Vampires of Moscow (Blood Web Chronicles Book 1)

by Caedis Knight

  “I think you have Peter Pan syndrome,” I say. “You know like Michael Jackson or Mariah Carey.”

  “I love Michael Jackson,” he replies, entirely missing my point. “Relax,” he continues. “Just pick the toys that you as a little Witch would have liked.”

  I think about this briefly. I’m on assignment. I should be letting him lead and stop being so difficult. I look around the sparkly aisles. My mother wasn’t into toys. No matter how much I begged, the only presents I received were linked to the occult. Crystals, Tarot cards, little bottles of herbs. Each gift would be given in the vain hope of unlocking magical powers I didn’t possess. And with each present that didn’t work my mother would get angrier with me. It took years to convince her that I didn’t have any skills in any mystical fields - except being able to tell that my mother was lying when she said it didn’t matter that I was so useless.

  I pick up a scientist Barbie. I would have liked this as a kid. I would have liked to believe I could have saved the world, that I could have been something more important than a disappointing minor Witch.

  Sheepishly, I set it in the cart. I can’t believe I’m participating in this madness. I’m rewarded with a smile from Lukka. He calls over a shopkeeper and asks her to recommend toys for younger children. She leads us to a display table.

  “These are our Christmas recommendations,” she beams. I can tell she’s judging us, trying to crack us like a retail riddle. Is Lukka as rich as he looks? Is he as mad? Her gaze sweeps over me, clearly wondering why he would choose someone as normal looking as me.

  She makes doe-eyes at him and bends seductively over a set of building blocks. Seriously? I give her the side-eye.

  “What will you choose?” she says, ignoring me while giving him a look that says that she’s the best toy on offer.

  He smiles widely at her and I bite back a laugh as she spots his pointy teeth and recoils.

  “I’ll take one of everything,” he says.

  Every inch of the car is occupied with toys. Lukka piles two giant plastic bags on top of me and I can barely see any of the snowy freeway. I can still tell he’s speeding though.

  I have no idea where we’re going. Probably to find a bouncy castle or one of those large pits full of colorful balls.

  “Did you really need to buy this many toys?” I groan.

  Lukka cackles and turns up the music without answering me.

  Half an hour later we pull up to a large iron gate. A security guard is sitting inside a wooden booth, gloved hands clasped around a mug of something hot. He sees Lukka and his eyes fill with recognition as he hurries out of the booth, nearly tripping over himself.

  “Nice to see you again, Sir Volkov,” he stutters. “They will be so happy you’re here.”

  Sir? I look at Lukka but his face isn’t giving anything away. On the other side of the gates is a four-story building. It looks more like a school than a home. I don’t feel comfortable about this. Who the hell lives here? And why are we bringing them toys?

  The guard closes the gate behind us and jogs up to the car. He opens my door and takes the bags from me.

  “Sir Volkov!” comes a cry from the building.

  A middle-aged woman is hurrying down the steps from the front door, closing her fur coat mid-stride. She must have seen us pull up from the window as she was getting ready for bed.

  “Sir Volkov,” she says again, beaming. “We were not expecting you.”

  Although her demeanor is friendly, she has the look of a woman who commands respect. A teacher or an official of sorts. Although with Lukka she’s pure docile and coquettish. She’s no Vamp.

  “No problem, Tatiana Vasieliva,” he says with a wink. “This is a spontaneous visit.”

  I like that he uses her second name, a sign of respect. I’m even more surprised when he shows the same respect to the guard.

  “Evgeniy Alexandrovich, there are more bags on the back seat and a little something for you to ward off the cold.”

  The guard throws Tatiana a guilty look, but her smile doesn’t falter and he happily fishes out the bags full of toys from the Lamborghini, along with a bottle of vodka for himself.

  Nodding his thanks to Lukka the old man trails up the stairs behind us, three bags in each hand, as we follow Tatiana inside the building carrying two boxes each. Once inside the warmth of the shabby hall the guard leaves the bags at our feet and Lukka puts his arm around my shoulder.

  “This is my friend, Saskia,” he says.

