Fan Fiction ❯ Lake Placid: The Hunger ❯ Prolouge ( Prologue )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

I want all of you to know I mean NO OFFENSE to the skaters who are my little cast of characters. It is a piece of FANFICTION! Also it is what we call in the fanfic world Crossover/Alternate Universe/Out Of Character. To paraphrase I am writing this using a combination of their real life personalities and spicing it up with a little creative licence. If you are the sort of fan who is sensitive to the nature of this story, the supernatural themes, the rating, how I am portraying the SOI cast, or just plain narrow minded I suggest you click your back button (that's what it's there for) and do get the hell out! Because flames or harassment will not be tolerated on my part. If not, welcome, sit back and enjoy! And I hope to hear some positive feedback! Ciao!

Lake Placid: The Hunger
by Ishida Miyako


Long ago, gods and demons were as one. One of such groups were the Wolves. The people sacrified their children to the clans, but their souls awakened inside the beasts until they were born human. Over the centuries the clans were forced out of their ancient dwellings: the woods along the Volga, packs among the Urals, and the far rims stretching to the Sea of Ohkotsk. They flourished and their blood mixed with humanity spreading across the oceans touching many ethnic groups but never quite purified. Never destined to be fully human their descendants still feel the burn, and ultimately surrender themselves....


* * * *


Day 15, and it was still going nowhere! The tall, Canadian blonde did a series of twizzles across the ice sheet leading a group of 2 women and 3 men to mimic her actions. "...Now when you're going to make the transition from here to- okay... Scott, I see what you're doing...." His athletic leaps and bounds into triple jumps, a decade after his Olympic win is not the only thing which makes Scott Hamilton one of the premier professional figure skaters on the circiut. Each night his goal is to make the audience leap into the air with him. If the sveral thousand people who purchased a ticket to see Stars On Ice in their town are not on their feet, then Mr. Hamilton is not a happy man. As things were now, re-evaluating personal priorities were entangled in his professional life- even in the commentator's box besides Traci and Vern. His father had passed away while he was Lillehammer, and no matter how much your friends and analyst drill it into you, it's the guilt that can ultimately mask the grief.
Sandra Bezic, once again tied up her shoulder-length dusky blonde hair and made another attempt at this all male chorus line on ice. "Okay once more with music, and then we break!" Michael Seibert, Bezic's colleague and co-producer flipped a few switches on the stereo system, turned the bass down a couple of knotches then upped the volume.
"Cued."
"ACTION!"


