Page 273 of Dragon Slayer

Liam chuckled. “I assure you he is. Very much so. I watched the flesh knit itself together over his bones myself.”

“What did you do?”

Liam cocked his head, smile smug, and, somehow, pitying.Oh, Fulk, it seemed to say.As stupid as ever.“I already told you: I made a friend. A very valuable one, I can assure you. Now if you’ll lower your hackles and act like a civilized person, I can explain–”

Two things happened at once.

Vlad stalked forward, hands curled into claws, snarling like a jungle cat.

And the dead man slid out of the shadows to stand in front of Liam, shoulders angled for a fight, balanced up on his toes. He was dressed all in black, a hood pulled up over his head so that only the end of his nose and the scar on his chin were visible. He held a knife in one hand, and its edge caught the firelight in a wicked flash.

The fire itself rested in Liam’s palm, conjured with a thought.

Vlad…hesitated.

“Hello, my lord Dracula,” Liam said. “It’squitethe honor, though I assure you that my friend here will put that knife to good use if you attempt to come any closer.”

Vlad grinned, and his fangs were long. “Why don’t you ask what happened the last time someone tried to fight me with a knife?”

Liam said, “Ah, yes, but the difference is: Captain Baskin isn’t much of a dancer.”

The dead man’s empty hand shifted, and then it wasn’t empty anymore, another knife held in its grip. He sank down in his knees a fraction, stretching the tendons, preparing.

Fulk had the awful sense that he was missing something. “Vlad…” he started.

But the prince was already in motion.

And so was the dead man. Both knives held in a backhanded grip, he moved quick, feet impossibly light on the carpet. He sidestepped, facing Vlad, forcing him to turn to keep up.Captain Baskin isn’t much of a dancer, Liam had said, but this man clearly was. Had been.

Vlad seemed to gather himself, no longer ready to fling himself at an easily crushed opponent, but more reserved, calculating. He turned to keep pace with the dancer, mouth open as he scented the air.

“Vlad,” Fulk said, as respectfully as possible, “let’s just wait.”

“You should listen to your wolf,” Liam said, amused. “Sometimes he has the right idea about things.”

“I’mnot his wolf.”

Liam ignored this. “You’re looking well, your ladyship. It would appear the twenty-first century agrees with you.”

Fulk snarled.

Anna said, “Shut up, Liam. Call off your damn zombie.”

Vlad lunged, and the dancer leapt back, an efficient movement that sent him spinning away, knives flashing. Vlad made a low sound that could have been a growl or a laugh. He turned back to Liam, sneering. “So you made yourself a poppet. My uncle can do that, too. He wants to destroy half of humanity with them.”

Liam’s smile never slipped. “You’re mistaken, your grace. Your uncle’s – affliction, I guess you could say – eats a person’s soul out of their body, leaving only disease and mindless violence. You call it the Absence, yes? Well, he’s only a vampire, after all, playing at being a mage. I can assure you that when I raise someone from the dead, I bring their soul back as well.”

Vlad looked again at the dead man, still poised for a fight.

Liam said, “Show them your face, Kolya.”

The man stilled. He sheathed his knives at the small of his back, an efficient movement, and then reached up to push his hood back.

Fulk had seen the videos of the Absence-afflicted creatures in the desert. Mindless destruction; worse than animals – as an animal himself, he could attest that a creature’s species had no bearing on its intelligence. Those things were, as Vlad had stated, poppets.

But this man, the skin of his face laced with scars, was very much present, if quiet and expressionless. Dark eyes; intelligent eyes…but lost. His hair hung shaggy and unkempt past his chin. He stood at attention, unmoving, like a soldier, like a –

Oh. Oh no.

“This,” Liam said, “is Kolya Dyomin of Moscow. A Chekist under the command of Captain Nikita Baskin.”

If either name meant a thing to him, Kolya didn’t react, gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance.

Fulk turned to Liam with another growl. “What did you do?” he repeated.

Liam sighed. “I brought you a soldier for your war. Now kindly shut up and point me toward the good whiskey.”

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