tyrant.”
I rose and leaned against the porch post. “I’m your best bet to keep Roland from taking over.”
“Yes.”
“Young, in need of being taught . . .”
Evdokia crossed her arms. “Yes.”
“Easily manipulated? Emotionally compromised? Are these my best qualities?”
Evdokia threw her hands up in exasperation.
“I would just like to know the score from the start. So I have no disappointments later.”
“I doubt the Goddess will help you with this child. The last time I came across a goddess, she decided she didn’t want any.”
Evdokia shook her head. “You are what you are, Kate. You can’t run away from yourself. Do you think your lion didn’t consider who you were before he swept you off your feet? All those years, all those women, and you are the one he mated with. He was interested in more than your bed, I can tell you that.”
Ouch. “Leave Curran out of this.”
“The man isn’t a fool. And neither are you. Now is the time to build alliances and learn, because when your papa shows up here, it will be too late. I’m offering power. Knowledge. Things you will require. I can help you. You don’t even have to do anything in return.”
I would take her up on it. I would come back here, and sit, and drink tea, and eat cookies. I’d bring Julie with me and watch her play with the mutant cat-rabbit-duck thing. But not yet. Not now.
I took the picture of de Harven’s body from my pocket and passed it to her. Evdokia glanced at it, spat three times over her left shoulder, and knocked on the wooden rail.
“Chernobog’s volhv. Grigorii. That’s his work.”
“This picture was taken in the workshop of a Russian inventor. Name is Adam Kamen.”
“Ah! Adam Kamenov. Yes, I’ve heard about that. Smart boy, no common sense. He was building something vile. Had all the elder volhvs tied up in knots. Whatever it was, they told him not to build it. I gather he built it anyway.”
“He’s missing.”
“They have him, then.” Evdokia shrugged.
“The volhvs sacrificed someone to teleport him out.”
The old witch grimaced. “It doesn’t surprise me. They are men. They solve things directly. Grigorii needed power, so he took it. Give me a coven of thirteen witches and I could’ve teleported him too, and without blood. We’d channel the magic through us, pull it from nature through our bodies and focus it on the target. Grigorii’s way is to take everything from one. Our way is to take a little bit from each of us, so everyone can recover.”
“I need to find Adam.”
She raised her chin. “I’ll ask around.”
She wouldn’t do anything that put her in conflict with the volhvs. She would teach me, and she might throw me a crumb of information now and then, but she wouldn’t fight my battles for me. That was fine.
I started down the porch stairs. “Thank you for the tea.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The house crouched down and I stepped onto the path. The moment my feet touched the ground, the porch rose back up.
“Think about what I’ve said, Katenka,” Evdokia called from above. “Think carefully.”
WHEN I WALKED OUT OF THE WOODS, A MAN STOOD by my Jeep, leaning on a tall unfinished wooden staff with a thick top. It looked like he had just cut a thick sapling, haphazardly chopped off the branches, stripped it of its bark, and made himself a walking stick.
A black robe hung from his shoulders down to just below his knees, revealing leather boots. Silver embroidery ran along the wide cuffs of the robe and along the hem. A wide leather belt caught the robe at the waist, and small canteens and charms dripped from it on chains and cords. A deep hood hid most of his face.
A volhv. If the staff hadn’t given him away, the charms on the belt would have. Judging by the embroidery, not a lightweight, but not one of the really old ones either. The younger volhvs couldn’t afford hand-stitched silver, and the older ones didn’t bother with it.
“I have a real problem with people in hoods,” I said.
“That’s too bad.” He had a rich voice, deep and confident. Yep, a fun and exciting storm of magic was about to come my way. Why was it I never got a tech shift when I needed one?
The volhv pulled the hood back. Large eyes, dark like molten tar and framed in thick black eyelashes, looked at me with wry amusement. His features were well cut: high cheekbones, strong masculine jaw, and an aquiline nose, made more prominent because the hair on the sides of his head had been shaved off past his ears. The rest of his jet-black hair fell down his back like a horse mane. His mustache was black, too. His beard was nonexistent, except for a carefully trimmed goatee that met his mustache on both sides of his mouth. His full lips curved into a half smile.
The overall effect was decidedly villainous. He needed a black horse and a barbarian horde to lead. That or a crew of cutthroats, a ship with blood-red sails, and some knucklehead heroine to lust after. He would fit right into Andrea’s romance novels as some evil pirate captain. If he started stroking his beard, I’d have to kill him on principle.
“Grigorii?” Probably not.
“Grigorii doesn’t bother with the likes of you.”
As expected. “Look, I’ve had a bad day. How about you just walk away from my Jeep?”
The volhv smiled wider, flashing even white teeth. “You went to see the witch. What did she tell you?”
“She said your dress was so last season.”
“Oh? Is that so?” He raised his hand to his goatee.
That does it. “Yeah. And what’s with the beard and the horse mane? You look like Rent-a-Villain.”
The volhv’s eyes widened. He waved his hand at me. “Well you don’t look . . . female . . . in your pants.”
“That’s a hell of an insult. Did you think of it all by yourself or did you have to ask your god for help?”
The volhv pointed at me. “Now, don’t you blaspheme. That’s not nice. Tell me what the witch said, hmm? Now, come on, you know you want to tell me.” He winked at me. “Come on, share. You tell me, I don’t kill you right away, everybody’s happy.”
I pulled Slayer out of its back sheath.
The volhv blinked. “No? Don’t want to tell me?”
“Step away from my vehicle.”
“I didn’t want to do this, but fine.” He raised his staff and struck the pavement. The thick wood at the top of the staff flowed, morphing. A vicious wooden beak emerged from the shaft, followed by savage round eyes.
“Safety’s off,” the volhv said. “Last chance to tell me what the witch said.”
In my head I charged, Slayer ready to strike. But my knee popped with a dry crunch, my leg snapped, and I rolled onto the pavement just in time to see the end of the volhv’s staff as it punctured my chest. Great. No running. Doolittle had performed medical miracles and the knee didn’t hurt, but I didn’t want to take chances. I needed to save the leg for the close-up fighting. I’d have to rely on magic until I got within striking range. And if I did kill him, I’d have a volhv stampede on my doorstep. They’d race each other to take a shot at me. I’d start the war between the volhvs and the Pack and kill Adam Kamen with one fight. Oh goody.
I strode toward the volhv, broadcasting as much menace as I could muster. Maybe he’d panic and drop to his knees with his hands in the air.
Fat chance.
The volhv watched me. “Hurry up. At least put some effort into it!”
“For the likes of you? Why bother?”
The volhv spun in place, his staff slicing through the air. The wooden beak gaped open with a creak and belched a swarm of tiny black flies. Probably poisonous. Great. This fight was in the bag.
I jerked a bag of rosemary powder from my belt and ripped it open, chanting under my breath.
The swarm shot to me.