//...When it gets too much

I need to feel your touch
I'm gonna run to you

I'm gonna run to you

Cause when the feelin's right I'm gonna run all night

I'm gonna run to you....//


Hamilton immediately took to center ice and started his back camel spin into sit spin, then combination broken leg as the two larger Russians came up from behind him making a beeline for their respective partners. St. Petersburg native Yelena Bechke locked her grip securely as her partner, Denis Petrov hoisted her into midair assissting a sommersault-type push up lift. Using enough speed he set her down while she split her legs as Yelena made contact with the ice, ducked and slid between his. As smoothly as Yelena and Denis' run through was, their Moscow-born counterparts were not faring as well. She would have preferred if he had just made a scene and humiliated her. Yekaterina Goredeeva, Katya to many, had only a few years of pairs skating experience. Until this past May she had been a dancer of the Bolshoi Ballet, and figure skating was just another form of conditioning. At four she had begun her figure skating training, like many Soviet children at CSKA- the Central Red Army Club. A year later, her father had insisted that she take the exams for the Bolshoi Ballet and Katya tenatively passed. Aleksandr Gordeev had been a member of the Red Army's folk dancing troupe, his ultimate goal for either of his daughters had been the ballet. The younger Maria Gordeeva dropped out of CSKA after one week hastily announcing never to return. 'They would not let us eat! And all of that stretching hurts!' Her fervant reply to her father's monotonous attempts to coerce Maria into taking the Bolshoi exams were clamping her tiny fists over her ears. Today, Maria is a happy 19-year-old student.
Katya, placating her father pressed on with her balletic studies. But only if she could continue with skating, and with the help of her mother Yelena Levovna managed to convince her father that skating would remedy her problems with stamina and build up muscle tone. Katya's mother knew the pressures and demands the ballet brought upon young people, as she was a student herself. To her misfortune the farthest she had gotten was one of the many angels as portrayed in Adolphe Adam's Giselle. But it had opened the door to her first meeting with Aleksandr after one of the performances. 'Better that Katya should fail the exams, then end up a miserable and mediocre dancer, Sasha.' But Katya was neither, she had surpassed even her own dubious expectations and had secured fine roles in several ballets. Her last one was Prokofiev's Romeo and Juilet as Juliet, and critics compared her to Dame Fonteyn in many instances during her performance. However Katya had reached her breaking point over an extremely sensitive personal matter, her long time engagement to Vancouver Canuck Valery Kharmalov had abruptly ended.
Valery and Katya had met in CSKA and were classmates in school. Both were 17 when he had made his intentions known, and what better place than in hospital where Katya had discovered a stress fracture in her foot. A big part of her recovery was Valery's constant presence and encouragement where as she was most uncomfortable around men, she was also going through a time of emotional and physical change. But her attitude towards him shifted on a positive note where she felt most free and easy. All of Katya's inhibitions vanished like wisps of steam in a breeze, by then they were already lovers and Katya was certain that she was not his first. But Valery was hers. It made the break up all the more painful that Valery had been the one to teach her that passion and desire don't end on the stage as she was brought up to believe. Valery made the conscious descision to marry Katya when he was finally drafted by the NHL with many of his former Soviet Olympic hockey teammates from the Red Army and Moscow Dynamo just as The Curtain began to fall. Emigrating quickly to Canada and urging Katya to do the same, Valery bought a house in Victoria, British Columbia where Katya had spent most of her time in the west. But she had no plans on a permanent relocation. If she had given up dance there would be reprecussions at home, Aleksandr Gordeev had not been quite ecstatic about Katya marrying. Still she was 19 and out and about on her own. Once she had set her mind in motion it was near impossible to change it. It was only about a year later that the strange events began.
In the summer of '92 Valery and Katya opted to spend it at her parents' dacha. One non-particular evening Katya woke up to find Valery's side of the bed vacant. The kitchen perhaps, it seemed the logical conclusion and she knew her grandmother's mushroom soup which was Valery's favourite had been left over in abundance. Thinking she might suprise him Katya padded downstairs only to find the first floor of the house empty and still as the grave. Refusing to fly into a panic Katya walked out onto the porch praying he was there getting some fresh air, but no one was out there. Gripping the wooden railing she stretched herself over it scanning over the acres of grassland struggling to see in the near pitch black, suddenly a light flared toward the back of the house. Katya shut the door noiselessly and saw shadows dancing in the kitchen. Taking a post on the steps she saw her mother and Valery. The spoke in feverish, hushed tones Yelena waving her arms about not so much in anger but to reason with him. To reason for what...? Katya did a double take as she saw his Raiders gray T-shirt slashed. Had he been hurt? Worse, attacked? Valery seized Yelena's wrists in a non-threatening manner in order to subdue her worries. He had placed a kiss on her forehead and bid her good night, Katya flew upstairs and jumped back into bed. Five minutes later Valery joined her and checked to reassure that Katya was asleep. She was a better actress than she thought. The following morning Katya rummaged through Valery's things, initially to do the laundry but the unnerving incident the previous night set her off and her suspicions sunk in. In his Canucks duffel bag, among his shorts, T-shirts and various personal hygene products she spotted some pink material. When she pulled it out it was a woman's bra. Katya recognised it as one of the Victoria Secret lingerie line from so many of the American magazines she thumbed through. She fingered the powder pink sheer satin in anger wanting to tear it apart, but she saw someone had beaten her to it. The left strap had been violently torn from the cup and what bothered her the most were the two small rust-coloured stains on it. Instinctively, Katya knew it was blood as she had seen it so many times on her toe shoes. If bloody dance slippers were a testament to your improvement, then so be it.
Not knowing what in hell to do she thrust it back into the duffel bag and resolved to forget about it. That night, like the previous one Valery once again vanished from the bed, this time Katya went to confront her mother. She knew something, and had absolutely no intention of telling her but that was going to change. Katya's destination was her parents' bedroom, on silent feet she slid the door open a few inches and only saw her deeply slumbering father in bed. Where was Mother? Katya flounced downstairs and out the door, there her mother sat.
'Mama....' Yelena Levovna sat unmoving, in her nightgown wrapped in a shawl. Her eyes were focused on some distant star. 'Mama!' Katya ran around to face her mother but she contiued to stare right through her daughter. 'Mother I-' Katya bridled herself once the full moonlight cast over Yelena's face. Her normally gentle, however heavy-hearted blue-gray eyes were now a feral jade.
'Katrine,' Katya was taken aback by this. No one save for her maternal grandfather called her by that name. 'Please go back to bed.' Yelena's voice was softer than usual and so far away. Backtracking to the door, Katya pulled by some unknown force took her mother's advice and returned to her bedroom but did not go back to sleep. Katya sat on the windowsill freed, but feeling foolish and a might scared.
'I'll get it straight from the horse's mouth on this one.' And awaited her fiancee's return. Ever vigilant she remained awake and kept her gaze on the door. Outside Yelena Levovna also waited, but she felt no anger for Valery just pity for his utter ignorance. Haggard and limping, the hockey star emerged from the darkness and Valery mounted the steps. The shorts and T-shirt he wore to bed were tattered and streaked with dirt.
'Valya,' she began. He stopped short of the front door and faced her, but she did not turn to face him. 'I can't help you anymore. I'm sorry.'
'So am I.' And he went in. Katya heard Valery's approaching footsteps and he opened the door.
'Where were you, Valya?' Katya's light and timbre voice ricocheted like a bullet off of steel plating.
'Katyusha?!' He flipped on the light switch. At least his suprise was genuine, she could only see if his story matched.
'Where were you Valya?' She repeated. Katya studied his appearance and mixed with the shock of this oracular situation was plain disgust.
'Ahh... Katyush, let me explain. But it is difficult at this point....' Valery searched.
'I see. Then maybe you can explain this.' Katya tossed him the ruined bra. Valery caught it, and at first was unsure as to what he was holding. Then he saw the old bloodstains. His pupils dilated to pinheads.
'Really Katyusha, I will explain all to you.' And then it occurred to him. 'Did you speak to your mother?' Katya's suspicions died down as fear replaced them, as to what he was alluding to.
'What does that have to do with anything?' She put on her poker face and hoped for the best.
'Just answer the question.' She crossed her arms over her chest derisively.
'No.' Valery snorted and decided not to retort due to her current emotional state... the outcome could be unpleasant.
'Fine. Have it your way.' Katya suddenly wondered abouth the welfare of the young woman who owned the bra in question. Athletes were just another type of celebrity, and in Canada hockey was not so much sport as it was religion. Many beautiful girls flocked to the arenas and infidelities was something that every hockey star's significant other had to take into consideration. But the way things were shaping up, Valery was a rambunctious man but... no. Best not think of that. It would only further her rage? Fear? Katya concentrated on Valery's eyes but in the wan yellow lamplight she couldn't be absolutely sure....
'Katyusha, what is it?' Had he seen? Would he believe her? But what if it were true, and that's why he had questioned her about speaking with her mother. She struggled to keep up her front.
'Nothing.' Lie number two. But this time he would not let her get away with it. Valery frowned as Katya's grandfather might until she saw the gleam in his eyes, and as much as she wanted to scream, to flee she knew she could not. Once again those haunted jade eyes stared back at her. 'I want you to leave this house.' She knew her voice could barely be heard. But it would have surely cracked and broke if she attempted to raise it. 'Go now.'
'I know you don't mean that.'
'The hell I don't!' She spat.
'I would never harm you Katyusha,' his countenance did not stir but his words were questionable. What unspeakable acts could he have performed on that girl- on who knows how many others! The suggestion was palpable and almost she could detect the faint animalian redolence something she had familiarized herself with in early childhood but dismissed it impassively, until now. In Valery's dishevelled state for the past two nights wreaked havoc on her fragile nervous system, and he swore never to harm her? And was her own mother an accomplice, or just privy to such information? And what role would Katya play? It fell like an aeon-old curse and Katya headed for the door, taking immediate action until Valery materialized not two inches in front of her face. He ingored her protests and extending a long, stiff arm barring her escape. 'Have you ever known the devil, Katya?' Valery wrenched her chin for her wet green-blue eyes to meet his menacing ones. Her jaw slackened, opening up to scream but she made no noise when she saw his canines were inhumanly elongated. 'Well he exists in every man!' Her body dropped to the floor and in a wild blur Valery leapt through the doorway. Still very much in shock she crawled to peer into the hallway and he was nowhere to be seen.
The next morning after screaming to high heaven, threatening to box her mother's ears, and finally collapsing into her arms, Katya offered her father some feeble excuse that Valery was called back to Canada concerning some legal matter over his contract. It quelled Aleksandr for the time being. Katya too made a hasty exit returning to the Bolshoi school seeking sanctuary in her classes before the new season began. She never made any attempt to get into contact with her estranged fiancee, nor wished to go back to Canada. Facing him would be humiliating and terrifying. Valery was not known to ever take the path of least resistance and began calling Katya frequently during the fall. She had been repelled at the thought of him begging for a reconciliation and acting as though nothing had happened. Initally. But as she had begun to actually take his calls he was more than willing to sort out these seemingly supernatural... abilities. Katya had spent Christmas in Berlin with the rest of the troupe where they were performing Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker. And as per their agreement she would meet with Valery after their last show on Christmas Eve. Katya was cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy, but was hardly being sweet to the other dancers her mind constantly shifting to Valery and not her tasks at hand. She showed up around 10:30 just outside of a restaurant overlooking a park. Ten minutes had passed and with thin patience she was just ready to depart when faint rustling sounded behind her. Daring herself to look over her shoulder Katya just saw the Christmas decorated shrubery that was planted outside of the restaurant. She had not even taken two steps when the rustling commenced once more, but it was also accompanied by short, rasping breath intakes. Dog pants? She may have looked a little silly but these little things got under her skin quickly, Katya crouched low while trying to walk around the tall, immaculately cared for shrubery. Had there been a stray, or was her mind playing tricks from all the stress? It occurred to her that she didn't care one bit. At once a breakthrough! Though she didn't see the animal she could hear the snow crunching under its paws... and then that strange jade glow. The same from that night? Neither Valery or her mother displayed any visual florescence, then again Katya had no desire to look into the eyes of posessed (or those she had thought were) persons.
'Katyusha....' Katya recognised Valery's whisper but she knew this wasn't coming from anywhere about the vicinity. It echoed from the shaodwy recesses of her mind. A car sped down the street and the driver beeped the horn violently as the clanging of cans being tossed after it hit the asphalt. Katya was distracted and saw two teens swear and each took a swig from a vodka bottle they shared before moving on. 'Katyusha.' Katya yelped and stumled forward. Looking up she saw Valery wearing jeans, a gray suede jacket, and black scarf standing on the snow. 'Sorry I'm late.'
'I'm sorry too.' He had not caught onto her meaning until the dinner was over. Valery fed her enough information as he could. There was not much he could tell her anyway. For the most part he made the discovery himself it wasn't until he had met others like him- one of which was Katya's mother- when he started talking about having bloody 'nightmares'. A man by the name of Yegor Guba who knew many athletes and performers throughout the (former) Soviet Union had supplied him with a few names and a little backround history of the Wolf Clans. Could it be true? Was Valery and her mother descendants of the Wolves? Is the very same blood running through her veins? For the majority of the meal Katya held her head down, eyes shielded by her hands listless to Valery's never ending tangents about his first... experiences... explicitly detailing every thought, action, dispersement of mother nature's attacks. But he was in total synchronisation witht the earth and outwitted her. It was the physical manifestations that made Katya uncharacteristically drop her fork several times, as Valery described it tantamount to leaving his human soul behind and giving rise to the primal instcincts. Comparing it to being a highly tuned instrument, able to hear the hum of the seashore from a thousand kilometres away. He had little success in drawing Katya out, the persuasion to join him was failing miserably and Katya could hardly fathom these far-out tales he was telling. She had still not spoken to her mother about it, and was hesitant. The subject was highly undesirable and Yelena Levovna had went to great lengths to hide this from her daughters, but had her father known? If Katya approached him with this he'd surely think she was mad. Or at least he would be relieved at the fact she was reconsidering her marriage to Valery at this point in her career.
1993 went by qucikly and uneventful. Katya communicated with Valery sparsely, and although she still wore his ring she considered herself free of him. Until the end of August. Yelena Levovna urged her daughter to spend the last week of summer at Yegor Guba's. Katya was comforted that she would be surrounded by friends and keep busy. Her mother had lightly skimmed the surface concerning the bloodline but Katya would not hear of it. Yelena knew not to continue it despite her mortal fears and let Katya go. She did take out insurance and notify Yegor.
For Yegor's guests to be up at 7:45 A.M., on holiday, was not so much unusual as it was condemnable. The party ended only four hours earlier and there everyone gathered in their sleeping attire among a copse of trees in the back of the large dacha.
'Oh dear God....'
'EEEYAHHH!!!' Several more screams were heard and the host came running after someone had awoken him.
'Watch out... out of the way- please!' Yegor shoved trembling bodies from side to side in order to pass. Reaching their point of interest he felt his heart leap in his throat throbbing, unable to swallow. A mass of jet-black hair was slickly matted to the dewy grass, and her head was twisted in an odd angle indicating that her neck had been broken. However, her nightgown was now a permanent shade of pink from the neat gaping wounds on her swan-like neck so it was impossible to tell how she really died. Yulia Marinina, 19, was a new student attending the Bolshoi school and had been a last minute guest.
Something or someone had been trying to rouse her. Katya had just fallen into a proper sleep, and burrowed her head further into the pillow hoping that that someone would go away. 'Katya, get up,' the soft male voice from behind her sent Katya rolling over to see a pair of confused turquoise eyes. It was her childhood friend, Aleksandr Fadeev a professional figure skater. His wife and young son had also been invited to Yegor's.
'Sasha,' her tiny voice rough with sleep, 'what is it?' Fadeev was reluctant to answer but just before he opened her bedroom door he heaved a great sigh.
'Yulichka....' His voice didn't trail off as so much as vanish.
'Yulia?' Katya sat up on her knees, face aflame with fear. 'What's wrong with Yulia? Sasha!' He winced at Katya's shout. He bit his thin lower lip in a boyish manner that Katya hadn't seen since grade school.
'I can't... you'd better come.' Jumping out of bed, forgetting her slippers Katya took Fadeev's hand and both ran downstairs and out to the trees. Despite Yegor's many protests, Yulia's body was moved to at the very least look dignified. Her nightgown was thrown up exposing her scantily clad lower half and one breast.
'What happened here Sasha?'
He swallowed hard. 'I don't know. But it looks like a wild dog got her... what was she doing in the woods last night?' Fadeev saw Katya clench a quivering fist to her breasts. 'Are you alright?'
'I... don't know....'
'Katya, do you know anything?' Fadeev wasn't able to discern anything from Katya's expression as her eyes remained transfixed on the body.
'No. I don't know anything.'


