“I have returned,” Vasya said to the male voice that answered. “We have a potential threat to the treaty on the loose. Send one of your infernal automobiles to collect me.” She hung up the phone without saying goodbye and sat down on a bench to wait.
Chapter Six- Blessing of the Fruit
The following evening, Trajan and Cerise drove along the toll road out of the city, heading northwest towards Tatabánya.
“I must say it didn’t take Anya very long to find out about the raid,” Cerise commented.
“Katya got to her a lot faster than me.”
“She is just watching out for the both of you. Anya doesn’t like secrets, especially ones that come to your wellbeing.”
“I didn’t want her to worry.”
“Jesus, Trajan, worrying is what that girl does best. Worry and getting herself into some spectacularly shitty situations.”
“I don’t like leaving her alone so soon.” He fiddled with the sleeves on his jacket.
“She is awake and in a house full of bodyguards. There isn’t much that you can do that they can’t. Besides, you’re the one that decided not to get rid of the souls when you should have.”
“I know, Cerise, I know. Let’s get this over with.” Cerise shrugged her fur-clad shoulders and put her foot down hard on the accelerator. Within in thirty minutes, they pulled up on the side of the road before they reached Nagyegyháza.
They climbed out of the car and trudged across a muddy field that was sprinkled with a fine layer of snow. Cerise lit a cigarette while Trajan took three deep breaths and shed his human form. It wasn’t a necessity to be in true form, but it was easier, and Trajan wanted to get it over with. Reaching down inside of himself, Trajan sensed the fabric of the world shiver around him. Reality thinned and a gateway opened to the Underworld. He heard Cerise swear beside him as the intoxicating darkness rushed out and around them. Trajan released the souls in an effortless stream of energy. Over within moments, the gates of the Underworld were resealed tightly and Trajan breathed a sigh of relief, and his human form rippled down his body like silk.
“I must really like you to hang around and keep watch while you do that, sweetie,” Cerise commented. “I hate it when the doors open. The darkness calls to me like a siren song. There are good reasons why I worked off my servitude and still…”
“It calls. I know,” Trajan finished for her. He offered her his arm and she linked hers around it as they walked back to the car. Cold and tired, Trajan wanted to get back to Anya. An image of her lying on his bed flashed in his mind and he smiled.
“Oh, sweet pea, you must have it bad for this girl.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” A low throaty chuckle came from her throat.
“Please! The thought of her makes you smile like an idiot. I think it is sweet in an unrealistic, sick and twisted sort of way.” Cerise opened the door to her Jaguar and stepped in. Within seconds, the heater was blaring to banish the chill. Trajan pulled off his gloves and held his hands to the warm air.
“You have a very bleak outlook on my relationship and yet you have had so many affairs with humans that I have lost count,” he said unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
“I know what pain they can cause which is why I warned you to begin with, honey,” she said softly. “I have different abilities. You could lose control for a second and she would be dead.”
“How could I learn to control it if I wanted to try…ah…?” There was a loaded pause before it shattered with Cerise’s filthy uproarious laughter.
“Are we talking about sex, big brother?”
“I was trying to be delicate,” Trajan mumbled, mortified that he had to ask her at all, but creatures like them were few and far between.
“I don’t think I would be able to give any advice to really help you out there,” Cerise said as she turned the car back towards the city. “Sex is all about losing control for me. I can’t believe you’re crazy enough to try.”
“I still want to.”
“Oh, honey, you are so old and clever and yet so completely clueless all at the same time. Take it slow with her. Maybe try…testing the waters a little with her first. If you think you’re in danger of feeding off her, make sure you stop. Baby steps, think baby steps. Anya seems patient enough to handle your quirks so I’m sure she can handle the rest of you.” Cerise laughed loud and dirty as Trajan blushed.
“Focus your mind on the road before you crash,” he said.
“You brought it up.” Cerise changed gear. Trajan gripped the dashboard as they turned around a sharp bend.
“Please get me back in one piece so I can protect Anya like I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Will you stop worrying about her so much?” Cerise groaned. “How much trouble can she get into in a few hours?”
***
Vasilli switched off the machines monitoring his heart rate and with considerable difficulty, he put a light blue night robe on to cover up his bandages and pyjama pants. He hated being there. He could feel the walls breathing around him. Harsh cleaning fluids, sickness and death lingered in the air.
The hospital halls were cold and quiet. Vasilli calmly followed the signs to the maternity ward, nodding politely to any one he encountered.
In the ward itself, tired mothers tried to rest while their babies were sleeping, most however were hovering over them anxiously. He kept walking until he arrived at the observation nursery.
Vasilli looked through the large glass windows at the neat pastel coloured rows of sleeping bundles. Each had little cards in front of their beds telling them their names and weight.
“Aren’t they precious,” a woman in a night robe the same as his padded over to stand beside him. She looked very tired, content and a little smug. New mother.
“Yes, they are aren’t they?” he replied and smiled.
“Is one of them yours?”
“One will be.”
“You’re adopting? How lovely!” She looked with an odd sense of awe at a little girl in the front row. “She is mine. I’m so sore and tired but seeing her makes it worthwhile.”
