Dead Wrath (A Valkyrie Novel - Book 4)(30)

Edrik chuckled. "Then maybe we need a more portable version of Siri," he said with a grin.

I did a double take. "That's actually a brilliant idea," I said slowly. Ed had hit on the fact that Siri had turned a frost giant into a pile of ash with her dragon fire.

I glanced at her. "How hot would you say the flame is when you breathe fire as a dragon?"

She shrugged. "I wouldn't be able to tell you in terms of degrees Fahrenheit or anything. I've never had it tested." She pursed her lips, her expression revealing she was just as curious as I was.

"I can test it for you," said Derek from the threshold of the door. It seemed he'd trailed the team into the gun storage room and been listening with interest. To be honest, Derek never seemed to be very far from the team, always on hand to help with something, always ready to offer an idea. I was beginning to think he was too good to be true.

Siri looked at me, and I said, "Make it quick. And test levels and abilities both in human and dragon form. See what levels of heat we need and see what you can do to get us a weapon that sprays flame," I said to Derek. Then I glanced at Iain. "Do you have a place where Siri can transform? Some place large enough where she wouldn't destroy the furniture." I smirked, and Siri poked my arm.

"Yes, of course. We have the training room that's pretty bare, large floor space, so that should do," Iain said as he bobbed his head and walked to the doorway. "Come, I will show you where it is."

I watched them leave, then called out, "Don't take too long. We'll be leaving soon."



A good night's sleep did us all good and we were ready to head out after an early breakfast. We were in the front hall of the London HQ when Iain came hurrying along the narrow passage, holding a folder. "You'll be needing this," he said, waving the file at me.

I'd done well with my recovery, managing to get on my feet within hours. Iain had pronounced that I'd be as good as new by the time we arrived in St. Petersburg. I myself would have preferred sooner, but I had to take what I got. No more and no less.

"I put out some feelers in MI6 and Interpol just in case we were to tread on anyone's toes. Interpol came through and offered us the use of one of their Russian agents. I simply couldn't turn that opportunity down. At least now you and the team won't be going in blind."

I glanced around the team, and it seemed the undercurrent agreed with my own feelings; we didn't need a guide. But to preserve inter-organizational relationships, I nodded my head and took the file.

Flicking it open, I stared at a photo of a man in his early thirties, dirty-blond hair that fell around his face in more of an unkempt than cool fashion. His eyes were close together and were dark and suspicious. Already, I wasn't liking this dude much. I shook the thought from my head.

"His name is Yuri Melnikov. He's stationed in St. Petersburg and will meet you at the Bifrost entrance," said Iain. I gave a silent snort.

Considering my most recent experience on the Bifrost, there was nothing safe about it.

Derek was the first to leave the house, again laden with bags. This early in the morning, the roads were empty of traffic, but from the looks of the neighborhoods, this part of town didn't look like it got too busy. We followed Derek back down the street and crossed the road before heading for the opening in the trees that would take us back inside the abandoned cemetery.

"What happens once this place gets cleaned up and restored? Or, god's forbid, rezoned and turned into a parking lot? Are there many other Bifrost access points in London?" I asked Derek.

His chin bobbed up and down way too fast for my liking. He was liable to snap his neck right off his body if he kept it up. "There are a few dozen entrances similar to what we have in New York. Of course, urbanization of the city poses a few problems as access points get built over or taken apart. Usually, we can still have some form of access, but sometimes it does become more than a little difficult. Like the entrance we previously used in London that is now a mall with the Bifrost opening inside the emergency generator. Not much chance of using that entrance anymore since on arrival, you're permanently stuck inside the metal parts of a commercial generator."

I winced as we walked past a headless statue. "That doesn't sound too pleasant," I murmured. "I suppose there are a number of strange entrance locations now."

"Too many. And often it's not practical to vet each and every one before it is used."

"And the bridge to St. Petersburg? Is that safe enough?" I asked, beginning to recognize more of the cemetery now.

