo headed for the elevator and rode to her room in silence.

Before she packed her computer, she checked her email one more time. There was a small note from Kenya.

Cleo:

I went to the uni and asked our old prof.

He did some digging and the only thing he came up with.

Novgorod. I’ve attached the corresponding file.

Stay safe,

Kenya

Novgorod. With a sigh, Cleo opened the file and read the following passage.

“The Lion of Midnight has shown up in many places throughout Russian lore, but mainly dealing with Novgorod is there mention of his name. There is no documentation, however, to support that he is anything more than legend.”

Pulling up a map of Russia, Cleo released a burst of disappointed laughter. Novgorod was on her way to Saint Petersburg. “Figures,” she muttered as she shut down her computer. “More decisions.” Tapping one fingernail on the brown desktop, she worried her lower lip with her teeth. Did she dare change her plans?

No. She had a hotel waiting for her in St. Petersburg. It was not in her best interest to do so. With a determined nod, she closed her laptop and turned her attention back to making sure all her things were packed except what she’d need come morning.

Still, like the previous nights, he was before her mind’s eye as she waited to sink into sleep. Cleo woke bright and early and was waiting by the time Serge pulled his taxi up to get her and her bags off to the bus station.

They shared slight smiles as she climbed into the warm vehicle. Serge was silent as he drove her to the bus terminal, and she didn’t try to talk, just spent the trip gazing out the window at the snow that continued to fall. Her heart was heavy despite the anxiousness within her to take the next step in her adventure.

Instead of doing like other taxis and stopping in front of the door to the building, Serge pulled into a snowy parking spot and shut off the engine. Cleo watched him take the keys out of the ignition and put them in the pocket of his large overcoat. She swallowed back her tears and opened the door on the cold morning. The corresponding sound from Serge’s side of the door reached her, but she didn’t look at him.

They met at the trunk, where he pulled out her four suitcases. She took two and waited for him to shut the mottled metal hatch. Side by side, they slogged through the slippery snow-ice mix to the front door. Her teeth were chattering by the time they made it inside. Cleo smiled as she looked around for the sign that indicated Saint Petersburg. Even before she headed in that direction, she looked to Serge to double-check her thought on it. He waited with a small nod and began walking toward the counter.

After getting her bags checked and ready to be loaded, Cleo turned her attention to the man who’d come to mean so much to her in such a short time. He held his black round winter cap between gnarled hands. His powder blue eyes seemed suspiciously light as if brightened with tears as he looked back at her. They gave another boarding call for her bus, and she knew she couldn’t delay any longer.

“Thank you, Serge, for everything you’ve done for me these past few days. I want you to know how much it’s meant to me to have found such a wonderful friend on my first trip to this country.”

He shoved his hat in his pocket and took her hand with one of his. The brown leather of his gloves blending with the black of hers. “You, Miss Cleo, are a treasure. I have enjoyed every minute with you.” He squeezed her hand. “Until we meet again.” Serge kissed her on the cheek and sent her a smile before nudging her on toward the door leading to the waiting bus.

Standing on the first of the bus’s steps, Cleo looked at Serge over her shoulder and waggled her fingers in a brief final farewell. He raised one hand in return. Squaring her shoulders, Cleo continued onto the bus and took a seat near the back. She sighed and got comfortable as the door swished closed. Staring out her window, she became mesmerized by the large snowflakes that fell from the sky. Serge was on the other side of the bus, and she could no longer see him. This was probably good because, if she could see his kind face, she’d probably begin to cry.

****

The old bus slowly pulled out of the station. An intense gaze followed the cautious movement of the bus. Serge moved to the person who gaped so hard at the disappearing mode of transportation.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded with a hiss.

The dark head turned toward him, and Serge was faced with eyes the color of permafrost that had a ring of red around the pupils. A sly grin filled the newcomer’s face. “Well, now, this is a new look for you.”

Serge narrowed his eyes. “Don’t interfere.”

“Like you are remaining out of it?”

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he warned, ignoring the remark.

“Just looking around is all.” The man shrugged and walked off.

Serge remained motionless as the other man disappeared into the crowd. A subtle wave of his hand and the veil Serge had placed over Cleo’s eyes vanished. He knew, were she to look up at the destination bar, she would see that instead of Saint Petersburg, it read Novgorod. “Sometimes, things need a push,” Serge muttered as he made his way back to his cab. This way, once Cleo got to Novgorod, she could decide whether or not to get back on a bus and continue to Saint Petersburg.

As he slid behind the wheel, he was no longer a he. The old man had become a voluptuous woman with long dark hair.