Legacy in Blood (Book 1 of The Begotten of Old Series) (19 page)

“Volsky, stop,” she said. “You know I hate it when you say stuff like that.”

“And you know my opinion on this subject,” insisted Pavel.

“And you know mine,” retorted Marisa.

“And I always said that the broken horse carries the load.” Volsky insisted on having his way.

Marisa was about to retort yet again, but Volsky forestalled her with a wave of his hand, letting her know that she shouldn’t interrupt him.

“Now it’s your turn to tell me something,” said Pavel. “Why exactly did you call me tonight?”

“Because you’re the best,” she confessed honestly.

“We’re both the best,” corrected Volsky. “We should be partners.”

Marisa was gradually regaining the power to reason soberly, but this was a hundred and eighty degrees from what she’d been thinking about. She didn’t really know how to react to something like this.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Marisa vaguely. “You’re so brilliant, and you always seemed to manage just fine without any help. What use would I be to you? And there’s also the fact that you’ve always said you don’t need a partner – you like to head up teams. You have an administrative mentality.”

“People change under the influence of circumstances,” parried Volsky. “It’s possible that it’s time to change the way I work. And if I must choose a partner, that partner had better be the best. Clever, bright, unorthodox. I’ve been searching for my potential partner for some time –and it seems that I’ve finally found that person. That’s you, Marisa.”

“It just
seems
that way to you?” chuckled Marisa.

“Don’t parse my words, damn it,” Volsky grimaced. “You understand what I’m talking about.”

“For the unorthodox, of course, thank you,” replied Marisa. “But…”

“What, you have doubts?” Pavel said, getting angry.

“And you thought I’d be so happy I’d fall down at your feet, didn’t you,” Marisa said acidly. “Rus was my friend, don’t you get it? It’s possible that he wasn’t the best at everything, but we’ve known – knew – each other since childhood. I have no idea how it would be for me to work with you, the best.”

“You can’t make an omelette without breaking any eggs,” said Volsky. “Let’s give it a try.”

“Listen, you’re talking about this as if it was all up to us!” she exclaimed. “Presto, and it’s all worked out. We would have to inform Papa. I doubt he’ll be overly enthusiastic at your sudden decision to change everything.”

“Well, first of all, it’s not sudden,” objected Pavel. “And secondly, I talked to Papa today. And anyway, there won’t be any displacement from this rearrangement, no change in the number of agents we have, but the quality will change.”

“What did you talk about?” Marisa asked, deliberately misunderstanding.

“About you,” explained Volsky. “About you and me.”

“Already?”

Marisa gaped at Pavel in astonishment. He responded with the slightly complacent smile of an insufferable smart ass.

“So that means it was all arranged before dinner– I’ve been married off without my consent!” she continued. “Everything was worked out in advance and you even managed to wear Papa down. Well, aren’t you a crafty one.”

“As I recall, ten minutes ago I was a sneak.”

Marisa’s breath once again caught in her throat from his gaze.

“You’re both,” breathed Marisa.

Volsky continued to pierce her with his eyes.

“Agree, Marisa,” he said after a short pause. “You need me.”

Why not go for it?
thought Marisa. If she started to work with Volsky, she would get him, for the time being, and what was more, she’d get a very promising case, a chance to solve a prestigious matter that was unlike the dead ducks she was working on now. To be sure, Marisa had not given up hope of nabbing both the fugitive vampire princess and the viper who killed Ruslan. But right now she didn’t have any leads. The werewolf loomed in front of her, showing her the way to rapid advancement in the ranks. If she closed an investigation like that she’d get to have a merit review, which might, probably would, reclassify her from a mere special agent of CRUSS to a special agent in charge. This was a step forward, a real breakthrough, with all the attendant opportunities and challenges. And what special agent didn’t dream of rising through the ranks? Marisa was no exception to that rule.

“Well then, partner,” she said. “Tell me about our plans for tomorrow.”

“I didn’t doubt you,” Volsky said brightly, rubbing his hands together. “So, I’m of the opinion that, regardless of our intense desire to go after Soigu, first of all we have to clear the remaining top five.”

“Yes, obviously, because they’re the next best thing to bloodsuckers and man-eaters,” said Marisa, smirking cynically. “Listen, doesn’t Soigu have a wife, a writer or something?”