Derek cleared his throat, his cheeks flaming as he stepped gingerly around another used condom. He coughed to cover his embarrassment and said, "Yes, it most definitely is safe. It arrives in a private viewing box at the Aleksandrinskiy Theater. We have surprised a few guests on occasion, but since we appear behind them, it's easy enough to say, 'Sorry, wrong box,' and back out fast."

"I'll bet," I said, laughing softly. We finally reached the spot we'd arrived at two days ago, and I noticed the litter hadn't changed in either quantity or quality. I wasn't sure if I should be thankful. I averted my eyes and scanned the members of my team. "We ready to jump?" I asked. After getting nods all round and an anxious glance from Enya, we readied ourselves as Derek called the Bifrost.

The air shimmered and sparkled, taking on a liquid consistency. Before he stepped through, Derek gave me a wary glance, then led the way. We hurried through swiftly, arriving in a deserted, red-curtained viewing box that hung over the side of a gigantic theater. The box, lined with red-cushioned chairs, was angled to the front of the theater. The positioning and the shadows at the back of the box would conveniently hide anyone appearing in the box from the rest of the theatergoers.

Moments later, the box was a little too crowded, but we waited to check the passage outside before filing out. Red carpets and gold sconces adorned the ornate building, and we admired the architecture of the structure as we made our way out of the theater.

We found the Interpol agent waiting outside the building for us, a bored expression on his face as he leaned against the wall beside the exit, smoking a cigarette. His head turned in our direction as we left the theater, and he took one last puff, then dropped the cigarette to the floor, squashing it with a turn of his foot. He hurried to us.

"Welcome to Russia," he said, his accent strange and musical to my ears, but there was no welcoming light in his eyes. More than anything, he looked at us the way I'd look at Loki, which was odd.

I swiftly pulled myself out of my idiotic thoughts and focused on the Interpol agent. "Yuri?" I asked. When he nodded, I said, "Thank you very much for your hospitality."

He bent his head in a small bow and simply said, "It is my pleasure to work with Heimar. Come. I have a vehicle waiting." He stood beside me, and I had to stop myself from putting some distance between us. For an Interpol agent, he was surprisingly unkempt. His blond hair was dark and oily, his face pasty, eyes hard as he watched us suspiciously. I didn't know much about Interpol, but I assumed their agents abided by the customs of the general human public in that their hygiene practices were normal and acceptable.

Yuri hurried ahead of us to open the door to the small van. Aimee glanced at me, wrinkling her nose. "When did he last shower?" she asked in a whisper.

"I was wondering the same," said Aidan, his face revealing disgust and a distinct lack of respect for the agent.

Guess Yuri didn't start off on the best foot.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN



I was surprised to see Yuri was driving, having expected him to hire a driver for convenience. We piled into the van and tried to look out of grimy windows at the streets of St. Petersburg. Nothing impressive there either. Seemed our Russian experience was heading to be a disappointing one.

I watched the back of his head as we bumped along, then suppressed a shiver when my gaze met his in the rearview mirror, his hard black eyes expressionless. I gave him a polite smile, then turned to Joshua, who had taken a seat beside me. "We need to be careful of that one. I don't trust him one bit."

"I agree," whispered Joshua. "Something about the eyes." I smirked. Seemed Yuri had rubbed more than just me the wrong way.

For some reason, Aidan had taken a seat up front and threw a few questions at the Russian agent every so often. I couldn't tell what the conversation was about, but it was clear from his hard expression that Yuri didn't welcome the interrogation.

I lost track of time and could barely tell how long we'd traveled when we reached the outskirts of a rundown village. It seemed sparsely populated, and along the way, we passed a number of buildings that either looked deserted or uninhabitable. Finally, he pulled the van over to the side of the road and handed Aidan a pair of binoculars.

"Over there." He pointed and Aidan shifted direction a little. "That is where they went. They arrived by private plane. Then a car picked them up and dropped them off at this house."

"It's quite beautiful."

Yuri cleared his throat as if unprepared to enter into any conversation pertaining to the beauty of the old manor house. He was a surly fellow, made so either by his nature or a dislike to us. I didn't want to think about what the latter meant since he was meant to be giving us aid on behalf of Interpol.