by AD Starrling
‘No wonder the Crovirs are stirred up,’ Victor finally said grimly.
My eyes never left Anna’s face. Although I knew the answer, I still had to ask the question. ‘It was your blood, wasn’t it?’ I said carefully.
Anna’s head came up. She met my gaze unflinchingly. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
This time, the silence that ensued was almost deafening. ‘Why on Earth did you—’ said Tomas Godard. He stopped and swallowed convulsively, visibly struggling for words.
A low chuckle left Anna’s lips as she stared down at her hands. ‘Why did I give him a sample of my blood? Well, they do say that the best scientists experiment on themselves.’ There was no humor in her laughter.
‘Hang on,’ said Reid. He was frowning. ‘Surely, this isn’t the first time that immortal blood has been used in some kind of research or another. Burnstein sounds like the kinda guy who would’ve tried something like this already.’
‘You’re right,’ said Anna. She looked physically drained. ‘I’ve sent Hubert several samples of blood from other immortals in the last few years.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve even used some in my own research.’
‘But it never worked before,’ I said flatly.
Anna glanced at me. ‘No,’ she concurred.
Victor frowned. ‘What are you saying?’ he murmured, glancing from Anna to me.
‘It’s my blood,’ said Anna harshly. ‘There must be something in my blood that—that finally made the experiment work, somehow!’
Tomas Godard went pale at her words. He glanced at me with an unreadable expression.
‘That’s why the Crovirs are after you,’ I said in the hush that followed. ‘Burnstein must have found out that Hubert used your sample in his research.’
Anna shook her head vehemently. ‘Hubert didn’t know it was my blood,’ she said. ‘Even if he knew, he would never have betrayed me.’
‘I’m not saying he did,’ I said. ‘The information that the sample originated from you could’ve been somewhere in his lab.’
‘If the Crovirs don’t know the blood was yours, then they must be after you to find out whose it was,’ said Victor. He looked at Anna guardedly. ‘Did Strauss know that you were an immortal?’
‘No,’ said Anna. ‘But I’m sure he must have suspected something. After all, I’ve hardly aged in the last twenty-five years.’
Logs hissed and popped in the fireplace. ‘What now?’ said Reid.
Victor leaned back in his chair. ‘We need to determine exactly what the Crovirs are intending to do with this knowledge,’ he said with a frown. ‘Burnstein must be working directly with Vellacrus. Only she or Felix could have rallied so many Hunters in such a short time.’
Tomas’s gaze shifted from Anna to me. ‘It doesn’t explain why they’re after Lucas though,’ he said in a troubled voice.
Olsson’s words suddenly rose in my mind. I had been puzzled by them at the time and still was to a certain extent. ‘Mikael said I was the only one who stood in their way.’
‘In the way of what though?’ said Victor in a frustrated voice. The immortal rose from his seat. ‘Enough of this! Let’s see what the First Council has for us.’ He strode out of the room with the cell in hand.
The back door opened and Anatole strolled in. The immortal was no longer limping and appeared to have pretty much recovered from his wounds. ‘Right, we’ve got eggs for breakfast, and look what I caught us for lunch.’ He grinned and lifted a dead pheasant in his right hand. The grave mood that permeated the room finally made an impression on him. ‘What’s with the gloomy faces?’ His smile faltered. ‘Did someone die?’
Bruno sighed. ‘Just give me the goddamned eggs,’ he muttered.
Victor returned to the kitchen moments later, a thoughtful look on his face. ‘I just spoke to Oktav. They caught Pinchter in Suben. He was trying to cross the border into Germany.’
‘That bastard,’ Anatole said under his breath.
‘They’re taking him to Linz,’ Victor continued, ignoring the interruption. A grim smile dawned on the immortal’s lips. He stared at Bruno and Anatole. ‘I’m sending the two of you to collect him.’ The bodyguard and the driver glanced at each other meaningfully.
Dvorsky’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not allowed to rough him up,’ he added tersely.
‘You really take all the fun out of this job,’ Anatole muttered with a sigh.
Victor slapped him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop you from doing so once he’s here.’
Anna frowned. ‘You’re going to torture him?’
Victor grimaced. ‘Not exactly. But we need some answers.’
