CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sunday
Mike leaned heavily on Ian’s shoulder as he hobbled into the hotel lobby. Rose followed behind, carrying the crutches Mike didn’t want to use till he had to. Did she realize her hand kept floating up to brush her chest, touching just below her collarbone, right where the blade had come through?
The emergency room had been its own ordeal. No amount of reported pain or bribery seemed to move things along. Ian had begged and cajoled, and finally had resorted to some sort of charm and Mike had gotten to see a doctor.
By the time Rose arrived—dressed in clean clothes and with happy reports for Nazeem’s outlook, Mike had a full cast on his leg and a bottle of painkillers in his hand. If the doctor had asked questions about how it had happened, Ian didn’t pass them along to Mike. Which was fine. Mike was done dealing with people for a while and ready to sleep for a week.
Well past sunrise, they made it back to the hotel. Mike saw the ring of police cars around St. Isaac’s. Seems they’d finally made a big enough mess the authorities couldn’t ignore it.
In the hotel lobby, talking to the concierge, was Rutledge. “What happened?” he asked, as he took in their condition. “My contact at the police said—”
“The shining man is dead,” Mike said, too tired for small talk. “He’s one of several bodies over there in St. Isaac’s. If your people care about cleaning up that sort of thing, you’ll want to get on the phone.” Mike continued past them.
In the elevator, as Rose reached for her missing wound for the umpteenth time, Mike asked her if she was all right.
“I guess. I still feel funny. Not pain, exactly, but…I don’t know how to say it. Like I’m not all here.”
“The magic of the folk can be strange,” Ian said. “Let me know if you start to feel too weird.”
“Should I be worried?” Rose asked.
“I don’t know.”
If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Would they ever catch a break in St. Petersburg? “You make sure you tell Ian the minute anything seems wrong.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
The doors opened on their floor and Ian helped Mike to his room. He accepted the crutches from Rose, dropped them across the couch, then laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “You kids did good today.” Rose’s smile drove the haunted look from her face. Ian similarly beamed. “Now go to bed.”
“Sure, padre.”
“Yes, Mike.”
Mike watched them go, genuinely proud of what they had accomplished.
* * *
It was Rose’s idea they should arrange themselves at the table so that Alec would be faced by all four of them when he came in the room. Rose wanted them to look like a team.
They were back in the meeting room where Alec had talked to them that first night. Once again, an elegant dinner spread across the table. But this time, it wasn’t Rose who walked in and looked around, surprised.
Rose felt Alec’s surprise. Just the same as she felt the low-grade frustration and pain coming from Mike. She hadn’t mentioned that to anyone yet, the fact that ever since the fairy woman had brought her back to life, her othersense could pick up the voiders around her.
And that wasn’t the only change. St. Petersburg—the malaise and misery that had worn on her since she’d arrived—it wasn’t as sharp, wasn’t as heavy. Just as Ian’s magic had been able to block her from the city’s black aura, so the water from the other side had given her a buffer. She didn’t know if it was temporary, if any of this would last, but she was glad for every moment of peace it brought her.
Also, for that being alive part. But that was still too huge for Rose to think about.
Alec stepped into the room, smiled his smooth and easy smile. “Evening.” He took the remaining seat, across the table from the line of Rose, Mike, Ian and Nazeem. “From what I hear, y’all have had a couple busy days.”
“We’ve dealt with your serial killer,” Mike said in a flat voice. Ian had done some sort of magic over Mike’s broken leg. He hadn’t been able to eliminate the pain completely, but he’d minimized it enough Mike could function. Mike’s cast was hidden under the table. Rose didn’t know if Alec had seen it.
“Yes, and well done there. I’ve pulled some strings so there won’t be any sort of police inquiry. St. Isaac’s will be off-limits to the tourists for a bit, but I don’t expect there’ll be any other public repercussions.” Alec’s expression grew cautious. “Y’all don’t seem in a celebratory kind of mood.”
