Mother of Chaos (Princess Dracula Book 3)

by John Patrick Kennedy

  “There is.” Ruxandra tapped her nose. “It’s not the one from last night, but someone is definitely there.”

  “Magicians.” Kade rubbed his chin, almost as if running his fingers through a beard that wasn’t there anymore. “Or men using magic. What are they?”

  “Human,” Ruxandra said. “Other than that, I have no idea. But I think other humans can see them. Where I thought one was in the tavern, there was room for him. No one tried to move into his space.”

  “No one moves into our spaces when we are unnoticeable. It may be the same thing.”

  “Should we try to capture him?”

  “Not yet. First we learn who took the magicians and if we can get them back. Then we go after them.” Kade turned unnoticeable. “We should hurry.”

  He broke into a run, and Ruxandra followed. They left the neighborhood and went to another one nearby. They went into a second kabak, then a third. Each time Kade held a long conversation with the barman, and each time he came away with nothing.

  Both times Ruxandra watched the bar, looking for empty spaces that should be full. In the second kabak, a chair sat unused near the door. In the third, a spot of wall amid the crowd near the fireplace made a gap like a pulled tooth. The human in each space smelled different from the others.

  “Found them,” Kade said in her ear. “This way.”

  He led her out of the kabak, unnoticed and moving too fast for human pursuit, across the River Moskva to a two-story kabak near the banks. The crowd inside was older and talked more quietly. Kade made himself noticeable before he stepped inside. Ruxandra stayed unseen. He crossed the floor.

  “Where,” he commanded the barman, “is Lyosha Kurkov?”

  “Upstairs,” said the barman, “but he is busy right now.”

  “Not so busy as that.” Kade walked past the bar and mounted the stairs two at a time. Ruxandra stayed close behind. She heard the sounds of pleasure—most faked—coming from a half dozen small rooms. Kade paused a moment, listening, then went to one at the end. He pushed it open. Ruxandra, right behind him, caught a glimpse of an older man’s bare, wrinkled backside ramming forward hard and fast. A much younger man, bent over the bed in front of him, groaned in pleasure.

  “Kurkov, you old sodomite,” Kade growled. “Where are the rest of us?”

  The older man whipped around so fast Ruxandra heard the sound of him escaping his partner’s body. The younger man cried out in pain and surprise and jumped across the bed.

  “Kade!” Kurkov’s next words were in Russian, but Ruxandra knew enough to understand them. “Thank God you are returned. They’ve taken them all!”

  Chapter 5

  “Who?” Kade’s voice turned cold. “Who took them?”

  “We don’t know who,” Kurkov said. “Just that they were taken.”

  He turned away from the bed and reached for a towel, putting his body on full display. Ruxandra’s eyebrows went up, but she didn’t say anything. He was impressively hung, but no more so than several of the men she’d known in Rome. Tall and wiry, with thick graying brown hair and sharp gray eyes, he looked as a magician should look, she thought. Both scholarly and assertive, with an indefinable quality of secrecy or difference, yet still clearly human. Even his cock had an elegant curve to it, going in its own direction. She smirked.

  Both men got dressed and sat down on the bed.

  “Tell me what happened,” Kade said. “In Italian so my friend can understand.”

  “Of course,” Kurkov said, switching languages with ease. “We do not know much. We went home. We came back the next morning. The house was in shambles and there was not sign of anyone. We did not know what happened. They may have been there and been taken. They may have been at home, drinking vodka and wondering how deep they could penetrate their wives or donkeys or whatever it is they fuck.”

  He laughed then, a high, hard laugh filled with more anger than amusement. Kade watched in silence as the laugh went on longer than was reasonable. The younger man, blond and slight, with a melancholy, intelligent face, put his hand on Kurkov’s shoulder. The old man threw it off, shoving the hand away as if the very touch were burning him.

  “What happened?” Kade asked again.

  “I don’t know!” Kurkov spat out the words. “They’re gone. Either drowned in the Moskva or buried in the sewage pit or hiding like rats in the walls of their outhouses for all I know. We visited their houses, talked to their wives and donkeys, and none said they have been fucked recently.”