“Yes indeed,” Pavel nodded. “She wrote
Harmonia praestabilita
. It’s one of those books about the life, love and tears of the wealthy Barbie dolls. A friend of mine said she couldn’t put it down.”

“And just how old is your friend?” Marisa asked. “Is she still in grade school?”

“Don’t be nasty,” Volsky said dismissively. “Not everyone reads Proust. People like simpler fare. The title, of course, is sticky with pretension. But the contents are simple enough – true to life. All in all, people lap it up. Also, a TV series of the same title is coming out soon. I recently saw a banner-ad online – ‘adapted from Stella Soigu’s bestseller …”

“Are all the suspects in Stockholm right now?” interrupted Marisa, who knew that Pavel’s verbosity was not always relevant to the case.

“Lawrence is in here,” Volsky instantaneously changed the current of his thoughts. “Otuzan and Soigu are as well. Millionov is due to fly in from St. Petersburg tomorrow. But Valencio has been on tour for the past two weeks. He’ll return a month from now.”

“I see. Who should we begin with?”

Marisa was already thinking about tomorrow’s visits. But at the same time she also was trying to figure out what she could manage to accomplish tonight.

“I think we should start with Lawrence,” Pavel replied. “We’ll surprise him in his bowling alley early in the morning. From him we’ll go directly to Soigu’s house. As for the others, we’ll do each as they come. We might need to fly all the way out to Sakhalin to catch up with Sidor.”

“Okay,” said Marisa. “I’ll go delve into our compendiums on werewolves. I read about demons all day today, but this is a completely different subject. I need to bone up on my knowledge of werewolves a bit.”

And to remind him about his offer to drive me home
, Marisa thought to herself.

“You’re gonna bone a werewolf?” asked Volsky and he chuckled softly.

“Ha,” said Marisa, but the word ‘bone’ echoed in her head.

And instantly the image of Ruslan rose up in Marisa’s mind’s eye. His remains were spread out inside the glass box. Who would have thought that smallpox could so disfigure his body, that it could transform Ruslan into a disgusting, skeletal carcass, that it could flay the skin from his bones…

Marisa stood up from behind her desk. All desire fled from her, disappearing under the weight of a dull sensation mixed with self-loathing.

“I’m leaving,” she said dismally. “I’m going to spend the night here. I’ll try to get some sleep, even if it’s just an hour or two.”

Pavel also got up from his chair. Marisa had already walked to the door.

“Wait a moment, are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

Marisa turned towards Volsky.

“Thanks, Pavel,” she said, somehow forcing a smile. “I’ll just bed down in the stacks somewhere.”

“Well, as you wish,” said Volsky. “See you tomorrow.”

Marisa was enormously grateful that he did not add the word ‘partner’.

2.

 

Death is sufficiently close that it is possible not to dread life.

Friedrich Nietzsche

 

“It’s strange,” said Vasilisa, glancing in the direction of the Jacuzzi with apprehension.

Dalana, who was occupying the space in front of the mirror, was once again changing her appearance; this time she was turning herself into a bobbed, red-headed corporate assistant. She planned to spend the entire day in this guise of a mid-level employee. Her make-up was light, and she was wearing no jewelry at all. She was an ordinary woman, a little bit tired, a little bit harassed. Soon Dalana planned to get her hands on an appropriate car – foreign made but simple, without frills. Last night she had abandoned the SUV she had stolen the day before, about three blocks from her apartment.

“Yes indeed…strange,” repeated Vasilisa.

She was standing there keeping watch over Dalana’s latest manipulation of her appearance.

“What is it this time?” asked Dalana, peering at her reflection.

She needed to tinker with a few more details.

“Water,” replied Vasilisa. “In order to call forth that fire demon you needed a spark. Doesn’t it follow that in order to make a water demon appear, all you would need to do is turn on the tap?”

“You are clever, but only by half,” smirked Dalana.

“How so?”

“Well, if you were more foolish, you would never have guessed that there is a, as you expressed it, water demon,” explained Dalana. “But if you were just a bit wiser, you would have realized that the Khan of Water only lives in natural springs, and definitely not in this mixture of chlorine and oil that you call water.”