* * * *


The song was going full blast unfortunately when Katya was lifted into the air, her mind was racing with tremulous savagery instead of getting into the side star position. Anyone watching could have seen the inevitable slip. Her already shaky grasp had slid from his shoulder just as the rotation was about to begin, gravity took ahold of Katya's lithe body and she fell from his hands. Adrenaline had kicked in and Sergei managed to break her fall by catching Katya by the waist at the very last second, sending them both careening across the frozen surface. Katya felt the spray of frost dust her face and ice chips were caught in her hair as her body came to a delibrately slow stop five to six inches from the rinkboards. In a mangled heap of limbs Katya was barely able to see in front of her as her new professional partner cradled her tiny head into his massive shoulder.
27-year-old Sergei Grinkov had just come off his second Olympic win, a long summer tour, and a break up with his original partner of 12 years did not need anymore misery. Dislodging himself from the small female he fell backward blowing off a sigh of relief. Katya still crumpled on the ice looked to him and saw him cup a large, tired hand over his eyes. This was the most emotion he's shown to her in all of the seven months she knew him.
"Maybe it's time to call it a day." Sandra said calmly assisting Katya to her feet. Katya overheard the murmurings of the other castmembers glide off onto the rubber hunting for their guards. Scott Hamilton and Denis Petrov helped Sergei to his feet, never had Katya felt more of an intruder than at that moment.
"More like inferior," she whispered and retreated to the ladies dressing room. She was certain she would be read the riot act tonight for sure. But then again that's what she'd expect get her father on trivial matters, and not once from Sergei on perfecting basic pairs lifts. He was a stoic. Tall and shadowy he stood behind his female counterparts willingly turning all of the attentions on them. Long time choreographer and friend to Grinkov was Marina Zoueva, first sat Katya down for a very long evening before their working relationship had started. She summed him up as being uncharacterisically unhappy and frustrated with his life. In 1982 CSKA had paired him up with an excitable blonde girl named Oksana Koval. She was often compared to Ludmilla Belousova-Protopopov for her physical characteristics as well as professional. She was 11 and he 15. After two coaching changes and Sergei nearly getting forced out of pairs skating, they managed to win their first World title in '86 and repated in '87. The 1988 Olympic crown in Calgary seemed theirs, but there was something else on Sergei's mind other than gold medals. Oksana was almost 17 but matured gracefully beyond her years, Sergei turned 21 at those Olympics and had been very popular with the female skaters and fans for some time. The revered Soviet pair had been seen around the Olympic village strolling hand-in-hand and rumours spread like a brushfire in 110 degree heat.
After their long program and proudly standing atop the podium, Oksana and Sergei looked at eachother with different eyes and answered that silent, lingering question.
With the help of teammate Anna Kondrashova, Sergei was secretly escorted to Oksana's room in the ladies' dormitory and not seen for the remainder of the evening. Despite the problems the government was giving to Sergei about requisitioning a car and the possibility of an apartment, in 1989 Oksana and Sergei married and asserting themselves as one of their country's elite athletes they won their third World Championship. Almost ruefully Marina handed her a photograph of a younger and jovial Sergei lounging on his mother's sofa with Oksana comfortably nestled in his lap, his long fingers threaded in her silky blonde hair. They fit so well together, what could have went wrong? They were a young couple still growing, but the stresses of marriage did have an affect on their skating. Oksana was 18 and still going through puberty, physical changes effect every young person in sports but for females it was even more so traumatic. Added to the fact that they were living with Sergei's parents, and unsure of what to make of their son's life decisions it would not be the first time the Grinkovs would see a relationship fall apart. In the case of Natalya Grinkova, Sergei's older sister by seven years and one of the few people he was extremely close to. Natalya had married and had a daughter, Svetlana, and she and her family lived with her husband's parents. After several years of trying to salvage the marriage they divorced. Lack of privacy, the usual problems concerning in-laws, even financial difficulties all played into it. Something Anna Grinkova didn't want her sensitive young son to endure. But his true test would be after the 1990 World Championships held in Halifax. Marina Zoueva created their long program to Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet and to their success it was their cleanest skate at the World's after a perplexing season of shorthanded performances at various competitions. They earned their fourth and final World title. Sometime that spring when they were picked up once more by Tom Collins' Champions On Ice tour, the troupe made a stop in Washington D.C. when late one night Viktor Petrenko one of the men's singles skaters came calling for Sergei. Oksana had been out with Marina Kilmova and Sergei Ponomarenko, the World Champions in ice dance and also husband and wife, and thankfully so. Viktor had received a call from Moscow reporting that Sergei's father had died. The news had fallen on Sergei like a bomb. Although he wasn't sure why, Viktor had left Sergei for some reason but when he had returned Sergei was gone.
Oksana had returned with the Ponomarenkos upon hearing the news and became even more distraught when she found her husband had disappeared. She and Viktor searched every open bar and restaurant in the area to no avail. They went back to the hotel feeling empty until they saw him sitting at the bar with a glass of wine next to him. Oksana threw her arms around him and cried not knowing how to comfort someone who never seemed to need comforting. 'I love you.' Oksana said.
'It's not like I made a choice not to be closer to him,' he began. 'It's just that my mother had taken care of all that was involved with my skating.' For the first time Oksana saw the lively glitter leave his amazingly transluscent blue eyes.
'Both of them wanted to the best for you. Serezha, you've got to remember that.'
He laughed a dry, sarcastic laugh. 'I can't... Moulya, I just can't.... I just wanted to know him better.' And then he cried. There were only two instances Marina saw Sergei cry: at his father's funeral and after his divorce was made final.
'Appearances are deceiving, are they not?' Katya could only nod stupidly from across Marina's kitchen table. From what Katya knew from news reports and TV interviews he and Oksana were fueled by this soul shaking experience to better themelves not only as athletes, but as people. Like many former Soviet skaters they flocked to the west for greater opportunity and settled in the Tampa Bay area in Florida, they turned professional and joined the prestigious touring show Stars On Ice. Scott Hamilton, the '84 Olympic Gold Medalist appointed himself the Grinkovs' Godfather, he became fast friends with Sergei despite the language barrier during their first season. But after two years of touring and winning pro competition after pro competition Sergei longed for the Olympic ice once more. Oksana made her unwillingness to return to amateur competition known even after he had joined Brian Boitano and Katarina Witt's petition to the ISU about pros reinstating for the Olympics. 1993 became a stressful year for Sergei. Apparently he and Oksana had divorced on the quiet as they continued to train for the Lillehammer Games and compete in any amateur competition they could get into. It was near impossible to believe that they could perform as beautifully and romantically to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata keeping a front for as long as they could even as they mounted the top step of the Olympic podium once more. He gently placed a kiss on the back of Oksana's neck and she accepted it graciously as they saw Peter The Great's tri-coloured flag raised for the first time at an Olympics. The full weight of his situation finally hit him as he moved into an apartment in Ottowa, Canada, but he took comfort that he would be closer to Marina, her husband Aleksei Chetverukhin, and their 12-year-old son Fedor who was also active in figure skating. The Minto Skating Club offered him a position as a coach with a generous salary because of his notariety. Marina advised him to take the job and start over, and a little selfishly overjoyed at having Sergei work with her on a higher level but it was his choice. He called a few favours in at CSKA to arrange auditions for his new partner.
Timing was everything, during his last tour with Oksana once again with Champions On Ice he managed to fit scouring Moscow's numerous skating clubs for the next 'perfect partner' in his schedule. Marina Zoueva was closely involved as were Stanislav Leonovich, Sergei's coach since 1987 as well as Vladimir Zaharov his first pairs skating coach. Katya was discovered quite by accident during a training session at CSKA. Sergei knew who she was from all of the ballet classes he and Oksana went through, and as he recalled seen her a few times at the rink. Was she serious? Yes. About skating? He never got a straight answer from her, but what he discovered about her ill-fated engagement to the Kharmalov she looked about ready to take a walk off a roof. Time for a change of scenery. Katya handed in her notice to the Bolshoi and booked the next one-way flight to Ottowa, she was too comatose to speak to anyone but, as she packed but felt a surge of exhileration as she dumped her toe shoes in a bin at the back of her closet and packed her skates. Upon her arrival she moved in with Marina Zoueva's family and began her proper pairs skating training.
What she did not know was what really set Oksana off at Sergei. There are three sides to every story: side A, side B, and the truth. Mikhail Kondratyevich Grinkov and his wife Anna were two high ranking officers in the Moscow Militia. It seemed so odd that Sergei, a son of the Soviet magistrate would become a prominent figure in the skating world, but his parents were fanatical about the arts. If he had become a ballet dancer or actor as teachers during his grade school years said he could be, it did not matter. For Sergei, he didn't care much either way as long as he could play with his toy soliers and run around with friends from school. A suprise to his North American fanbase was his childhood nickname, 'Smile'. This came from his attitude concerning the general education courses CSKA provided, whenever the teacher would call on him to answer some problem on the blackboard his response was just to smile. And that same smile had been the one Mikhail Grinkov wore up until the day he died. Oksana accompanied Sergei to his father's funeral and that's where they learned how and where he died. Every weekend for many years, Mikhail traveled to the country to build the dacha his family vacationed in and it was there that he suffered his fourth heart attack and died, quite literally in Anna's arms. After the funeral back at his family's apartment Sergei pulled his father's physician, Dr. Annikanov, aside into the kitchen and listened to his explanations. Oksana had been helping Natalya clear away dishes from all of the bereaved visitors that were trudging in and out of the tiny Moscow apartment. Bringing a pile of tea cups, plates, bowls, and an overflowing ashtray on a tray Oksana set it into the kitchen sink. She was just about to fill the basin and get to work when she caught sight of her husband's face. He wasn't buying any of it! How could he not? Sergei knew about his father's delicate health, and the duress that police officers suffer during their service compounded it. It was that unusual ping that Oksana winced against and prayed she'd never feel it again....
Then Sergei insisted that they go up to the dacha. That ping now sounded off in her brain, resonating a deafening sound at the mere suggestion. What would he hope to find up there? Was it just for closure? Oksana was certain that he wasn't telling her something, and it wasn't the first time either. Once just after they were married she had found him with stitches on his arm. Frightened she questioned at what happened, he responded cryptically that it wasn't important for her to know. All she had learned from Marina Zoueva some time later that it was some sort of fight, and it involved his childhood best friend who was killed in a car accident shortly after that incident. They drove in silence all the way to the dacha, Oksana had figured to take advantage of the time and bought food and candles to create a romantic atmosphere. This could be the honeymoon they'll never have.