  Tatiana shakes my hand. “I’m sure the children will be glad to meet her,” she says.

  Children? Lukka has children?

  “Katya!” Tatiana screams into the depths of the hall. A pretty girl emerges and blanches as she sees us.

  “Tea! Bring the cookies and tea. Put them out. Call the children,” Tatiana barks. The girl nods and runs off.

  “You spoil them, Lukka Volkov,” Tatiana cries, nodding at the bags on the floor. “You already brought us early Christmas gifts weeks ago.”

  “It is nothing,” he replies. “You can never have too many presents.”

  I’m still puzzling over what the hell is going on when Tatiana leads us to an adjacent room where a fire is burning in a large hearth. We pass a small moon-faced boy and Lukka ruffles his hair. Then I see more eyes settle on me. Children of all ages are filing past us to the room next door. Dozens of them with badly cut hair and serious expressions on their faces. Is this a school?

  As we enter the room all the children begin to crowd around us. They know Lukka. More than that, they love Lukka. Some of them hug him excitedly, others cling to the wall giving him a shy hesitant smile. But most of them are watching me, eyes cold with mistrust.

  “They’re orphans,” he whispers to me in English, so the children don’t understand him. “I’m the…what is the word? Patron? Yes, the patron of this orphanage.”

  My breath hitches and my cold cheeks heat up with shame. I’d assumed the worst of him, when the truth was staring me right in the face. Lukka bought toys for the orphans he helps, because he knows what it is to be young, scared, and alone.

  Some Verity Witch I am.

  I can’t imagine what face I’m making, but Lukka kisses me gently on the forehead then jumps up and shouts, “I have toys for everyone! Who loves toys?”

  Over forty children start to squeal and shout and wave their hands out as Lukka crouches on the floor and hands out toy after toy to beaming children. I watch him give the scientist Barbie doll I chose to a small girl with thick black hair.

  “I want to be a doctor when I grow up,” she says with a lisp, her big eyes staring up at Lukka. “Then I can fix diseases like the one my Mama had. I can save people.”

  “And what a great doctor you will make, Masha!” Lukka exclaims. She beams at him, cradling her new doll.

  I blink away tears as Lukka sits cross-legged on the floor. The little girl scrambles onto his lap and settles there like he’s Santa, asking him to open the packaging and chattering away about all the things her new doll can do.

  I can’t stop staring. This isn’t the same monster who I saw tear out the windpipe of three men with a blunt fish knife. This isn’t the dangerous clown I took him for.

  He notices me staring and gives me a sad smile that says ‘I told you I’d show you the real Moscow.’

  Lukka and I spend an hour handing out gifts and playing with the children, while Tatiana clucks around him offering tea and biscuits and thanking him profusely. The guilt of lying to both brothers about who I am eats away at my conscience after they’ve both shared so much of their true selves with me.

  Eventually, Tatiana announces the children must get back to bed and she ushers them out of the room, each child clutching a new toy to their chest.

  “You did a good thing,” I whisper in Russian.

  “I know what it is to not have parents,” Lukka replies. He doesn’t know I’ve seen his childhood home. That I know he murdered his abusive father.

  �
��My mother was a good woman but a bad mother. When Konstantin and I were turned we went back home and I flipped and attacked my father. He was bad to the core. A few days later I heard our mother was dead. Konstantin says she killed herself because of what we became. It was my fault we got turned, and my fault she died. My stupidity killed us all.” He sighs and looks down at his empty hands. I’m stunned into silence. “It’s too late to save her...but at least I can help these children.”

  I take a deep breath. Konstantin had said his mother was dead but he didn’t mention how. The way he talked about the woman it was as if neither of them cared about her anymore. But Lukka did. Still does. He’s still a boy who needs love...just like these children.

  I blink away tears and reach for my coat, but his hand shoots out and rests on mine.

  “Not so fast,” he says in a quiet voice. “I have a little job for you. Please.”

