I’d been wrong. Maybe it was cold and miserable in the forest, but man can bring his own warmth and comfort with him wherever he goes. Of course, nature has to suffer a little as a result, but that’s a different matter. A different matter altogether.
Matvei woke up first. He crawled out of his sleeping bag, stopped at the opening for a minute as he fiddled with his stylish mountain boots (far superior to my clumsy, thick-soled shoes), unlaced the flap and went outside. A breath of frost immediately licked at my face. And at the same time I felt against my chest the long object that the Vikings had passed on to me at the airport. I hadn’t taken a proper look at it since then – there hadn’t been any opportunity.
And I also realised that overnight the cocoon, which hadn’t been fed any further energy, had melted away. I could feel a breath of power from the object. Or rather, not power, but POWER. If there had been even one Other there, he couldn’t have helped but sense the Talon.
I pulled the long, curved object – a case? – out from under my sweater. It looked like a scabbard for a dagger, but it opened like a bivalve seashell. That is, of course, if there are any shells like that in the sea – thirty or thirty-five centimetres long, and narrow.
The case was locked in the Twilight, so no ordinary person could possibly have opened it. Screwing up my eyes, I moved closer to the entrance of the tent and threw the flap partly back so that there was more light.
Inside, lying on dark-red velvet, there really was a blackish-blue talon from some huge beast. It looked as sharp as a Circassian dagger – on its curved inner surface. It had a long groove that looked as though it was for draining blood stretching along its entire length. The wide end looked as if it had been roughly broken off, as if the talon had been hacked away from the foot very crudely without ceremony And I supposed it probably had been.
But then, what kind of beast could have had talons like this? It would have to be some legendary dragon. What else could it be? But did dragons ever really exist? I rummaged through my memory, trying to find an answer to this question, and shook my head doubtfully. Witches and vampires were one thing – they were just Others – but dragons …
The snow squeaked under Matvei’s feet as he walked back from the stream. With a sigh, I slipped into the Twilight for a moment, closed the case and stuck it back under my sweater.
‘Awake already?’ Matvei asked as he came closer.
‘Uhuh.’
‘You weren’t cold, then?’
‘No. It’s incredible. I thought in the middle of winter, in the forest, I was bound to feel cold. But it was warm.’
‘You southerners are funny people,’ Matvei laughed. ‘You think this is a real frost? In Siberia they have real frosts. You know what they say? A Siberian isn’t someone who doesn’t feel the cold, he’s someone who’s warmly dressed.’
I laughed. It was well put. I ought to remember that.
Matvei smiled into his beard too.
‘There’s a stream over there. You can have a wash.’
‘Uhuh.’ I clambered out of the tent and walked to the frozen stream. At the point where the path reached the low bank, someone had broken a neat hole in the ice: overnight the hole had frozen over with a thin, almost transparent layer of ice, but Matvei had broken it open again. The water was cold, but not cold enough to make even my warmth-loving soul afraid of splashing a few handfuls onto my face. The water invigorated me, and I immediately felt I wanted to do something, run somewhere.
Or perhaps it wasn’t the water at all. The day before I’d almost completely drained myself, the airport. And I’d felt exactly the way you’d expect. I’d grabbed some power from the portal and a little from the enchantress, and then expended almost all of it again. But overnight I’d apparently been drawing power from the Talon.
Its power was the right kind, Dark power. I hadn’t really liked using the Light Ones’ power – it was alien, hard to control. But the Talon’s power was like mother’s milk to an infant. It even seemed to breathe in a mysterious way that was almost painfully familiar.
I felt as if I could overturn mountains.
‘When are you planning to break camp?’ I asked when I got back to the tent. Or rather, not to the tent, but the campfire. Matvei was chopping firewood. The two dogs were circling round him, gazing hungrily up at the pot hanging over the fire.
‘When everyone wakes up, we’ll warm up the pilaff, take another shot of vodka to warm ourselves up and then we’ll move on. Why? Are you in a hurry?’
‘I probably ought to get going soon,’ I said vaguely.
‘Well, if you’re in a hurry, go. Keep the jacket. I’ll give you Styopa’s address, you can take it round sometime.’
If only you knew who you’re helping, human.
‘Matvei,’ I said in a low voice. ‘I seriously doubt that I’ll have a chance to go looking for Styopa. Thanks, but I won’t freeze.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Matvei, straightening up and holding the axe out in his hand. ‘If you don’t give it back, you don’t. Your health’s more important.’
I tried to make my smile look wise and sad.
‘Matvei, it’s a good thing there’s nobody else here. You know, I’m not actually human.’
Matvei’s eyes immediately glazed over in boredom. He’d probably decided I was some kind of crazy psychic charlatan. Well, I’d just have to prove it to him.
Both dogs instantly lost their joyful bounce, started to whine and huddled down at Matvei’s feet. I raised my barely visible morning shadow from the snow and slipped into the Twilight.
Matvei’s reaction was funny to watch – he was so startled he dropped his axe. It landed on the Newfoundland’s paw and the poor dog yelped deafeningly.
Matvei couldn’t see me. But he wasn’t supposed to see me.
I pulled off the jacket; Matvei wouldn’t be able to see it either, until I threw it out of the Twilight. I felt for some money in my shirt pocket and stuck two hundred-dollar bills in the pocket of the jacket. Then I tossed it at Matvei.
Matvei shuddered and caught the jacket awkwardly when, as far as he could tell, it suddenly appeared out of thin air. He glanced around and, to be quite honest, he looked rather pitiful, but I could tell that without this kind of demonstration there was no way I could ever convince him.
I didn’t want to take anything belonging to anyone else away with me, not even a lousy jacket. If people ask no questions and help a stranger who comes wandering up to their campfire out of the forest, you shouldn’t take anything from them if you can avoid it. The jacket was comfortable and obviously not cheap. I didn’t want it. I’m a Dark One. I don’t need other people’s things.
I emerged from the Twilight behind Matvei’s back. He carried on staring wildly into empty space.
‘Here I am,’ I said, and Matvei swung round abruptly. His eyes were completely crazy now.
‘A-a-a-a,’ he murmured and fell silent.
‘Thanks, I really will get by without the jacket.’
Matvei nodded. He obviously didn’t feel like objecting any more. I think he was seriously concerned that he’d spent the night in a tent with some kind of monster who could disappear in front of his eyes. And who knew what he might be capable of beyond that?