Magic Slays (Kate Daniels 5)

The man in the chair next to Grigorii was even older. He wore a plain white robe that came to his knees. Pale blue embroidery, faded to almost gray, ran in a three-inch strip straight down the front of the robe. Belobog's volhv. Had to be. Belobog was Chernobog's brother; they were diametrically opposed, benevolent god to malevolent one.

A furry creature lay at the white volhv's feet. It looked like a medium-sized dog with gray fur. A pair of large feathery wings lay folded along its back, stretching on the floor behind it. A celestial wolf. Holy crap.

Across the table Evdokia smiled serenely, knitting something blue. Her duck-bunny-kitten rolled around on the floor, playing with the yarn. The celestial wolf watched it with a slightly hungry look on its face.

Behind Evdokia two witches waited, both young, pretty, and looking like they wouldn't back down from a fight. Same dark hair, same small neat mouths, same large eyes. Probably sisters. The witch on the left wore a long hooded robe of gray fabric. Her friend chose jeans and a sweater instead. She'd pulled her sweater sleeves up to the elbow, exposing bright turquoise tattoos of mystic symbols sheathing her arms.

I came to the table, pulled up a chair, and sat. "Everyone brought a pet. I feel left out."

An enthusiastic howl broke the silence, and Grendel bounded through the doorway. He galloped through the steak house, skidded on the floor, smashed into my chair, and dropped a dead rat on my lap.

Awesome.

The volhvs stared.

"Thank you." I put the rat on the floor and petted Grendel's throat. "We will begin shortly."

"What is that?" Grigorii stared at the dog. "A shaved poodle." Technically he was now a closely cropped poodle, but who cared about semantics.

"This is ridiculous." Grigorii leaned back. His voice was clipped and had no accent.

"Have you looked through the window?" I asked him.

The steak house was set on the apex of a low hill. Beyond it Palmetto lay, flooded with cops and people in paramedic scrubs. They methodically bagged the corpses and loaded them into trucks, one atop the other, like cords of wood.

"That is a horrible thing," Belobog's volhv said.

"I do not like this waiting," Grigorii said. "What are we waiting for?"

"For me," Curran said.

The volhvs startled. Curran pulled up the chair and sat next to me. Barabas materialized behind him. "Grigorii Semionovich, Vasiliy Evgenievich, Evdokia Ivanovna, welcome. May I get you anything? Coffee, tea?"

"Hot tea with lemon," Evdokia said.

Barabas waved. Jezebel brought a platter with a teapot and several cups on it, set it on the table, and took up position at the nearby booth.

Jim pulled up a chair and sat on Curran's right. Andrea sat on my left. Barabas and Derek remained standing behind our chairs.

"This thing is none of our concern," Grigorii said. "You do not rule us."

"We will leave when we decide," Vasiliy said.

"Did you bring Kamen?" Curran asked.

Grigorii leaned back and crossed his arms. "And if we did, then what?"

Curran leaned forward. "You are sheltering a man whose machine caused hundreds of deaths. Because of this device, my ward, a fourteen-year-old girl, is dying. One of my people is dead; two are critically injured. Your volhv attacked my mate. Before we go any further, we require a show of good faith. You will give us access to Kamen now."

Vasiliy's white eyebrows rose. "Or?"

"Or this meeting is over. We will consider your actions to be a declaration of war."

The two volhvs looked at each other. "We will abide by the agreements of peaceful assembly," Curran said. "You're free to leave. Go home, kiss your wives, hug your children, and put your affairs in order, because tomorrow I will burn your neighborhood to the ground. We will kill you, your families, your neighbors, your pets, and anyone who will stand in our path. An attack on my family will not go unpunished."

That was the best smackdown I'd ever seen.

"No," Vasiliy said. "No war."

The raven on Grigorii's shoulder cawed. The black volhv grimaced. "Roman."

Roman bent down.

"Tashi yego suda."

Roman took off at a run.

I leaned to Curran. "They're bringing him."

"Good tea," Evdokia said.

A long minute passed and Roman entered, leading a man by his shoulder. The man wore wrinkled khakis and a sweater over a dress shirt that had seen its better days--grime stained the bend of the collar where it touched the neck. Some effort had been made to comb his light brown hair out of his bloodshot eyes, but it stuck out on the back of his head in untidy clumps. He gazed about him, looking lost, as if he weren't sure where he was or why.

Adam Kamen. The source of the entire mess.

Roman pulled a chair out and pushed Kamen into it. As Roman straightened, his gaze snagged on something to my right. His eyes widened. He caught himself and stepped back, behind Grigorii's chair. I glanced to my right and saw Andrea flipping through her notes. Oh boy.

Jezebel pushed off her seat. "Can I kill him? Can I kill him now, please?"

I shook my head. She dropped back into the booth, exhaling. It took all of my will not to pummel Kamen's face into a bloody pulp. I barely had enough restraint for myself, let alone for her.

Curran pointed at the window. "Look."

Down in Palmetto, a truck was backing up. Another slid into its place. The paramedics paused while it maneuvered toward them and resumed loading the bodies.

"I saw," Adam said. "I was watching through the car window. Many people are dead."

"Because of you," I said. "You built it. Why?"

"For my wife," he said. "I just wanted the hospital machines to work, that's all." "The first one was for your wife," Evdokia said. "Why did you build the second one?"

Adam shrugged. "Because that's what I do. If you make a small one, you have to make one bigger. Just to see. Can't build anything anymore." He raised his hands. The bases of both thumbs were red and swollen. Kamen curled his hands into fists. His thumbs didn't move. They'd severed the ulnar collateral ligament.

"You maimed him?" I asked Vasiliy.

The white volhv sighed. "We warned him. He didn't listen. Durnoi chelovek."

Foolish man. That's putting it lightly.

"The head is bright," Vasiliy continued, "but no wisdom. His father was very respected in the community. Did a lot of good for a lot of people."

"It was that or kill him," Grigorii said. "Can't trust him. He'll build something else and kill us all."