The barman shakes his head. “It’s not like that. Konstantin keeps the girls safe. Strict rules are in place.”
Well, at least there’s that. The bear-like bouncer opens a door beside a stage. How many secret hallways are there in this church? Three Vamps stand and follow the Shifters through the doorway. I want to follow too. I need to see what they’re up to.
But I can’t, not on my first night.
The monkey mixologist looks over at me and raises his eyebrows.
“Believe me, you don’t want to see the Blood Bunny room,” he says.
“Why not?” says a smooth voice behind me.
I swing around and find myself nose to nose with Konstantin.
“Nothing, Boss. Apologies,” the barman mumbles, putting down the glass.
“Mo, you're dismissed,” Konstantin drawls.
The Shifter puts down the glass he’s been polishing for ten minutes and shuffles away.
“My name is Brandy by the way!” I call after him.
“Oh, is it now,” Konstantin smiles lightly as if it’s our inside joke. He looks me up and down, smiling at the sight of me in the dress he chose. “I think you may enjoy the Blood Bunny room, Saskia,” he adds quietly. It sounds like a threat.
“Where have you and Lukka been all night?”
He doesn’t answer me. “Come,” he says, then turns around before I have time to say anything. I trot behind him like the good little spy Witch I am.
“Sit,” he says, pointing at a chair once we are inside his office.
I do as I’m told, then tug at the hem of my dress as it rises so far up my thighs I’m practically flashing him. Not that Konstantin seems to notice. I look around, expecting his brother to appear, but Lukka isn’t here. I should feel relieved I only have one to contend with, not two.
“What have you learned tonight?” he asks, shuffling some papers on his desk without looking at me. Clearly the attack from earlier is old news now, although I’m curious as to what he did with the Vamp whose neck he snapped in two.
I clear my throat.
What have I learned? That this club is full of Paras, but other than crooked Vamps getting cheap thrills, and their questionable idea of dinnertime, I have nothing to go on.
“Those Blood Bunnies...”
His head whips up. “They aren’t your business.” Konstantin is by my side in a second, the light breeze from his Vamp speed making the papers on his desk flutter to the ground. “I hired you to listen and report,” he says, placing a hand on both armrests and looming over me. “Not to have opinions on my business practice. So, what did you hear?”
I take a deep breath but struggle to get any air into my lungs.
“I haven’t learned anything, “I stammer. “I listened, I spoke to a few groups, I collected glasses. No one mentioned you or your brother.”
He breathes out through his nose and pushes his hair back.
“You should probably know there have been a few...deaths...in my company lately. Bodies, drained of blood, have been appearing on my construction sites. I don’t like it. I need you to find out who’s behind them.”
I pretend to be shocked. But, well, I am shocked. I didn’t expect him to tell me this. He’s not lying either.
“Come back tomorrow. Same time,” he says, not waiting for my reaction. “I want you here every night until you discover who’s betraying me and who’s killing my workers. As soon as the regulars get used to seeing your face they will be less guarded.”
Konstantin takes off his jacket, a signal that he’s done for the night and business is over. The white button-down beneath clings to the contours of his muscly arms and I think back to him dancing - all lithe limbs and a glistening torso that rippled as he leaped through the air.
The weird thing is I’m a little disappointed I’ve let him down. As if Konstantin is really my boss and this is my real job. I think of Jackson back in New York waiting to hear how I’m getting on.
I make a quick calculation and work out that 6 am Moscow time is 11 pm back home. Jackson is normally in the office by six every morning, so he’s probably asleep already. Maybe I’ll just text him.
Konstantin is looking at me and I realize I’ve been standing here for a full minute as if waiting for instructions.
“Shall I wear the same dress tomorrow?” I ask him.
He makes an exasperated face and shakes his head.
“You think our girls wear the same outfit twice? Leave the outfits to me. Just be here tomorrow and get me the information I need.”
I nod, tempted to curtsey sarcastically at the megalomaniac. His lips twitch to one side showing a glimpse of his oversized canines as if he’s just read my mind.
