Legacy in Blood (Book 1 of The Begotten of Old Series) by Masha Dark Page B

different name, a name that was as ancient and terrible as he himself was.
    The nostrils of the fiend inflated as he inhaled. Then he exhaled noisily, not for a moment lessening his pace. He smelled iron and rubber. After several more meters a car appeared. A new sports car stood on the roadside by the entrance to a small copse of trees. The scent of heated flesh hit his nostrils – the humans inside the vehicle were having sex. This meant he would have two victims tonight. The lips of the monster expanded into a mischievous, malformed grin. Well, they’d meet death at the peak of bliss.
    2.
     
    Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum.
    Whoever desires peace, let him prepare for war.
     
    Just as Marisa expected, she was awake all night. She understood full well that the likelihood that Volsky’s men would call her in the middle of the night to announce the results of the test was near zero. Yet for all that, she could not fall asleep. In addition her appetite was running so wild that at six in the morning she had to run to the supermarket and restock her groceries. At seven a full breakfast was ready: eggs, sausages and a couple of cheese sandwiches. Tucking away at the sunny side-up eggs and thinking about the small, black address book, Marisa turned on the television and saw that one of the channels was showing a beloved Russian film of her youth, Mary Poppins, Goodbye!
    “People all around are getting older, but still I do not age,” gaily sang the heroine of the film.
    When she was eight Marisa adored this song and always sang along with it, regardless of her complete lack of vocal talent. But this morning she chewed her breakfast with a scowl and thought about how strange that phrase sounded to her right now. ‘Still I do not age’ – how strange! What, was the lady a vampire?
    The ringing of the telephone did not startle Marisa at all. She quickly grabbed the phone sitting next to her.
    “Hi there. The news I’ve got is going to make you so happy,” Arvid said briskly. “The skin is not human, but calfskin, but that’s not important. There was a ripped-out first page on which someone had written an address. But the writing bled through onto the next page and we can read it. Of course, we had to separate the overwriting from the actual writing on the page – there were a bunch of addresses there – and while we determined which one of them we needed…”
    “Get on with it – where are they?” Marisa impatiently interrupted him.
    “It’s the suburbs again,” Arvid declared and instantly added: “I bet we’ll find at least two of these fucking vampires there.”
    “How do you figure?” asked Marisa, scarcely able to suppress the joyously nervous thrill that rushed through her body. “In theory, the thing could belong to a victim.”
    “It could,” agreed Arvid. “They often have fetishists and collectors among them. But not this time.”
    “Give me the details!”
    “I’m getting there,” replied the man on the other end of the phone. “Well, first of all, that little book is ancient…”
    “That tells us nothing,” Marisa shot back.
    “Secondly,” Arvid continued imperturbably, “the handwriting is the same throughout – our graphologist confirmed it. And thirdly, there are many crossed out numbers, some of which haven’t existed for at least seventy years.”
    “Pre-war numbers?” Marisa asked.
    “Even better,” said Arvid. “Right back to the beginning of the Twentieth Century.”
    “Vampire,” said Marisa with glee, and then she added seriously: “I’m coming in.”
    “We’ll wait for you,” replied Arvid.
    Marisa glanced at the framed photograph of Ruslan that stood on her bureau. Then she closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head, trying to drive unnecessary images from her head. The day before yesterday those creatures had managed to escape her. But today at least one of them would get what was coming to it.
    Vasilisa awoke at dawn in an evil frame of mind.