Page 105 of Shifting Hearts

ONE

NATASHA

“ P lease,” Em pleaded. “My dad will love both of you.”

“I don’t know, Em.”

If I were still human, my palms would be drenched by now, my heart a dead weight in my stomach, beating loud enough to drown out my erratic thinking.

The idea of seeing Jason, standing in front of him while he had no clue who I truly was, was almost unbearable.

She pouted, like Betty-freaking-Boop.

I hated when she did that.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Just tuck the lip away, please.”

She clapped like a kid on Christmas morning.

I still couldn’t believe I was actually going to spend the holidays with them, my old family, only now with a lot of new faces who has no idea I used to belong among them.

At least Jesse would be there.

Still, seeing Jesse and Jace together would be strange. They looked so much alike it almost hurt.

We had to travel to Russia for this one and I have no passport, neither did Paul. But telling that to Em was not something she would let go off.

I never been to the house in Russia. I heard about it, but had no idea where it was. All I know it was beautiful, like all their other mansions and probably around a forest.

As the days dragged on, I came up with every excuse not to go. Em, on the other hand, pulled out all the stops. She even found someone to forge our passports, and within days I was officially Natasha Seymore. Paul got the same last name, though we looked nothing alike.

I was ridiculously grateful I didn’t have to pay for a ticket. Dom wired Em the money, and she bought us first class.

These people.

Still, it gnawed at me how cold Jace had become toward his own daughter. That wasn’t the man I remembered, and definitely not the man I loved. He used to be kind, soft around the edges. Definitely dreamy and just perfect.

Then the day arrived, December twenty-second. The flight stretched eleven hours and thirty minutes. I could have halved the time by crossing the ocean on my own, but Em refused to travel that way herself, and without a doubt didn’t want me do it either.

I still didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t let her down.

What scared me second, was meeting her mother, Mel.

One, because she would remind me of Leigh, and how I failed her and Alex the time they needed me the most. And two…

She was the woman who had shared a life with the love of mine. The man my soul never stopped reaching for. The man I would burn through lifetimes to be with.

Breathing felt impossible, and it was a feature my life didn’t even required.

The next few hours were a blur. Panic pressed at the edges of my mind like a storm waiting to break. I didn’t even know vampires could panic.

I wasn’t ready to face him, but it was already too late to turn back. Moscow was unfamiliar, every street a stranger, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Blaze’s terrible deeds had reached this far.

We embarked the plane and now stood by the luggage carousel, waiting for Em’s bag.

I clutched the strap of my bag a little too tightly.

“Em, I don’t think?—”

“No, no, no,” she interrupted, turning to face me. “You’re here. You’re not spending the holidays alone. C’mon.”

“Does your father even know you’re bringing vampires home?”

“Yes. I told my mom, and she’s super excited to meet both of you.”

“Great.”

“Stop worrying about my dad. If he turns into a jerk, we leave. Simple.” Her nose did that scrunched-up thing that makes her look just like Jace. A part of me hated how much she looked like him.

“I promise,” she added.

I sighed, and nodded.

Paul gave me a look, the kind that said you’re in deep now .

“Oh, fuck off,” I muttered.

A chuckle slipped through his lips. Paul knew the truth, that I had a past with them, Jesse too. Me remembering everything, while they had no idea who I really was. Explaining it wasn’t exactly easy, so I told them a witch had bewitched them all, tore me from their minds.

Thankfully, none of them told Em.

An Uber waited, and we slipped into the back seat. Em spoke Russian with easy fluency. I closed my eyes, wishing I could do the same. It was still Russian, and every time the reminder of what I’d lost surfaced, my dead heart clenched tight.

The Uber’s heater blasted warm air against my face, a warmth I didn’t need, but still felt nice.

The windows fogged as the driver threaded us through Moscow’s traffic.

Outside, the city pressed close, towering gray apartment blocks, neon signs flickering in Cyrillic, pedestrians bundled in heavy coats.

Car horns punctured the air, sharp and impatient, while the rhythmic wipers dragged streaks across the glass.

I had only known this place through Jason’s stories. Now, standing here, I finally understood what he meant. Moscow was a frozen majesty. It was something you couldn’t grasp until you were here, breathing it in for yourself.

I leaned my forehead against the window, watching the city blur past. Golden domes flashed between high-rises, stubborn remnants of history wedged into a skyline of glass and steel.