But it was the nightmare that began at the dacha which was responsible for tearing apart her marriage and partnership. Sergei could not sleep. Oksana decided not to excacerbate the situation by reminding him that she had to share his bed, complaining of his tossing and turning. Oksana was relieved when he finally fell asleep, but knew that he would wake up with a most unsavory attitude due to his lack of proper rest. It only was a couple of hours that had passed and when she drifted out of sleep she found Sergei had left, Oksana sighing the sigh of the long-suffering wrapped the duvet around her trim figure and crept out into the living room where she had expected to find him brooding over some alcoholic beverage, but it was deserted. The panic ulimately set in, but not knowing what to do and debating to whether or not leave the house Oksana stayed put hoping beyond hope that Sergei had not done anything rash. Groping around for the light switch, Oksana hissed in pain as she stepped on something sharp. Flipping on the overhead light she found her husband's watch discarded on the floor. The glass encased face shattered in a chilling spider web-like pattern and the steel link band broken. On unsteady feet she lowered herself into the first chair she saw and the watch all but confirmed Oksana's eerie premonitions back in Moscow. Somehow she fell into a thin troubled sleep in that uncomfortable, aging wicker chair with the duvet falling from her body pooling around her on the smooth woodboard floor. A meaty *THUMP* had broken her sleep. She shot up from the chair clutching the watch to her heart for protection. It sounded again, this time on the roof. A troubled look crossed her gentle features as dust particles and bits of plaster sprinkled downward, some dusting her hair. A madman in the woods? An animal, more likely. But as she followed the sound of its stealthly creeps across the roof she noted the high pitch that the roof made as it creaked, and it was a huge bugger. But what animal? A shadow fell and wind broke as she saw something fall to the porch right in front of the window but at that moment she screetched throwing herself to the floor. The door flew open and in fell Sergei dressed only in his jeans.
Oksana raced to his side and saw he had great difficulty breathing, to be specific he was choking on something. He gathered to his knees, hacking gasping for oxygen when he spat out the obstruction. It was blood, Oksana began to shake and instinctively knew it wasn't his. There was not a scratch, bruise, any wound whatsoever on his body. He voided his esophogus and was able to regualte his breathing, Sergei turned on his back to lie in Oksana's arms. He wiped off his lips which wore a distinct ruby sheen and a grin of maniacal triumph twisted his face. But Oksana didn't even see this, it was the radiant cyan glow his eyes had she was hypnotized by. At that moment she had wished she had listened to her grandmother's wild supersitious tales of folkloric possession and other otherworldly animal demons haunting, and hunting mortals. It went to hell from there and for the first time Oksana felt afraid of Sergei. Not of the good man she knew and loved but of the beast inside.
Katya was acutely aware that she had quite a pair of skating boots to fill, but didn't doubt her abilities she was just disturbed by... the scent. Something in the picturesque Adirondack mountain air didn't sit well with her. After laying awake, counting the cracks on her bedroom cieling Katya slid out of bed and decided to make herself a cup of tea. It just might cure her pulsating nerves. She noiselessly padded down the carpeted stairs of the condo she shared with Yelena Bechke shuffling her way to the kitchen when her foot hit something in the middle of the hallway from the staircase to the landing which divided the kitchen and living room. Squinting in the darkness she looked closely at the object and from the moonlight coming in from the skylight it outlined a hiking boot. A man's black hiking boot. Creeping to look over the edge of the archway leading to the living room, she discovered that articles of clothing were hapahazardly tossed about on the royal blue carpeting. And thankfully that the couch was facing the fireplace Katya could see some sort of activity was taking place in the relatively silent condominium. Katya frowned at the darkness like her father would at Yelena and her guest's apathy. A disinct male sigh of content was heard and Katya shrunk farther behind the archway. Yelena's guest slung his arm onto the floor, Katya had to stifle a gasp when she saw the moonlight's glare off of the adornment on the gentleman's wrist. The elegant stainless steel of the waterproof Timex piece that Sergei was never without. Katya remembered seeing it when she met Sergei and Marina at the pool back during her first few weeks in Ottowa. Part of his daily training regimen was swimming, 50 laps. An avid swimmer and bodybuilder, Sergei dedicated himself in the dance hall as much as his female partners did. Bobbing at one end and chatting with Marina, Sergei hoisted himself out and she handed him a towel. Katya caught herself staring and quickly lowered her eyes, making his watch a focal point.
'You're here early!' Marina Zoueva cheerfully noted.
'Huh?' Katya snapped her head up. Sergei and Marina exchanged looks, Katya was never inattentive.
'Anyway, I want to run a few ideas by the both of you today for the new program.' Marina produced from her leather shoulderbag a large pictoral book of Rodin's sculptures. Katya marveled, all of them erotic in some way or another, gleaming spectacular nudes seemingly floating or suspended in the air. Marina flipped through the leaves until she came upon a page that was dogeared. 'This one,' she tapped a long elegant coral nail on the photo, 'this one was the catalyst.' Sergei had dried his hands sufficiently to relieve his mentor of the book for a brief moment. It depicted a couple caught in a mad embrace engaged in a passionate, soulful kiss.
'Is that why you wanted to call it "The Kiss"?' Katya shot Sergei a look of shock, he didn't seem to notice. Didn't Marina say she wanted to run ideas by both of them? She reprimanded herself then, reminded that Marina and Sergei had a closer relationship because she was with him from the beginning. But there were those days where she didn't give a damn and her face would flush with hot jealousy. Marina saw this and asked her if she were feeling sick. They had been spending 7 sessions a day on the ice relearning crossovers and doing carry lifts. Ashamed and angry with herself she feigned illness and they would depart from the rink. So why was it that she felt that underlying animosity for Marina Zoueva who was not only kind enough to take her in and was happily married with an adolescent son, and not blink twice to see Sergei enjoying the afterglow after an intense session of lovemaking with Yelena Bechke? Katya shrugged, figuring that since she and partner Denis Petrov who were married up until the summer of '93 decided to divorce but continued to perform happily and beautifully together. The '92 Olympic pairs silver medalists defined perfectionism and professionalism. Yelena went under a drastic transformation since her split with Denis, she bleached her hair a shade of blonde lighter than her natural and cut it short, just falling above her slim shoulders. Denis loved his sports car and spent time getting it detailed. They have suffered the unusual tension and awkwardness around eachother and Sergei seemed a good match for Yelena even though he might be considered the 'rebound guy', and Katya felt guilty about referring to Sergei as that. But he was dependable and understanding and Yelena needed that at this point in her life. Katya was more than certain Denis was seeing someone as well, she saw him by the Olympic Arena's front entrance in hushed conversation over his cell phone and she was sure it wasn't with their coach Tamara Moskvina. Katya retreated back to her room and no one was the wiser. The next morning Katya snuck out early as Scott Hamilton had invited her to breakfast. Also joining them was his long time fiancee Karen, and his coach Kathy Casey.
Holding her sneakers in one hand, Katya crept on bare feet down the steps, taking precaution but breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the living room devoid of any life and neatly put back in order. She sat on an armchair adjacent from the sofa to tie her Reeboks on. Wrapping a thick red scarf around her neck and chest she zippered up her suede jacket, and left shutting the door behind her softly. She took note of the rented black Mazda Sergei was driving was parked in the driveway.
Katya sat in the dining room with Scott, Karen, and Kathy enjoying a long breakfast and lots of laughs. Scott wanted to find out all about her, as he considered the Russians on the Stars On Ice tour some of his favourite people. "They always seem to fall for my sick sense of humour," he quipped. Katya was charmed and began to feel warm and welcome in his presence. It was almost as if she had his permission to perform and have good time. "You'll love Sandra. I know it all looks difficult and complex what she and Michael create, and to tell you the truth it is but everyone's here to help eachother- and cover for eachother." Katya giggled and already felt her muscles loosen as Scott went on to tell stories about insane on-ice mishaps during past Lake Placid shows, or activites that the cast engaged in during the cross-coutry tour. Katya departed a quarter to noon, but before she exited the front door Scott mentioned he was throwing a party that evening to celebrate the Thanksgiving Day opening show as well as welcoming Stars On Ice's newest castmates Kurt Browning, Katarina Witt, and of course, Katya. She was more than excited to attend and hoped that her new friendship with Scott Hamilton would ease her trepidations about her new career. Being that it was Sunday and no rehearsals were scheduled, Katya decided to explore the town, perhaps do a little shopping where she could pick up a few souvenirs for her parents and sister. But first she had to stop at the condominium to get her purse. She hesitated walking through the front door because of the previous evening and she thought it further humiliating if she walked in on Yelena and Sergei again. Even something less than intimate, just them kissing would set her off. Katya decided going through the back door by way of the kitchen. Slowly disengaging the lock Katya opened the door inch by painful inch popped her head through the door and feeling her stomach unravel, the kitchen was vacant. In fact, the house was silent and she exhaled audibly before shutting the door. Taking easy strides through the kitchen then into the hall she failed to notice the person sitting on the living room sofa.
"So how was breakfast?" Katya yelped, so startled was she that a potted plant sitting on top of a table went nearly flying by her spinning body. But she had caught it in time before it spilled to the floor. Sergei stood up, alrmed. "Are you alright, Katuuh?"
She placed the plant back on the table. "Fine Serioque. I just was unprepared...." She saw him pluck his empty mug from the coffee table and closed the hardcover book he was reading. He was dressed in his usual jeans, a white T-shirt and a black knit sweater over it. He'd brought an overnight bag, Katya surmised. Sergei went into the kitchen to refill his cup from the teakettle on the stove and hung a teabag into it.
"So what do you think of Scott?" He turned to see Katya leaning against the doorframe, she finally smiled when Sergei mentioned his name.
"I like him- too much, I think." Sergei looked down at his tea and grinned his trademark crooked grin.
"Yes. He's a good friend. He helped me through... a lot." He focused on the clear hot water as it was slowly consumed by the inky tincture from the teabag... an image of Katya screaming for him as she dragged her nails down his down his arm, drawing blood as he flinched hissing in pain... he had flinched as the vision vanished a split second later.
"Are you alright?" Katya queried now standing before him with worry. Sergei pinched the flesh between hie eyes and looked away sharply grabbing the countertop with both hands.
"Fine." He shot daggers into the wooden cabinet he was facing. He trained himself well on evading questioning stares. The air was charged between them and Katya picked up on a familiar feral scent.
"W- where's Yelena?' She changed the subject hoping to deter the panic rising inside.
Sergei forced himself to relax, and folded his arms across his broad chest. "I don't know why, but she said she wanted to get a few things from the grocery store. " He turned to her with his brow arched in puzzlement. "But we're eating dinner at Scott's party tonight... you do know about the party?"
"Of course! He could hardly stop talking about it." They both laughed, Katya to take the edge off and Sergei as a natural reaction from any mention of his close friend. "Well," Katya cleared her throat, "I'll get out of your way."
"I'll see you." Her near forgotten excursion temporarily cast aside all of her worries. Sergei carefully observed Katya jog upstairs and frowned, oddly disturbed by his vision. He reached for the cordless phone hung on its wall cradle and dialed Genrikh Sretensky's number.