  The Volkov’s and their ‘little jobs’. I nod and he grins, leading us to the large sofa by the fireplace. We sit in silence and I have a strange desire to rest my head on his shoulder and tell him I know about his childhood, about his pain, and that he’s not the beast his brother has trained him to be. Then I think about the blood he needs to feed on to survive. Lukka isn’t a man, he’s a Vampire. He can cuddle all the kids he wants – but he’s still a killer.

  “What do you need from me?” I ask him.

  He takes my hand and shrugs with one shoulder. It’s not like him to be hesitant. He looks worried.

  “I think Tatiana is in trouble. Financially. I need you to tell me if she’s telling me the truth when we speak shortly. I don’t trust the owners of this place.”

  “Why?”

  “I do more than bring toys. I have programs in place for education, clothing, food...but I’m not seeing many improvements.”

  “You want me to squeeze your hand if she lies?” I ask, holding up his hand in mine.

  “You can, if you want,” he says quietly. “Or you can just tell me in the car.” I go to extricate my hand from his, but he holds it tighter. And that’s how Tatiana finds us a few minutes later, sitting on her couch hand in hand like a normal couple.

  “Oh, you’re still here?” she exclaims from the hallway. “Did I forget something? Do you need anything?”

  Lukka and I stand as she enters the room and he gestures for her to sit down.

  “We just wanted to thank you,” he says.

  “Me?” she cries, both hands fluttering to her chest. “It is you, Sir Volkov, and your wonderful lady friend we should be thanking. So kind. So very kind.”

  She dabs at her eyes and more guilt surges through every pore of my body. I’m pretending to like this man. This Vamp. I’m pretending to be close to the brothers. When the only reason I’m in this country is to investigate murders and get to the bottom of their corrupt businesses. Then I’m going to spread their private lives anonymously across the global Para Blood Web. And there’s me thinking they are the parasites.

  “Tatiana Vasieliva,” Lukka says gently. “I wanted to talk to you about finances.”

  Her face drops and I notice her hands shake a little in her lap.

  “You want to cease supporting us?”

  “No! Not at all. I just want to know that my money is reaching you. Are the children being looked after?”

  She nods. I feel him tensing beside me.

  “Everything is as it should be,” she says.

  “So, you are all treated well? By the owners?”

  She nods again, her smile shaky on her lips. She must be wondering why the hell we’re sitting there interrogating her.

  “Good,” he says. “That’s good. But if you ever feel like something is wrong, or you have any problems, you come to me. OK?”

  She nods, then with some effort gets to her feet and throws her arms around Lukka.

  “You are our saint,” she says, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “I’m far from a saint,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

  He’s never said a truer word.

  Back in the car it’s my turn to be interrogated.

  “Was she lying?” His gaze is level as he stares at the orphanage through the windscreen. Murder lingers in his pale eyes, waiting to be unleashed like a Siberian tiger. No more benevolent Santa.

  “No,” I whisper. “Everything she said was true.”

  And just like that his mood shifts. He gives me a wild grin and pulls out of the parking lot, waiving to the guard as he goes.

  “I wish I ran that place myself. There is so much corruption, it’s nearly impossible to control where the money goes,” he shouts over the hum of the engine as he floors the gas. “I worry my money doesn’t reach the kids. Or worse, once those kids are released at sixteen I worry that something will happen to them. I’d offer them work at the club or the work sites, but neither are safe places for young people.”

  He’s speaking all the truths tonight.

  “What would you have done if the owners had been pocketing your contributions?” I ask.

  He smiles at me, a smile as sharp as barbed wire.

  “Sometimes things can be solved with cash, and other times…” He opens his mouth a little and I swallow as his fangs slowly begin to grow. “Sometimes you need to use something a little more effective.”

  I suppress a shiver as he runs his tongue over one incisor, then shrinks them back again and turns the volume of the radio to full.

  I sit quietly, surprised at my disappointment that this ended up being a night out with a goal. It’s nice to be nice, but when he promised me a good time it wasn’t this I had in mind.

  I mentally slap myself. I need to stop looking at my time with the brothers in that way. I’m on an assignment. I should be happy I’m learning more about Lukka. Learning so I can get the dirt on him, on Konstantin and on their potentially murderous rivals.

