Ashes of the Firebird (The Firebird Fairytales Book 2) Read online

  Fox had been studying the aerial photos, trying desperately to figure out where the location could be. She had exhausted many of her resources. She had gathered it was located somewhere in North America, far from Europe where Yanka was well known and feared, but Fox was struggling to pinpoint a location. With an inspired thought, she sent an email and the photograph to her friend working in Navy intelligence. He had access to the military’s databases and fingers crossed he had more help with it than she did.

  Chapter Five- Matthias

  Isabelle watched Hamish roll over in his sleep and give a contented sigh. He always took up the majority of the bed and had a tendency to sleep diagonally. Isabelle lightly ran her fingers up his golden brown back and kissed his large shoulder.

  They had insisted on two rooms for appearance sake but had a tendency to sneak in and out like guilty teenagers. Isabelle was still extremely nocturnal so she was usually awake long after he was snoring like a chainsaw. Tonight, she had purposely stroked his sandy hair until he had fallen asleep. She had private business in the city tonight and didn’t want him asking questions.

  Isabelle crept back into her own room and pulled on a pair of black jeans, a deep red, long sleeved shirt, fastened on a lightweight holster, and tucked one of her guns in it. Isabelle hoped she wouldn’t need guns but you could never be too safe. She slipped on her boots, tucking knives down the sides of them. Isabelle made her way into the garage and turned her bike on. She hit the garage opener Silvian had given her and drove out into the cold night.

  The lights over the city were shining, making the cold night romantic. Budapest was a beautiful city and it was the first place she had gone after fleeing England. The incident with the orphanage and the demon had made her a target with the Illumination so she slipped out of the country and hadn’t been back.

  Isabelle parked on Anna Street and made the rest of the way to Matthias Church on foot. Despite the evil in her veins, she had always had a strong faith. A rosary made of red glass beads and a silver cross was always about her person. After the orphanage, she wouldn’t leave home without one. Sometimes crosses and different amulets could be used as a protection against creatures. Mostly she kept them on her as a reassurance.

  The demon hunter who had saved her that fateful night was a priest and he resided in Budapest. The way the ördögs working for the Darkness had screamed “Demon hunter” during the raid had concerned her. Vadim would be old by now, possibly too old to hunt and to invoke such fear.

  Mátáyás Templom, or Matthias Church, was one of the most beautiful buildings in the entire world. It had a rich history and despite being turned into a mosque during the Turkish occupation had remained standing to become a church once more.

  The sightseers and worshippers had gone for the night and Isabelle was filled with joy at having the place to herself. She brushed a hand up the carved stonework of the columns as she walked to the main altar. It had changed since the last time she was there. A halo of light now decorated the head of the Lady of Hungarians. She was studying the gold paint on the pulpit when she heard footsteps behind her.

  “Isabelle Blackwood,” a heavy Hungarian accent echoed to the high pale blue and gold ceiling. “Hogy van?”

  “I’m good, Vadim,” she answered and turned to smile at him. He had aged so much she felt tears prick her eyes. He was still tall and in good shape though his face was now of an old man. He was dressed not in his robes of office but a neat dress shirt and black trousers. His blue eyes danced over her.

  “Little Isabelle, still as young and beautiful as the day you stepped into my life.” He opened his arms and she stepped into them to embrace him. She felt something press into her ribs. “You’re still a little too trusting, I think.” She looked down to see a gun at her side.

  “I am not.” He looked down and saw a knife blade at his stomach. They both stepped back and laughed.

  “At least you learnt something from me.”

  “I learnt much from you.” Vadim took her hand and they sat down on the empty pews and studied each other.

  “I knew you were coming.”

  “Of course you did,” Isabelle shook her head. “I should have known.”

  Vadim had been a hunter as well as a psychic. He wouldn’t have used that word for it though. He was extremely sensitive to the area around him and had often dreamed of the future. He had saved her from the demon child, knew exactly what the bite had done to her and taught her how to harness her newly acquired power so she didn’t put a gun to her head. For a time, he had been her mentor and the father she never had. He had given her the faith.

