“When did they ever stop? Focus.”
“Hard to do with a human kaleidoscope in front of me. What’d you find?”
“Nice money. Great money. Like Smite-Williams-level money.”
“I like hearing that. What’s the job?”
Peyton lowered himself into the other lounge chair. “You know who Makar Kalinin is?”
Shay tilted her head as she tried to place the name. It seemed familiar, but the owner still escaped her. She gave up and shook her head.
“Russian oligarch, made his fortune in energy investment. He fell out of favor with the current government and had to high-tail it to Singapore a few years back. They claim he’s a criminal scumbag. He claims they are criminal scumbags.”
Shay nodded. “Oh yeah. I kind of remember him. Didn’t someone try to assassinate his ass in the middle of the day while he was eating blinis?”
“Yeah. The guy has an army of security. The rumor is the guy’s gotten very weepy and old-school about his Russian heritage now that’s he’s stuck in Singapore. Talked the restaurant into making his mother’s recipe.”
Shay snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure being a billionaire living in a mansion is a terrible life. Woe is him. How does he ever do it?”
“It does suck when you can’t go where you want to go and live openly. Save it, I heard what you were saying. I’m still moving out.” Peyton shrugged. “You have to let go some time.”
“Always with the humor.” Shay stared at him for a moment. “Fair enough. Go on.”
“The short version of this is that Polish troops invaded Russia in the beginning of the seventeenth century. They basically grabbed anything that looked remotely valuable. They were supposed to have stuck the treasures on carriages bound toward Warsaw, but they didn’t even reach Smolensk. The transports just kind of disappeared.”
Shay shrugged, leaning over to finger the material on his jacket, frowning at him as he pulled away. “I’m focused. Some soldiers decided they could retire early. Not a big surprise. If I were some peon, I’d probably borrow a few gold coins from the local rich assholes myself.”
“The thing is, there’s nothing in the historical record to account for any unusual spike in wealth.”
“It’s not like every random thief leaves behind a detailed diary.”
Peyton cleared his throat and smirked. “In this case, they kind of did, but not for the main treasure.”
“Huh? Unpack that for me a little.”
“It turns out a Russian force under a local nobleman was responsible for taking out the treasure train, and the nobleman leading that force was a distant ancestor of our potential client.”
Shay squinted, folding her legs underneath. “But you said the treasure was lost.”
“Well, yeah, it was lost. First by the Polish, and then by the Russians. But… it’s not anymore. Not all of it, anyway.”
“You’re saying, what, we have directions?”
Peyton blew out a long breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, we do, but the directions are related to a map in a journal that was recently recovered. The journal was written by the nobleman leading the Russian force, but it’s mostly about how they were being hunted.”
“Hunted? By who? Polish troops?”
“Vodyanoy.”
Shay furrowed her brow. It wasn’t often she was completely clueless, but there was nothing to be gained by pretending otherwise.
“Who the hell is he?”
“Not a he, more of a they. River spirits who look like old men crossed with giant frogs. This ancestor of our client addressed the journal to his son. Basically, he talks about how they recovered the treasure, but they’d run afoul of some vodyanoy who wanted the treasure as a tribute.”
“It could be bullshit. Some guy just making an excuse to explain why the treasure disappeared.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Shay shook her head. “I wish I could. I’ll bet the Russians didn’t give up the treasure?”
“Not at first, and what followed was your standard monster horror movie plot until only the guy writing the journal was left with one other person. He’d tried to appease the vodyanoy by finally giving up the treasure, but by then it wasn’t enough.” Peyton shivered, pulling his jacket closer. “The creatures wanted something else.”
“What the fuck did they want?”
“A gold locket the man was wearing. It had a single dried iris petal inside. It was a gift from the man’s wife. He decided that he’d be betraying her if he gave it up to some random river monsters.”
Shay blinked hard a few times. “So, wait. Let me get this straight. This guy was dropping treasure all over the place like he didn’t care after everyone was killed, but he wouldn’t give up a locket with a flower? I don’t know if I should be impressed or find some spell that sends me back in time so I can slap the man upside the head for being a fucking moron.”
Peyton relaxed back into the chair. “In the end, he knew the vodyanoy were closing in, so he found an abandoned church and hid in the basement. He thought even if the place wasn’t in use, the vodyanoy wouldn’t follow him onto consecrated ground. From what his journal says, he was right, but they also wouldn’t leave. They always had someone there, guarding the area, like they were obsessed with getting that locket.”
“So, what he died in a church basement, waiting out some water monsters?”
“Yes and no. Like I said, there was one surviving person with him, some servant kid. The man thought the monsters hadn’t killed him because he was a virgin and not as tainted.”
“Interesting theory.”
“They had a decent amount of food left because everyone else in their group had already died, so they spent a couple of months digging tunnels from the basement, and then the nobleman gave the journal to the kid, along with a sack of coins and told him to get the hell out of there while he distracted the monsters.”
“Sacrificing the kid?”
Peyton shook his head. “Nope, there is some writing after the last entry of the nobleman,