“Cool,” said Vasilisa approvingly. “Tell me, what are these Khans really? Well, I mean, I understand that they too are Begotten of Old…but how did they come about and all that?”

“It’s possible that I will tell you how ‘and all that’,” Dalana mimicked the girl, not unkindly. “But not right now. A matter far more important than your enlightenment awaits me.”

“Yes, I understand.” Vasilisa nodded her head. “I don’t even know what to wish you. Good luck?”

“You’d be better off wishing not to stick your nose out of the apartment, so you don’t bring any more problems down on our collective asses.”

Vasilisa did not dare to object – last night’s lesson was too fresh.

Within half an hour Dalana was sitting behind the wheel of a brand new car, once again marveling at how conscientious Stockholm drivers were…conscientious and slow. Her journey today led to the main office of the holding company SDA, where she was to meet with its CEO. He would help her dispose of the five million dollars she had received from Vasilisa.

Finding herself in a small traffic jam, Dalana turned on the radio. Music flowed from the speakers – someone was singing a version of a timeless Dalida song. Disengaging herself from the words, Dalana listened to the musical accompaniment for several minutes with pleasure. With the last chord of the song, the line of cars began to move.

Just as Dalana had expected, the SDA building was as impressive on the inside as it was unpretentious on the outside. Located in an alley near the Stortorget it was a lovely, solid and ancient building, and it managed to synthesize simplicity with elegance.

The secretary in the waiting room glanced at Dalana without any special respect. Well, that meant that her disguise had come off extremely well.

“Go in, Victor is waiting for you. Straight down the corridor, you’ll see the door with the sign,” the secretary said.

A jaunty silver title on a matte-black base laconically read ‘CEO’. Dalana pushed the door open and walked into the office.

“Good God!” she exclaimed, glancing around. “Half the country could be fed if all these things were auctioned off. Vic, is that really an original Renoir hanging in your office?”

Victor, a robust, dark-haired man, got up from his desk to greet Dalana.

“But of course,” he replied. “I have a Renoir, a Faberge and a Surikov, all original. It’s good to see you again, Dee.”

He gallantly inclined his head, simultaneously kissing Dalana’s outstretched hand. She lightly touched his beard with her fingers. The man shivered.

“The feeling’s mutual, Vic,” said Dalana in reply.

Recalling his dislike of telepathic communication, Dalana was ready to deliver all her replies aloud. Out of respect for Victor, she also planned not to rummage around in his thoughts. She trusted him, although, for the sake of prudence, ten minutes ago while sitting in her car, she had still scanned the entire length and breadth of the building.

“Please take a seat. You look stunning. But then again, you always do.”

“In this get-up? Don’t make me laugh,” Dalana replied dismissively.

“You smell the same as before,” said Victor.

“It’s the same perfume,” laughed Dalana.

She sat in the chair in front of his desk.

“You’ve hardly changed at all. Well, except maybe you’ve gone a bit greyer around the ears. You know, if anything you’re even more handsome than you were before. However, to business. Here.” Dalana expressively raised up her left hand, which held the Louis Vuitton bag. “An even five million. I need to put it somewhere more fitting than a handbag. Somewhere, as they say, with a view to the future.”

“It’s always business with you,” Victor said in disappointment. “We haven’t seen each other in fifteen years and you aren’t even interested in how I’ve spent all that time?”

“Well, judging from your circumstances, you’ve been thriving as always,” Dalana said, smiling.

“I’ve missed you, Dee,” said Victor in a serious voice. “These are all just knickknacks. When I received your message yesterday, it was like I was at that hotel again…. Do you remember? That night in Santa Cruz…I thought I’d found my only love…you, Dee…but you disappeared in the morning and I never saw you again. I searched for you, you know, for quite a long time.”

“I know,” Dalana nodded.

“Then I came to terms with it,” continued Victor. “You won’t believe it, but I was even going to get married. I was on the verge of a second wedding. She’s the one who left me, strangely enough…”

“Was she human?” Dalana frowned inquisitively.

“Yes.”

“Then that is definitely strange,” Dalana marveled. “You’re fabulously wealthy, handsome and good in bed. What else does a human woman need?”

“But what do you need?” Victor asked.