“The thirteenth floor?” asked Billi. “Isn’t that unlucky?”
“Only for a Templar.” The elevator settled gently to a halt, and the door opened into darkness. The light from the elevator illuminated just the first few feet of an emerald-veined marble floor. Then, one by one, like night constellations, enormous chandeliers came to life, their light caught and amplified a thousand fold through a sparkling cosmos of brilliant crystal.
Tall columns like flutes rose to support the huge, multivaulted ceiling, and Billi peered at the sky-filled mosaics of gods, heroes, and demons. Warriors clad in gold battled monstrous bears and wolves. Castles floated among the clouds, and wolves flew from the towers. In a vast battlefield stood a shining warrior woman, sword aloft and long blond hair swirling. She wore a deep-red coat, its sleeves and front embroidered with golden designs of flaming phoenixes.
“Maria Morevna,” said Ivan. “A great princess. A Bogatyr.”
“Who made all this?” It was unreal.
“The Soviets.”
“No expense spared, eh?”
Ivan marched onward. “Follow me.”
Ahead was a double door decorated with gilt filigree. Ivan pushed it open.
The bedroom was dominated by a canopied bed, the wood as pale as pearl. Sheer white curtains hung from the bed’s frame, while thick red drapes half covered gilt-framed mirrors on the walls. They reflected the room infinitely upon itself; it was difficult to see where the room ended and the illusion began. Through a curtain Billi saw a freestanding marble bath on curling, clawed legs, with steam rising from the water.
“How do you like my home?” asked Ivan.
“Yours? Koshchey said it was his.”
Ivan’s eyes flashed angrily. He was a strange mix of coolness and anger. The two emotions played out just under the surface. He acted the aristocrat, in control and in command. But underneath was a young man who’d just lost his father. And from the way he’d spoken to Koshchey, all was not well on that front either.
Ivan peered around the vast suite. “Bought with Romanov money. Koshchey is…safeguarding it for me until I’m old enough to inherit, when I’m eighteen.” He smiled ruefully. “I need to make sure I stay healthy for two more years.”
“Then just avoid fighting ghuls one-on-one,” said Billi. She wandered around the room in a daze. Its ceiling was higher than her whole house.
“It is like a fairy tale, yes?” Ivan tossed a key onto the bed. “Do you remember the way to the elevator?”
“Straight down, through the double doors.”
“The other Templars are on the twelfth floor. Koshchey is on the thirtieth; he has temporarily requisitioned my father’s suite. I am on the floor below him.” It was clear he wasn’t happy with this arrangement. “There is a swimming pool in the sub basement.”
He turned to leave, then stopped. “What did you mean earlier, ‘We don’t have time to waste’?” His forehead crumpled into a frown, and Billi had a sudden and overwhelming urge to smooth it away. She flushed and shifted her attention awkwardly to the mural above her.
“I just meant that an innocent girl will die unless we find her,” she mumbled. When she dared to look back at Ivan, he was watching her, amused.
He knows I’m hiding something.
“Da, that is true. We will help you find her, as we promised. We will talk tomorrow.”
“Well, thank you very much,” she managed stiffly. “So…good night, Ivan.”
He smirked. “Good night, Billi SanGreal.”
Billi lay wide awake, staring up at the firebird mosaic over her head. Her body begged for rest, but her mind kept turning over.
It had gone perfectly. Koshchey wanted to help. He hated the Polenitsy as much as they did. Gwaine had come by and told her Koshchey had all his men out already. He should have news by tomorrow morning.
If Vasilisa was here, Koshchey would find her. Billi had been up for more than twenty-four hours, and without some sleep she’d be useless to anyone. The best thing she could do was rest and be ready in the morning.
Then why did she feel something was so terribly wrong?
The previous Tsar’s death? People died in her line of business. The Templars had counted on Tsar Alexei’s aid, but Koshchey seemed just as willing. Almost too willing.
Paranoia. Maybe that was all it was. For once, things were going her way, and she wasn’t used to it. Maybe Koshchey’s past wasn’t a good one. Maybe he did have a bad reputation for the things he’d done long ago, but who didn’t? Her dad had been accused of her mother’s death, and Billi had blood on her own hands; she had no right to pass judgment on others.
No, Koshchey didn’t bother her.
Ivan bothered her.
She couldn’t get those gray eyes out of her mind. He looked at her like he was looking right into her soul. A lot of girls might fall for that sort of thing.
But not her.
21
BILLI HAD SLEPT BADLY. IT WAS STILL AN HOUR OR so before breakfast and she needed to clear her head. Thursday and another day gone. She checked her mobile for news from Karelia. Nothing. Maybe she should find Koshchey, see if he’d discovered anything. Or Ivan. Someone had to know where Vasilisa was. They only had three days left to find her. Three days before Fimbulwinter.
Billi paced the room, full of nervous energy, constantly flicking her mobile open and shut. Eventually she threw the phone on the bed. She needed to get herself together. Some hard exercise to clear out some of that buzz in her head.
There was a wardrobe of brand-new clothes in her suite. She slipped into a dark blue swimsuit, then grabbed a thick white cotton bathrobe and towel on her way out.
The route to the swimming pool was simple: out on level B2, then follow the smell of chlorine and moisture.
Dim blue pool lights shone from under the water. The pool itself was Olympic sized, the roof a ribbed curving barrel hung with brass lamps. The only sound was the water lapping against the pool edge.
Billi took off her robe and stood, arms raised, at the head of the pool. She watched her reflection quiver on the water’s surface for a second, then dived in.
The cold stunned Billi, and her chest clenched as she sliced through the dull blueness of the pool. The lights were large circular plates, their frames bonded stainless steel. Billi’s eyes adjusted swiftly to the hazy underwater world, and she was surprised by the water’s clarity. She thrust herself deeper and skimmed across the white-tiled floor. Then, with a kick, she rose and started attacking the water with long, chopping strokes.
What was she doing here? She had three days to save Vasilisa. She hated the idea of relying on others, but the Bogatyrs were the experts on the Polenitsy. Her hands cut into the water as she pumped her legs, letting frustration fuel her strokes. The far wall was approaching, so Billi dropped her head and turned underwater, sensing the distance before she pushed off again.
A loud splash made Billi stop a quarter way along the pool’s length. Someone was coming up, fast. Muscular arms drove a long, torpedo-swift body through the cold water. Billi kicked off again, aiming at the far wall, some twenty-five yards away. The first few strokes lacked rhythm, but soon she was steaming. But no matter how quick she was, the guy behind her was catching up. Suddenly he was at her shoulder, and she could see the wall a few yards away. She pounded harder, but he was too strong. His big arms pulled him forward, and Billi felt herself caught in his wake. Then Ivan slapped his palms on the wall and stopped.
Billi bobbed up behind him.
He hung on to the brass railings running just above the water’s surface. His hair was loose, and the dappled light lit the sharp angles of his face.
“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he asked.
Billi said nothing. He’d easily outswum her and she didn’t like it. Maybe he was pissed off at her for saving his life and just wanted to boost his ego.