Page 55 of Blood Mosaic

“He didn’t come after me.” Tatyana blinked. “I ran away. He was on fire and I ran.”

“Fire?” Anna’s eyes went wide. “I thought fire would kill vampires.”

“I don’t know, but he was…” She spread her arms out. “Throwing it. He shot fireballs, like a dragon.”

“But he had fangs, yes?”

She nodded. The fangs were burned into her memory. “Yes. He definitely had fangs, and he definitely ripped a few necks open when he?—”

“Ah, da da da da.” Anna held up one hand and took Pushkin with the other. “I don’t need to know.”

Tatyana unclasped her seat belt and got out of the car. “I’m not going to be able to sleep until the sun comes up. Do you think we should hide the car?”

“Who says this vampire dragon man is even going to come after you?” Anna seemed oddly unconcerned. “If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it right then.” She walked toward the front door of the cottage. “I’ll get Papa’s shotgun from the barn, and then we’ll take turns watching out for this monster until daylight.”

Tatyana grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, oddly reassured that her mother seemed to be taking all this in stride.

Then again, Anna was always happier at the farm. Tatyana paused by the car, looking at the battered old compact with the rack on the roof. The dirt was crusted on it from rain on the road, and there was a crack in the windshield.

The house behind her was snug and cozy, but the furniture was the same as it had been for the past thirty years. And all the tools in the barn were left over from when her grandfather had farmed twenty years ago.

With the faint smell of cow manure in the air, gourmet dinners, private jets, and luxury suits seemed about as fanciful as vampires.

“Come on, get inside,” Anna called. “We’ll prepare things better tomorrow, but right now you’re ready to jump out of your skin and there’s not a soul around.”

Tatyana wandered into the farmhouse, grateful that at least something seemed familiar when everything in her world seemed upside down.

Chapter Thirteen

Oleg waited in the car as his driver Seban called for a cleanup crew in the alley and took care of paying off the human authorities that needed to be bribed. A light rain was falling over the city, and he thought about Tatyana running through the rain. She’d been wearing a dressy coat, but it didn’t look warm, and he made a mental note to tell Lorala to buy another, heavier, garment for her.

Had she lived in another century, he would have enjoyed hunting foxes or trapping ermine so a furrier could make her a coat from animals he’d provided, but she was a modern woman and women in the twenty-first century did not appreciate furs as older centuries did.

Oleg hadn’t worn fur since he was human. He found it too warm for his element.

“Finished, boss.”

“Good.”

The driver’s door clicked shut, and Seban turned to look at him. “I called Mika when I was finished with the police. He said they’re gone.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He would have been surprised if Tatyana had left her mother when she ran.

“Mika wanted to know if he should follow them, but if they’ve had a head start?—”

“It’s fine.” He plucked at the freshly pressed pants Seban had procured for him. A crisp cotton shirt had taken the place of his cashmere sweater. He’d have to order a new one since he’d liked the texture of the one that burned. “Take me to the house.”

“Are you sure?”

Oleg glanced at Seban, then flicked his fingers, pinching back the burst of flame that wanted to escape. “Just go.”

The human turned around and put the car into gear.

Oleg supposed it was natural for the man to be skeptical. Seban had been Oleg’s personal driver for three decades, and he remembered when his boss had spent more time in Sevastopol. Even after he and Luana had grown distant, they were not truly estranged.

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