Ashes of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 2) Page 22

  “Hang onto my coat, Aleksandra,” said Mychal. “Shut your eyes. Don’t look, don’t argue.” She didn’t look. She wasn’t ever going to argue with him again. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she kept her eyes shut. She wasn’t any kind of backup.

  They reached the actual church and Mychal gave a choked cry. Aleksandra’s eyes snapped open and there, suspended from the stone pulpit in mockery of Christ’s crucifixion, was Vadim. Mychal pulled a knife from his belt and cut him down. Even from where Aleksandra was standing, she knew beyond all doubt that Vadim was dead. Mychal huddled over the corpse and wept. His grief was so ragged Aleksandra couldn’t watch it.

  She slipped out of the church again and went to find the study that she saw Vadim drinking in. All she had to do was follow the blood. The study itself was a mess. Chairs and desks had been shredded and overturned. Being careful to not step in any blood, or worse, she approached the bookshelf. A long spray of crimson splattered the covers of the books so she ran her hand around the back of them until she found the envelope.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” Mychal barged through the door, making her jump. His eyes were red and tears stained his cheeks.

  “Here,” Aleksandra said and offered him the letter with a shaking hand. He ripped it open and skimmed over what was written. He stuffed the letter into his pocket.

  “We have to get out of here before the police arrive,” he said coldly. “The demons are long gone.”

  They made their way out through the building, Mychal stopping only to get some things from his room. Driving back towards Silvian’s, Aleksandra finally found her voice.

  “Come and stay with me,” she said softly.

  “Why?” Mychal said through gritted teeth.

  “You have nowhere else to go. They could come back for you. I don’t want you to be alone.” Aleksandra badly wanted to reach across and touch the hand that was gripping the steering wheel so hard.

  They pulled up in the alley where he had originally parked and she handed him back his gun. He took it without saying anything.

  “I will be waiting if you change your mind,” Aleksandra said and she climbed out of the car. She tried not to flinch as he drove away. Not knowing any secret way in she went around to the front gate and pressed the buzzer. Someone let her in and when she got up to the front door, Silvian was waiting.

  “Aleksandra, what are you doing out there?” he questioned, his smile faltering. She looked down and saw the blood on her shirt where she had leaned on the bookshelf to find the letter.

  “Come in quickly,” he said and took her shaking hands. “What’s happened?” Aleksandra opened her mouth to tell him and found that she couldn’t.

  “Is any of it your blood?” he asked gently. She shook her head. “That’s all right then. Come on, I will take you upstairs. Everyone is sleeping so you’re in luck.”

  Silvian opened her bedroom door for her. “If there is anything you need, find me.”

  “Thank you,” she said and hurried to the bathroom. Aleksandra threw up in the basin and all over her bloody shirt. She unbuttoned it and put it in the trash. After stripping off the rest of her clothes, she climbed into the shower and turned the taps on. Slowly, she lowered herself to the floor, hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed.

  It was a long time before Aleksandra managed to pull herself together and climb out. She put on a nightgown and wrapped her sopping hair in a towel. Mychal was standing at her balcony door waiting for her.

  “You were right,” he said gruffly, “I have nowhere else to go.”

  “Come in,” she said as she quickly pulled the towel off her head. He sat down on one of the sofa chairs and put his bag on the ground as she slipped on a pair of gloves and put a robe over her nightgown.

  “Do you need anything?” she asked tentatively. He sat looking at nothing. “There are towels in the bathroom if you want to clean up. I’m going to go make you some tea.” Mychal didn’t reply so she went to make tea anyway. She was careful not to make any noise. She really couldn’t handle any questions tonight.

  Aleksandra put the tea and a glass of whiskey on a little tray. She knew he would want a drink and she didn’t want him downing a whole bottle. As she got back to her room, she heard the shower running and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Sitting on the little sofa next to his long black jacket, Aleksandra had time to think. What would he do now? She wanted to ask him to come with them to America but was afraid he would scoff at the idea. She hated the idea of leaving him in Europe alone. Picking up his coat to fold it over the couch, Aleksandra caught the strong scent of him. She was starting to identify with a sense of smell with safety. It meant he was close and the demons wouldn’t come. She guiltily held it to her face for a moment before folding it neatly.

  Mychal finally emerged from the bathroom wearing a fresh pair of black jeans. Aleksandra tried not to stare at the massive cross that was tattooed on his chest or the bright silver rosary that moved as he walked.

  “I didn’t know what you would prefer,” she said and with a glance at his face, she offered him the whiskey.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled as he took it. She got a fleeting glance at the scars on his back as he moved past her to pick up his bag. They were so deep that it was a miracle that he survived it. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them before,” Mychal said brusquely.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly. “You know visions aren’t a hundred percent clear. When I saw you in the flesh for the first time, it was quite shocking… I mean… that came out wrong…it was…”

  “It’s all right I know,” Mychal said. She was blabbering, trying to fill the silence and the awkwardness. She doubted she was ever going to be able to relax around him. Her eyes betrayed her as she watched him dig in his bag.

