“Um… sure.” Sven lead the way through the warehouse filled with heavy duty racking and shelving, all lined with sealed crates with Russian labelling indicating what was in each.
Guns. That’s what Dimitri had said - this was where they kept their guns.
As I followed Sven, Eli’s words from the night before recessed against my mind, tugging at my conscience, and slowly, an idea began forming.
The kitchen was exactly what you would expect of a warehouse - it was small and cramped, with one single counter that consisted of a mini bar-fridge, a microwave, and an electric kettle.
Sven opened the cupboards nervously and began rifling through the contents, looking for - presumably - some tea. His eyes lit up in delight as he handed me a teabag triumphantly. I hid my grimace at the state of said teabag, but it would have to do.
“Sit.” I commanded. Sven brooked no argument, folding his body into the small plastic chair that sat in the dimly lit kitchen.
I blew across the tea bag as I waited for the kettle to boil, thrumming intentions of restoration and health from me to the tea bag itself. As I poured the boiling water into the mug before me, I stirred the tea bag clockwise, imbuing it with intentions of health and restoration, all the while outlining sigils within the liquid with the spoon I used to stir with. Once I was done, I deftly removed the teabag and handed Sven the mug.
“Wh… what?” he stammered.
“Drink.”
“The tea was for me?” The whites of his eyes shone under the dirty bulb that hung from the ceiling.
“It’ll make you feel better.” I shrugged as I walked away from him, heading towards Dimitri - determined to execute my loosely formed plan.
My boots rang out with each step I took against the metal staircase, and any hope of sneaking up on Dimitri was lost. Although, perhaps sneaking up on the Pakhan of the Bratva wasn’t the best plan to begin with. The landing gave way to a metal door that stood ajar. I hesitated for a heartbeat, taking in the area from the safety of the doorway.
His office was a large glass box that seemed to boast tinted windows overlooking the entirety of the warehouse. A large dark wooden desk was positioned near the end of the room. Dimitri’s broad frame was imposing behind it, and I couldn’t stop the blush that spread across my cheeks as I thought about his words from earlier - how he had used the prospect of the desk as a threat. I shouldn’t find such a cliché so thrilling, and yet, here I was, just a girl standing before the Bratva.
He finally looked up, his gaze settling on me as I lingered in the doorway, and I watched with keen interest as heat flared in his eyes. The desk between us taunted me in a way I had not expected.
“How many men work for you?” I spoke quickly, afraid that if I didn’t get the words out, this conversation wouldn’t come to fruition because we would be waylaid by other tasks.
His brow creased and I could see, even from this distance, that he was clenching his jaw.
“For fuck sakes, Dimitri.” I stepped into the room, closing some of the distance between us. “I’m asking because I want to try and help protect them - not because I’m interrogating you about your operation.”
“You don’t need to protect them - I can do that on my own.” His cold voice chilled my bones.
“Really?” I seethed. “Then what am I doing here?”
“You’re here because you insisted on coming with me this morning.”
In the haze of my anger, I had marched the last remaining steps towards the desk.
I slammed my palm on top of the smooth polished surface as I spoke.
“No. What am I doing here - in your organisation - if I can’t even use my Magick to help your men?”
“You’re my Vedman.” His voice held no emotion - only cold, articulated fact.
“Fine!” I spun out, “I’ll start with the sigils on your guns then.” I spat the words out over my shoulder as I stormed out of his office, my feet clanging on each step I hit until I was once again in the warehouse.
It didn’t take me long to find Sven, who quickly explained which crates filled with guns were being ready to be shipped out to new sellers, and which ones were to remain. Sven already looked better, and although I knew that the restorative tea was helping him, it still couldn’t replace actual sleep.
“Hey, Sven.” I threw my voice carefully, not wanting Dimitri to hear me.
After making Sven a cup of tea, filled with Magickal intentions, Sven seemed more than willing to assist me with whatever I needed. He came rushing over in a heartbeat, and I briefly wondered how much trouble he might get in from Dimitri for what I was about to ask.
“Is Dimitri’s driver still outside?”
Before I had even finished my question, Sven was already nodding his head.