revolution. That much is history. But there were always rumors that one Romanov survived; the princess Anastasia. She was saved by the Bogatyrs. Since then her children and her children's children have served, and led, the Russian order of knights. Stalin tried his best to wipe them out, and they went into hiding, like us. But after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Bogatyrs became active again, under the leadership of Alexei. Tsar Alexei."
"What's he like?"
Arthur shrugged. "Never met him. But I hear he's a man of honor." He glanced up at the overhead display. "Time to go." He leaned across the table and kissed Billi's cheek. "Good-bye."
The other knights waited. Arthur looked as though there were something else he wanted to say. He fidgeted with his wedding ring. "Listen, Billi. If the worst happens, don't worry about me. Look after yourself." He patted her arm. It was a pathetic gesture, but neither of them knew what else to do. "You'll be fine." Then he turned toward the others.
"Dad, wait."
Billi wanted to say something. She wanted to say she loved him. That despite how things had turned out, it wasn't his fault. She'd chosen this life.
"
Deus vult
, Dad."
Arthur smiled and nodded. "
Deus vult
, Billi."
Chapter 17
"WHAT D'YOU THINK?" ASKED ELAINE AS SHE leaned over Billi to peer out the plane window. They were over Russia and would be landing in the next ten minutes. What did she think? Billi stared out over a world of mutilated white.
They'd left the suburban landscape of southeast England, the blotches of orange-roofed estates and fragmented fields. From up above she'd realized how small, how provincial England was, away from the cluster of skyscrapers and parks of London.
Russia was on a different scale entirely. The plane banked over a maze of monolithic housing blocks that seemed to have been dumped at random over the countryside. A huge power station with four hellhole chimneys belched great clouds of steam into the sky. The snow around it was smeared with soot. Motorways ran like scars across the vast plains, razor-straight and black.
The main roads led to vast expanses of forest, with smaller roads winding to clusters of houses on the edge of a river or a lake.
"Dachas," said Elaine. "Once, all Russians dreamed of was their little hidey-hole in the country. Play peasant during the weekend, then go back to big bad Moscow."
"What do they dream of now?"
"Diamonds and caviar, like the rest of us," Elaine said as she summoned the steward. Her tray table was already overflowing with miniature bottles of Gordon's gin.
Lance appeared. The plane was half empty, giving everyone space to spread out. He and Gwaine were up near the front, while Billi and Elaine had gone to the back.
He grabbed a bottle as it rolled off the small flip-down table. Elaine blushed as he handed it back to her. Was she embarrassed because of her drinking? That would be a first.
Maybe it was Lance. He'd joined the order a week or two after Percy's funeral. The Templars had known about him for years, a loner who stalked
ghuls
and the other Unholy across Europe. Billi had seen him in action a few days after he'd arrived. A trio of blood-drinkers had been feeding on people in a nursing home, safe in the assumption that no one would believe horror stories from the elderly inhabitants. Lance had gone through those undead like a hurricane.
Even Arthur had been impressed. The Frenchman had an easy charm, and his eyepatch gave him piratical glamor. He was old, maybe in his mid-thirties, but handsome in that Continental way, with a long, drooping, Gallic mustache. Billi looked at Elaine again. Red as a tomato.
Nah. It couldn't be.
"I've booked us into a small hotel in Arbat. It's central and discreet," Lance said. "Vaslav will meet us there with our shopping and some information."
"Did he get everything?" Billi asked.
"
Oui
. Short-sword, kukri, punch dagger, and those heavy steel
shuriken
you requested." Lance paused. "And
"What's he like?"
Arthur shrugged. "Never met him. But I hear he's a man of honor." He glanced up at the overhead display. "Time to go." He leaned across the table and kissed Billi's cheek. "Good-bye."
The other knights waited. Arthur looked as though there were something else he wanted to say. He fidgeted with his wedding ring. "Listen, Billi. If the worst happens, don't worry about me. Look after yourself." He patted her arm. It was a pathetic gesture, but neither of them knew what else to do. "You'll be fine." Then he turned toward the others.
"Dad, wait."
Billi wanted to say something. She wanted to say she loved him. That despite how things had turned out, it wasn't his fault. She'd chosen this life.
"
Deus vult
, Dad."
Arthur smiled and nodded. "
Deus vult
, Billi."
Chapter 17
"WHAT D'YOU THINK?" ASKED ELAINE AS SHE leaned over Billi to peer out the plane window. They were over Russia and would be landing in the next ten minutes. What did she think? Billi stared out over a world of mutilated white.
They'd left the suburban landscape of southeast England, the blotches of orange-roofed estates and fragmented fields. From up above she'd realized how small, how provincial England was, away from the cluster of skyscrapers and parks of London.
Russia was on a different scale entirely. The plane banked over a maze of monolithic housing blocks that seemed to have been dumped at random over the countryside. A huge power station with four hellhole chimneys belched great clouds of steam into the sky. The snow around it was smeared with soot. Motorways ran like scars across the vast plains, razor-straight and black.
The main roads led to vast expanses of forest, with smaller roads winding to clusters of houses on the edge of a river or a lake.
"Dachas," said Elaine. "Once, all Russians dreamed of was their little hidey-hole in the country. Play peasant during the weekend, then go back to big bad Moscow."
"What do they dream of now?"
"Diamonds and caviar, like the rest of us," Elaine said as she summoned the steward. Her tray table was already overflowing with miniature bottles of Gordon's gin.
Lance appeared. The plane was half empty, giving everyone space to spread out. He and Gwaine were up near the front, while Billi and Elaine had gone to the back.
He grabbed a bottle as it rolled off the small flip-down table. Elaine blushed as he handed it back to her. Was she embarrassed because of her drinking? That would be a first.
Maybe it was Lance. He'd joined the order a week or two after Percy's funeral. The Templars had known about him for years, a loner who stalked
ghuls
and the other Unholy across Europe. Billi had seen him in action a few days after he'd arrived. A trio of blood-drinkers had been feeding on people in a nursing home, safe in the assumption that no one would believe horror stories from the elderly inhabitants. Lance had gone through those undead like a hurricane.
Even Arthur had been impressed. The Frenchman had an easy charm, and his eyepatch gave him piratical glamor. He was old, maybe in his mid-thirties, but handsome in that Continental way, with a long, drooping, Gallic mustache. Billi looked at Elaine again. Red as a tomato.
Nah. It couldn't be.
"I've booked us into a small hotel in Arbat. It's central and discreet," Lance said. "Vaslav will meet us there with our shopping and some information."
"Did he get everything?" Billi asked.
"
Oui
. Short-sword, kukri, punch dagger, and those heavy steel
shuriken
you requested." Lance paused. "And
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