* * * *


The guests each went back either for a second or third helping from the buffet table. Sandra cracked that Scott should give up the name of his caterer to provide forStars On Ice. Considering that the food service was so poor. Katya decided on another bowl of vanilla fudge instead of refilling her plate. She was enjoying herself at Scott's party chatting on end with Rosalynn Sumners, one of the Stars On Ice veterans. Everyone was uproriously laughing at Scott Hamilton trying to sing Iron Butterfly's Inna Gadda Da Vida from a rented karaoke machine.
"He's preparing for the Stars On Ice Japan tour later this summer," Kristi Yamaguchi commented. "But then we're all gonna be dragged there!"
"Oh no!" Rosalynn buried her face, giggling, in her hands. Katya could only laugh harder.
"I'll just get more ice cream." Katya made her way to the kitchen and glanced in Sergei's direction. Marina Zoueva was comfortably sitting beside him on the sofa, watching Scott's comedy act and she reached over to comfortingly squeeze his arm a couple of times. He looked to her and grinned warmly. Once again Katya pushed down that rage she wanted to fly into when Marina came into contact with him, then shook it off. Rooting through the freezer she lugged out the large, plastic tub of ice cream and set it on the kitchen table. Katya doused the scoop briefly under warm water before plunging it into the frozen confection. Thinking back earlier she had driven to the party with the other Russians, they were greeted at the door by Canadian pairs skater Christine Hough. Save for Yelena and Sergei they all followed her inside. Sergei, the designated driver for the evening parked Genrikh Sretensky's rented SUV, but Yelena lingered after him. Katya hung up her coat and pulled back the curtain only slightly to see a muted conversation between the couple. She could see that Sergei was genuinely frustrated by something and Yelena tried to reason with him with little success. Katya saw the finality by his actions ending the conversation before turning to lock the car door. Yelena grabbed his wrist and kissed him hungrily. He pulled back and apologized. As for Katya, she felt nothing. She slammed the ice cream scoop on the table.
'This troubles me. HE troubles me! I hardly know Sergei and everytime when I think of some... some... outsider laying their hands on him, I want to kill them! Yelena could be making love to him and it's as though it's not real. Like I'm watching some racy movie or something... and I'm scared.' The sound of crashing metal freed Katya from her angsting. She switched on the light above the backdoor. Katya wrapped her arms tightly around herself for warmth and walked down the drive to see Scott's trashcans knocked down.
"Katyusha...." A voice rasped. She nearly cried out to find Valery clutching his side, his sweater torn to shreds hanging off of him. He was bruised and bleeding keeping away from the light to avoid detection.
"Valya!" Katya ran to him just as his scarce stamina gave way falling on his knees, into Katya's arms.
The disorted colours finally blended together forming Katya's sweet face. "What happened?!" Valery snapped up laying on his bed where Katya treated his wounds to the best of her ability.
"We're at your hotel suite. The Mariott, remember?" Valery reached up to massage his temple feeling the gauze taped on his foread. The pungent odor of antibotic ointment all over and the taut wrappings around his torso and left arm.
"I honestly don't. What the hell happened?" Katya placed the first aid kit on his dresser and poured a glass of ice water from a pitcher on the coffee table.
"I was about to ask you that. You just passed out as soon as you climbed into your car- to which I'm amazed I could even drive, considering what your front end looks like!" She handed him the water and two Advil tablets. "I didn't even know where to bring you, until your room key fell out of your pocket." Valery swallowed the analgesic then handed Katya back the water. He placed his hands on his face, as he groaned and lay back down. "What in God's name happened?" She seated herself on the bed. Valery refused to look at her.
"I was... attacked."
"Attacked?! By who?!" He hissed as he got up from the bed.
"Not who. What. Which is why I'm here." Katya removed her cupped hands from her lips fathoming his return into her life. "We were scheduled for a pick-up game at MSqG in the city earlier in the week."
"I know. The anticipated Stanley Cup rematch... I'm sorry."
"Saw it did you?" He smiled for the first time that whole week. "I called your mother and she told me everything." Katya blew off a disgruntled sigh. When she went home for the Holidays, her mother was going to get a bitching at. "I know what you're thinking-"
"Do you?" She strutted about the room crossly.
"-And I'm not here to take you back because of me... I think you're in trouble Katya." She looked at him completely flip. Was this man serious?
"Are you out of your mind?"
"And with good reason. Katya, I can't be sure what attacked me... but I feel... I know that you'll be involved. You can get hurt." Katya felt herself sinking into a chair.


