Rise of the Firebird (29 page)

“Why are you frowning,
mamasha
? This is a victory,” Vasilli passed her the crystal glass and they chinked them together.

“I’m frowning because of that stupid Anyanka. I wish you would’ve killed her when you had the chance.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“She was supposed to die after you killed that pet of hers. Something went wrong.”

“You didn’t have your full power back. There’s no way she could confront you now and live,” he soothed.

Yanka drank her vodka and sat down on a plush velvet chaise lounge. Vasilli brought the decanter with him and sat beside her. “What aren’t you telling me, Yanka? What happened with Baba Yaga the other night? You still haven’t told me about it, which means something went wrong,” Vasilli said with a touch of frustration in his voice. Her son was no fool but she sometimes wished he wasn’t so clever.

“It didn’t go wrong…as such. I made some excellent moves and they will be playing out. Tonight with Barsukov was one of them,” Yanka said vaguely.

“Was that why you sent me to Skazki to see that the old ones rose? Did you think they wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t sure,” she admitted as she drank what was left in her glass. “A new player appeared on the board so I had to be sure what we had already played would be carried out.”

“A new player? But there hasn’t been a new player for centuries, not since you…” Vasilli’s black eyes shone with anger, “Do
not
tell me it is Anyanka.” Yanka didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything she could say. “Why didn’t you tell me!” he roared and hurled the decanter at the nearest wall.

“Because you didn’t need to know!
She
doesn’t even know, and therefore it should be no concern of yours.”

“No concern? If she has enough power to be a player, it means she has enough power to destroy me already! How could you let this happen?”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Yanka got to her feet. “When we met her in the Americas, she didn’t have that kind of power. How she acquired it so quickly I don’t know, but chances are, she doesn’t even know she has it herself.”

“The point is, she has it now,” Vasilli ran his hands through his hair. “What do we do to stop this?”

“You think I’m completely stupid? Why do you think I have been providing you with so many people to kill and take their magic? I was trying to get
you
on the board, and I will, my son, don’t worry about that. The game can’t continue without her and she has no idea about it which gives us time to get you a place.” She touched his cheek lightly and he flinched.

“What if she sides with Baba Yaga in the mean time? Then we are fucked.”

“Don’t be dramatic. She had enough sense not to side with Baba Yaga to begin with. Her opinions won’t have changed even with her hate of me.”

“What about her counterpart Vasya Melenko?”

“She is Illumination. Anya will not side with them either, not after she destroyed their facility.”

“They would want Aramis and she won’t hand him over for all the worlds,” Vasilli pointed out. Yanka frowned, clicked her fingers and a
domovoii
appeared with more vodka, the broken crystal and liquid cleaned quicker than the eye could follow. She refilled her glass.

“I don’t understand her attachment to him. I know how much power he has, he couldn’t even put an
elvianth
on with me. There’s no way he could have given Anya her new power or progressed it to such a level.”

“There must be someone else helping her. It might be wise to find out who, don’t you think? We don’t need any more fucking surprises.”

“It doesn’t matter. Events are in motion that she cannot stop.”

“You underestimate her like I did. If I’d known how much trouble she was going to cause me, I would’ve killed her the moment I met her.”

“She must be getting teaching from someone else and could only be fucking Aramis.”

“She isn’t you, mother, and she certainly isn’t fucking Aramis.”

“Oh, please, you’re a man, you don’t know these things.”

“She’d never choose Aramis over Yvan.”

“You and Baba Yaga put far too much stock in Yvan. Your little brother isn’t great or powerful.”

“He’s pathetically honourable though, and she protected him from the moment he hatched. There’s a bond there that you can’t deny or overlook. She controls Yvan, she controls the firebird.”

“We need to get you on the board before she works out how to use the firebird’s magic. I will call those whose magic will benefit you the most.”

Silvian inspected the new furnishings in his recently acquired Queen Anne. The owners had the sudden desire to sell when Silvian approached them with a winning smile and a healthy touch of magic.

