“Why not? He’s already dead.” Koschei arose from the ground, covered in the ghastly fluids that were still pouring out of the cement pipe, and braced himself on the edge of my operating table. I got to watch the wound the bullet left in his forehead heal as he looked down at Weatherton, who was still laboring to stand. “Deathless, you see?”
“Aren’t we all?” Weatherton said, finally righting himself with a dismissive shake.
“Stop them!” I begged him. Even I could smell the rot in the air, even over the stench of whatever the drainpipe held. “Take it already. Just stop!”
“Zver,” Koschei warned from the end of my bed, and the sounds of violence stopped. Cold drops of whatever it was—I hesitated to think of it as water when it was so repellent—spattered off him and onto me. They felt like shards of ice, and the skin they touched went instantly numb.
I—I had felt like that before.
“Ti!” I cried out, wrenching my hands against the cuffs. A groan answered me. He—part of him, enough of him—was still intact, but much of him was scattered. I saw Sike kneel down and start to shovel things toward his open torso. Intestines.
“Ti, stay there!” I yelled. Technically he didn’t need any of his organs … but how much of him could they remove and he still stay alive? Or whatever it was that he was? He reached the remains of a hand out toward me. He wasn’t whole, but— “Just stay there!”
“Keep him down,” Koschei said to his countrymen, returning to my side. From inside his gown, he brought out a canvas roll, as wet as he was from his dunking, and set it on my table. He untied the laces that wrapped it, and it rolled open with metallic clanks. Implements were held inside by straps, tools with ruined blades, like a Civil War surgeon’s rusted operating set. Fluid drained from the case and ran down to me, bone-chillingly cold.
“Like the Shadows,” I whispered.
“Shadows are what you all call them. We call them Tyeni,” Koschei said, bringing up a curved tool. He set it between my breasts, in the space that his servant had carved out of my sweater, and yanked it down in a straight line, like an autopsy cut, grinding its tip against my sternum, slicing through my bra. I fought not to cry out. “And when we find your soul, we will feed it to our Tyeni here, and it will power them to life. And we will have our own Shadows, that answer to no one else.” I felt the warmth of my own blood flow down me in a line to cup in my collarbone and then spill into my armpit. Angry nerves sang, raw and open. Koschei leaned over me to leer, angling the blade again. “It might take a while. Souls can be difficult to find.” Another spray of wet dripped from his cuff, landing on my throat. I could grit my teeth through the pain so far—but the cold was like a slap and the shock of it made me gasp.
And what did Shadows do? Other than collect pain and suffering, and feed off sorrow? I remembered clutching the baby’s crib after the dragon was gone, as cold then as I was now, and how everyone but me and Shawn were made to forget—
“Anna!” I lifted my head to find her. “Anna! They want you to forget!”
Koschei rammed his gloved fingers into my hair and shoved my head against the mattress. He rubbed a cold thumb on my forehead. “Of course we do.” His grip on my hair tightened, and he brought his tool up again. “Sometimes, souls live in eyes.”
“I’m here because I didn’t forget you, Anna! Yuri didn’t forget you, and I didn’t either!” I wrenched my head to the side, out of Koschei’s grasp, and scrunched up my entire face to close my eyes.
I heard metal hit metal, once, twice, three times—and then I heard a gasp from the surrounding crowd. I waited for a blow that didn’t come. When Koschei let go of my hair, I risked opening my eyes to see Koschei staring over his own shoulder, and I lifted my head to see what it was he was staring at.
Metal hit metal again—and then the table under Anna collapsed in on itself. She brought her bound wrists together, bending the bed frame behind her back until it shattered. She undid her wrists, one at a time, and kicked her foot bindings free. And when she was done, she grabbed hold of the plate riveted over her mouth and pried it off, like she was opening the lid off a can. Draining sores studded with silver circled her mouth. She spun to address the Zverskiye at large. “Did it occur to none of you to put me on a silver bed?” She leaned over and spit blood into the ankle-deep water before turning toward Koschei with a ragged grin. “Little brother. It has been too long.”
She leaped for him.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Everything stopped. Then, Anna was on Koschei, stabbing him with the silver plate, and the blade he’d just used to cut me went flying. The operating table I was lashed to spun sideways.
Koschei’s assistant ran up to my bed. “Where is it?” he asked aloud, picking through Koschei’s remaining tools. He found a short triangular blade and looked down at me. “Where?”
“Where is what?” My voice cracked in fear as he raised the knife over my abdomen.
“Your soul—” he answered, slamming the knife down into my stomach.
It felt like I’d been punched. All the air rushed out of me, and I was left gasping for mercy. “Stop—please —”
He ignored me and wrenched the blade sideways, sending another wave of pain after the first. He raised the blade, sending my own blood spattering up my chest. I gritted my teeth to stop from screaming at the sight and—
Another vampire ran up and tackled him, taking him down into the mud. They wrestled, spinning my table again. I tried to lift my head up to see my stomach, but it hurt too much to move. I went stiff instead, staring at the ceiling, listening to the growing sounds of anarchy from all around me.
The lights began to fade. Gut wounds were awful, messy, tragic, and sweet Lord, I hurt more than I’d ever hurt before, but—how much time had passed? Surely not enough to bleed out. But my fevered logic couldn’t refute the massive darkness descending from above like the belly of a black spider. I knew I was dying. And then I heard the sound of breaking glass as the lights winked out above. From every recess the operating basement possessed, shadows began to multiply and gel.
A pitch-black drop formed on the ceiling, the height and width of a man, then fell down. I turned my head with a gasp of pain to follow it as it dropped onto running vampires. Both of them disappeared inside of it, pinned like amber-trapped flies. Neither of them came out again.
Shadows. The Shadows. Keepers of the County, finally come to defend their rights.
“About fucking time,” I whispered.
“We come to take back what is ours,” said a chorus of horrific voices, directly into my mind.
Fighting sounds continued from beside me, sickening wet crunches and pops, the sucking sound of mud taking hold, then giving way. My bed was kicked, and the whole contraption rattled, wheeling around again like a rooftop in a tornado—and for a moment, I could see Anna again. Somehow seeing her made me able to concentrate on her voice, and I listened to her yell above the other chaos.
“You told them I was younger than you, Koschei. Say you lied! Say they should have chosen me instead! Say it!” She was crouching over Koschei, her hands embedded in his hair, bringing his head down onto the edge of the drainpipe again and again, as he beat at her with broken arms. “Say it!”
“They should have saved you instead!” he finally howled in defeat.
Anna stopped. “No,” she said, panting above him, holding him halfway. “They should have saved everyone.” She moved to bring his head down on the pipe again, but shifted him, so that this time the pipe caught his neck. It snapped. She shoved and he screamed, until she ripped him in two. Then she held his head aloft like a Gorgon, showing it to the few Zverskiye who remained. It stared out at us, gasping apologies and blinking, until it collapsed in on itself, scattering dust. The remaining Zverskiye ran away at this, and she ran after them.
Chapter Fifty-Six
The vampire that’d tackled Koschei’s assistant earlier rose up near my feet, covered in dust that stuck to the
