Legacy in Blood (Book 1 of The Begotten of Old Series) Read online

  “Run, it’s a raid!” Dalana yelled.

  Then, without regard for tact or subtlety, she scooped Vasilisa up into her arms and they soared together towards the ceiling. Dalana had designated a window on the second floor as her goal. Vasilisa, not understanding what was happening, instinctively clutched Dalana around the neck.

  One of the dancing transmogs noticed them and stared in amazement, but at that very moment the entrance door flew from its hinges with a crash, bursting into pieces.

  “Everyone on the floor, you fucking ghouls!” roared the man in army camouflage who had burst through the doorway. “The house is surrounded!”

  Which side fired the first shot, Dalana did not see, as she chose that moment to crash through the glass. Shards showered down in a tinkling rain, but this sound instantaneously dissolved into the bark of guns and the cries of creatures fiercely fighting for their lives.

  Dalana was outside by the time the glass fell to earth, but there were humans with weapons there, too.

  “Look up!” an angry howl rang out. “That cock-sucker – it’s flying! Shoot it!”

  “They don’t fly!”

  “Really, then what’s that? They fly! Now fire!”

  Moments later, Dalana found out that the humans were using special bullets. Most likely, they used metal stakes as the foundation. A couple dozen of these bullets spitefully struck Dalana in the back. It was unfortunate: now her new suit by George Asterian was definitively ruined.

  “That thing is still flying!” someone shouted through the horrifying polyphony of gunfire.

  “Guys – that flier is mine!” replied a female voice.

  The sound of footsteps rang out. Catch me if you can, thought Dalana. But the wave of hatred emanating from the humans was enormous. It seemed that some girl with a terrible hatred of vampires was now in pursuit of Dalana. But right now Dalana did not have the capacity to penetrate more deeply into the thoughts of her pursuer – all of her consciousness was now focused on levitating.

  Dalana passed over the road and saw that she could land in a small thicket. Judging from the sounds and the scraps of thought, they were being pursued by three humans, with the girl in the lead. It was hard to fly while carrying Vasilisa. Dalana sank down to the ground.

  Are you wounded? She asked as soon as their feet touched solid ground.

  “No,” breathed Vasilisa. “But my car’s back there.”

  Is your name on it?

  “No, no,” Vasilisa stammered in fear. “It’s registered under an alias…”

  THEN FORGET ABOUT IT, snapped Dalana.

  The girl fell silent. She could barely keep on her feet from terror, but Dalana was in no mood to coddle her. She needed to get away from this mess, the second of the day.

  The aerial route was out of the question. It was simply too difficult and insecure. That meant that they would have to run from their pursuers, but those pursuers were already extremely close. There was no helping it: she would have to fall back on the services of a local entity. Luckily, this thicket was alive, and it had a Master. Yes, here he comes, there he is.

  Marisa ran, furiously clenching her jaw against the possibility that the vampire motherfucker would get away from her. As soon as she felt even the smallest hint of exhaustion, her imagination obligingly reminded her of Ruslan’s disfigured corpse, who would now be impossible to bury decently. There would be no goodbyes. The reckoning should be commensurably cruel. Not one stinking vampire would get away from them.

  “Leave it!” Volsky shouted from behind her, as he began to fade from the swift chase. “There’s a house full of these bastards!”

  You’re a disgrace to your badge, Pavel, thought Marisa, not slowing her pace a bit. Spite added to her strength. No matter what, she would catch this flier and its cargo.

  Even if she had to chase after them the whole night.

  Flying has to be more complicated than running, so it would have to run out of steam first. With this thought, Marisa ran across the road. Dead ahead lay a small forest, and Marisa knew in her gut that the fugitives were around here somewhere.

  Dalana saw the Master. A large, grey-black raven with a powerful beak and blazing red eyes, he sat on a branch of a nearby tree and kept a watchful eye on his uninvited guests. Edzen-Sagan, so they would have said in Dalana’s homeland.

  May no Outsiders inflict harm to Your House, O White Gentleman of the Forest, Dalana respectfully addressed the Raven.