Tomas Godard scowled. ‘They’re trying to kill you and Lucas,’ he said gruffly, glancing at his granddaughter. ‘I wouldn’t mind having a go at the man myself.’
‘That’s the spirit, Gramps!’ said Anatole with an enthusiastic grin, punching the air with his fist. He sobered at Victor’s expression. ‘Sorry, boss.’
The two immortals left the manor a short time later. The sound of the Transporter’s tires grinding across gravel gradually faded in the distance.
I studied the dark circles under Anna’s eyes. ‘You should get some rest,’ I said quietly.
‘So should you,’ Anna retorted. She paused and frowned. ‘I should really check your wounds first though.’
I nodded awkwardly. We left the kitchen and walked up the stairs to my room. I sat on the edge of the bed and carefully shrugged out of my shirt, wincing when the movement stretched bruised muscles. Anna knelt before me and gently took down the dressings that covered my ribcage.
‘They’re healing well,’ she said after a while, her fingers fluttering over my skin while she examined my injuries. They paused over a faint scar next to my birthmark. She looked at me questioningly.
‘That’s from last week,’ I said stiffly.
Her gaze shifted. ‘And this one?’
I glanced at the recent bullet wound she indicated. ‘Last week as well, I’m afraid,’ I murmured.
A faint smile crossed her face. ‘You’ve been busy.’ The now sweetly familiar and strangely intoxicating scent of oranges wafted from her hair and the skin on her nape inches from my face. Something tightened in my gut.
Anna suddenly rose to her feet. ‘There’s no need for further dressings,’ she stated briskly, avoiding my eyes. A flush tainted her cheekbones. ‘Just be careful you don’t reopen your wounds.’
I stared at the door long after she had gone. Finally, I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. Even though I was bone-tired, sleep proved elusive. A dozen questions still clamoured for answers in my mind. What did surviving my seventeenth death mean? Would I survive my eighteenth death? And the ones after that? And who had Olsson meant when he said that the man who killed his father held me dear to his heart? Was that man Tomas Godard? What were the Crovirs planning to do with Strauss’s research findings?
Sometime around noon, I drifted into a light slumber.
The sun was sinking towards the horizon when a noise woke me hours later. I blinked at the orange light pouring in through the curtains. The noise came again. I sat up and frowned. It had originated from elsewhere in the mansion.
I rose from the bed, gathered my swords and guns, and left the room.
Angry voices erupted from the direction of the foyer as I headed towards the stairs. I paused at the top and studied the scene below.
Bruno and Anatole stood holding a man in the middle of the dimly lit vestibule. A thick hood covered the stranger’s head and face. Anatole reached out and yanked it off unceremoniously. The man staggered forward a step and blinked in the light.
He was short and sported a ferret-like face. Blood trickled from his broken nose and his split lip, staining the white shirt under his brown leather jacket. His hands were tied behind his back.
‘What is the meaning of this—this transgression?!’ the little man shouted, struggling in his captors’ grip. ‘If you don’t releas
e me right now, the First Council will hear of this!’ He glared at Bruno and Anatole.
‘The First Council already knows,’ said a voice in a quiet yet ominous tone. ‘In fact, as Head of Counter Terrorism, I don’t even need their approval to arrest you.’ A shadow detached itself from the wall.
The man looked around and visibly blanched. ‘Victor,’ he whispered hoarsely. He stared at Dvorsky. Seconds later, his gimlet eyes hardened. ‘Does Roman know about this?’ he said stiffly.
‘Not only does he know, he thoroughly approves,’ Victor said coldly. ‘After all, Marcus, you tried to kill his only son and successor.’
This time the man went as white as a sheet. ‘It wasn’t me, it was the Crovirs,’ he mumbled incoherently. ‘And they weren’t trying to kill you. They were only after the woman.’ He glanced at Anna, who stood watching silently from the doorway of the study. Tomas Godard appeared behind her.
Pinchter’s eyes widened. ‘What—what are you doing here?!’
‘You mean you didn’t know when you betrayed us in Vienna?’ Victor said harshly. ‘Anna is Tomas Godard’s granddaughter.’