  “Do you want to see them?” he sighed. “You’re trying to look even when you’re not trying to.” Aleksandra felt the back of her neck start to burn and her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.

  “I would like to see them,” she managed.

  “Get it over with then.” Aleksandra got to her feet and moved behind him. They stretched in three long lines from his right shoulder to the top of his jeans in one long swipe. The tattoo over the top of it of Saint Michael did nothing to hide it. She slid off her glove.

  “What are you doing?” Mychal asked suspiciously.

  “Shut up and stay still,” she commanded. Very slowly, she touched the tips of the scar. Mychal flinched as she closed her eyes and moved her fingers down inch by inch. Her heart was hammering in her chest but she didn’t stop. She saw how they were made, felt his fear, she saw them being touched by something not human.

  Her eyes fluttered open as her fingers caught the edge of his jeans. Her breathing was shallow but she managed to take a step back. Mychal moved so quickly she had no time to dodge him as he grabbed her hand.

  “What are you doing?” Aleksandra demanded. She tried to pull her hand away as he held her.

  “I showed you mine, it’s only fair,” Mychal said and she stopped struggling. Very gently, he slipped off her other glove. She tried to look at her hands subjectively but couldn’t. None of her fingers were lumpy or mutilated though no nails had grown back yet. From elbow to fingertips, her skin was shiny and pink.

  “They aren’t that bad,” Mychal said finally.

  “Yes, they are. I will have my gloves back now please.”

  “You really are a stubborn creature, aren’t you?” he said as he drew himself up straight.

  “Yes, and you’re a jerk.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” He offered the gloves and helped her slip them on. Aleksandra moved away and sat back down. She picked up her tea and sipped in an attempt to calm her scattered nerves. This night had been filled with too many surprises. Mychal pulled on a black singlet before he sat beside her and drank his whiskey. “He knew that he was going to die.”

  “I know,” Aleksandra said.

  �
�The last time we talked I was so angry with him. Nothing is ever going to fix that.” Aleksandra thought about the vicious and scared way Baba Zosia had banished her from the tribe. She had been more than a mother to her. That night when Aleksandra had stumbled blindly though the snowy forest with burnt and bleeding hands, she had thought some pretty horrible things about the old woman.

  She imagined that Mychal was in the same situation. She took his glass of whiskey from him, took a sip and handed it back.

  “Once the police discover the church, do you think they will come after you?”

  “There was no record of me being there. I wasn’t a priest or even a type of novice.”

  “We will have to see what happens,” Aleksandra said as she twisted pieces of her damp hair and tried not to wish that she had a cigarette.

  “We?” Mychal’s tone was completely blank. Aleksandra wanted to shake him.

  “Yes we,” she said. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “I refuse to let you become caught up in my mess, Aleksandra.”

  “It is a little late for that. You’re caught up in my mess as well. Come with us to America. You can’t stay in Budapest. If it’s not demons that are after you, it’s going to be Ragana. You have created too much trouble for them. Either way, you need to leave, and we want you with us.”

  “They want me here or you do?”

  “Can’t it be both?” Aleksandra picked up her tea to warm her hands and drank to shut herself up.

  “You haven’t even asked them.”

  “They will want you. What we are going to do is going to cause a hell of a fight. I know that they will want you on our side. What you do, you’re born to do. You could never quit it and hide out somewhere.”

  “Vadim said much the same.” Aleksandra didn’t know what had been written to Mychal in that letter and didn’t want to. She was doing her best to block out the nights images. There was too much death. She leaned back on the couch and shut her eyes. They were silent for a long time. Mychal was a professional at silence.

  “Does it get any easier?” she asked without opening her eyes.

  “This life? No.” When his hand found hers, she was surprised. It was going to be a long night; at least they wouldn’t have to face it alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three- Waking

  “I’m worried about Aleksandra,” Katya said the next morning. Izrayl rolled over and flopped an arm over her waist.

  “Why? She is a big girl,” he mumbled sleepily.

  “She is soft though and her fascination with Mychal is troubling.”

  “If she is friendly with Mychal, she can’t be too soft.” Katya stroked his long black hair as she thought. She loved his hair. She could never manage to grow her hair longer than her shoulders.

  “I don’t know if I like the idea of her being friends with Mychal,” she said a little huffily. “I mean she isn’t even a hunter.”

  “It sounds like you’re jealous that he is not trying to befriend you. You have a hero crush on him and he won’t even talk to you.”

  “I do not have a hero crush on him!” She did though. She wanted to pick his brain on how he dealt with the Nehemoth and everything else he knew.

  “Sounds like it,” said Izrayl. “Should I be jealous?”

  “No point, he is some kind of priest so I imagine he is celibate.” Izrayl opened his amber eyes.

  “You can be a real bitch, you know that? Go and make some coffee and talk to your sister,” was all he said as he rolled over and away from her.

  In an impressive feat of dexterity, Katya managed to open Aleksandra’s bedroom door while balancing two cups of coffee and a plate of toast. Aleksandra was her sister so Katya was entitled to wake her up. She saw the bed wasn’t slept in and looked to the couch. She almost dropped everything in surprise. Managing to keep herself together, she put the cups and plate on the coffee table, then stood back to look at the impossible scene before her.