* * * *


"I should have driven her back." Sergei huffed as he drove Genrikh, his dance partner Natalya Annenko, Yelena, and Denis back to their respective places of residence.
"Katya did not look well," Natalya sighed from the back. "If she wasn't feeling well then she should have said something sooner." Sergei shook his head.
"She probably felt obligated. Being that Scott is my friend." Yelena sitting on the passenger side put a reassuring hand on his when they stopped at a red light.
"It wasn't your fault. And I'm sure Katya didn't feel obligated at all."
"I agree," Genrikh piped up. "It's too much for her right now. This is a big culture shock, I mean I certainly can't think of a bigger lifestyle change than this."
"Still, I shouldn't have let her go alone. Who knows what the hell is out here."
Denis scoffed. "Out here? Reindeer perhaps. Please Serioche, why do you thing IMG set Lake Placid up as our home base? Because it's secluded! Trust me, there is nothing out here that is remotely threatening... and Katya may just want some time alone."
"Denis is right," Yelena said. "Katya will want time for herself. However I don't think that Reindeer are indigineous to upstate New York." Laughter filled the royal blue mini-van.
"So who wants Wendy's?" Denis made the effort to change the subject. Everyone seemed keen on Denis' suggestion and Sergei changed the direction they were heading to. Pulling up into the parking lot of a string of 24-hour convenience outlets, and the Russian skaters made a beeline for the famous fast food eatery. They were chattering about what to order already deciding on various sodas, burgers, fries, salads, and Frosties for dessert. Genrikh held the glass door for everyone, and his partner was the first to walk in... but Natalya froze when she saw the corpse of a teen-aged boy dressed in a cashier's uniform sprawled across the linoleum. Blood oozed from the bullet wound in his chest.
"Oh my God...." They all stared at the body, unmoving and unsure of what was going to happen next.
"Aw shit!" The skaters looked up to see another young man, about the victim's age emerge from the kitchen. But he was brandishing a 12-gauge shotgun. "Shit! Thuy! THUY! Get your fuckin' ass out here!" More obscenities came from the kitchen as an Asian teenager shuffled out, in tow were a middle aged, somewhat rotund balding man and a pretty African-American girl. Both had their hands up, both pairs of eyes fixed on the barrels of the Asian boy's hunting rifle.
"Zoot," the Asian boy turned to his Caucasian accomplice, "when the fuck did they get here?" Zoot pushed a few wayward locks of his Rob Zombie inspaired hair back before responding.
"Just now, I think."
"Well why wasn't the CLOSED sign put up?"
"How the fuck should I know?! I don't work here!" Thuy cocked his rifle, pointing it between the black girl's eyes.
"Bitch! Why didn't you put up the CLOSED sign like you were asked to?" The girl struggled to find her voice, her eyes darting from the rifle to her dead friend laying on the floor.
"I- I- I- I- I'm s- s- sorry. B- but this Wendy's 24 hours. I don't know i- i- i- if we've got a CLOSED sign...." The Russian skaters tuned out the violent exhange going on and they donned masks of stone.
"Watch the door." Genrikh's comment to Sergei was barely above a whisper. Natalya strode up to the counter where Zoot was standing and began to untie her tweed coat.
"H- hey! What the fuck? Stay where you are lady!" He cocked his weapon and Natalya simply ignored him concentrating on the buttons. Thuy tipped his head in uncertainty.
"These motherfuckers look familiar," he said.
"Yeah... yeah think you're right man." Zoot replied. "Hey! They're those iceskating people! They do the show up here an' shit!"
Thuy began laughing in recognition. "Yeah, shit! These people do some crazy shit! My girl's been bitchin' about me getting tickets!" Natalya let the coat drop to the floor, leaving her clad in her black wool spaghetti strap dress. Comfortably divested of her emotions, she drew down one strap...
"What? Giving us a show now?"
...then the other. And the dress slid off of her. Thuy so engrossed in Natalya's strip tease didn't notice that the manager and surviving cashier had fled back into the kitchen and escaped via the fire exit.
"Show's over." Sergei said. "NOW!" He ripped out the light panel causing a blackout, but before the room could be plunged into darkness the two criminals barely saw Natalya let loose a bloody roar before lunging at them.
"NO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!!!!!!!!!!!"
Terror filled shrieks...
...wild snarling and barking...
...the shredding of flesh...
...bones crushed...
...gunshots...
...silence.


* * * *


'Last night, a veritable blood bath! Two 7 Eleven employees heard violent screaming and gunshots coming from this Wendy's sharing the same strip mall just a few steps across the parking lot. Inside a gruesome discovery! The body of 17-year-old Aren Weinstein dead of a single gunshot wound to the heart was found in a pool of not his blood, but the blood of his murderers. 19-year-old Lupton "Zoot" Pitman and 18-year-old Thuy Dinh. Both of which served time in juvenile detention convicted of petty larceny, 2nd degree assault and battery charges, and breaking and entering.
It was your run-of-the-mill hold up for the two teen felons, when the charges were upped from armed robbery to homicide. Unfortunately neither will be able to stand trial now. Their *remains* were located in several different locations of the Wendy's restaurant- including the wooded area nearby. Bits of bone and flesh are still being carefully collected by the medical examiner's team and will await DNA testing to confirm the identities of the would-be thieves. Cause of death is still under investigation, however I was able to speak to Park Ranger Gordon Wilson, who was called on the scene just after sunrise by State Troopers:'
"I will not go into any specific details with respects to the investigation. However upon my superficial inspection of the remains when I had first arrived on the crime scene do indicate some kind of animal attack. Specifically a wolf. I cannot confirm this until I've had substantial time with the specimens, and my team of experts will take the proper procedures of this investigation. Thank you."
'I also had the opportunity to contact the Weinstein family and they said losing a son is akin to losing a part of your heart. However they shed no tears for the families of their son's murderers. Victoria Hyks, Channel 8 News. Back to you Bill.'


