There was our house, just like always.
I lifted the iron cover and slipped into the subterranean nest—the manhole with heated pipes running through it. It had been many years, though, and the place had evolved. We’d added a generator and even gotten some furniture. We had lights and heating, just like a house should. I occasionally entertained the thought that, other than the fact that it was underground, this was a pretty fine place we had here.
But I was also always aware that rooms as nice as ours were not at all uncommon—something I felt especially keenly when I was coming back from Stasia’s place.
Janitors who weren’t willing to face facts didn’t last long. Those who were willing were the next to go.
Point is, Danila, if you want to put off your end as long as you can, you need to be careful.
I fumbled in the dark for the switch we’d installed, but even when I managed to turn on the lights, I didn’t hear a peep or a word of greeting.
“Huh! No one else is even home yet.”
I sloughed off my body armor and tossed it on the sofa, then shoved my Tokarev into my trousers and headed for the refrigerator.
That’s right, the refrigerator. A real luxury! Pretty much everything stays fresh if you stash it in there. It was a great feeling to be able to casually buy stuff that had to be refrigerated.
I took out a Tetra Pak of milk with one hand, holding the telex and a map of Moscow in the other. Then I settled myself on the sofa—which didn’t have any springs popping out—and studied the message and the map.
—Guard work, huh?
It was hardly my first time. From first base to oral, missionary to hitting it from the back. Just like I’d done with Stasia. So I understood that the order of things was important. You had to lay the groundwork.
At the very least, I had to make sure I memorized the route that Miss Tachibana would be taking.
As I studied the map, I tried to tear the carton open with my teeth—it was bad manners, and I don’t remember anyone teaching me to do it—when a “claw” came from beside me and poked a hole in the pack.
“Myaaaau ♪!” came a singsong voice.
I clicked my tongue. “Dammit, Nora. I told you, that thing’s not a toy. You’ll take the edge off it.”
“Oh, it’s fine! I’ve got a more important question, Danya: Is that a new job?”
A girl with short black hair climbed up on the sofa and giggled—Nora. She acted like a cat. Her facial features sort of looked like a cat’s. In terms of the growth that old pig bastard had hoped for—well, he wouldn’t have been disappointed.
She wore a black leather jacket and jeans in—yep—black. They were so tight, they seemed suffocating. When I asked her once if she’d accidentally gotten a size too small, she gave me no end of grief for not realizing it was a fashion statement.
Just when it looked like she was going to curl up into a ball beside me, she burst forward instead. “Hey, maybe I’ll help you!” The sparkle in her eyes was mixed with the dull glint of chrome, and claws popped out from her fingertips.
I gave another brief click of my tongue at my sister, who increasingly looked as dangerous as a razor blade. I had only one answer for her.
“No way.”
“Awww, come on!” she wailed, like she had never even imagined I would say that.
I scowled—her voice was as loud as a gunshot—then started drinking the milk through the hole Nora had poked in it.
“You’ve been earning some pocket money for yourself without telling me again, haven’t you?” I said.
—I told you not to do that.
✦ ✦ ✦
Hell, forget the odd jobs—I still hadn’t accepted her claws or her eyes.
I gave Nora my deadliest look. She gulped—“Urk”—but then her hackles raised, and she went for a counterattack.
“It’s because you’re such a skinflint, Danya!”
“I am not.”
“I’m going to tell Stasia on you, and then she’ll give you a piece of her mind!”
“Aw, go on. You’re going to be the one who ends up getting the lecture.”
“Boo!”
Nora really seemed to get her panties in a bunch when I didn’t even look at her. I just kept studying the map. She was so annoyed, in fact, that she jumped down off the sofa she’d so recently occupied.
“I’m going to the doctor’s—to Vrach’s place!”
“Don’t give him too many headaches.”
“I won’t. He’s not like you, Danya!”
I waved at Nora’s retreating figure.
“Ya poshla <I’ll be back>!” she yelled.
“Great. Ni pukha, ni pera.”
“K chortu, Bro!”
I laughed quietly as I heard the metal scrape of the manhole cover being pushed open, then resumed my focus on the map.
If Nora had really wanted to, her accelerated nerves and electrically heated nails could have reduced me to a pile of quivering flesh in no time flat. But I had never worried she would do that, and never expected to, from the day I was born until the day I died.