  Aleksandra, her sweet, somewhat naïve sister was fast asleep with her head on the chest of the scariest hunter Katya had ever met. Mychal’s arm was draped around her shoulder and looked comfortable being there.

  “What the hell?” Katya whispered. Aleksandra opened her eyes sleepily and focused on her sister.

  “Katya? What’s wrong?”

  “Where do I start?” she hissed and gesticulated. Aleksandra seemed to wake up a little more and realised what was going on.

  “Oh shit,” she whispered and tried to sit up without waking Mychal. Too late. As soon as she twitched, his eyes snapped open. He looked at Katya, then Aleksandra and removed his arm as she sat up.

  Awkward, Katya said through their link.

  Shut up, Katya. Don’t scare him off.

  “Coffee?” Katya offered as she sat opposite to them. Mychal took a cup and sipped before passing it to Aleksandra who had a mouthful as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “What is wrong?” Aleksandra asked.

  “I was coming to have breakfast and now I feel like I am interrupting.” Mychal looked a little dishevelled and Katya found herself wondering what on earth the sexy as hell demon hunter saw in her sister.

  “What is it you think you’re interrupting?” he said defensively.

  “Steady on, I didn’t expect to find you here full stop.” Mychal was about to say something as Aleksandra’s door was kicked in by Isabelle.

  “Aleki! Matthias has been attacked! Wake…oh hello,” she said as she stopped mid-flight.

  “We know about Matthias,” said Aleksandra.

  “It’s all over the news,” Isabelle said as she looked at Mychal. “I thought you were amongst the bodies.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.” Isabelle ignored him and switched the TV on. Images of police tape and crowds around the church flooded the screen. Katya saw Aleksandra flinch and Mychal brush his fingers against hers as he took the shared coffee back. She saw Aleksandra relax under the brief touch.

  “Vadim?” Isabelle whispered not taking her eyes off the screen.

  “It was demons,” Mychal answered. There was no elaboration needed. Katya shuddered. She really didn’t even like the thought of it.

  “God save us. What will you do now?” Isabelle asked Mychal.

  “I’m not sure. For the moment, I will keep an eye on Aleksandra as promised.” Katya turned her attention back to the TV. The cameras were scanning the crowds. In the front row of mourners was Vasilli.

  ***

  Vasilli watched the humans swarm all over the church. He had found knowledge of the hunter, Mychal, and had been planning to attack the church himself. It appeared that this hunter had Ragana and her subordinates quaking in their shoes.

  They suspected that Mychal was the one who attacked the safe house and set it on fire. Vasilli very much doubted one man could have done that much damage to a place full of their operatives. The attack on the church hadn’t been any of their people which was why Vasilli had come to do a little investigating of his own.

  A police officer patrolling the boundaries of the church met a sudden end and Vasilli was now wearing a uniform and breaking in through the back door.

  A deep feeling of dread hung inside the church. It rippled off Vasilli’s skin and the amount of evil surprised him. It wasn’t like anything he had felt before and he had seen and done his fair share of evil. It was old death and terror.

  He walked slowly and carefully as he examined the carnage. Who or what had done this was way beyond anything he had experienced.

  “Was there a young man’s remains found?” he asked one of the forensics’ team members. “He would have been around thirty with black hair?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s a part of the investigation that you’re currently hindering.”

  “No sir, there hasn’t been any remains like that.” Vasilli continued his walk around the church. A study was taped off, so he ducked under it and looked around. He felt something different in here. There was a faint
tinge of magic mixed with the cloying power of death.

  Vasilli whispered an incantation under his breath and waved his hands through the air. It shimmered for a moment and the room changed to hours before hand. A tall, strongly built man with black hair was talking with a woman. When she turned and he saw her face he cursed. She looked like the gypsy hunter they had tried to capture in Paris and who had been with Anya in Russia. It wasn’t the same woman but no doubt they would be related and it meant only one thing. Yvan was in Budapest and wherever his brother was the Shamanitsa wouldn’t be far away.

  ***

  “Are you’re dating him now?” Katya turned on Aleksandra. Aleksandra had decided to let Mychal continue to sleep and followed her sister back to her room. Izrayl had gone to make more coffee and get out of the line of fire.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not,” Aleksandra retorted angrily.

  “Then what the hell is going on?” Katya pushed her shaggy fringe from out of her face and tried to stare Aleksandra down.

  “For starters, I don’t know why you’re so angry. I was speaking with Mychal last night and had a vision of the church being attacked and we went to try to stop it.”

  “Wait right there! You went with him to stop demons? You?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Yes! Why not come and wake Isabelle or me up?”

  “I didn’t have the time and wasn’t about to let Mychal go there by himself.”

  “What would you have been able to do besides to get in the way?”

  “I can shoot if I need to, you know that. You taught me. He tried to make me stay behind and I wouldn’t so I was his backup.”

  “You are freaking insane.”

  “What is the real issue here? That you missed out on the action or that I was out with Mychal?” Her sister was pushing her buttons. She knew her well enough to know when Katya was jealous about something.