  “Tell me what is happening, Isabelle. There is an evil growing in the world again. I dream of it at night and there are more and more demons walking our streets. I’m too old to hunt and a lot of my old contacts have died. There is a great stirring.”

  “There are many things happening, Priest. Bad things. I’m caught in the middle of it. The Darkness are recruiting and experimenting again and Yanka has resurfaced.”

  “Tell me.” Unable to keep anything from him, she spilled on what had happened in the past year. She told him of Anya and the power she had and of Yanka and the betrayal of the Illumination. Völundr and his experiments and the disgusting ördög mess they had found recently made him frown deeply. The story poured out of her. She spoke of her fears that they would not be able to save Anya and protect them from the forces chasing them. Unsurprisingly, he had heard of the cursed Nehemoth. He had access to many of the church archives and could use his position to request information from any of the churches. He knew more about demons than anyone should have to.

  Vadim listened and occasionally asked a question. They moved from the church into the priest’s living quarters where he made them tea and they settled into low sofa chairs. Large stone windows revealed the city lights through the curtains in the comfortable room that smelt of warm beeswax candles and books.

  “So what has been happening with you?” she asked after she had taken up a whole hour.

  “I have not seen you in many years so I will give you a short version. I have stopped hunting. I was getting too old and I couldn’t catch them anymore. I still do exorcisms if the younger priests cannot handle them. I have noticed the demons are becoming bolder of late. One turned a priest’s hair white a few weeks ago. I had to be called in and it didn’t want to leave.”

  “Who has been doing the more physical side of things? I haven’t felt much of a presence in the city since I got here but the fear of a “demon hunter” the other night even had ördögs wetting themselves. I thought it had been you because this is your city.” For the first time in their long history, Vadim looked awkward.

  “I have a new protégé.”

  “Oh? I must admit I’m kind of jealous. Is she good?” Isabelle enquired. She must be. There wasn’t any trouble since they had reached Budapest, even after their bold attack on the Darkness.

  “It’s a he. Mychal and the way he came to be here is a strange story. I think I will need a little more than tea though. Be a good girl and get my scotch, will you?” Some things would never change, Vadim had a fondness for scotch, and after the more violent things he had experienced, it had been the only thing to help him sleep. It helped him slow the visions at times when they became too frequent. A little like Anya and her vodka, Isabelle realised. She found the bottle stashed on his bookshelf behind a copy of the Summa Theologica and poured them two glasses.

  “Were you training him when I saw you five years ago?” she asked as she sat back down.

  “Yes, though I have kept him as secret as possible.”

  “I am sure you have your reasons. Is he an orphan?”

  “I believe so. I never found his parents and he would never speak of them. I was working in Fejér County and I was awakened by a vision of terrible demonic creatures clawing at a boy running through fields. I gathered up my weapons and rushed into the night to find him. I had been given a horse by one of the local farm
ers for my visit so I rode out to find the boy.”

  “A summer storm had come over as I rode out of the town and into the fields. I had seen the boy running across such fields in my dream and I hoped I wasn’t going to be too late to save him. I heard a scream.” He drank his scotch and Isabelle refilled the glass. She had known him long enough to know when he was recalling a memory he struggled to forget. It made her feel guilty for making him share it.

  “You found him then?”

  “Yes, a bright flash of lightning lit up the world and I saw him running towards me. The darkness fell again. I shook myself and pushed towards him. I didn’t believe what I saw chasing him. The lightning cracked again and they were there. Huge mutated things with dark wings. They were like deformed black gargoyles with massive claws on their hands and feet. I had never been so afraid in all of my life. Usually demons cannot come onto our plane in their true forms. It wasn’t only a handful of powerful ones, there were hundreds of them, all after this one small child,” his voice cracked and his hands were shaking. Isabelle took a long drink and refilled the glasses. She wasn’t good with demons. They freaked the holy hell out of her. The thought of them in true form was enough to send her running.

