Volya wished his eyeballs could fall out like in a cartoon, because his mouth hanging open somehow just felt insufficient. Why he didn't faint was a testimony to the years of hardship that quenched his stoic character like a steel blade.

"Breathe," Liam advised behind his back. It was a solid piece of advice, but Volya's breath got locked half-way between his chest and his nose and just sat there. The only thing that lodged in his mind was centaur. It flashed in his consciousness like a neon sign and he couldn't move on from there. Centaur. Centaur. Centaur.

Anabelle, Liam's baby sister and a centaur, gave Volya a small wave and giggled. A totally normal reaction for any sixteen year-old, whose brother sprung his latest flea market find on her. Because that's how Volya felt standing between the siblings, like he was some piece of junk passed as a souvenir. Something that looked way more attractive on a stall in a quaint town far, far away.

His mind finally shifted into a higher gear, but all it produced was, Holy crap, this crap is real. Definitely not an intellectual turbo-mode.

Before his bellyaching had a chance to develop in earnest, Anabelle took the translating app for a workout of its lifetime. "Hi, Volya! Wow, Liam, you didn't tell him. I thought his jaw was going to fall off. Or his eyes would roll out of their sockets. Or maybe he'd pass out."

That's what he got for trying to be discreet. He didn't stare at her hooves, or her swishing tail, or anything. He stared at Liam, like why're you doing this to me?

Anabelle paused for half-a-second, presumably to allow Volya to put a word in. His mouth worked, but no words came out during the allocated time period.

No problem, Anabelle had enough words, squeals of delight and giggles to fill any pause. "Really, Liam! You say he is my only hope! You shouldn't give him a brain aneurysm."

"Technically, it's you who startled him," Liam teased. "What can I do if you have this kind of effect on men?"

"Pah. You're such an idiot." Anabelle puffed out her cheeks, then snapped her fingers in front of Volya's face. "Volya? Hey, Volya? Earth to Volya?"

"Hello, Earth," he managed morosely. She wasn't far off on her guess about him being about to pass out. He had thought he sounded dumb with Lydia yesterday. Well, he could only dream about sounding half-as-smooth as he had been back then now. "Ah. You're... ah..."

A frigging centaur? Wonderful. Maybe he should lead with something else, and subtly hint at the hooves later.

"You must be Anabelle?"

"Bingo! Yes, I'm her! The one and only centaur in existence!" The girl laughed, bowing from the waist with a flourish. She kinda sounded like she was proud of being a freak. Neat.

"Aha. Hi. But how are you a centaur? How?"

"Well, at least he didn't lose the gift of gab permanently. Liam, you're forgiven."

"Get off your high horse," Liam quipped. "You're enjoying this too much."

"Oh, I see what you did there. Stick with singing, bro, you'll not make it in stand-up comedy." When Anabelle's pretty mouth pouted, it looked even prettier, coming into a pink button. "How can I not enjoy this!"

"Indeed, what can possibly be better than rendering boys speechless!"

"What else is there for me?" She stuck an accusing finger into Liam's chest. "You and mom hide me in the wilderness like some princess with no-one of my own age to talk to."

"Yes, we treat you exactly the way you deserve to be treated," Liam said with a pretend sternness, then whispered, "like a princess."

Anabelle survived years of exposure to Liam's charm and evidently built up a lot of resilience.

"Gee, thanks." She snorted. "So, this Volya is supposed to be my savior. My knight. Right?"

Volya had the presence of mind not to exclaim Right! after her, despite her infectious enthusiasm in the matter. He twisted his head from Anabelle to Liam, but the siblings were too busy rolling their eyes at each-other to bother with him, then settled into a perpetual eye-lock.

Without surrendering an inch to Liam in their staring-down duel, Anabelle demanded the same answer from Volya out of the corner of her mouth. "Are you my knight, Volya? My only hope?"

Boy, this girl was nuts. And a centaur. And she wanted to know if he was a knight. Better go gentle with her. He sighed, switching to Russian to avoid inadvertently saying a wrong thing. Let the translating app take the fall. "Sorry, I'm not sure if I'm a knight or not."

"Damn! Well, understand where I come from. I've been told by this dunce," she tilted her head at Liam, "and by my mom constantly, constantly, that they have to find this alpha, this miracle, this one and only hope. You."

"I dunno," he stammered as the translator revealed the true extent of his purported qualifications. How does a guy cope with this sort of expectations from anyone, let alone a centaur? "To be honest, at this moment, I'll just be happy to be sane."

"You are sane," Liam assured him, then turned to his sister before Volya could thank him for this comforting evaluation. "He has a perfect ancestral recall of PIE, maybe even Yamnaya proto-tongue. Marina wasn't sure. And his alpha-marker is first-generation. He is it."

He has what now? An ancestral recall of pie? He couldn't even eat one. Nope, Liam was wrong. He couldn't possibly be sane. Or the translating app overheated from its exposure to Anabelle's rapid chatter.

Anabelle clapped her hands. "Brilliant! And he's such a cutie-pie too. Just look at those golden eyes!"

Would they all stop with pies? And his eyes? Was the frigging yellow that noticeable?

"Do you have dreams, Volya?" Anabelle asked.

"Ah..." Let's call this an enviable presence of mind.

"Strange dreams?"

He stifled a howl; seriously would anyone finally start giving him answers instead of asking him idiotic quations? "If I dream at all, I dream about food."

Or, if they weren't about food, his dreams were about dying from hunger, but he didn't think a happy girl like Anabelle needed to hear that. His stomach growled to help him make his point. Sheesh, he was killing it, just effing killing it.

"What am I supposed to dream about?" He hoped that he raised his voice loud enough to cover up the rumbling.

Anabelle's eyes widened dramatically.

"Why, the wolves, of course!" she stage-whispered.

Great, here come the answers. They were off to a flying start.

"Sorry, no wolves. Just food," Volya repeated like a moron. Oh, and did I mention food? Argh.

"No?" Anabelle's mouth—so similar to Lydia's—pouted again when she read denial in his eyes, before he had a chance to confess the absence of any wolf-dreams.

"No," he said in English, in case his denial would get lost in translation. It came out dryer than he had intended. At the same time, curiosity nagged at him: how would Liam look when he pouted? Probably far more charming as this bratty centaur, because he had those full, sensual lips. Focus, for goodness' sake, focus!

Not that it was entirely his fault that his attention wandered. The whole conversation was so absurd that even the translating app had problems, and Liam was criminally beautiful.

"Liam, please.... Please! We're in frigging Montana. You promised to tell me what you want from me. You promised to explain everything."

And introducing Volya to a centaur wasn't an explanation. It was a conversation-starter at best. However, if Liam's sister is a centaur started to explain things, maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't insist on more explanations. He had his nerves to consider. There could be too few of those left to handle whatever the more entitled. His sanity might also be slipping away from him, and he valued it.

Liam rubbed his neck. "How about we go to breakfast? You'll meet the team, sit down, go through everything point by point."

Volya envisioned a five-hour lecture by daSilva, PhD, with slides, educational movies and a laser pointer. "Is there... a lot more to it?"

"Sort of," Liam opened his arms wide to the sides in resignation, as if inviting Volya in for a hug. He bloody owed him one, but with Anabelle watching, Volya resisted the temptation. "Sorry for throwing you off the deep end here, Volya, but I figured you'd be more receptive, once you've met Anabelle."

"Receptive?" Volya gawked at him. "Receptive?!"

Behind his back, Anabelle giggled again.