Chapter Ten
No matter how many times I step outside in this country, the cold never ceases to shock me. I exit the club and the icy air hits me like a sledgehammer to the face leaving me with bright red slap marks on my cheeks. I push my hat down over my ears and pull my scarf up to cover my nose. All that’s exposed are my eyeballs and they feel like frozen marbles ready to roll right out of my head.
My fingers feel like icicles as I quickly type out a message to Jackson.
Hey boss. Freezing my ass out here for you, you owe me! Got a few leads, nothing concrete yet. Though I think I may have a bad case of vaginal frostbite, so The Chronicle will need to upgrade my insurance. I’ll keep you posted about the story (not my vag.)
Jackson texts me back with a screenshot of the dictionary definition of the word ‘decorum’.
I contemplate a snarky comment when I hear a shout in the distance. It’s three of the Vamps that were in the club earlier, the ones who’d stayed on to live feed. I screw up my nose at the thought of what happened after these Vamps had had their fill. Where is the rest of the group? Is there a frenzied blood-soaked fuck-fest going on in one of the club’s private rooms right now?
One of the suited men is shouting at someone leaving the club. A girl.
I squint into the darkness, trying to make out if it’s one of the dancers.
“Why don’t you hop on over here?” the guy is shouting out at her.
I slink back into the shadows where he can’t see me. This is my job, I tell myself, to watch and report. Not get involved.
The girl ignores him and reaches in her purse for something. I see the orange glow of a cigarette float in the darkness as she brings it up to her lips. The guy’s voice is getting closer.
“I saw the way you moved in there,” he slurs. “How about we go back and we have some private time?”
“I’m not a Blood Bunny. I’m just a dancer,” she says.
“I know what I saw.”
There’s a scuffle, the sound of someone being pushed against the wall, and a yelp. I’m not sure if it comes from him or her. I move closer. The amber glow of the cigarette is on the ground now and the man is shouting.
“You fucking whore!” he cries. “I’ll catch you!”
He’s reaching around on the ground, stumbling drunkenly. I can’t see the girl anymore and I can’t tell what he’s looking for so low down on the ground - then something warm and soft brushes against my legs. A rabbit. What the hell is a rabbit doing outside a church in Moscow at the crack of dawn?
I scoop down, pick it up, and walk as quietly as I can away from the church and down a side road.
“Leave the stupid bitch!” one of the men is shouting at the drunk Vamp. “The sun’s about to come up. She’s not worth the risk.”
I cradle the rabbit closer to my chest and in the light of a doorway I hold the animal so we’re nose to nose.
“What have we got here?” I ask in Russian. “Are you someone’s pet?”
Then I remember the first dancer I saw, the one with the soft dark ears that flickered for a second above her head. I switch to Kazakh. “Or maybe you’re a very talented dancer who also happens to be a Shifter bunny?”
The rabbit’s back legs start to pound furiously against my chest. I place her c
arefully on the pavement, expecting her to scamper off, but she doesn’t. She huddles close to the corner of the doorway and slowly starts to grow and morph.
I know plenty about Shifters. The daughter of any Witch is taught about them as part of her studies, and with my mother on the board of the Mage Association I’ve seen a lot of strange things growing up. I mean, I even had a fight with a lizard Shifter in Venice Beach once. But I’ve only seen a full shift a handful of times. The change is fast and silent, and what always surprises me is that the clothes and shoes return too.
I was right.
“Hi Ansel,” I beam at her. It’s the same girl who was on her phone back in the club’s changing rooms. The one named after honey.
She fumbles into her purse with a shaking hand and pulls out a cigarette. She doesn’t say a word until she’s lit it and taken three deep drags.
“Thank you,” she says in Kazakh. “That Vamp has been after me for days. I was distracted at the pole today, so he must have seen my ears. Should have known that would have excited the creep.”
I raise my eyebrows but don’t reply.
“You don’t look like you’re from Kazakhstan,” she says.
“I’m not. I’m from the US,” I reply. “But I speak a little.”