  What remains of my House these days? He replied with bitter sarcasm. Other times, other rules. What do you require, Daughter of the Sanguinary Father?

  “I’m afraid of him,” chirped Vasilisa, hiding behind Dalana’s back.

  “What did they teach you in school?” said Dalana aloud dryly. “Greet him. Politely,” she added in a tone that brooked no opposition.

  “G…Good Evening,” muttered Vasilisa to the Raven, but immediately asked in a whisper, “What kind of thing is he?”

  I come to beseech Your Protection, explained Dalana, addressing the Master. Three follow after us. Outsiders from the Human Race. Shelter us against them.

  “Whether or not we manage to return to your kin depends largely on him,” said Dalana especially for Vasilisa. “And now be quiet.”

  Vasilisa nodded.

  Those who are of Humankind are never honored in my House. But Those who, seduced by Long Life, drank from the forbidden chalice are not honored here at all. With you is One of Them. Why should I help you?

  The forest around Dalana and Vasilisa literally came to life. A coterie of Forest Men appeared from under the leaves. They rolled their heads on their slight necks, expressing their anxiety at this most recent invasion of their realm. On a rotten stump something caught fire, scintillated, but it was not a glowworm or a firefly, but rather one of the myriad Spirits who so love to lure weary, lone travelers to sinister and fateful places in the dead of night.

  Vasilisa watched all this with her mouth open, but, despite the fact that her fangs, as sharp as needles, gleamed eerily in the moonlight, she looked fairly bewildered and forlorn.

  I beseech you, Hoary Gentleman,” said Dalana, bowing her head. Render me this service. I swear that one day I will repay my debt to You.

  Dalana knew that they had very little time left. She could distinctly hear the rapid breathing of those who pursued them. Very soon they would appear from behind the trees and begin their assault.

  At that moment the Grey Raven spread his massive wings.

  Marisa clearly saw two dark shadows through the trees. It had to be the two fugitives. She hurried her pace in anticipation of the kill. She would take home two trophies this night. And she would stuff their heads with straw and hang them in her home.

  Pavel was about five steps behind Marisa. Arvid was prowling forward to her right. The steely grip of her gun was pleasantly cool against her palm. Marisa held her breath.

  A sudden, mysterious gust of wind picked up a piece of turf from the ground by Marisa’s feet and threw it straight into her face. Marisa, who had been caught unawares, skipped to the side and instantly bellowed with pain. Realizing that she had turned her ankle, she tried to keep her balance, but from out of nowhere the wind hit her right in the face, accompanied by clumps of earth.

  “What the fuck!” Pavel roared from behind.

  Marisa realized that he too had been hit right in the eyes with some wind-tossed dirt. And then suddenly it wasn’t just dirt that was flying at them, but branches, dead leaves, moss and stones as well. Another gust of wind, this time monstrously strong, swept Marisa from her feet. She flopped down onto her back without an ounce of dignity and banged the back of her head against something hard.

  “Christ, what the hell is going on?” Pavel yelled, battling his way towards Marisa through the powerful blasts of wind. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” replied Marisa, getting to her feet. “It seems that someone or something has decided to wreck our plans.”

  “It’s a hurrica
ne, damn it,” concluded Arvid, ducking out of the way of a branch as it flew by.

  “Hurricanes don’t just come out of nowhere!” objected Marisa, trying to shout over the noise of the wind and rattling branches. Then another flying branch managed to hit Arvid, scratching his forehead.

  “You motherfucker!” he cursed.

  He meant the branch. Then he roared, “To hell with these flying bloodsuckers and their hurricanes! Let’s get out of here!”

  At the other end of the small forest, Dalana could hear the shrieks of the humans quite well. It seemed that the reception the Master was giving them was not to their taste. Well, they should stay where they belong.

  “Don’t lag behind,” she ordered Vasilisa.

  They were walking very quickly, almost running. The girl had managed to call home and tell them that they had gotten into trouble. Filip was supposed to meet them in a designated place.

