Page 35 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

“Actually, I stillamthe czar of Russia, even when I’m here. But take your phrase, the ‘cats and dogs’ one. It makes absolutely no sense. And similarly, two negatives do make a positive. Two wrongs being eliminatedisright.” He stands. “In fact, in this world, the only thing youcando with two wrongs is right them.”

“Well, I’m not sure what to say about all that. You have a remarkable way with words for someone who learned English as a second language.”

“Fifth language,” he says. “My dad was certifiably nuts and thought I was destined to be the czar of Russia, so he taught me several in my infancy.”

Is he mocking himself? “I—I’m glad we didn’t die,” I say, lamely. “I just think—that was horrible, watching that.”

“I’m sorry,” Leonid says. “The next time I have to kill people, I’ll do it in a less messy way and just bury their bodies so far down in the earth that no one can ever find them.”

“You’ll—what?”

“The earth power’s new to me, so I was nervous I couldn’t do it without leaving a very noticeable mound of dirt. I didn’t want that leading to questions for you or your reprehensible boyfriend.”

“Your what power? What about Tim?” For some reason, it almost feels like he’s switched to Russian. But then something he said clicks. The next time he has to kill people. “Do you plan to kill more people?”

“It’s the most useful part of my magic,” he says. “Before, when I encountered evil people, I had to endure their wickedness. My only other option was to run away. Now, I can eliminate them and the threat they pose to the rest of society.”

“You’re saying you’re like a first strike strategy? Brutal, but the best way to keep people safe?”

He blinks. “First strike’s a reference to the cold war nuclear arms race.”

“It is,” I say. “The thought was that if we could hit them first, we’d be safe. Take out the bad guys before they could take us out.”

“I’m nothing like that,” Leonid says. “Those were threats—a plan of attack. I don’t threaten anyone. I simply eliminate the danger before they can harm innocent people, like you.”

I’m pretty sure my stepdad Steve would love this guy. “Well, in America, we believe in innocent until proven guilty.”

“So what does shooting us—twice—make them, if not guilty?”

I stomp around the side of the truck and get in. “Are you still going to give me money to bail Tim out?” Because frankly, after watching this guy incinerate two men, Tim feels like a Nobel-Prize-eligible bunny rabbit.

“Of course,” he says. “And I’m more encouraged than before by this turn of events. Now that I can access my powers again, even if it is only with your help, we’re clearly making progress. The next step is figuring out how we can do it so I no longer need you.”

“But right now, you believe you have to touch me to kill people?” That sounds. . .made up.

Actually, all of this sounds made up, so maybe that’s not a good barometer anymore. “Why are you driving?” I ask. “You don’t even know where we’re going.”

“Do you know?” he asks.

“A bank,” I say. “You didn’t specify whether we needed a certain one.”

“International,” he says. “My money will be arriving by foreign wire.”

“And how exactly are you going to get it?” I examine him. “Or did you sprout a wallet and identification card while I was busy watching those men burn?”

The curl of his lip makes his face look even more unbelievably beautiful, and that annoys me for some reason. “You certainly express your disapproval freely.” Leonid turns the key over and starts my truck. Only, as usual, it doesn’t start right away. “In this case, since you think I’m a crazy killer, I’d think you might keep your judgment under wraps.”

For some reason, Leonid doesn’t scare me. He probably should—he just incinerated two men—but he doesn’t. I’m more irritated at him than anything else. “You should let me drive my own truck. She’s temperamental.”

“The single best thing about the changes in the world from when I was born and now is that we no longer have to rely on temperamental creatures for our transportation. You need a new car. One that listens when you command it.”

“Command?” I chuckle. “What, are you a hundred years old?”

He grunts, for some reason.

“If you turn it just a little and then all the way and pump the gas pedal at the same time, it’ll start.”

He tries.

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