Not a complete lie.
She nods. “Cold night, isn’t it?”
When the fuck isn’t it, in this snow globe of a city?
I’m glad to see she’s wearing sneakers and jeans under her thick coat. She reaches inside her purse again and pulls out a bunch of sweaty crumpled rubles. Some bills are green and purple, others of higher denominations are blue and dark orange.
“I owe you,” she adds. “For helping me. You work at the club, right?”
She’s pointing at the rabbit pendant around my neck. She’s wearing an identical one.
“Yeah, I’m new,” I say, stifling a yawn. I really need to get to bed, but at the same time this is my real job. Talking to people. Finding stuff out. “I meet and greet customers.”
She grimaces, as if my job sounds way worse than hers, and then she links her arm through mine.
“Come on. Let me buy you breakfast. I was meant to meet my boyfriend but...long story. This place I know does amazing syrniki.”
My stomach grumbles at the mention of cottage cheese pancakes. When was the last time I ate?
She pulls a bobble hat out of her coat pocket and pulls it over her head. It has a pink pompom on the top which wobbles as we walk. She’s nothing like the girl I saw in the club, twirling regally around a pole. She looks timid and soft.
I smile at her, and she smiles back at me.
The twenty-four-hour cafe is brightly lit, warm and kitschy, with labeled clocks all around the room showing you that it’s always breakfast time somewhere in the world. We head to a table in the corner.
“Your name is Ansel, right?” I say. “I heard you talking to your boyfriend earlier.”
The mention of her boyfriend lights up her whole face. Looks like I’ve found my conversation starter.
“I thought you were meeting your boyfriend for breakfast?”
She shrugs. “He canceled. He works in construction and had to go to work early.”
I let out a whistle. “Before six in the morning?!”
“Yup,” she nods. “The site is open the same number of hours as this cafe.” She laughs softly. “If the Volkovs could add an extra hour to the day they would. They work their staff like horses.”
So, the boy she was talking to also works for Vamps. I wonder if he knows.
“Does your brother work for the Volkovs too?”
“Yes. My boyfriend Maxim, and my brother Arman, are both employed by KLV Constructions.”
I’ve done my research on all of the Volkov’s businesses. The brothers founded KLV four years ago, just after they turned, and it’s one of Moscow’s fastest-growing construction companies. The site nearest to the club is also where the latest drained body was found.
“KLV is why we came to Moscow,” Ansel adds. “Their company is famous in my village because they take workers without papers. I wanted to come but my brother didn’t want me to. Then I found out on the Blood Web that the Black Rabbit takes care of Shifters.”
“Is your whole family Shifter?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“No. Just me. Maxim doesn’t even know I’m not human. He has no idea he works for Paras.”
“The three of you came together? You, your brother and Maxim?”
She nods and looks down, scanning the menu on the table.
“Our mother is old and sick. She needs treatment. We were desperate for money to send her. KLV pay cash in hand, they are always hiring, so we knew it would be worth the risk.”
A sour-faced waitress is waiting to take our order and I let Ansel order for me. The food arrives and Ansel’s face relaxes as she explains what the best dishes are. I delve into the syrniki covered in sour cream and blackberry jam.
“What does your brother think of the Volkovs?” I ask, my cheeks bulging with food. I hope I sound casual.
She swallows.
“Aside from the hours, they’re good employers,” she says. “They are always feeding the men, making sure they never go hungry.”
I wait. No ping.
“Maxim and my brother are very happy there.”
There’s the ping. The lie. Interesting.
I push a bit harder, leaning in close and dropping my voice to a whisper. “I heard one of the clients in the Black Rabbit say that a construction worker had been found dead the other day.”
Ansel’s forkful of pancake stops halfway up to her mouth.
“You didn’t know?” I add.
She takes a while to answer, chewing her breakfast slowly.
“Maxim, my boyfriend, mentioned something.”
I sit up, struggling not to look too eager. This is the first time I’ve gathered any kind of information for my story.