‘No,’ Pinchter murmured, a hunted expression dawning in his eyes. His gaze never left Tomas’s face. ‘I swear to God, I didn’t know. The Crovirs never told—’ He lapsed into abrupt silence.
‘So you do admit that you were helping the Crovirs?’ said Victor.
Pinchter shook his head wildly. I started down the stairs. He looked up, his frantic gaze finally falling on me. His eyes widened further still. ‘The half-breed?! But that’s impossible! You died! Felix Thorne himself—’
I paused at the foot of the staircase and studied Marcus Pinchter coolly.
‘“Felix Thorne himself killed you”. Is that what you were about to say?’ Victor said silkily in the taut silence that followed. ‘The interesting thing is, he did. And, as you can see, the “half-breed” survived his seventeenth death.’ Victor glanced at me with hooded eyes. ‘It’s our little secret for now and I would like to keep it so.’
Victor crossed the hall and placed an arm casually around Pinchter’s shoulders. ‘Now you, my dear man, need to share some of your own secrets with us. Bruno and Anatole have volunteered to keep you company while you divulge these useful pearls of wisdom to me.’
‘I can’t,’ Pinchter said flatly. ‘Vellacrus will have my head on a plate if I say any more than this.’
Victor stared at him. ‘Look at it this way,’ he said stonily. ‘You will die, here, today, if you don’t tell me what I need to know.’ He paused. ‘However, if the information you provide us with turns out to be useful, I promise that I’ll do my best to keep you from the clutches of that woman.’
‘That’s impossible,’ said Pinchter dully. ‘You have no idea what you’re up against this time. Vellacrus is—’ He stopped and clamped his lips shut.
Victor patted Pinchter’s back in a friendly manner and motioned to Bruno and Anatole. ‘Fear not, Marcus. You’ll talk. I promise you that at least.’ He headed along the corridor that led to the kitchen and opened the door to the cellar. ‘Down here if you please, gentlemen.’ Pinchter’s protests faded as he disappeared below ground. The door closed softly behind the four men.
Cigarette smoke wafted past my head. I glanced over my shoulder. ‘He’s a scary man,’ said Reid, strolling down the stairs behind me.
‘He needs to be,’ said Tomas Godard with a heartfelt sigh. ‘He’s the future leader of the Bastians.’
An hour later, footsteps rose outside the study. Victor opened the door and walked into the room. ‘This is taking too long,’ he murmured, absent-mindedly rubbing the bloodied knuckles on his right hand. The skin had broken over them. Anna looked away with a frown.
‘Can we help?’ said Reid mildly.
Victor glanced at us. His gaze focused on me. ‘Yes, I think you can, actually,’ he said thoughtfully.
The cellar under the mansion was large and cool. Racks of dust-covered wine bottles occupied a generous portion of the extensive floor space. At one end of the vault, Pinchter sat tied to a chair in front of a small table. Bruno stood silently behind him. Anatole leaned against the wall to the side, a frown darkening his normally jovial countenance.
Pinchter’s face was a bloodied pulp. His nose was broken in at least three places and his left eye was swollen shut. His right wrist was twisted at an odd angle. Undaunted, the little man spat out a cracked tooth and sneered. ‘What now, Victor? You’re going to set the rest of your dogs loose on me?’ He glared at us out of his bloodshot right eye.
‘Just let me shoot him,’ muttered Anatole.
Victor shook his head. ‘No, that would be far too easy. I have a better idea.’ He studied Pinchter coolly. ‘I’m going to leave you in the hands of the “half-breed”, as you like to call him.’
My eyes narrowed at Dvorsky’s words.
Pinchter’s widened. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
Victor smiled grimly. ‘Oh, but I would.’
The prisoner glanced at me and snorted. ‘He couldn’t do anything even if he wanted to. Look at him!’ An ugly grimace crossed the Bastian’s lips. ‘You know as well as I do that he has never attacked an immortal. All he ever does is run!’
Reid took a step forward. I put a hand on his arm and felt the rigid tension running through him. ‘It’s all right,’ I said quietly, my eyes never leaving Pinchter’s battered face.
‘See? Your half-breed is nothing but a coward!’ the little man continued derisively. ‘Every Hunter knows it. How such a weakling could come from the bloodline of Tomas Godard—’ He stopped abruptly.