  “The boy screamed as one raked his back with its claws. I called to the Most High to send his angels. I called to every saint I could think of. I got off the terrified horse and pulled out both my swords. I rushed towards the boy, swinging and slashing as hard as I could. I know I made contact with the things for every blow I managed to land it jarred my arms.”

  “The boy was on the ground crawling toward me, his back and legs bloody and torn. I stood over him and called the Lords name over and over again. With every lightning strike, I swung my swords at any flash of shadow I saw. Finally, after five hours or five minutes, I could not tell you, I fell to my knees with exhaustion and gathered the boy to me. I kept praying and a light filled the sky. I covered my eyes and fell across the boy to protect him. The heat seared my hands and back for what seemed like an eternity. Then it stopped as suddenly as it appeared. We were alone. The demons were gone and the rain started to fall.” Vadim’s hands had stopped shaking as he emptied his glass again and motioned to her to refill it.

  “I managed to carry the boy back to the priest’s quarters. They knew my reputation and still refused to believe the story I told them. They said if Hell wanted something so badly it should’ve been left to die. I ignored them and tended to the boy myself. They came to the assumption he was a gypsy who had gotten lost from the camp.”

  “I did my best with his wounds, but they were too extensive and the boy was going to die. He never cried though the pain must’ve been excruciating. He never talked only stared at me with his wide black eyes. When I saw the boy wasn’t healing, I went outside of his cell and I wept with pain and exhaustion. My spirit was sore with everything I had seen. I had my own wounds though most of them were spiritual and mental. I never heard the man approach, but then I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. He was dressed in a simple brown priest robe with the hood up. He was very tall and broad.”

  “‘Show me the boy,’ “he said. His voice, Isabelle, there is no describing it. I got to my feet immediately, as if every word he said was a command and my body obeyed. I opened the door and let him. The stranger pulled back his hood and he had golden hair falling to the middle of his black. He was the most beautiful and terrifying thing I had ever seen. There is no way to describe him properly. He wasn’t some soft creature with a kind look in his eye. He was a battle hardened warrior, Isabelle.”

  “The boy’s eyes went wide as he looked at the stranger. He matched his black eyes to the man’s blue and still said nothing. I didn’t know how he was going to help heal the wounds. He finally turned to me and said, “Rest now, faithful servant. I shall see to Mychal.”

  “I woke up the next morning on the floor of the cell. Mychal was asleep and when I lifted his blanket, I saw his back was healed.”

  Isabelle drank her scotch dry and finally asked, “Did Mychal ever tell you what happened after you were knocked out?”

  “No,” Vadim said sadly, “he never would say. He never denied his name was Mychal either. He has so many secrets still. I’m not sure if he remembers his parents. He never said how he ended up in a field being chased by demons or why an angel saw fit to come and heal him.”

  “You think it really was an angel?”

  “There is no other explanation, Belle. That time has haunted my dreams, as I know it has haunted Mychal. He was fifteen when I last asked him about it and he was distressed so we never spoke of it again. I brought him back to Budapest and took care of him. He refused to take the vow of a priest, even though he knows his scripture and biblical law better than I do. When he hunts, something else takes over. He doesn’t hesitate. He is merciless. I thought you were frightening to behold in battle, but Mychal surpasses even you.”

  “I will try to not be offended. I know you’re insanely hard to impress.”

  “I know you’re in deep shit at the moment, so if you need help please call me, I can help with any research you need and if he is needed, I will send Mychal.” It didn’t surprise her that he was swearing. Scotch helped him let his guard down.

  “I appreciate the offer, I really do. I have to warn you, being associated with us is dangerous. Harley is having a rough time of it. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here tonight. I would never forgive myself if I put you at risk from these assholes.”

  “Ha! I taught you everything you know. You think I’m senile as well as old?”