“You have done very well. She is easily the most beautiful one. I can see the resemblance.” The woman blushed and for a moment was very pretty indeed.
“You charmer. I gave birth only four hours ago so I must look like hell,” she said as she touched her hair self-consciously.
“You should go and rest,” Vasilli said and placed his large hand on her shoulder. He put a little compulsion into his words to weaken her resolve, “I will be here a little while longer. If she wakes, I will come and get you.”
“Thank you, you’re very kind. I hope to see you again.” Her smile was genuine as she turned to walk back to her room. Vasilli turned his focus back to the task at hand. After checking that there was no one watching, he slipped in through the glass door and into the nursery. He calmly walked down the aisle until one caught his attention. The large boy was wrapped in a bunny rabbit blanket. He picked him up gently and walked out. No one gave him a second look as he headed out of a fire escape and down into the basement.
Vasilli would find the little bitch himself. Too weak to go out and find Anya, he would call a servant to help. Vasilli let Ladislav think that only he knew the secret of summoning a Nehemoth. Vasilli had been using their services for centuries, better not to let his superiors know how much power he really had. His end game was too important.
Ladislav had made the mistake of sending an amateur to capture Anyanka. Vasilli wasn’t going to play nicely anymore. The Nehemoth would be sent to kill her and he would see how good her bodyguards really were. If it managed to kill her, then that was one less problem to deal with. Either way, he would find her.
The sacrifice of an infant boy was the only thing that could call up a Nehemoth. The name tag tied around the boy’s wrist was Isaac. Vasilli smiled at the irony.
***
Vadim woke with a panicked scream choking him. He had been dreaming o
f a baby crying and shadows being released into the night. He fumbled for his lamp switch and was relieved when the light flooded his simple room. Drenched in sweat, he staggered into the little bathroom and vomited in the toilet.
He needed to find Mychal. Putting on his robe and slippers, he walked out into the dark corridors of the priest’s quarters. He stopped outside Mychal’s room when he heard the crying and muttering coming from it. Vadim opened the door and let himself in.
His protégé was lying on his stomach on the narrow bed. The claw marks the demons had laid on him still stretched in deep rivets down his long back and stopped above his knees. The huge tattoo that he had done of Saint Michael fighting Lucifer did little to cover up the horror. If nothing else, the tattoo amplified it.
Vadim had been against the tattoos to begin with but Mychal had seemed relieved when they were completed. The young man had joked that he had gotten it done so when demons were chasing him again he could use the tattoo as a big “screw you” as he ran. The boy had gotten another on his chest of a massive cross with curved tri-cornered ends, stretching from his collarbone down to the belt of his jeans.
Mychal was talking in his sleep again, sheets twisted around him from fighting with unseen foes. At first, Vadim had thought it gibberish, then as time went on it sounded too much like a structured language. Mychal kept talking and answering as if having an in depth conversation with a companion that Vadim had no hope of seeing. If he watched and listened too long, the hairs on his body would rise and he would leave the room shaken and frightened.
Ever since the night Vadim had saved him, Mychal had trouble sleeping. Twenty years later, Vadim was still waking him to soothe the nightmares away. Once or twice Mychal had thrown him across the room with an unbelievable strength before waking completely. Vadim had learnt not to touch him unless he was fully awake and aware.
“Wake up, my son,” he said loudly. Mychal twitched and shuddered before opening his black eyes. They flashed with terror before focusing on Vadim and relaxing.
“What is it?” he asked as he sat up and ran his hands through his tangle of curly black hair.
Vadim sat on the room’s only chair and briefly recapped what he had seen. There was a Nehemoth coming for Anya and he knew Mychal was the only one who could stop it. His protégé dressed quickly before kneeling in front of Vadim for his blessing. Mychal murmured a prayer, the same strange prayer he had said every night since his first hunt.
“I am the midnight crier,” Mychal whispered, “I am blood and battle and fire and light. I am Yahweh’s Justice. My laughter is the final sound in my enemy’s ears. Let my faith be my shield. Let my sword bring light to the dark. May I bring swift justice to those who seek to harm the innocent. If my time is written, if my time is done, then I welcome merciful death.”
***
Across the city, everyone had congregated in one of the many living rooms to talk. It was Hamish’s turn to cook and Katya had begun to call it “Take Out Night.” It was a good chance to relax together and fight over dumplings and was the closest thing Katya had ever had to family time.
“I received an email from Harley today saying she had passed information onto her friend Fox. She has narrowed the search to North America somewhere and is working on an exact location,” Isabelle shared.
“Good, very good. Once we have it, we can start focusing on the best way to attack it.” Something in Aramis’s face relaxed a little as he spared a glance at Anya who shared the window seat with Yvan. They were whispering quietly together and Katya was glad Trajan wasn’t there to see them. They looked close and comfortable enough to annoy any man even if the relationship was innocent.
“On another note,” Silvian interrupted, “I have found that Vasilli has been in hospital in Russia for the last few weeks. Your little run in left him badly burnt, Anya.” She didn’t reply. She didn’t look like she cared that she had burnt him, none of them did. “He’s going to want to owe you for that.”
