The Soul Stealer

by Alex Archer

  Annja looked at Gregor. “Perhaps we can impose on Father Jakob to do a service for Bob?”

  “I would think so.”

  “In that case,” Annja said. “I’m going upstairs to have that hot bath.”

  “I thought I was going first,” Gregor said.

  “Creature killers get first dibs,” Annja replied.

  “See you down here for dinner.”

  24

  By the time Annja got back down to the dining room, she felt much better. The hot bath and change of clothes made her feel almost human again. And while the loss of Bob still weighed on her mind, she felt somewhat better knowing that his body would be cared for at first light.

  Gregor came down a few minutes later. Annja watched him from the big chair nearest the fireplace and nursed the glass of red wine she was drinking.

  “Pull up a chair,” she said.

  Gregor sat opposite her, and the innkeeper brought him a glass of iced vodka. Gregor touched his glass to Annja’s. “Here’s to life.”

  “Sometimes overrated,” Annja said.

  “You think?”

  “Considering what we do to each other, yes. But I suppose there’s enough room left on this planet for a bit of hope, as well.”

  Gregor drank his vodka and then rested the glass on the small table between them. “I’ve seen plenty of examples of evil in my time. And there have been times when others might have considered me an emissary of those same forces.”

  “But?”

  “But I think it’s possible to turn over a new leaf if you’re so inclined.”

  Annja took a sip of her wine. “Is that what you’re planning to do? Turn over a new leaf?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  Annja smiled. “I’ve known men like you before.”

  “Men like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Strong, rugged.” She smirked. “Handsome. But as much as they claimed they wanted desperately to leave behind what they were, they couldn’t.”

  “No?”

  “No. Because what they wanted to leave behind was what made them who they were in the first place. And that’s not being true to yourself, now, is it?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “No perhaps about it. You can’t put down what it is that makes you tick. You might want to—you might enjoy telling people you are. But at the end of the day when you’re all alone in your bed and the minutes tick by on your clock, you’ll always come back to your base nature.”

  “You say it like it’s unavoidable,” Gregor said.

  Annja sighed. “Maybe it is.”

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who believes much in predestination.”

  Annja finished her wine. “I never did before.”

  “But?”

  “But things change. And lately, I think I’ve been wondering if maybe we are really locked into our paths from the moment we’re born.”

  Gregor gestured to the innkeeper for more drink. “That doesn’t do a lot to support the notion of free choice.”

  “No. It doesn’t,” Annja admitted.

  “It’s also not a very attractive way to lead your life.”

  “Probably not.”

  Gregor smiled. “And you’re comfortable with that?”

  “No.”

  “You’re a complicated woman, Annja Creed,” he said.

  Annja accepted the new glass of wine from the innkeeper and lifted it in Gregor’s direction. “So I’ve been told before.”

  “Here’s to being complicated, then,” he said.

  “We’re toasting that?”

  “Why not?” Gregor took a sip. “And I should also thank you.”

  Annja looked at him. “What on earth for?”

  “The compliment.”

  “You’ve had too much to drink.” Annja considered her own glass and then took another sip.

  “You said I was handsome. Thank you for that.”

  Annja shrugged. “You’re welcome.” She looked past him. “Looks like dinner is on at last.”

  She rose and walked to the table. The innkeeper had laid out a enormous feast. Meat and potatoes along with what looked like meat pies, roast quail, soup and a green salad of all things.

  Annja sat down. “This is quite a spread.”

  Gregor smiled. “I believe we’re considered heroes.”

  Annja sniffed. “Spectacular.”

  Gregor spooned out some potatoes on his plate and then passed the dish to Annja. “You’re not very comfortable with that label, are you?”

  “Are you?”

  Gregor shrugged. “It’s been applied to me before. Sometimes it’s justified and sometimes not. I guess I’ve made peace with it.”

  “I’m a little new to the whole thing. Guess it still doesn’t feel like it fits me all that well,” she said.

  “It will.”

  Annja bit into some of the quail and chewed. “I don’t know if I intend on making it a regular occurrence. The hero thing, I mean.”

  “Well, now, that’s the thing about being a hero—no one ever sets out to do it deliberately. And those who do often end up dead as a result of their efforts. True heroism is something else entirely.”

  “I guess,” Annja said.

  “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I was only making conversation.”

  Annja put her fork down and took some more wine. “I know. Sorry. I’m still upset about Bob.”

  “You weren’t lovers,” Gregor said.

  Annja looked at him. “No. We weren’t. I think Bob had a crush on me, but it wasn’t something we ever explored. We were better as friends, anyway. Anything romantic would have clouded our professional aspirations.”

  “He respected you, though. That much was very evident.”

  “And I respected him. But there you go. We were close friends and now he’s gone.”

  Gregor nodded. “Sometimes there is comfort in knowing that you have vanquished the killer of a friend.”

  Annja frowned. “I’m not into revenge.”

  “This isn’t revenge. It’s closing the circle. There’s a difference.”

  “If you say so.”