A hush fell across the vault.
‘The tip of this blade is exactly an inch from your heart,’ I said slowly. Marcus Pinchter gulped. His frozen gaze drifted downward and stopped on the wakizashi partially embedded in his ribcage. ‘I believe you’re aware of my abilities?’ I added in the same neutral tone.
The little man nodded once.
I was surprised at how calm I felt. The anger that had been burning inside me for days seemed to have melted away. In its place was another, even stronger emotion.
‘You’re right,’ I stated, more to myself than to him. ‘So far, I have only ever killed to defend myself.’ I watched understanding begin to dawn on the man’s startled face. ‘I think I’m beginning to grasp why Vellacrus wants me out of the way.’ I stared into Pinchter’s horrified gaze and nudged the blade slightly. The immortal gasped. Blood seeped onto his shirt. ‘It’s because I truly am the only one who can stop her.’ My lips parted in a small smile. ‘I believe that’s what Mikael meant when he said those words to me.’ The expression in Pinchter’s eyes confirmed my suspicions. I leaned forward. Pinchter moved back in the chair as far as he could go. ‘Thank you. It makes sense now. I’ve been running for a long time.’ I paused deliberately. ‘I won’t anymore.’
Twenty minutes later, Reid and I entered the study after Dvorsky.
‘Well?’ said Tomas. He studied our grim faces anxiously.
‘Vellacrus is gathering all the Crovir Hunters,’ Victor announced flatly. ‘They’ll be in Europe tonight.’
Chapter Sixteen
Roman Dvorsky was an older and thinner version of his son. Though disease had ravaged his immortal body and added deep lines to his face, he walked with a confident step born of a natural leader. ‘Victor.’ He crossed the foyer and hugged his son.
‘Father,’ Victor murmured back.
The Head of the Order of Bastian Hunters looked around the entrance hall with shrewd eyes. ‘It’s good to see you looking so well,’ he said to Tomas Godard, who stood at the side. His gaze shifted to Godard’s right. ‘And this must be your granddaughter.’ Anna returned the older man’s stare steadily and nodded once. The dark, piercing eyes finally fell on me. I was subjected to a long and penetrating stare. ‘Lucas Thorne,’ he said softly.
I frowned at the name. ‘I prefer Soul.’
Leaden silence fell across the foyer. Roman Dvorsky studied m
e thoughtfully. ‘Soul it is then,’ he said. ‘I guess I owe you a long-overdue apology.’
Victor’s father had not travelled alone: the Dvorskies’ estate was literally swarming with Bastian Hunters. They had arrived in a large convoy of transporter vans and SUVs earlier that day and were busy setting up a security perimeter around the grounds.
I had been receiving guarded looks for most of the morning.
‘Bet they make you feel twitchy, huh?’ said Reid. He leaned against the window frame next to me and gazed outside. We had retired to the study while Roman Dvorsky and the other members of the Bastian First Council gathered in the kitchen for a meeting. The lawn in front of the mansion was crawling with immortals.
‘I guess they’re on our side now,’ I said cautiously.
Reid shifted and stretched his wounded arm. ‘Well, they do say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ he murmured. I remained silent; I had a feeling that the majority of the Bastian Hunters out there would not be subscribing to a similar viewpoint.
‘How’s your arm by the way?’ I said with a frown.
Reid shrugged. ‘Much better than I thought it’d be,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘The bullet wound in my chest has pretty much healed up as well.’
The door opened behind us. Bruno paused on the threshold. ‘The boss is asking for you.’ He hesitated. ‘Mr Roman is who I mean.’ I glanced at Reid. He shrugged again. We turned and followed the bodyguard to the back of the manor house.
Several armed Hunters stood to attention next to the windows and doors of the kitchen. Some visibly stiffened when I came into the room.
The Godards and the Dvorskies were already seated at the table. A number of unfamiliar faces occupied the chairs around them.
‘I’ve updated my father about recent events,’ said Victor, giving me a small nod. He indicated an empty seat at the end of the table. ‘Come, join us.’
I crossed the floor and took the chair. Reid shifted and leaned against the wall next to me. He folded his arms, nodded amiably at the Hunter beside him and assumed a bored air. Uneasy silence ensued.