“What did he mention?” I ask.
Ansel looks down. “It’s probably nothing. He said not to tell anyone, but…” She absentmindedly moves her food around her plate with her fork. “A few of Maxim’s colleagues have disappeared lately. I know it’s normal for us immigrants to go back and forth, some of us even end up in jail, but these were his friends. They wouldn't have left without saying goodbye.” She shrugs. “I told him not to worry, but it has put Maxim and my brother on edge.”
This is the most she has spoken since we left the club.
“On edge, how so?”
Ansel shrugs. “He keeps trying to snoop around and find out more. I told him he needs to chill, mind his own business.”
Ping.
That’s the first lie. But it’s not a very significant one. She probably hasn’t told him to chill and is lying to backtrack. Or maybe she doesn’t want me telling our bosses she doesn’t trust them.
“I’ve been wondering… What are you doing at the Black Rabbit?” she asks. “You don’t dance or work behind the bar.”
She picks up the carafe and pours milk over a small bowl of buckwheat. Weird.
“I needed a job and Konstantin gave me one. I needed to... umm... get away from my life back home.”
“I know what that’s like.” She smiles at me, cradling her drink, her hands tightening around her tea glass holder which I’ve noticed is embossed with Soviet astronauts.
“Sorry if this sounds a bit rude, but you smell kind of strange,” she says. “It’s my Shifter senses. You know, scent is a big deal to us.”
God, again with the smell! Shifters never get tired of talking about our scent, they’d probably sniff each other’s butts if it wasn’t deemed socially unacceptable. I swear I’ve seen Jackson take a secret whiff of my hair and recoil.
“Not in a bad way!” she adds, looking mortified at my silence. “Your smell is good. Like apple juice and cinnamon. I was just wondering why.”
Oh. I’ve never had anyone describe my scent nicely before.
It certainly doesn’t align with what Paranormals have said to me in the past. She’s probably just being kind.
“I’m a Witch,” I tell her. What’s the point in hiding it when I work in a club full of Paras?
Ansel looks excited.
“Oh my god! What are your powers?”
Here we go. “I can tell lies from the truth,” I say reluctantly, waiting for the disappointment that usually floods people’s faces when I tell them about my meager abilities.
Ansel, however, looks even more excited than before. “That’s so cool! You'd be a hit in my village. We had one local who called herself a Brew Witch, but I think she was a fake. Her concoctions never helped the local girls grow prettier.”
I laugh. “Were you the only Para in your village?”
“My grandad was like me before he died, but I don’t know of any others.”
Ansel tells me more about her grandparents and her small village in Kazakhstan. She tells me she hates the Russian cold and can’t wait until her and Maxim have made enough money to move back and get an apartment.
We’ve nearly finished our breakfast when my new friend checks her phone.
“I have to go. Sorry. But don’t rush on my behalf. Stay and finish your breakfast.”
She leaves money on the table and walks off before I have a chance to ask her anything else, but as she pulls the door open she turns and waves at me.
“See you tonight!” Her smile is infectious.
“See you!”
A flurry of snow has started outside. I watch her walk away, hands cradling my own honeyed sea buckthorn tea. It’s kind of nice to have a friend - it’s been a long time since I gossiped with another girl. I tell myself it's just for my story, that Ansel isn’t a real friend, except it feels real.
I smile at my reflection in the frosty glass and polish off the last of the syrniki. I have a lead. I have a friend.
And just like that, I’ve finally found some warmth in the cold.
Chapter Eleven
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lukka asks, spinning around on a barstool beside me.
I’ve been working at the club for four days now. Every evening I report back to Konstantin, and while hardly looking at me he tells me I’m not trying hard enough and to get back out there. All I’ve discovered so far is that his so-called business associates are creepy as hell, and as nice as they seem to the brothers’ faces the Volkov’s aren’t trusted by anyone. When I tell Konstantin that he smiles and nods, as if upsetting people is his favorite hobby.
Vampires of Moscow (Blood Web Chronicles Book 1) Page 7