The Third Section Part 25

Dmitry smiled to himself. It was appropriate that Yudin should raise the similarity. He took a deep breath and then spoke. 'Vasya, do you know what a voordalak is?'

Yudin looked at him in surprise. He pressed his lips tightly together, but could not restrain himself. He laughed loudly and broadly.

'This is no joke, Vasiliy,' said Dmitry firmly. 'I'm not some mad old starets. These things are real. I know it. I've met them so did my father.'

Yudin calmed himself. He reached forward with his hand and laid it on Dmitry's. 'Forgive me.' He laughed again unable to help himself. 'I'm not doubting you. If anything, I'm laughing because I'm relieved.'

'Relieved?' Dmitry was aghast.

'Mitka I know. I've known for years. I know about vampires. I know that your father fought them defeated them.' He went back over to the cabinet and fetched the brandy, refilling Dmitry's gla.s.s and this time pouring himself one.

'How long have you known?' asked Dmitry.

'Since the war since 1812.'

'You fought them, alongside Papa?'

'I'd hardly say that. I certainly didn't manage to kill any that was all down to Lyosha.' His voice became more subdued. 'But I saw what they were; what they could do.'

'Why did you never say? Why didn't Papa?'

'You were very young then, Mitka. Lyosha made me promise. He said he didn't want you ever to have to share in what we'd been through. Then, of course, we fell out, and in those few minutes we had together in Senate Square to make our peace well, there were more pressing matters to consider.'

'I suppose so,' said Dmitry. It sounded like Aleksei.

'But when did Lyosha change his mind?' Yudin showed genuine curiosity. 'He was so adamant when we spoke of it.'

'He didn't change his mind not until it was forced upon him.'

'Forced?'

'In 1825, only months before the revolt, we encountered one of them, here in Moscow.'

'My G.o.d. What happened?'

'Papa dealt with it, eventually, but it meant he had to tell me all he knew.'

'But he never told you about me?'

Dmitry shook his head.

'Just like him,' said Yudin, with a chuckle of nostalgic laughter. 'Wants to protect you. Wants to protect me.'

Dmitry couldn't disagree, but there was no time to dwell upon memories of Aleksei. His face became grim. He looked Yudin straight in the eye. 'This isn't just history though. They're here. Here in Moscow.'

'My G.o.d!' Yudin leaned forward, running his hand across his mouth as he considered the enormity of what Dmitry had said.

'They came after me,' Dmitry explained.

'After you?'

'From Sevastopol. They found me there. They were looking for me for the son of the three-fingered man.'

'Why?' asked Yudin.

'To help them. They want revenge against a vampire called Cain.'

'Cain? Ha! A myth.'

'What?'

'He's the vampire's equivalent of Baba Yaga.'

'How do you know?'

Yudin stood and walked around the desk. He leaned forward towards Dmitry, one hand on the desktop, the other on the back of the chair. He spoke swiftly and quietly, as if afraid of being overheard. 'Mitka, you know the kind of man I am a man of thought rather than action. Your father was happy to kill these monsters, but my approach was to study them. Ever since I first met them, I have studied them. I know their strengths. I know their weaknesses. I know their customs.'

'So even vampires have folklore?' asked Dmitry. It had never occurred to him and yet it made perfect sense. 'And Cain is part of it?'

Yudin nodded.

'But why did they tell me?'

'To trick you. To make it all the easier for them to drink your blood.' Yudin turned away, his hands clasped behind his back.

Dmitry needed to think about it for only a moment. 'No,' he said firmly.

Yudin spun on his heel. 'What?'

'Believe me, if all they wanted was my blood, they had ample opportunities to get it.'

'Are you sure?'

Dmitry felt suddenly sick. The prospect of telling Yudin, a man he so respected, of his encounter with Tyeplov revolted him. He would avoid it at any cost. 'Believe me,' he said simply.

'Then perhaps it's something worse,' said Yudin.

'How could it be worse?'

Yudin squatted down, his face level with Dmitry's. 'Blood is not the only thing that a voordalak craves. Sometimes they desire ... companions.h.i.+p.'

'Companions.h.i.+p?'

'To turn a human into one of their kind, to be with them throughout eternity. Surely you've heard legends of these things?'

'I'd never heard it put quite like that.'

'It hardly matters how it's put it's a repugnant idea,' said Yudin with force. 'That's why it can only happen if the victim is willing to go along with it.'

'Well, I certainly wouldn't have been.'

'No.' Yudin stood and patted him on the shoulder. 'You're too good a man for that, Mitka. Perhaps they sensed that. Perhaps they'll move on.'

It took Dmitry only a moment to see the inevitable consequence of his friend's words. His head swam and a starry pattern began to creep into his vision. He downed the brandy in his hand with a single gulp.

'Raisa,' he murmured.

'Raisa?'

'They paid her a visit last night at Degtyarny Lane. I thought they just wanted to use her to get to me, but ...' Tyeplov's words burned in his mind: 'This isn't about you, Mitka.'