“He wants to owe her for everything,” Yvan muttered, “Her getting a blow in wouldn’t make an ounce of difference. It will only stop when he is dead or she is.”
“Mr Optimism over here is right,” Hamish added, “Vasilli is a mean, old prick. I think Anya did good knocking him one.” He gave Anya an approving nod and she blushed. She got up to refill her vodka and she stopped dead in her tracks. Her glass fell from her hands as she started clawing at her throat.
“She’s choking! Help her!” Katya yelled. Yvan was beside her in second, but when he tried to touch, he was thrown across the room. He smashed into a bookshelf, breaking it to pieces. Izrayl had morphed and leapt towards the thing that was holding her.
“It’s a Nehemoth!” Isabelle shouted. Katya grabbed her gun and fired some shots that went through the creature. They all rushed to help her and were flung like dolls. Unseen hands were lifting Anya slowly. She scratched out at the air, her face going blue. The window behind them exploded in a rain of glass and wood as a figure swung through it and landed in a crouch on the carpet. He was very tall when he stood and wore a long, black leather flared coat with a high collar that shielded half of his face.
“Get back!” he shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls and through the commotion. He pulled out a sword and started walking towards where Anya was struggling. In his other hand, he had a wooden rosary twisted around his fingers with a Jewish Star on the end of it.
Anya was dropped to the floor gasping for air. A form shimmered next to her like black smoke and Katya saw the faint outline of a man. It had turned its attention to the stranger.
The rosary dangled out in front of the shadow and the man said in the same commanding voice, “Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu Melekh haolam, bo’re p’ri haetz.” The Nehemoth fell to its knees and with a silver flash, the sword swung around, lopping its head off. The shadows disintegrated, leaving only the smell of burning hair. The man turned and tucked the rosary back into his pocket before offering Anya a hand up off the floor.
“Mychal?” Isabelle stepped forward with wide eyes and blood pouring from her nose. Katya had never seen Isabelle so frightened of anything.
“Yes, I’m Mychal,” he replied slowly. He watched them carefully as he edged back towards the broken window. With a nod of his dark head, he jumped out of it. They all stood and watched the empty space for a few silent minutes unable to fathom what they had witnessed. The dream was interrupted by Silvian, laughing loudly and hysterically.
“What the hell is so funny?” Katya asked as she holstered her gun. It took him a few moments to pull himself together.
“That bastard killed a Nehemoth with a Hebrew prayer for blessing fruit!” he managed before he erupted in laughter once more. Katya looked around at the demolished room and the rest of her friends. No one else was laughing.
“Did you see that guy, Isabelle? Holy shit,” Katya whispered in awe. They sat at the kitchen table with hot chocolate laced with Frangelico.
“Everyone saw him.” Mychal, in that small amount of action, was something that went beyond the usual class of “hunter.”
“How did you know that his name was Mychal?” Katya asked, “I have never heard another hunter mention him.” Isabelle quickly recapped her history with Vadim and her visit to Matthias Church.
Katya’s green eyes were wide, “This guy is marked by demons and has been raised by a demon hunter. God, I have never gone up against a demon.”
“Pray that you never have to. I’ve only ever encountered the one who sunk its teeth into me.”
“And Vadim was the one who saved you. Why didn’t he mention Mychal to you beforehand?”
“He wants to keep Mychal as secret as possible. He would have the Illumination and Darkness after him as well as demons.” Isabelle toyed with her cup.
“Do you ever think that this whole situation is getting completely out of control? It’s like we don’t have any power over what’s going on anymore. I used to think that if it got too rough I could walk awa
y. Now there is no way I could. Both sides are after us, so there is no where we could go where they couldn’t eventually find us.”
“It’s only going to get worse. Nehemoth aren’t classed as demons but that word getting thrown about makes me nervous. I know that I couldn’t walk away anymore either. Last time I tried, Hamish stopped me. I know that I wouldn’t have gotten very far.” Katya lowered her chocolate.
“You tried to leave? When?”
“Back on the train in Russia.”
“So that’s why you two are actually friendly to each other now! I wondered what happened there.” Katya’s face lit up in realisation. Isabelle was glad that she had no idea how friendly Hamish and her actually were.
“I think we need to sit tight for a while. Every time we leave the house, and sometimes when we don’t, trouble swarms us. The reason why we haven’t suffered any repercussions for the raid is because they think that Mychal did it.” Isabelle ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “You heard them screaming demon hunter. They are afraid of him.”
“I’m afraid of him.”
“Me too.” Katya looked at Isabelle in surprise. She had never heard Isabelle voice being afraid of anything other than demons.
“Do your other…senses pick up anything on him?” Katya asked delicately.
“Whatever part of me that was tainted by the demon shrank at the sight of him,” Isabelle admitted, her eyes turning glassy. “My shoulder ached so badly I could barely lift it.”
“Are you trying to say that it’s not only the Darkness afraid of him but demons as well?”
“I’m not saying anything. I don’t know anything. I do know that I was in pain at the sight of him. Nothing has made it do that since the bitch sunk her teeth into me.” They sat silently for a while contemplating it.
Ashes of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 2) Page 7