* * * *


Katya flounced into the ladies' dressing rooms from the break room where North American Stars On Ice castmembers watched the breaking news report in shock. The hot bile rose in her throat and she clapped a hand over her mouth before she'd cause an accident. Her red sequinned costume scratched against the door she slid down, as she pitifully pulled her knees to her chin. Valya was wrong. He had to be! She so desperately wished that she had not found him last night... where were the other Russians? Everyone was in attendance for the first Rolling Stones finale dress rehearsal, but Katya did not recall them following the others into the break room for their usual 20 minute breather. Spotting her sports bag on the dressing table, she pulled it down and fished for her watch. A quarter after three. Roughly two-and-a-half hours before they called it quits, and she was in no shape for the Rolling Stones finale runthrough. What made it worse was that she and Sergei had their solo for the last half of 'Out Of Tears'.
Before tossing her watch back into her bag, Katya closely inspected it. It was the 14-karat gold and diamond face Bulova that Valery had given to her for a birthday. She clasped on the watch and immediately began to dress in the sweater and jeans she wore that morning. By the time the break was over Katya snuck out of the rehearsal, taking her belongings and Yelena's car keys. Not thinking twice about any reprecussions from Sandra, Michael, or Yelena Katya pealed out of the Olympic Arena's parking lot. Her destination: The Mariott. Valery had to be wrong... about everything!
Katya was the only one left in the lift as she nervously counted off the remaining floors on the grid above the doors until she reached Valery's. Dashing out between the sliding doors, Katya rounded the corner down the corridor leading to her estranged fiancee's suite. Her feet made no sound along the plush turquoise carpeting. Knowing full well that it was unwise to use the element of suprise around Valery... or any of the other Russian skaters. "Valya!" Dismissing the other patrons in their rooms Katya shouted coming up to his door and burst through. "Valya?!" Lunging the door open she turned this way and that in search of him, to no avail. "Valya, where are you?" On the verge of panic she nearly reached for the phone when she heard a pendant, metallic *CLICK* and out came Valery from behind the partitioned wall where the wet bar stood... aiming a pistol at her. "What the hell!"
He drew the weapon back. "Sorry. I thought you were someone else." He engaged the safety and carefully sat on his bed. Katya softly shut the door and unzipped her jacket. She noticed Valery's arm was nestled in a sling, glad that he went to a physician for proper treatment. He saw her staring and shrugged. "Don't worry. It's not a break, just a sprain."
"What did you tell the doctor?"
"Fender bender with my car... deer on the road." He admitted shyly. Katya giggled and sat beside him, then her smile faded.
"Valya I have to talk to you."
"I know. I heard." Katya was taken aback, finding it harder and harder to concentrate on his words. "I didn't kill those people... or that girl at the dacha." Girl at the dacha? He couldn't mean Yulia? Her broken and bloodied corpse laying on the grass flashed in her mind for a moment.
"Yulichka? Why bring her up now?"
"Why do you think?!" He reached hehind him for the pistol. "I was attacked the other night because... they thought I did it."
"But you didn't. I know you didn't."
"As much as I appreciate your faith in me, it does me no good." He removed the clip from the pistol now in his lap. "I want you to see something." Katya leaned forward to get a closer look. Valya took out a single bullet from the magazine and held it up to the lamplight. Katya had to squint from the acute reflection and then saw why, the casing was made of sterling silver.
"What is it?" Katya gingerly took it between her slender digits.
"The only surefire way to kill one of us." Valya trained his gaze on her, unrelenting. "In our human forms, " he explained, "recuperation gets quicker and easier as we adjust to flipping."
"'Flipping'?" Katya arched an elegant brow in confusion.
"A slang for our transformation. Our lupine DNA enhances our abilities- we're faster, stronger, our senses are far more developed... smarter in most cases." Katya frowned in disbelief. "Well maybe that's over the top...."
"Really?" Her voice dripping with uncharacteristic sarcasm.
"Should we sustain some sort of serious injury in human form, all we need do is flip. And in a few days we're back on our feet again." Katya had serious doubts about the leniency of his injuries. 'Just a sprain'? Not 24 hours before he was barely able to hobble back to his wrecked car. Now he was using anything that moved as target practice- and was nearly successful. She handed Valery back the bullet and carefully observed him returning the bullet to the magazine. "Ordinary bullets go through us. Knives, poison, fire- what have you, have very little effect on us. Use one of these and it's all over. As it was for an alpha, some years ago."
Katya tipped her head. "Alpha?"
"Alpha male; alpha female. The terms are used in animal husbandry, but as prime evil as it sounds, for us it is common." He realigned his posture for comfort turning around fully to face Katya. "It's quite simple. The designated leader of a clan is the alpha male. He chooses his mate, who then becomes the alpha female. They have children and continue the clan's bloodline. Although the laws are somewhat lax for the last few generations due to the mixing. "
Katya was stupefied at the blatant dispassion Valery displayed as he explained their lineage. He sounded as though he were reporting last night's ball game scores. She had no inherant desire to prod any further on that subject, but the alpha male he spoke of earlier piqued her curiousity. "What alpha male are you talking about?"
"This is all hearsay. You know how rumours are, even amongst us. Half the gossip you hear is made up."
"Get on with it." Katya deadpanned, her patience reaching a boiling point.
"Supposedly, an alpha male and his mate went to their dacha for a short holiday. He decided to take a midnight 'stroll' alone. He flipped, and apparently a hunter was waiting in the bushes and shot him through the heart. He was killed instantly, so we knew that it was a silver bullet." Katya's hands perceptively flexed into fists, unable to hear any more... but the sordid tale left unsual aftertaste in her mouth. It sounded very fsmiliar. Although she had never heard tell of any clan member falling victim to a silver bullet. She had never heard anything about silver bullets to begin with! Valery sensed her apprehension, took her hand and pressed the now loaded pistol in it. She was unaware of it until she unintentionally tightened her grip and felt the heavy steel.
"Valery! What are you doing?"
He ignored her only to help her with her coat and lead her to the door. "Protection. You need it more than I."
"What are you talking about? You were the one attacked last night-"
"Katyusha," he interrupted, "there is no way I can make ammends. And because of my arrogance I lost the one thing I ever cared about. You." Valery opened the door and gently shoved her through it. "Go back to the condo. Pack only what's necessary, and I'll come get you at seven."
"But Valya-"
"This has absolutely nothing to do with me any more. I have to ensure your safety now." He curtly shut the door in her face only to get her moving. Shoving the pistol deep into her shoulder bag Katya fled back to the elevator.


* * * *


She remained poised to jump at the edge of her seat. Katya glanced at the neon red digits glowing on her clock radio. 6:37 P.M. In about 20 minutes Valery would get her out of this fermenting hellhole. But she would have hell to pay when it came to IMG's legal team. She signed a contract with Stars On Ice for the next four years, and now that she wasn't going to honour it they were going to haul her ass in court for breach of contract. But she could give a damn. The whole leagal matters milled through her mind as she drove like a thing possessed back to her rented condominium, and without realizing it she had run over a mailbox. But she could give a damn. When Katya pulled into the drive she stalked around the car to inspect for any damage. She found a long, nasty scratch curved along the fender. But she could give a damn. She had no time for fear as she entered her domicile, but was relieved to find Yelena had not returned. Katya threw open her suitcase and began emptying drawers of clothing, various personal items, jewelery, make-up in the most haphazardous fashion into it. She did not bother returning the drawers into their proper niches in her beaureau, just theft them strewn about on the carpet.
With resignation, Katya decided to go and fix herself a cup of tea although she had no hope of it soothing her flaming nerves. The tin of mixed berry tea was left on the kitchen table, presumably by Yelena who enjoyed preparing a tall thermos with lemon and honey for the long rehearsal sessions. Katya filled a mug from the tap, placed in the teabag and heated it up in the microwave. She didn't bother with the cream or sugar. The telephone had not rung once, or her cell phone, nor did her pager go off at any time when she escaped from rehearsal. Didn't anyone know she had disappeared? Wouldn't anyone be upset with that? It was too strange, the same could also be said for her life. Dressed in her suede jacket and suitcase by the front door, Katya blew the steam from her cup and took a long sip. She looked up at the wall clock, 6:47. Or was that 8:11?
"What....?" Her jaws worked furiously but the words were unable to come. Katya's vision became hazy, as though she were looking out of rippled glass. When she attempted to lift herself from her seat, she found she had no legs and though she desperately grabbed the backrests of the chairs to try to aide her feeble attempts at walking her limbs were slowly inept to respond. Why couldn't she move her arms and legs? Katya's troubled mind was a jumble of unanswered questions and terrifying thoughts. The world spun downward and with it her as gravity slipped and she nearly met the stone tiled floor head on. Soft hands broke her fall. What was in the tea? Who did it? And why? Katya felt herself being lifted and carried by strong arms... the scent was so familiar. Her eyelids were iron weights, threatening to fall shut but Katya forced herself to stay conscious and lifted her head to see her captor to the best of her ability. A light flared up and so far she could tell by the blushy pattern on the wall she was back in her room. She was gingerly placed on her bed like a wounded bird, her shoes were pulled off, and her ponytail holder removed.
Sergei bent over her, his face tense with concentration. Or so she thought. He drifted in and out of focus and he arranged her hair to fan out around her pillow so that the strands would not get in her eyes or mouth. "Phenergen." He informed without looking at her. "A barbituate, codeine-based. A hell of a muscle relaxant to boot. After my shoulder injury, the Soviet doctors shot me up with so much of this shit even I'm suprised I'm not an addict." He pushed a wayward strand of hair from her forehead with a slender finger. "Still I hate the fact that you can't communicate with me. But it was imperative that we stop the two of you."
'The two of you?''Did they know? Was it all a set-up? Where was Valya? If he was run off the road in his car by one of their kind... or perhaps someone a bit closer? If they were indeed responsible for the Wendy's massacre Katya could imagine what they would do to Valery who stood falsely accused of murder. But his sentence was long passed, and was dead already. So what could a dead man do now? Get buried.
Katya felt Sergei's lips press against her brow briefly but when she looked up he was standing in her doorway in his black leather jacket. "I'll see you in the morning." He shut the door behind him softly. The plight of a reluctant alpha male. But it wasn't as if he asked for the responsibility, but there was little choice. The only consolation he took from this whole ordeal that made up the last 4 years was that he and Natooshik took care of that damned hunter.