'Is she ...?'

'She's fine. I killed one of them, but the other escaped. But they'll come after her again. I'm more certain of it now than ever.'

'They?'

'The one who survived was Tyeplov I told you about him, asking about Papa. And I think there's another, Mihailov. They were both in Sevastopol.'

Yudin returned to his seat. He took a deep breath. 'Mitka, this is very important. How much did Lyosha tell you of the mechanism by which a man can become a vampire?'

'Not much.' It was true there had been so little time, Aleksei had not really told him anything beyond his own exploits.

'Then listen. The process is simple. First the vampire drinks the human blood from the neck, just as it would when feeding. It takes enough to kill, but not immediately. Then comes the difference. The vampire will deliberately wound itself often in the chest, but in truth it doesn't matter where. The creature has to exert great willpower to prevent the wound from healing until the human has time to drink its blood in return for what was taken. The victim will still die, but he will become undead. He will become a voordalak.'

Dmitry listened in horror. 'Why are you telling me?' he asked once Yudin had finished.

'That is what they would have tried to do to you.'

'But they won't now?'

'Not if you've proved to them that you cannot be swayed from the path of righteousness. But who knows what Raisa might do?'

'Never,' growled Dmitry. 'She'd never do that not willingly.'

Yudin nodded thoughtfully before speaking. 'I think you're right,' he said slowly, 'but I also think we'd both be happier if she was never put to the test.'

Dmitry looked across the desk with half a smile, acknowledging Yudin's subtlety. It would be abhorrent for Dmitry to concede that there was any real prospect of Raisa succ.u.mbing to Tyeplov, but Yudin had avoided that discussion altogether.

'Of course,' he muttered.

Yudin considered for a moment, his eyes flicking across the room before settling on Dmitry. 'Mitka, could you stand to be parted from her?'

'To save her? Of course.'

'Good. Good. Look, I have a friend in Klin. She'd take Raisa in, for a price. It's far enough from Moscow. She'd be safe.'

'I'll pay whatever's necessary.'

Yudin nodded, thoughtfully. 'Don't worry about that now. We'll share the costs, but only once it's over.'

'When will it be over?'

'I don't know, but once Raisa is safe, you and I will work out a way to solve the problem for good.'

'Can't I go with her?'

'No. With the two of you together, it would be much easier for them to find you. And you need to be here, in Moscow, to hunt down and destroy these monsters.'

Another problem occurred to Dmitry. 'Do you think Raisa will be happy to go?'

'You'll have to persuade her. You must.'

Dmitry nodded.

'I'll write to Madame Zhiglova in Klin, and tell her Raisa is coming. Then you and I will talk to Raisa herself and may G.o.d help us to convince her.' He reached for pen and paper and began to write.

Dmitry sat and watched him, trying to force from his mind any consideration of what might happen if their plan failed. Even so, he could not help but let his thoughts wander.

'Vasya,' he said at length. 'You know her. You don't think she would ...'

'Would what?'

'You said she would have to be willing ... to become a vampire. That's not her, is it?'

'My dear friend, no. Of course not. Not when she has you.' He paused. 'But if they find her, and find her unwilling, then the outcome will be almost as foul.'

Dmitry didn't speak. He understood what Yudin meant, but still his friend spelled it out.

'They will still get their pleasure from her. And if she will not drink their blood, then have no doubt: they will not hesitate to consume every drop of hers.'

'Toma. How lovely to see you again.'

It had been only a few days since Tamara's last visit to the Lavrovs. Yelena Vadimovna's voice showed an appropriate mix of surprise and delight.

'I'm afraid your father's not at home at the moment, but ...'

'I have a question, Mama,' interrupted Tamara, 'about when I was young.'

She watched as her mother's face fell. More and more, Tamara hated the pain she brought to her parents by bringing up the subject of her ... other parents. But on this occasion that wasn't really what she was asking about. Her mother's reaction was the sign of a guilty conscience. But Tamara was interrupted before she could explain.

'I rather hoped you'd come to see me,' said a voice from behind her. She recognized it in an instant. She turned and ran over to him.

'Rodion,' she yelled, and threw herself into her brother's arms. He was not her brother, of course, but she could not imagine loving a true brother better. Unlike his parents, he did not usurp anyone by taking the role he a.s.sumed. There was room in the world for dozens of brothers, but only one father and one mother.

After a long embrace, she stepped back and looked at him. In her eyes, he looked just the same as he had always done apart from the full beard that he now sported. He was perhaps a little fatter than when they had last seen each other, three years before, but he had always had a big, strong frame, so it hung well on him. He was forty-three now, and Tamara noticed a little greying at his temples. He looked resplendent in his captain's uniform. Ultimately, he was commanded by Grand Duke Konstantin, as head of the navy. Tamara hid a smirk, and decided not to reveal her own connection to the tsar's brother.

'He's the image of his grandfather,' said Yelena.