  “Lyosha,” Eduard began, but Kurkov kept going.

  “None of them looked like they have been fucked recently, either. Except one donkey, who I suspect, from its eyes and gait, met with an amorous stallion and will no doubt produce a fine young mule in the near future.”

  “Kurkov.” Kade’s voice was calm. “You did nothing wrong.”

  Kurkov’s face twisted. Tears began pouring out of his eyes. “Of course I did nothing wrong. I wasn’t even there. They were my friends, every one of them, and I was not there.”

  Kurkov crumpled in on himself, his face falling into his hands and his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

  “I was not, either,” Kade’s voice stayed calm. “I was not even in the city. How long ago was this?”

  “Last month,” Eduard said. “Twenty-two days.”

  “No one returned since?”

  Eduard shook his head. “We searched the city, spoke to their family and friends. No one saw anyone.”

  “Their families are terrified,” Kurkov said. He sat up, rubbed his face, and managed a small smile. “Even the donkeys.”

  Kade leaned against the wall and rubbed the beard that wasn’t on his chin anymore. “Do you think it was someone inside the city?”

  Kurkov shrugged, a larger motion than the Italian shrug, and just as expressive. “There was no sound of alarm, no disturbance at the watchtowers, so it wasn’t an attacker. But then, who attacks a city and steals a bunch of old men and a crazy woman? It’s not like they make good toys for the Taters like our daughters.”

  Bitterness, corrosive as acid, spilled out of his mouth with the last words.

  “Who inside would want them?” Kade asked. “The church?”

  “The Metropolitan takes a dim view of magic,” Eduard said. “He would take them, but I don’t believe he would leave them alive afterward.”

  “Or that he would do it without making a show,” Kurkov said. “He would burn them all in the square. After breaking them on the wheel.”

  “Excuse me,” Ruxandra said. “Who is the Metropolitan?”

  “The leader of the Church of Moscow,” Eduard said.

  “And before we answer any more questions,” Kurkov said, his eyes narrowing, “you must introduce your companion, Kade. Is he to be trusted?”

  “She,” Kade said, “is to be trusted more than anyone else who walks the earth. Eduard, Kurkov, I present to you Ruxandra Dracula.”

  “Ruxandra?” Eduard stood up. “The woman you told us about?”

  “The very one,” Kade said.

  “You idiot!” Kurkov jumped to his feet. “You fool! How could you?”

  “How could I what?” Kade asked, frowning.

  “How could you let a woman in here when I am balls deep in Eduard!” He swung a hand in Eduard’s direction. “And then to let me stand with my prick pointing at the ceiling and waving in the breeze? Idiot!”

  Ruxandra managed to get her hand over her mouth to cover her smile at the bemused expression on Kade’s face. Kurkov turned his back on Kade and bowed.

  “I ask your forgiveness,” he said. He reached out and captured her hand. “Truly, our dear friend Kade lacks manners. Otherwise he would not let a woman witness such a spectacle. I hope you forgive my nakedness, and that you are not offended by the nature of my relationship with Eduard.”

  “I am not sure,” Ruxandra said, doing her best to sound disapproving. “I mean, he is so much younger than you.”

  Kurkov’s mouth fel
l open. He blinked several times, and his lips moved without sound. Then he brayed with laughter. On the bed Eduard blushed and looked away.

  “It is true!” Kurkov wheezed. “It is very true! But love knows no age, and this young man happened to fall for my brilliance, and so how could I deny him?”

  “I did,” Eduard admitted. “And he has other attributes.”

  “I noticed,” Ruxandra said, her voice bland.

  “Ah! You make me blush again!” Kurkov grabbed his coat. “Enough. This place is costing me money, so let us go from here and walk.”

  They walked out together into the darkness. Kurkov led them toward the Kremlin but stayed away from the gates. Instead he took them to the riverbank, and they walked along it. The stench of raw sewage, dumped into the river, filled the air.