The streets buzzed with energy, alive and restless, and yet I felt strangely apart from it all, cocooned in the back seat.

The further we drove, the thinner the chaos became. Stores gave way to quiet stretches of road, the traffic loosening its grip. The driver barely spoke, just hummed along to a low radio station as the buildings fell behind us.

Soon the city lights faded, replaced by the dark outline of trees. Pines stood in crowded ranks on either side of the road, their branches drooping under winter’s weight. The hum of Moscow was gone now, muffled into silence, and the only sound was the steady roll of tires over half-frozen asphalt.

It felt as if the forest was swallowing us whole.

Rising out of the trees like something torn from a forgotten century, the mansion loomed, its pale stone walls almost glowing against the dark pines. Tall iron gates guarded the driveway, their black bars etched with frost, while lanterns flickered along the path like watchful eyes.

Through the fogged Uber window, the place looked both regal and menacing. It was a statement. Old wealth. Old power. A place meant to impress, and to intimidate.

As the car rolled closer, the forest pressed in behind it, as if the mansion itself were the threshold between the wild and something far more dangerous.

Em jumped out as soon as we arrived, running to the gate intercom and pressing the button.

A girl’s voice answered, one I didn’t recognize. There was a squeal of excitement before the gates slowly opened.

The estate was breathtaking. A sprawling, snow-covered mansion stood proudly at the end of a double driveway lined with bare, frost-kissed trees.

The driveway split in two, wrapping around a grand stone fountain frozen in place.

Five garages flanked the left side, and behind them stood several well-maintained guest cottages, their rooftops capped with thick blankets of white.

The garden was a winter wonderland, hedges trimmed with icicles, frosted rose bushes still clinging to the memory of bloom, and glowing lanterns casting warm amber light along the winding paths.

Everything sparkled under the soft, late-afternoon sun.

The driver pulled up and stopped. The car door opened with a soft click.

Annie stepped out of the house.

Inside, everything tilted, disoriented, unsteady, but on the outside, I was composed. Calm.

Act like you have no idea who she is.

I grabbed my bag as Paul gave me a quick glance, his eyes searching mine for something unspoken. We walked together toward Annie and Em, who were already wrapped in a warm embrace.

“I missed you,” Annie said into her shoulder, Brushing a hand through Em’s hair

“Yeah, I know,” Em replied, “So, which one is ours?”

“You’re not sleeping in the house?” Annie asked.

“No, I have guests.”

“Oof, I can smell them from all the way over here.”

“At least it’s a pleasant smell,” Paul said dryly, making Em laugh.

“Paul, I want you to meet my cousin, Florence.”

Cousin?

She looked just like Annie. Same striking features, same graceful posture. She had to be Jesse’s sister, they could pass for Jace and Annie reincarnated.

“Finally, Paul,” she said warmly, pulling him into a quick hug.

“And this is my best friend, Natasha.”

I extended my hand, my expression neutral.

She took it, and shook it once.“Heard a lot about both of you.”

“Like wise,” I spoke soft.

“You are the girl my brother cannot stop talking about?”

“Say what?”

Em and Paul laughed.

Florence giggled, even sounded like her mother. Abby and Sarah must be gone.

They were both so beautiful with their red hair and bubbly personalities, even though Abbigail was deaf. Must be gone, changed with the past, like my Siskia and Hunter. My frozen heart still cringed every time I thought about them passed my mind.

“Let’s go,” Florence said, and we followed her down the winding stone path.

She was just like her mother, bold, outgoing, and impossible to ignore.

The walkway to the cottage was lined with snow-dusted hedges.

Bare branches arched overhead like skeletal fingers, catching glints of frost in the setting sun.

Each step crunched under our boots, the cold crisp and sharp, nipping at our faces.

A cardinal flew past, its red feathers a striking contrast against the white world.

“There is a meet and greet tonight at six. Irene’s orders.”

My stomach fluttered again. Just hearing the woman’s name who vowed a long time ago, in another life that she would always be my mother, would do that to you. I had no idea whether I could do this anymore.

Florence took us to the cottage that stood at the far end, its wooden exterior a soft gray-blue, with shutters the color of pine and a peaked roof capped in snow. A small covered porch held a bench swing and a welcome mat half-buried in powder.