Now Dmitri was dead, now they’d had some time to recover and rest and think, Rose was coming to realize just how many questions he’d left them with. Was the demon Dmitri had dealt with still around, lurking in a dark alley, eager for revenge? Was it a coincidence Dmitri had chosen St. Isaac’s for his killing spot, or was there some link between him and Pyotr? Were there any more of Dmitri’s voider allies still about? Even with Dmitri’s threat eliminated, there was no question that St. Petersburg was still dangerous.
And that was without taking into account Svetlana’s hostility, Dmitri’s claims that Andrei was starting up work again with the Russian covert agencies, or scary, unpredictable vampire queens.
Ian responded to Alec. “It’s been a trying day. Rose, Mike, and Nazeem were all injured.”
“Well, I can offer you some good news, at least.” Alec’s smile had returned, but his uneasiness was growing. The four of them so quiet, so serious, were making him nervous. “I know it’s only been a week, but after what all y’all have accomplished, our employers think it’s time to offer up your real contracts.”
From his briefcase, he produced four white envelopes and handed them out. “Just like I said before, the terms are one year of work, one million dollars in payment. Subject to renewal at the end of that term if everyone is happy.”
Rose set her envelope next to her plate, laid her hand over it. All that money. And the possibility of even more. A lifestyle like she’d never imagined. A week ago, that had been everything.
A week ago, she’d been a different person. “There’s something wrong with this city. Very, very wrong. Do our employers know that?”
“For that matter,” Ian said, “at what point do we get to find out who they are?”
Alec shook his head. “I’m sorry, but they’re not ready to reveal themselves. Not yet. I hope that isn’t a deal breaker.”
St. Petersburg was dangerous. Rose had learned that first-hand. But she couldn’t change what she was, and this was the place where she could use her gifts, where she could be around people who understood her. “I’m staying.”
Mike rolled his eyes. Rose glared. “What? It’s good money.” She could feel his disbelief. Which was fine. “Look, I’ve really got a chance to help people. On a scale like nowhere else. This city—these people—something’s broken here. Something maybe we can fix.”
She didn’t mention Pyotr. They’d all agreed to keep that information from Alec. For now. But Rose was pretty sure he was a big piece of why the city was the way it was. And wasn’t that the other thing they’d been hired to figure out?
“Rose is correct.” Nazeem’s eyes met hers from all the way down the table, sending a warm shiver down Rose’s spine. “There’s work to be done here. Important work.”
“I’m staying,” Ian said. Like that had been in any question since the moment they found his father.
Mike sighed. “I guess someone with sense has to stay and look out for you all.” He glared down at the contract in his hand. “Not like I have any choice anyway.”
For the first time since he’d come in the room, Alec relaxed. “I’m so pleased to hear it.”
Now that was all settled, they could get down to the important business. Rose poured herself a glass of wine. “Would someone pass the stroganoff? I’m starving.”
THE END
Acknowledgements
This book would never have existed without the help and support of a great many people. No
writer is an island, and no book is ever solely the product of one person’s effort.
Special thanks to Lane Robins and Kij Johnson, my dear friends who have provided inspiration, guidance, shoulders to lean on and ass-kickings as I have needed them. I would not be the writer I am without you.
Thanks to David Caspall and Heather Watson, and in remembrance of Dave Sonnichsen, without whom Mike, Rose, Ian, and Nazeem would never have happened.
Thanks and apologies to my noble critique group Bosley Gravel, Leigh Dragoon, and K Richardson who suffered through entirely too many drafts of this book.
I’m eternally grateful to my talented writer friends Amy Sundberg, Paul Genesse, and George Galushack who all gave me incredible feedback and support.
To my classmates at both the CSSF and the Taos Toolbox workshops and teachers Walter, Nancy, Jim, Chris, and Kij. I’ve learned so much from all of you.
And finally, thanks to my parents, who raised me in a house full of books and never once discouraged me from writing fantasy.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or if real, used fictitiously.
MIDNIGHT IN ST. PETERSBURG
Book One of THE INVISIBLE WAR
Copyright © 2012 by Barbara J. Webb
Cover art copyright © 2012 by Reese Dante
All rights reserved.
Midnight in St. Petersburg
eISBN 978-0-9675066-1-6
Midnight in St. Petersburg: A Novel of the Invisible War Page 30