  “The beautiful Neglinka,” Kurkov said, pointing at the river. “Protector of the Kremlin, carrier of our shit.”

  He raised his finger to point at the northern end of the inner wall then ran it backward, tracing the line of battlements. “That is the enclave of the of the rich. The government men and the nobles who must be protected from us hoi polloi.”

  His finger shifted down the length of the Neglinka River to the southernmost part of the wall. “That is the Kremlin. Home to the Metropolitan, the government, and our most holy empress, Anna. It is, needless to say, heavily fortified. If any of our friends still live, we may find them there.”

  “Unless they were taken by someone else,” Eduard said. “In which case we will never find them at all.”

  “Never say never,” Kurkov said. “Our Kade has returned, and if there is something he cannot find, then it does not exist in this world.”

  “You are too kind,” Kade said. “But Ruxandra is the one who will find them. She is a true hunter. I am merely a scholar.”

  “Who works only at night,” Kurkov said, drily. “Yes, he is only a scholar. And a disgrace to his kind, I might add, given to hunting the easiest prey, and only when it doesn’t discommode him from his reading.”

  He paused and looked to Ruxandra. “You do know what kind he is, yes?”

  The same as me. Ruxandra stopped before the words came out.

  “You should know not to be alone with him,” Kurkov said. “Rather, come and stay with me. Eduard is a fine man, but even I need the touch of a woman once in a while.”

  “Enough of that, you old wolf,” Kade scolded, though he was smiling. “You will eat her up before a single day passes.”

  “How can I resist?” Kurkov said. “She is so young, and so beautiful. And a hunter, you say. What could be more exciting, more rousing? Now tell me, who is hunting you?”

  With the words, the facade of the perverted old man dropped. Curiosity filled his face, and his eyes peered deep into Ruxandra’s.

  “You see,” he continued, his voice far quieter than before, “since we first laid eyes on you, you appear distracted. Even when I turn my not-inconsiderable charms on you, you only half pay attention. Your eyes are always moving, and your nose flares as if you are sniffing for someone. Tell me, does whoever follows smell so bad that you can detect them that way?”

  “Say rather that my nose is strong enough to detect them,” Ruxandra said. “No matter how good or bad they smell.”

  Kurkov’s eyes left Ruxandra and went to Kade for a moment. When they returned, he looked her up and down. “Ah. I am an old fool. Of course you are safe from Kade’s thirst, if not from his rather boring company.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Kade said. “I am hardly boring.”

  Kurkov took Ruxandra’s hand. There was no flirtation in the movement, no sense of teasing or laughter in his face.

  “Please,” he said. “If you are a hunter, if you are good as Kade says, please find them.”

  “I will,” Ruxandra said. “If I can.”

  He nodded and let go of her hand. “Then we bid you good night. For we are day creatures, and tired. See you tomorrow night, if you think it wise?”

  He directed the last words at Kade, who shook his head.

  “I think not,” Kade said. “Rather, we will spend tomorrow night searching and see you the night after.”

  “As you wish.” Kurkov bowed to them both. “Now, let us go, Eduard. I feel the need for sleep.”

  The older man slung a companionable arm around the young man’s slim shoulders, and the two walked off into the night. Ruxandra watched them go.

  “Kurkov is not what he appears,” she said as the two men disappeared into the mess of houses of the nearest neighborhood.

  “No, he is exactly what he appears,” Kade said. “He is also the smartest man I know. He understands things that most men cannot even dream of learning.”

  “You never told them what I am?”

  “No.” Kade shook his head. “I didn’t even tell them what I am. The Alchemist figured it out first but told only me. Then Kurkov figured it out and promptly told the rest of them. Fortunately, they found me too interesting to fight or drive off.”

  Ruxandra turned in a slow circle, sniffing the air. “Do you think they told whoever caught them?”

  “It is possible, if they were tortured.”

  Which is why we’re being followed.

  “She is a brilliant woman, the Alchemist.” He sighed, and in his breath Ruxandra felt the weight of his friends’ loss bearing down on him. “I think you will like her, assuming she lives.”

