Gunmetal Magic(81)

“So this is some sort of artifact?” I asked. I felt so tired all of a sudden. I had to make sure not to get bitten again. The snake venom was turning me into an old decrepit woman.

“The Bone Staff belonged to the Black Volhv, the head priest of our god,” he said. “It’s been missing for centuries, since the Mongols invaded Russia. Eventually the Horde came to the town of Kitezh on Lake Svetloyar. It was the last of the great pagan strongholds. But the magic was already weak, and the Mongols were too many, so the volhvi decided to work one last spell to keep the holy relics from the Horde. They sank the city.”

“What do you mean, sank?” I asked.

“Buried it in the lake. The whole thing. The Bone Staff was supposed to have been lost with the city, but then years later a respected old volhv, who was just a boy when Kitezh sank, claimed on his deathbed that the staff and other relics had been smuggled out of the city by him and two others before the place went under.”

“So this is a holy relic?”

“Yep. The bones are supposed to belong to a Black Serpent Guhd. My dad will shit himself.”

He was a walking encyclopedia of magic expertise. Just what I needed, except the picture of my knife was stuck in a nonfunctioning computer. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen off the desk and sketched the knife one-handed, still holding on to the staff. “Do you know anything about a knife? Looks somewhat like this?”

Roman squinted at my drawing. “Is that a walrus tusk?”

“No.” Obviously my drawing skills were lacking.

“Then no. Not off the top of my head, no. Magic knives aren’t exactly scarce.”

Drat.

“You better let me have that.” Roman reached for the bird staff and I let go. The volhv took it and grinned. “Two staves. It’s like having two women.”

I rolled my eyes. Men.

“Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome. Are you done here? If not, I’ll wait.”

I didn’t find anything useful in the papers. The only thing that had any valuable information was the computer. I crouched down, disconnected the tower, and picked it up. “I’m done.”

Outside, the night was pleasantly warm. We turned the corner and I pulled my hat off. Phew. The night breeze cooled my sweat-dampened hair.

Now I just had to get to the car. Get to the car and hopefully not pass out while I was driving. The exhaustion settled deep into my bones. It felt like I was dragging a cement block chained to my feet with every step and carrying another one in my arms. Look at the big bad shapeshifter. It was good that night had fallen and butterflies fluttered around. If one of them landed on me, it would score a perfect knockout.

Roman walked next to me, his stride brisk, looking fresh as a daisy. A very menacing black daisy.

“I can make it from here,” I told him. I hope.

“Please,” he said, as if I offended him. “I’ll walk you to your car. Streets are not safe at night.”

I shifted the tower in my arms. “You do realize I turn into a monster?”

“When you turn into one, we’ll talk. Right now you’re not a monster. You’re a lady. A very attractive one. And this is a bad neighborhood.”

Heh. Ever the gentleman. “So if someone were to make trouble, would you turn him into a frog?”

“I don’t do frogs. That’s my mother’s thing. The transmogrification never works completely. Changing the shape of something against its will requires a lot of energy, so you change someone into a frog and then it fails and he turns back into a human and comes after you with a gun.”

“Speaking from personal experience?”

“No, but I’ve seen it happen.”

We turned another corner. Roman cleared his throat. “So. You come here often?”

I cracked up.

“I like it when you laugh,” he said. “It’s hot.”

Woo! “Thank you, Mr. Wizard.”

“Oh no, not a wizard.” He shook his head. “Magus maybe. I could live with that, but the proper term is volhv, really. We are priests.”

I ducked through the gap in the ruin and stopped. My Jeep sat on four wooden blocks. Someone had taken my tires. They jacked my Jeep and stole my tires, the rims, and everything.

Screw you, Pucker Alley.

Roman shook his head. “Something tells me this is not a safe neighborhood.”

I exhaled rage through my nose, like a pissed-off bull. It would take me thirty minutes to reach the office at a fast run on a good day. On a bad day like today, I’d be walking for a couple of hours.

“It’s okay.” Roman let out a shrill whistle.

A rapid staccato of hoofbeats approached from a distance. The night parted and an enormous horse trotted toward us. Massive, its coat slick and soft, like midnight sable, the horse approached, pounding the asphalt with every step. She stopped by Roman and nuzzled his shoulder, her long luxurious mane falling in a black wave down one side.