  “What was that?” asked Vasilisa.

  “A hurricane,” replied Dalana.

  “I meant who were those creatures,” explained the girl, licking her parched lips.

  The road appeared in front of them.

  Forest inhabitants.

  “But why did they help us?”

  Would you have preferred they didn’t?

  That’s not what I meant. They were creatures like you, weren’t they? Also Begotten of Old?

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer, I get it,” Vasilisa added aloud.

  They got to the highway just as a foreign-made car was driving by. And before Dalana had time to react, Vasilisa jumped towards the glowing headlights. The breaks screamed shrilly.

  “Are you crazy?” cried out a middle-aged bald man, lowering the window of the front door. He was alone in the car.

  “Stupid junkie!”

  He opened the door, clearly intending to get out and teach Vasilisa some sense. She was expecting this.

  With a snarl Vasilisa lunged at the man and pulled him out of the car. Her fangs entered the man’s neck. Fortunately, he had already lost consciousness and thus did not see Dalana seize the girl by her hair and hurl her away. Vasilisa’s head smacked loudly against the asphalt.

  “What are you doing? That hurt!” The transmog malevolently snapped her bloodstained fangs.

  Are you hungry? Dalana asked idly.

  “No,” yelled Vasilisa. “What does hunger have to do with it?”

  Then why do you wish to take his life?

  “His life?” The girl was shocked. “Those like him killed my friends today. What, have you forgotten?”

  “Your friends,” Dalana snapped harshly, “paid for their carelessness and excessive confidence. You must always remember that the victim can become the hunter at any moment. Life is inconstant and volatile.”

  “Screw you and your philosophizing!”

  And Vasilisa sprang to her feet with the intent of finishing what she had started. Halfway to the car, Dalana caught her and grabbed her by the throat.

  Philosophy is entirely unnecessary, Dalana informed her. I think I’ll just squeeze a bit harder – that should crush your neck quite neatly. Though I’ll be annoyed that I had to save your worthless little life just a few minutes ago.

  Vasilisa began to wheeze. Dalana waited a bit longer then relaxed her grip.

  Sorry… Vasilisa gasped mentally. Forgive me, please. I am an idiot. I did not mean to offend you at all…my friends…I’m simply very upset! I mean, they died! And I wanted to avenge my pain on one of these little humans.

  Dalana released the girl’s neck, noticing as she did so the seductive velvetiness of her skin.

  “Anyway, I didn’t have time to bite him properly,” said Vasilisa.

  At that moment the man groaned. And after yet another moment Vasilisa’s cell phone rang.

  “It’s Filip,” she told Dalana even though that was obvious. “He’s already there. Let’s go, it’s not that far.”

  “First put him back in his car.” Dalana pointed to the unfortunate man who was already beginning to regain consciousness.

  “Well alright, but there is no way I’m taking him to a hospital,” grumbled Vasilisa.

  While she loaded her frustrated dinner into car, Dalana once again thanked the Grey Raven for his help. He did not answer, but Dalana knew quite well that he was listening to her. And that was the important thing.

  3.

  Life is like a box of matches. Treated seriously it is amusing. Treated frivolously it is dangerous.

  Ryunosuke Akutagawa

  The passport in the name of Diana Pechorina, twenty-five years old, lay on the bedside table. Dalana had already studied the document and in general she was satisfied. The photo, of course, was pasted on clumsily, but the ID should be just enough for a week. The rest was unimportant.

  Dalana stood before the mirror and investigated her back, from which fifty-four metal bars had been extracted. Perhaps they were a worthy alternative to stakes – with respect to transmogs, definitely. As for Dalana, all her wounds had already healed so well that there were no longer any scars.

  Dalana recalled the events of last night. She really never should have agreed to go to a nightclub to relax – look at the result! She now knew that CRUSS wasn’t just created in the image and likeness of that American TV show, X-Files. It turned out that the local agents weren’t bad at organizing large-scale operations. They obviously maintained connections with their overseas colleagues, exchanging information. And they conducted cleansings. How many transmogs did they pick off last night? About a hundred? Or maybe even more? At any rate, no less.