  Gregor leaned back in his chair. “I know you look at me and see someone who has lied and been deceitful for the majority of his grown life.” He shrugged. “And you’d be right to see me in that light. Because it’s true.”

  “I’m not arguing with you,” Annja said.

  Gregor smiled. “It might interest you to know that I entered the intelligence services with only the noblest ideals in mind.”

  “Doesn’t every kid who plays war enter the military with the same sentiments?”

  “Very possibly.”

  “So what makes you different?”

  “I’m not claiming difference. I was merely hoping to illuminate some aspects of my character to you.”

  Annja stopped eating and looked at him. “Why do you care?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why do you care what I think about you? You could be the cruelest man on the planet. Or you could be the greatest guy around. But what’s the big deal? Why do you care what I happen to think of you?”

  Gregor sighed. “Because I don’t want you to hate me for what I did to Bob.”

  Annja shook her head. “I don’t hate you.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I hate Yuri and Oleg for being in that cave with us. I hate them for being with the mafiya. I hate them for what they represented and for being the cause of Bob’s death.”

  “But not me,” Gregor whispered.

  Annja shrugged. “Weird, huh? But I guess I can understand. I don’t agree with it—don’t get me wrong. But I understand that you were doing your job. And doing what you do didn’t kill Bob.”

  Gregor took a breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you for understanding.”

  Annja finished her glass of wine. “Forget it.”

  “I don’t know that I will.”r />
  Annja smiled. “You’re extremely stubborn, aren’t you?”

  “I prefer ‘tenacious,’ but if ‘stubborn’ works for you, then that’s fine, too.”

  Annja took another bite of her dinner and then stopped. “You are a clever one, too, aren’t you?”

  Gregor nodded. “I think that’s a bit of a prerequisite for intelligence officers. Not much use for the slow-witted in my service.”

  “So you entered the intelligence service because you were sly?” Annja asked.

  “I entered because my entire family was killed and I had nowhere else to go.”

  Annja shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Forget it—it’s ancient history.”

  “How did they die?”

  “Chechen rebels ambushed my family as they drove south for vacation. I was at school at the time. But my mother, father and little brother were all gunned down in cold blood.”

  “That must have destroyed you,” Annja said

  Gregor finished his vodka and nodded at the innkeeper for a refill. “They say that true character is forged in the fire of tragedy. I think that’s what happened to me. Instead of releasing my emotions, I bottled them up. The anger welled up within me and caused me to develop myself as much as I possibly could. I entered the military first and then the intelligence services. I volunteered for the most suicidal missions they had. I carried out all sorts of covert operations that no one would ever take responsibility for.”

  “What happened?”

  “I hunted the men who had killed my family. I hunted them down and killed every last one of them. And without any degree of mercy.”

  Annja’s throat felt dry. “I don’t think anyone would ever hold that against you. You did what anyone else might have done.”

  “I’m not proud of what I did. But I can’t turn back time and undo it. I’ll have to live with the consequences of my actions for the rest of my life. I’ve made peace with that, though.”

  “And with the death of your family?” Annja asked.

  Gregor smiled. “I’d tracked the last one down to a demolished old warehouse on the outskirts of some dump of a city. He was hiding up on the second floor. He knew who I was and why I was there. Word had spread that I was coming for him.”

  “The other deaths would have alerted him, I suppose.”

  Gregor nodded. “I felt like Death. I strode into the warehouse like I was invincible. He shot at me, but the bullets never seemed to touch me. I walked straight at him as he shot every bullet he had. And while he dropped his magazine and fumbled for a new one, I grabbed him around the throat and lifted him onto a meat hook.”

  Annja watched Gregor’s eyes as they looked up to the left. “He didn’t die right away—I made sure of that. I did horrible things to him that night. Things I won’t speak of ever again.”

  He looked at Annja. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

  Annja shook her head. “I think you were hurting.”

  “Indeed. When it was finally over and I sat there drenched in sweat and the blood of my last victim, I slumped into a puddle of filth and cried. I cried for hours. And I felt every last vestige of who I’d become fade slowly away into the night of my past.”

  “What happened?”

  Gregor sniffed. “I returned and was promoted. But I’d changed. I’d rid myself of the demons that drove me to do those awful things. I became a better agent because of it.”

  “And now?”

  Gregor smiled. “Now, I see that dinner is over. And I sincerely hope our innkeeper has a delicious dessert and more drink for us.”

  Annja stared at him. “You’re an interesting man, Gregor.”

  He bowed from his seat. “I am indeed. Perhaps you will get to know me a little better…sometime.”

  Annja smiled. “Perhaps.”

  25

  The innkeeper had indeed prepared a lavish dessert of fresh fruit and a chocolate torte. Annja felt herself growing more and more exhausted. Gregor himself looked as tired, if not more.

  Annja yawned after her second helping of dessert. “That’s it for me.”

  Gregor pointed. “You’ll be able to sleep after two cups of coffee? What about all the caffeine you just ingested?”

  “Doesn’t affect me at all,” Annja said. “What about you? All that vodka has to be doing something to you.”

