Page 275 of Dragon Slayer

Val’s stomach lurched, and he bundled Mia in closer. “Fascinating.”

“More than you know: it’s one of Baskin’s Russians.”

~*~

Talbot looked exhausted, and Fulk took a small amount of satisfaction in that. “Mr. Price,” he said with a deep sigh. “I just…don’t understand.”

The revenant, Kolya Dyomin, stood against the far wall of the office, hands clasped loosely in front of him, gaze fixed unseeing in the middle distance. Fulk found him to be a collection of unsettling contradictions. He was very much alive, but he smelled like – not like a corpse. Not like rot. But like deep, dark earth that shouldn’t have been disturbed. Things lived, and things fed, and things bled, and things died. Vampires slept, and healed, and overcame the most grievous of wounds. Wolves never aged. But things didn’t die and come back – that wasn’t natural.

Kolya was alert, and he moved quickly, as elegantly as the former ballet dancer Liam had claimed him to be. He could speak, and he breathed; his heart beat at a normal resting rate.

But to follow Liam here, to defend him, to remain stone-faced at the mention of his friends. He was not…himself. Fulk could tell that without ever having met him as he’d once been.

“It’s really quite simple, Doctor,” Liam said. “I meant what I said before about needing soldiers in your war.Ourwar,” he amended, with a look toward Fulk that had Fulk shifting in his seat. “Whether mortal or immortal, I think it’s safe to say that all the creatures living on this earth want to continue living. Therefore, the war must be a joint effort by all those capable of fighting. Kolya is a valuable soldier. And.” He held up a finger, quietly triumphant. “He offers us leverage. Nikita Baskin’s pet wolf – Sasha – was the original progeny of your little institute. Since you seem unable to keep him here by force, I thought we’d try a different tactic.”

Fulk snorted. “By bribing him? ‘Look, we have your dead friend, join us.’”

Liam looked over, serene. “Yes.”

“Sasha Kashnikov is one wolf,” Fulk said. “And not a very ferocious one at that. Have you seen him? He only gets riled up when his vamp is threatened.”

Liam smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

“What do you need them for? They’re just two. Leave them alone.”

The smile stretched. “Ah. So you haven’t brushed up on your Roman history.”

Fulk growled. “What are you talking about?” God, he hated him.

The fucker laughed. “How many Romes are there, Fulk?”

Oh…shit.

“It’s three,” Liam answered, gleeful. “Rome, then Constantinople, then Moscow. Remember, brother?”

“We are not brothers.”

He waved, dismissive. “You’re avoiding my point. Which is: Baskin brought a very special Russian with him to this manor house.” He paused.

Fulk stared him down.

“Christ,” Liam muttered, “Alexei Romanov. He brought the tsarevich with him.” He held both hands up, triumphant.

“What is your point?”

Liam blinked at him a moment, then heaved a dramatic sigh. “The point, my dear brute, is this. Romulus has faced more than one would-be killer in his time, but none have ever been able to defeat him. One almost wonders if he really is half god, hm? Vlad stood the greatest chance – he was the strongest, of the original line of Rome, Romulus’s own flesh and blood. But he only managed to put him to sleep. So this begets the question: can he be stopped?”

Talbot looked faintly ill.

“I have a theory about this. I think we’ve–”

“We?”

“–been going about it the wrong way all this time. The vampire, the mage, and the wolf.” He ticked them off on three fingers. “What if a single hero can’t defeat Romulus? What if it takes three Roman emperors to do so?” His grin was sly, his eyes bright, and…

Oh.

Something turned over in Fulk’s stomach, and he couldn’t decide if it was dread or hope.

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