* * * *


Marina Zoueva stood by the kitchen sink in the house Sergei had rented, meticulously drying the dishes. Yelena Bechke sat at the table doing the utensils. "Do you think she will be alright?" Marin asked concentrating on a spot on the wall.
"She'll be fine." Yelena reassured her quite mechanically. Sergei entered the kitchen on silent feet, much to the suprise of the two women. He gestured for Marina to leave immediately as it was going to be rather... unhealthy for any mortal to be witness to what was going to take place. Marina nodded her assent, took her coat and purse and left. Yelena followed Sergei out of the kitchen and into the living room where Natalya, Genrikh, and Denis were in conference.
"He's in there," Denis pointed to the double doors of the rear parlour.
"Alive?" Sergei questioned.
"Just." Genrikh commented. Natalya took the silver whiskey flask from the coffee table and silently handed it to Sergei.
What is done, is done.
He strode into the parlour, alone, as this was his *duty* and no one else's. There was no way to avoid it, this was clan claw. Rolling shut the doors, Sergei turned and saw Valery's limp body, sitting in his desk chair like a marionette that had its strings cut. His wrists cuffed behind the backrest. Sergei stripped off his jacket and saw his once childhood friend pathetically broken- by his own nature! He took pity on him then went round took a firm grip on either hand and pulled apart the steel link chain. He then retrieved a small bottle of smelling salts from his desk and held it under Valery's nose. With in a couple of minutes his head jerked up, wildly coughing. Valery's eyes were swollen and bloodshot. His first reaction was rubbing his eyes in attempt to stimulate his tear ducts to minimize the burning, it wasn't until he removed one fist and noticed he didn't recognize his surroundings.
"The hell am I?"
"My place." Valery jumped nearly 10 feet from Sergei's response. He sat calmly on the sofa, chin nestled in one hand.
"Wh- what happened? How did I get here?" Sergei shrugged and took the flask up.
"Genrikh and Denis brought you. Although you weren't very co-operative...." Valery shot him a dirty look, determined to stay resolutely strong and firm. Before the actual fear would surface.
"Where is she?" Sergei blinked twice, feigning innocence.
"'She'? Don't quite follow, Valya. Y'know, maybe I should reprimand Genrikh and Denis after all. Think you might have re-injured your head." He said with a hit of a grin. How did Sergei know about his injuries? He had removed his bandages not long after Katya left. Valery recalled standing in his bathroom cutting each strip of gauze off of him, all that remained were minor cuts and bruises. And they were rapidly beginning to disappear... and that was the last thing he remembered.
"Where is Katya?!" Sergei unscrewed to cap of the flask and was about to raise it to his lips, but he had for gotten his guest. How simply rude.
"You'd better have a drink." He held the liquor out for Valery. His unsure eyes cut from the flask to Sergei's smiling face. He took the flask and took a long draught from it. Sergei leaned back on the sofa looking most pleased. That only furthered Valery's apprehension. "In general," Sergei began, "I'd probably call you a pig. But you're not the first friend of mine to go 'round cavorting with all those women." Valery raised a dubious brow, and took another swig. "I mean, what could you possibly do with all of them? Just pick one and have done with it!" Valery shoulders were shaking with mirthless silent laughter, then he went into all out guffaws. "What's so funny Valya?"
"I- if you're father could see you now!" He scoffed then leaned forward to look right into Sergei's eyes. "What is it with you and the ungulates? Why do you love them so much?" Valery's eyes turned a violent jade.
"Is that resentment, I smell?" Sergei's smile never faded.
"Resentment, my friend? We were never friends!" Valery got up and crossed the room then affixed his hands to the chair's backrest. "Why her?"
"She's one of us."
"She's not other... she's better." Valery's voice was cracking and the full weight of his crimes began to break around him. "You've seen her eyes, they're flawless. She's human! They are so beautiful. I could never understand animal lovers... why is it that they could enjoy the company of their dog, cat, or... parakeet than a fellow human being?! It boggles the mind, at least of our kind. How could she not revel in the absolute beauty and superiority in being the most evolved creature on Creation?" He smirked before taking one last drink. "We could never hope to be that perfect." Valery's tone became venal. "And that's what pisses you off! What? Think I don't know about you and Lenochka? Good enough for a quick lay, but not for having- uugghhhh!" Valery groaned clutching his chest. Now slumped on his knees, Valery fell forward forced to support himself with wildly tremouring arms. His heart knocking so wildly against his ribcage it was audible... then again their kind picks up on anything so silent. The pattern on the oriental rug was smeared, and he felt as though he should lie down as it was getting more difficult to breathe. Valery did not feel Sergei's knuckles brush against his brow, now heated with fever.
"You're right. We were never friends," there was mourning in his voice. "And that's my fault. You didn't have a family like mine to tell you from the beginning." Valery struggled to grab at Sergei who was now kneeling beside him. "What is it, Valya?" Valery waved a desperate hand to motion Sergei closer.
"Yu... Yulia.... you know who... did her....."
"You're right." Sergei completely ignored him. "I have failed you. And I can't afford another, survival of the clans must come second to none."
"B- bastard...." Valery croaked and made not another sound.
"And as I am in your debt, I will make sure that Katyusha will have the best care. I make a promise, I keep it." Natalya watched Valery leave his body from a crack in the doors. Sergei said a few words over the corpse before he reached for the telephone. Yelena leaned in a most unladylike fashion with her arms crossed over her chest by the fireplace. She queezed prescription bottle in her hand then fed to the flames. Denis took the poker and tucked it deeper into the smoldering coals for a faster burn. The slowly melting laminated label on it read 'Benzedrine'.


* * * *


//You can't always get what you want

You can't always get what you want

But if you try sometime

You just might find you get what you need....//


If one could actually find the meaning behind Mick Jagger and Keith Richard's words, Katya would still be wandering in that dark forest. Quite naturally it frightened her at first. But after speaking with Valery in Germany and consequently spending time on her own, discovery about her other side might be an intriguing adventure. But now exposed to the harsh reality of clan law, Katya was pulled into a strange and thought provoking journey. As the cast of Stars On Ice took their final bows on opening night in a chorus line fashion, decked out in sequins, spangles, vynl, leather, and velvet streaking across the purposely ill-lit Olympic Arena like a cascading rainbow to some of the Rolling Stones' greatest hits. And several thousand fans on their feet, the reverberation of their applause and overall approval threatened the structural integrity of the building. Katya plastered a smile wedged in between Sergei and Scott Hamilton hoping the night would be over quickly. But why bother? There was that reception back at the lodge she would have to attend, what with all of the sponsors, IMG bigwigs, and network executives there to rub elbows and plan the next show. The next stop would be at Madison Square Garden, then they'd pile into the tourbus and it's on the road. And her schedule was packed, what with the World Professional Championships at Landover the first on Katya's competitive itinerary where Sergei was technically the defending pairs champion with his ex-wife, they would be knuckling down to perfect the Rodin program, and add the final touch ups to the Gershwin medley that was to be their technical program for the new season....
But she could hardly stand to look at him. Even as she sat now at a table, a plate of food having been slid to her by Scott encouraging her to eat. She managed a few bites and sipped her glass of rose wine. Photographers snapped photos of Sandra Bezic and Scott cutting into a gigantic chocolate sheet cake, whose icing was designed to look like the official tour logo of 'Discover Card: Stars On Ice' and the company applauded. Sergei pointed at the cake making a humourous comment after he'd receieved a large piece, he did not see Katya's unwavering stare. Katya's leather shoulderbag sat on her lap as she secretly slid her hand into it. A graceful finger curled around the trigger of Valery's pistol....



To be continued... maybe