  Gregor nodded. “I’m fine as long as I don’t stand up.”

  “How are you going to get upstairs?”

  He shrugged. “I was hoping I could impose upon a beautiful woman to assist me.”

  Annja grinned. “Good luck finding one around this dump.”

  Gregor leaned forward. “Do you always play this game with men you find attractive?”

  “What game?”

  “This game of tease. This cat and mouse.” Gregor leaned back. “It grows wearisome after a while. At first it is fun, but then later—”

  “There’s no game here, Gregor. It’s just how I am.”

  “You’re as stubborn as I am, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Probably.”

  Gregor put both of his hands on the table and then hefted himself to his feet. “In that case, I may as well say good-night to you now.”

  Annja stood. “I’ll help you upstairs.”

  “Ah, my charm has won you over at last.”

  Annja shook her head. “I don’t want your death on my conscience when you take a header down the stairs.”

  Gregor shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Annja came around the table as the innkeeper started cleaning up. She got her arm around Gregor’s back. In the next instant, she felt him put most of his weight onto her.

  “Are you quite sure you can’t manage to carry yourself a little bit more?” she asked.

  Gregor chuckled and Annja could smell the alcohol on his breath. “I thought I was carrying most of my weight.” He shifted himself and Annja felt a little weight come off.

  They made it to the stairs and Annja had to direct him. “Step up now.”

  “You see? You are sent from God to make sure I do not die tonight.”

  “I’m just a designated stair climber,” she said.

  “There’s that heroism again.”

  Annja sighed and got Gregor up another step. And then another. At last they crested the staircase and Gregor pointed down the hall. “My room is that way.”

  “Thanks.”

  Annja walked him down the hall and then Gregor pointed. “That one.”

  Annja stopped. “That’s my room.”

  Gregor shrugged. “What a coincidence. Who would have thought we would end up being bunkmates?”

  “Not me. Now, come on, which one of the rooms is yours?”

  “You’d turn down an opportunity to spend the night with a famed member of the Russian intelligence service?”

  “Yes.”

  Gregor looked shocked. “That line usually works quite well.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  He leaned closer to Annja. “You sure I can’t convince you of the error of your ways?”

  “Positive. Besides, what good would you be to me? You’re drunk as an ox.”

  Gregor nodded. “This is very true. But in the morning, I shall rise like the Phoenix from its ashes and be a brand-new lover.”

  “Delightful,” Annja said.

  Gregor snorted and then pointed farther down the corridor. “That room. That is mine.”

  Annja walked him down to his room. She turned the doorknob and opened the door. Then she walked Gregor to his bed. He fell, pulling Annja down with him. She landed on top of his chest.

  Gregor looked up with joy in his eyes. “Ah, at last you have come to your senses.”

  “You dragged me down here,” Annja said, trying to extricate herself from his clutches. “Watch my ribs,” she said.

  “Sorry.” Gregor gently pulled her close. “How about a good-night kiss?”

  Annja frowned. “Will you leave me alone after that?”


  Gregor held up his hand. “I swear it on my honor as a completely drunk Russian.”

  Annja laughed and then leaned forward. She found Gregor’s lips warm as they touched hers. She could smell the vodka on his breath, but it wasn’t offensive. And when Gregor put his hand behind her head and pulled in tighter, even she had to admit that the big guy could kiss.

  She pulled away and took a breath.

  Gregor’s eyes danced. “Wow.”

  Annja sat up. “Happy now?”

  “I may never walk again.”

  Annja smiled. “That’s all, lover boy. Now good night.”

  She walked to the door and took a final glance at Gregor, propped up on his bed looking at her with sad puppy-dog eyes. She took another deep breath and pulled the door shut behind her.

  Outside in the corridor, she paused. It was tempting to go back in there and let Gregor ravage her. Or would she ravage him? She grinned.

  But in the morning, how would it play out? She didn’t have enough of a read on him to know if he was looking for a quickie or a commitment. And there was no way Annja was interested in a commitment. Not yet.

  She walked down the hallway and listened to her footsteps creak along the wooden floor. She could hear the wind howling outside. Snow blew against the inn’s walls.

  Siberia. She shivered. It would be a long time before she’d want to come back to this remote part of the world.

  If ever.

  She reached her room and got changed for bed. She could still hear the dishes clanking as the innkeeper cleaned up from their dinner. It was certainly nice of him to go to such lengths in preparing that feast. Annja’s stomach rumbled in appreciation. Everything had been utterly delicious. She wasn’t sure if the innkeeper was a world-class cook or if it was simply that Annja had been so starving when they returned from the caves.

  Probably the latter, she surmised.

  She leaned back in her bed. The fluffy pillows encased her head as she stared at the ceiling. She thought about Bob and how much he lived for crazy adventures like this.

  At least he went out on one of them, she thought. Better this than to go out in some hospital bed languishing away from a terminal illness.

  She’d mourn for him, but his memory also made her happy.

  And to think she’d almost passed up this trip.