  “She lives,” Ruxandra said, though she knew it was probably a lie. She linked an arm through his, squeezing his shoulder. “We will find them.”

  Kade looked down at his arm. “This is not Italy. Here they believe a woman should not take a man’s arm unless they are relatives or in love.”

  “Then I’ll make sure I’m not seen.” Ruxandra turned unnoticed. “Now come, take me back to your house.”

  “Immodest woman,” Kade growled, but he patted her hand, vanished from notice, and led her into the night.

  They stayed up late that day, talking while the sun beat down on the roof until they came up with a plan. Ruxandra burrowed under the covers of her bed, and Kade went into his trunk. Both slept until the day passed.

  ***

  When night fell, Ruxandra rose and stripped off her clothing. She would not search just as a vampire this night, not when those who followed them could see through her magic. She would hunt like the animal she had been in the forest, swift, silent, and unhindered. She folded her clothes, laid them on the bed, and stepped out into the next room.

  Inside her, the Beast growled.

  It was a quiet growl, a faint warning that she was growing hungry. It would not be enough to cause a problem. She could wait to hunt until the next night and be perfectly fine.

  She hadn’t had a slipup with the Beast in years.

  A quick intake of breath behind her told her that Kade was awake.

  For no good reason, Ruxandra found her hands moving to cover her breasts and sex as she turned around. If she had been capable of blushing, she suspected her face would be bright red.

  “Avert your gaze, please,” she said.

  “I had forgotten how beautiful your body is.” Kade turned his back. “I will not turn back around until you leave.”

  How can the man make this more awkward even as he stops looking? “I’m going inside the Kremlin. I shall return in a few hours.”

  “You will not,” Kade said. “The Kremlin is vast, and it will take more than one night to search it.”

  She nodded. “I’ll search as many buildings as I can tonight, and go back again tomorrow, if necessary.”

  “Excellent. I will visit the wealthy ones I know in the enclave to see what assistance they can offer.”

  “I will see you in a few hours,” Ruxandra said. “Where shall we meet? Here?”

  “I imagine you will want to dress first. So let us meet at the kabak where we met Kurkov. Try the vodka. It is . . . quite stimulating.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Not that I
need any more stimulation,” Kade teased.

  Ruxandra raised two fingers in insult at his back, turned unnoticed, and stepped outside.

  An orchard stood near the southernmost bridge to the Kremlin, and Ruxandra went there first, fading into the shadows of the trees even though no one could see her. Years of hunting had ingrained in her the need for cover when she hunted. She went to the orchard’s edge and examined the walls across the river and, beyond them, the construction scaffolds that rose around a dozen buildings inside.

  It’s not like I wasn’t naked the first time he saw me.

  And he’s not unhandsome.

  And why in the name of God am I thinking of this right now? Was it seeing the old man and his lover? Not just sex but friendship?

  She slipped across the bridge, gliding between the sentries on either side. A small stone guardhouse stood on the far end of the bridge, twenty feet away from the gatehouse in the wall. A pair of men sat on the guardhouse steps, smoking pipes and talking to each other. She stood beside them, listening for a time, hoping to gain more Russian words from their conversation. One was talking about his desire to buy a farm, she thought, and the other was wishing that drinking were allowed on duty.

  She walked to the wall and looked up. Unlike the rough wooden walls of the city, these were smooth stone and twenty feet high. Ruxandra looked for a place with no sentry, bent her knees, and jumped, clearing the wall with ease.

  She smacked into something hard and fell as heavily as a dropped stone.

  The men at the guardhouse jumped up at the sound of her body hitting the earth. The fall surprised Ruxandra so much that she barely remembered to stay unnoticeable. Her head rang from the impact. She shook it, trying to clear her mind.

  The guardsmen, muskets in hand, walked toward her. They peered suspiciously at the empty ground. Ruxandra rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled away from them, even though they could not see her. The pain faded fast, as always, and she stood up. She walked as far down the wall as the small strip of land allowed. She glared up at the air above it, looking for some sign of what she had hit. She saw nothing.