  Beyond the window the evening of an exhausting day was falling. Nothing special had happened on this day – nothing very special in comparison to the day before – but it had still been exhausting. Having received her new papers, Dalana took out some money and settled the issue of her wardrobe. She now had a fresh collection of wigs that were especially delightful to the eye. She had also dealt with her accommodation: fortunately it was easy to rent suitable places for practically any length of time. Just as she had planned, Dalana rented an apartment in the very center of the capitol and a country house in the South. Then she had said her goodbyes to Lucinda, Nicholaus and Filip. They were definitely bizarre, these transmogs, but all the same Dalana was sincerely grateful to them. The business with Vasilisa was more complicated. The girl didn’t want to leave her side.

  “What do you think?” she had asked, extracting a slug from Dalana’s back. “Who could have betrayed us?”

  “And how should I know?” wondered Dalana.

  “I was so sure,” continued the girl. “We were all so sure that none of the humans would ever catch wind of Wing.”

  “Your problem is that you underestimate humans, in particular these Special Forces. You put up an iron fence, release a couple of dogs into the courtyard and that’s it, you think you’re invulnerable. And now you’ve seen the result.”

  “All the same, I’m sure there’s a snitch among us. Simply put, the humans would never have been able to find that place on their own.”

  “It’s hardly likely that you’ll find out now. Though you could hire a private detective.”

  Dalana was not speaking seriously, even if there was a grain truth.

  And what if I hired you?

  Bingo! That’s the ticket! It seemed that after seven hundred years the girl had picked up something after all. But Dalana did not bat an eye.

  Why me?

  The last slug dropped into the iron basin with a thud. Dalana stretched her numb back. The wounds did not bleed; they already began to heal.

  But Vasilisa did not back down.

  I know that I look like a seventeen year old girl, but believe me, I’ve not been seventeen for a long time and I can pay you well. I am very rich. When our family was still human we possessed vast estates. Since then we have only added to them.

  I’m happy for you, Dalana replied laconically.

  I mean it. Vasilisa was offended.


  Then she added aloud, “I need to disinfect your wounds. I brought alcohol.”

  “That’s not necessary,” said Dalana, “They will soon heal.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” marveled Vasilisa. “Right before my eyes.”

  In transmogs the regeneration of flesh was relatively slow, and it was definitely nowhere near as fast as movies would have one believe. Even the flesh of the Begotten of Old did not regenerate that quickly.

  Vasilisa touched Dalana’s shoulder with the tips of her fingers.

  “And it no longer hurts?” she asked.

  “It never hurt. It was just uncomfortable.”

  Dalana turned slowly. The girl’s grey eyes gleamed brightly.

  So, about my proposition?

  Which one?

  “All I ask is that you think about it,” said Vasilisa, stoically ignoring the full meaning of Dalana’s reply.

  Beyond the window dawn had already broken, and a few birds were warbling sorrowfully, as if mourning the departing summer. Somewhere in the deserted forest a small forest godling roamed in solitude.

  “I will pay you ask much as you ask.”

  “And why do you think I could do such a thing?” asked Dalana.

  “You can do anything.”

  “By no means. My abilities are far from infinite.”

  “I seems to me that you can do anything,” insisted Vasilisa.

  What could one know about the true nature of things? Nothing, even if one lived for thousands of years like some of these transmogs.

  “That’s it, we’re done talking about this,” Dalana said rudely.

  “As you say,” Vasilisa conceded unwillingly.

  Then she reached out towards Dalana in an attempt to kiss her. Dalana intentionally remained indifferent. She did not try to evade the kiss; she simply looked past the girl as if she did not exist. The kiss came off quite poorly. Vasilisa was ready to burst into tears.

  “You really don’t like me, do you?”

  Dalana stretched. The unpleasant sensations in her back had almost disappeared.

  “You know, the problem is something else entirely,” she replied after a short interval. “You are very sweet, but what’s the use of having a dalliance with you?”