Page 115 of Cry of the Firebird

"She stepped over the boundary."

"I only leaned a little to see what the sign said," Anya argued, her skin too cold. "It grabbed me and sucked me in."

Honaw ran an irritated hand over his face before pushing the drum at Chayton. "Okay, it's my turn."

Anya drained her water bottle and tried to get comfortable again. It was going to be a long day.

In Moscow,Vasilli lit a thin cigar and poured himself another shot of icy vodka. He sat in front of a laptop, waiting for his team of mercenaries to get in contact with him. Ladislav had sent people to check on Völundr and found his whole operation in ashes and Anya missing.

It took all of Vasilli's self-control not to rub it in the old prick's face. Vasilli was two steps ahead of him, his own people ready to raid the mansion. Beside him, his phone rang, and he put his drink down to answer it.

"Serge, are you in place?" he asked. The screen in front of him flickered to life as a camera was turned on in Paris. A group of men in black gear were assembling on a roof across from a mansion.

"Yes, sir, your directives still the same?" the mercenary asked. "Get the girl and the firebird; kill anyone that gets in the way?"

"Yes, but if Yvan and Anya try and fight, shoot to maim. Their power is unpredictable, but a well-placed bullet will slow them down," Vasilli replied. "You know where to take them. I'll join you after it's done."

"Enjoy the show, sir," Serge replied and hung up.

Vasilli picked up his vodka and swirled the ice around his glass. Ladislav had invaded his dreams the previous evening, showing off as he usually did when he wanted to press his authority. They had looked at the gates, but Vasilli knew that the Darkness had a team already stationed at the village and keeping an eye on it. There was nothing magical about the information Ladislav gave him. It was probably picked up from a report, and he wanted Vasilli to be awed by his abilities.

"Idiot," Vasilli muttered, downing the vodka and pouring another. If the night's raid was successful, he wouldn't have to put up with his bullshit any longer. He would have so much power that no one could stand in his way for taking the Darkness for himself. There might be some in fighting, but Vasilli was looking forward to spilling the blood of those who were loyal to Ladislav. His weak rule couldn't come to an end soon enough.

Vasilli leaned back in his chair and smoked, watching as his mercenaries moved in on the mansion.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Anya's magic woke her with a surge of heat and terror, slamming her so hard, she sat bolt upright. Glass smashed in one of her bedroom windows. A man dressed in black tactical gear was on her before she could shout. He grabbed her by the shirt, dragging her closer, trying to reach her throat. Anya clawed desperately at his hands, trying to get them away.

"Trajan!" she screamed, trying to kick the man off her.

Trajan was there in seconds, his hands grabbing the man by the shoulders. Her attacker's eyes bulged, and the skin of his face started to shrink and shrivel as all the life in him was pulled from his cells. Anya pushed the mummifying hands away from her and picked up the knife she had bought in Skazki.

"We need to move. They disabled the security alarms somehow. There will be more in the house," Trajan said, looking through the broken window. Hamish crashed through the door, shirtless and carrying a Winchester in each hand. A revolver was stuck in the front of his blood-flecked jeans.

"Fucker jumped me," he grunted. "I was going to say sorry for wrecking your carpet, but shit happens. We need to get the others and get out of here."

They rushed down the hallway, Hamish leading the way to Isabelle's room. They heard the commotion before they got there.

Five men had surrounded Isabelle and were closing in on her. One rushed at her with a speed that made him blur. Isabelle flipped over him, driving her knife into his back. As he fell screaming, she jumped again, hitting another in the chest. Hamish shot one in the head, spraying the couches with bits of skull and brain. Trajan killed the other two with a single touch.

Isabelle tightened her gun holsters and slid her long knives down the back of her boots. "Let's find the others."

Anya stopped as a ripple of power flowed through the mansion. "Yvan—" She bolted down the halls, fire licking in her veins. She got to Cerise's doorway, and someone grabbed her from behind and pressed a cold blade to her throat.

"Let her go, and I'll make your death swift," Cerise said, her keres form rolling over her skin, her human guise melting away. She looked like an ancient Grecian warrior in black armor, her sword in one hand.

"She's the little Russian witch that's going to be my biggest payday yet," the man said, tugging Anya tighter to him. "I only want her. The rest will be spared if you let us take her."

Cerise raised her sword. "Not an option."

"You're not going anywhere with Anyanka." Yvan appeared in the doorway. His eyes were glowing with the firebird, and flames were starting to spread out along his hands. He gave Anya a slight nod before shouting, "Pozhar!"

Anya exploded into flames, the man holding her falling backward with a cry. Anya ducked as Yvan threw a ball of fire, hitting the man squarely in the chest. He screamed only once before he burned up, an almost perfect statue of ash. Anya ran to Yvan and held him tightly, burning as one for a few seconds before their flames died.

"Thank you," she said, letting him go.

"Are you cut?" he asked, checking her throat.

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