The furniture had been tacky and Silvian had instantly hired workmen to get rid of the lot. Cerise, who knew all the finest antique dealers in town, had gone shopping and fitted out the house in a grand style that appealed to Silvian immensely. She needed to be distracted from her grief for Trajan, and Silvian was happy to let her do all the hunting and buying.

The upstairs master bedroom led out onto a fine balcony with black wrought iron fencing, so loved by the city. He could also see the back of Fox’s house and the property around it. This vantage point allowed him to see anybody lurking about her property, although he was positive she had her own surveillance systems established. She was impossibly clever for one so young. It was refreshing.

As if summoned, Fox appeared out of her back kitchen door and spotted him. He waved. She scowled and walked back in the house. Silvian chuckled. Despite her annoyance at now being his neighbour, he could see that he was growing on her. She had dumped a box of requested gear on his doorstep that morning and he had sent her flowers thanking her. They would work together for the greater good that Isabelle kept harping on about.

Isabelle had slipped easily into the role of fearless leader and Silvian was relieved that they hadn’t looked to him for answers. At the moment, he was watching the media and any lines of communication he could get access to. He had quite the file on Vasya Melenko and it was growing.

Everyone had opted out of calling Søren, so the thankless task had fallen to him. Silvian strolled back inside and made himself a Long Island Ice Tea to buy himself some time before he pulled out his phone and rang the number that Aramis had left with Harley. The Álfr weren’t exactly technophobes but it wasn’t something that they enjoyed, which is why he was surprised Søren answered after two rings.

“What?” came his unmistakable deep voice.

“
Sæll
Søren,” Silvian greeted calmly. He knew better than to try to be charming with Aramis’s surly twin.

There was a long silence before he finally answered. “Silvian, what do you want?”

“To give you information. Vasya Melenko, have you heard of her?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know who she really is?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Baba Yaga.” Silvian’s experience with the Álfr tongue wasn’t what it used to be, but Søren was definitely cursing.

“Do you think Ruthann knows?” he asked finally.

“You’re in a better position to ask him than myself. Aramis told me that the Álfr helped her capture Yanka, so we can assume that he does.”

“I wouldn’t be quick to make that assumption,” snapped Søren. “They aren’t allies though she has visited here before. We are neutral.”

“You’d want to check. You might be his favourite
Dauđi Dómr
but that doesn’t mean he’s going to tell you everything.”

“I never said that he did.”

“Can you get a message to Aramis about this please?” Silvian asked. “Anya needs to know.”

“She won’t take this well.”

“Anya hates both the Illumination and the Darkness. She will take it fine. Why are you so concerned?”

“I’m not.”

“It sounds like you are.”

“I don’t worry after
Elenya
. She’s the only one of them with any sense.”

“High praise coming for you.”

“Was there anything else?”

“No, but it’s been good talking to you, Søren. It has been too long since I’ve heard your frightening timbre.”

“And you still sound like a flamboyant dandy.”

“Guilty as charged. Please let me know if you learn anything that could be of use.”

“I will.
Góðan aptan.
” The line went dead and Silvian placed his phone on the black and white marble counter top.

“That sounded like it went well,” Fox said from the kitchen door.

“How did you get in here?” he demanded. She rolled her eyes.

“Your security is a bit shit. It wasn’t hard.”

“Long Island Ice Tea?” He held up the jug invitingly.

“As long as it doesn’t come with a side of roofies.”

“So suspicious! If you were really that concerned you wouldn’t be coming to visit me.”

“Your stupid card told me to come. What do you want?” Fox took the long chilled glass he offered her and sat down on one of the kitchen stools.

“I wanted to see how you feel about joining forces.”

“We already are, aren’t we?” Fox was frowning and he wondered if she would throw the glass at him when he got his proposal out.

“Well, yes we are, but I’m talking about combining your little dungeon with mine here.”

“I’m not following you.”

“I want to build a tunnel linking the houses and a base in the centre that the Conseil Neutres or anyone else knows nothing about.”

Fox’s face was blank for a full minute, “You want a war bunker?”

“Yes, I want to build a war bunker.”

