of an egg, one descended from an archangel. The presence of such a creature is absolutely essential.
With Lucien here, everything will come together.”
“You believe it’s really possible?” Azov said, and Vera could see the curiosity in his manner, the
pure desire of a scientist at work.
“That we will soon know for sure,” Valko said. “First we need fire.” He withdrew his small
portable gas stove from his backpack and, taking matches from the pocket of his parka, lit it. The
hissing blue fire rose and fell to a soft steady flame.
“And now I need the formula,” he said. Vera took Rasputin’s book from her satchel and gave it to
Valko. He removed the flowers from behind the protective layer of wax paper and dropped them into
the vessel. The process took only a matter of minutes. Soon the flowers had been blended together
into a resinous white liquid.
Valko picked up the tube and swirled it gently, until it began to bubble and melt, forming a sticky
soup at the bottom. Soon a brown mixture, thick as caramel, clung to the rock crystal, solidifying and
melting against the curvature of the vessel. Inserting a long copper rod, and turning it through the
concoction, he said, “It is nearly time to melt the Valkine and the silphium.”
Valko removed a glass tube from his pocket. Vera saw what looked like the stamens of flowers,
each no bigger than the leg of a fly, collected at the bottom.
“This tiny amount of silphium is all I have been able to harvest, even after years of growing it,”
Valko said. “I can only hope that it will be enough.” After uncorking the tube, he scattered the
silphium stamens into the mixture. “I must add them slowly,” Valko said, without looking up. “A few
bits of resin at a time.”
With the first drops, the thick brown concoction hissed and began to thin. With the next addition,
the color transformed into the golden amber of the resin itself, a rich yellow that matched the Fabergé
eggs in brilliance. Valko dropped in the remaining stems of resin, watching them disappear into the
brew. Vera wondered—as she stepped away from the table—at those who had spent their lives in
endless experimentation, hunting for ingredients that did not exist, working out fruitless recipes,
following circular metaphors, and, in the end, wasting their lives in pursuit of an unattainable dream.
She couldn’t help but wonder if they were just following the same hopeless path.
“Vera, my dear,” Valko said. “I will need your help.” His eyes seemed to catch fire. “The
pendant.”
Vera went behind Valko and unfastened the necklace. The metal retained the warmth of his skin.
“It will dissolve?” Sveti asked.
“Valkine is extremely soft and should melt with ease,” Valko said, stirring the mixture. Vera slid
the pendant off the necklace and dropped it into the alembic.
“Now the blood,” Valko said.
“Blood?” Vera said, surprised by this addition. She glanced from Azov to Valko, trying to
understand. “You never said anything about blood.”
“Why do you think we need Lucien?” Valko said. “Angelic blood—a certain kind of angelic blood
—is necessary to complete the mixture. Blood from an egg-born angel is quite different from the
blood of humans, or even of Nephilim.”
“Which explains why Godwin wants Evangeline,” Vera said.
“Not exactly,” Valko said thoughtfully. “They are interested in Evangeline’s blood, that is for
certain, although she is simply a rare mixture, not an egg-born child, nor the product of angelophany.
In any case, they cannot possibly create what we are about to create here.” Looking to Lucien, Valko
gestured for him to come to the table. The creature stepped closer, casting a column of light over the
alembic. Valko took nail scissors from the Nécessaire kit and sliced Lucien’s finger. The drops of
blood fell into the mixture.
“Assist me,” Valko said, giving Vera a plastic vial he’d taken from his backpack. She held it
between her fingers, her hands steady as he transferred drops of the thick potion into the vial. Vera
secured the top with a cork and held it up to the light. The alembic, which only moments before had
been coated in a sticky resin, was perfectly clear, its crystalline curves as transparent as glass.
Azov looked closely at the vial. “There isn’t very much.”
“It is extremely concentrated,” Valko said, taking it from Vera’s fingers. He wrapped it in a cloth,
placed it inside the egg, and snapped it closed. “A few drops released into the water supply of any
major city would be enough to affect the entire Nephilistic population.”