  But the problem is, everything I learn about Lukka just makes me like him more.

  “That’s my good deed done for tonight,” he shouts over the music. “Now it’s time we had some real fun. You ready, little Witch?”

  My stomach flutters and I can’t tell if it’s full of butterflies or winged fear.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lukka drives us out of the city towards an industrial part of town that I’ve never seen before. There’s nothing here but empty lots and a dark ominous warehouse. Its cracked windows glisten in the light of the full moon like broken teeth, and dark vines strangle its exterior.

  There’s definitely no fun to be had here.

  Lukka grabs me by the hand – his own so much colder and stronger than his brother’s – and leads me to the side of the building. There’s a door there, but it’s been cleverly hidden. Doors that are hard to see rarely have anything good behind them.

  Lukka knocks three times and a metal slit slides open, black eyes fixing on us. Completely black eyes. I’ve read about eyes like this on the Blood Web, but I’ve never seen them myself. Whoever is behind that door is a Werewolf. A mature one.

  My breath hitches with a light yelp as I take a panicked stumble backward. A Werewolf bite can’t kill a Witch like they can a human, but they can turn us. They also kill the biter and send us mad, just like the bite my father received that led to his suicide. I realize with horror that Lukka and I have that in common.

  In a second his hand is on my back, cold, heavy and reassuring.

  If Lukka knew who my mother was, he’d also know who my father was and how he’d died. Which would explain why I’m terrified of Werewolves. But I can’t tell him any of that, so I’ll just have to tough this one out.

  “Don’t worry, little Witch,” Lukka says, his lips close to my ear. “If anyone tries to touch you tonight, they will die.”

  My tough act is clearly not that convincing. I take a deep breath as the door swings open and we step inside. It’s a comfort to know that whoever is behind this door can never be scarier than the man protecting me. The Werewolf bouncer melts into the shadows
and we descend a twisting flight of stairs leading to the underground belly of the warehouse.

  “It’s nice,” I say shyly, his hand still in mine. “What you do for the orphans.”

  Lukka gives my hand a squeeze. “Everyone needs someone to look out for them. A protector.”

  That’s what Konstantin has always been for him. His protector. The toy bringer.

  We reach the bottom of the stairs, round a corner, and suddenly the air around us starts to shimmer and music explodes like it’s been trapped in an invisible bubble. This warehouse must have been bewitched; holding in the sound to avoid unwelcome humans who would never make it out of here in one piece.

  I must look shocked because Lukka is laughing at me over his shoulder. A wide smile is plastered over his flawless face as he guides me deeper into the club and past throngs of people dancing. Tiny fairy lights twinkle above us and at first I presume they’re strung up Christmas lights, then I realize they’re bewitched fireflies flying in formation. These kinds of Witch party tricks are expensive. The only time I’ve witnessed such decadence was at an MA ball Mikayla once dragged me to in Spain. I’ve never seen anything like this with the Para community in New York, or anywhere else to be honest.

  God, I seriously hope I don’t recognize any Witches here that might know my mother, because explaining what I’m doing in Russia hand-in-hand with a millionaire Vamp would have my mom coming on the next plane quicker than a Werewolf at a full moon orgy.

  A girl is dancing on a podium, gyrating her lithe body to the music. Her face flickers and twists from human to fox to human again. She reminds me of the girls at the Black Rabbit. Her eyes glow green, and her ears extend and turn red before going back to normal again, but her body never fully shifts. She spots Lukka pushing us through the crowd and winks at him with familiarity. Something stirs in my stomach. Is this where he finds his dancers?

  The nightclub is a large dark space filled with strobe lighting, fairy lights and small stages. Along one end is a bar, manned by men with dry green skin and huge ears like Gremlins having a bad day – Goblins. They love the cold. I’ve had a few experiences with these creatures, but none of them good. I’d certainly not choose them to serve drinks when most can’t even see over the bar. I’m relieved to see a couple of hot women walking around with trays of drinks too. Much nicer to look at, plus it means I won’t have to go near the bar.