  “Not at all. You are old though and the Darkness are desperate. The places we have raided of late are…insane. I hope they aren’t going to break the treaty.”

  “I don’t know how we could have missed their headquarters above the restaurant. We are as thorough as we can be.”

  “It wasn’t as if there was a glowing neon telling you where to raid. It’s over now and that’s the main thing. Watch your back, old man. I mean it.” Isabelle got to her feet and put the bottle back. She hoped it would stay there but reliving painful memories tonight meant it would be empty in the morning.

  “I’m going to go before someone wakes up and discovers I am missing,” she said and hugged Vadim tight.

  “Oh yes, dear Hamish. It is interesting how God brings people back into our life.” He had a smug smile playing about his lips.

  “You didn’t know anything about Hamish turning up again, did you?” Isabelle asked suspiciously.

  “I seem to have gone senile and couldn’t possibly remember everything I dream about.”

  “You’re so annoying. You could’ve given me a warning! I’m glad I am leaving you right now so I don’t do anything rash.”

  “You wouldn’t do anything rash to me. It is not easy even now. Of course, you will come and visit before you go,” he said firmly.

  “If I don’t get chased out of the city, I will.”

  “Bring Hamish next time. I would like to meet him.”

  “I have to warn you. He swears, drinks and is a dog in every sense of the word. He’s a cursed one.” Vadim gave a tired sigh.

  “Aren’t we all?”

  ***

  Ragana tapped a pen against the clipboard with Vasilli’s medical information on it.

  “My goodness, Vasilli, this little woman certainly did a number on you,” she commented. Ragana was an attractive, young woman with long black hair styled into sleek curls over one shoulder. She had impeccable make up and was dressed in a neat black office dress with fish net stockings and six-inch heels. Well, that was the illusion she was currently wearing. Vasilli could see the hideous old hag underneath.

  “You wouldn’t have been able to take half the power I did. That is why Ladislav sent me after Yanka’s blood.”

  “Yes, luckily the boss was there. Otherwise, she would have killed you. If you had done your job more efficiently to begin with, you would have recognised her for what she was. Of course, the hunt fo
r your brother was more important at the time.”

  “Go back to your corner office you snotty, glorified secretary. You don’t have the power or the backbone to come play with the big boys.”

  “Oh, how I love these little visits of ours, Vasilli. They make me all warm and fuzzy in my cold, black heart.” Her red painted smile lit up her face.

  “So have you found her yet? The witch?” He noticed her perfect smile slip.

  “No, we haven’t. We have had other problems to clean up.”

  “What problems?”

  “One of our safe houses in Budapest burnt down. There was a restaurant underneath it, which was also destroyed. We are blaming the fire on a kitchen accident.”

  “Budapest has been a trial in recent years. We can’t seem to take root there. That’s your jurisdiction isn’t it?” Vasilli kept his tone sympathetic as his mind turned over. It had all the marks of hunters. They were ruling them out because the place was full of Darkness operatives and humans rarely could match them. They did not know what Anya and her people were capable of like Vasilli did.

  “I’m in charge of the city. We will succeed there. I can guarantee it.”

  “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Ragana. We all know the truth. You’re in above your head and drowning fast. Now go away before I push your head under the water.”

  “I was hoping to see you soil yourself before I left but I guess I will have to wait.” She got smoothly to her feet and Vasilli flicked a finger, making one of her heels break, causing her to stumble.

  “You are such a fucking child,” she growled as she leaned down and tapped the heel, making it new once more.

  “At least I could control one city.”

  “Yes, but not one little untrained Shamanitsa.” She snapped her fingers and disappeared. Vasilli ground his teeth together, one day he was really going to enjoy killing her.

  ***

  London was cold and raining. It wasn’t even proper rain, Vasya Melenko thought, just a heavy mist that clung to your clothes relentlessly. She had crossed over from Skazki into England that morning and was oddly resentful to be back. She found the nearest public call box and punched in a number.