“Joined by tunnels.”

“Yes, I thought it would be useful if either of the houses get attacked. It’s always wise to have an escape route.”

“Seems legit. I’m going to want my own codes though. A girl needs her privacy, but can I be the spanner in your works?”

“If you must,” Silvian sighed dramatically and refilled her glass.

“How do you expect to build such a thing without anyone noticing? You will need a construction team.”

“Magic,” he smiled.

“Literally or figuratively.”

“Literally.”

“Okay, how do you expect Frankie and the other jolly fuckers not to notice that kind of magic use?”

“They aren’t God, you know. My magic is old and my skill is fantastic. They won’t even know I’m doing it. Any other questions?”

“What’s going to happen with all the dirt?”

“Don’t worry about the dirt. I will put it somewhere unnoticeable.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anything else?”

Surprisingly, Fox’s face broke into a smile. “Can I watch?”

“Darling girl, I thought you’d never ask,” Silvian laughed.

Søren moved silently through the halls and walkways, slipping into the quiet of the gardens. He hadn’t approached Ruthann yet, but an uneasy feeling was filling him. He needed to talk to Aramis, and for that, he needed to go where no one would find him.

The tree had lost its white winter flowers but it was still beautiful. He sat down at its twisted base and tried to calm his racing heart. Ruthann would have to be a fool not to know that Vasya Melenko was really Baba Yaga. Ruthann was many things but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d always claimed neutrality for the Álfr, but never once did he meet or give advice to any Dark Ones. He closed his eyes and let the calm of the glade wash through and around him, the soft auras of the trees enfolding him. This place always gave him peace and was where he felt closest to Väliä. His feet started to burn, the heat travelling up his legs, filling him as he drew deeper into his meditation.

Aramis…
He sent the name out into the void as his magic rushed through him. Søren sent a series of short messages that would find his brother in Skazki when he was sleeping.

Aramis would be furious and Søren needed to confront Ruthann before Aramis did. There was always too many secrets, and for a long time, Søren simply didn’t care. Then he had reconciled with Aramis and created a friendship with Anya and Mychal. He was now more involved than he’d been for over two hundred years.

Mychal himself was a riddle of secrets that Søren’s mind kept rolling over. He had tried to find the man Ásgeirr who had trained Mychal for weeks, but he simply didn’t exist. Mychal wasn’t the type of man given to fantasies or delusions, so whoever Ásgeirr was, he was long gone. This frustrated Søren even more because he was in charge of the security in the Northern Haven and this person had moved in and out without his knowledge.

Ruthann was deep in study in the library when Søren finally found him. Illuminated scrolls were spread out in front of him and he was writing swift translations into a journal.

“What’s wrong, Søren?” he asked without looking up.

“I’ve had word from Silvian in New Orleans. Tell me what you know of Vasya Melenko.”

“Vasya is head of the Illumination. We helped them capture Yanka. You know that,” Ruthann replied calmly.

“Did you know that she’s Baba Yaga?”

Ruthann put his fountain pen down and sat back in his chair, “Yes I did.”

“And you didn’t think that’s something I needed to know? She is as bad as Yanka!”

“No, she’s not. She never made threat against the Álfr the way Yanka did.”

“You are her ally?”

“No, I helped her once to hold Yanka and we trade information on occasion.”

“Did you tell her about Ilya’s prophecies?”

“She already knew of them, Søren. I’ve not given her anything she has not already had.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? She knew that there was a missing one but didn’t know what it contained. She was the one that pushed you to tell Anya where it was. Are you not concerned that she is playing us to get Anya to destroy Yanka for her?”

“I’m not concerned, because I do not care. I want Yanka dead as much as Anya does.”

“Then you should’ve let me cut her head off instead of trapping her like a rabid dog,” hissed Søren.

“You couldn’t have killed her, Søren, the only weapon that can is being hunted by your brother. Baba Yaga hasn’t threatened us and is therefore not our concern.”

“And what will happen when Yanka is dead and Baba Yaga has no one to stop her? Will it be your concern then?”