CHAPTER 22.

When the outside door rolled back, Grigorii was waiting for us. "Oh, look," I said. "It's Prince Charming, the pimp. Be still my heart."

"Mikel, take Masha back to her room," Grigorii said. "Luna and I have an exciting development to discuss." He took me by the arm, like your boyfriend would, gentle and firm.

"Be careful," I said. "You're going to sweep me right off of my feet."

"That's the idea," said Grigorii. He led me away from Masha, until we were in a hospital ward, beds and musty curtains hanging like discarded shrouds.

"Alone at last," Grigorii said, sitting down on one of the beds, the sheets still crisp even though his weight raised a cloud of dust. I sneezed.

"Is this your idea of a romantic getaway?"

"Emil says that you're not a genetic match for my endeavor here," he said. "Which leaves me with a problem, because now I have no way to make a profit from you."

"Yeah, about your endeavor," I said. "What exactly are a geneticist and a gangster up to in this musty old place? Is it aliens? Please say aliens."

Grigorii reached out and tugged at the strings of my hospital gown. "If you'd let me finish, I would say that I'm not sure I want to profit from you."

I tried to tamp down the reflexive twitch at his touch. He noticed it, and dropped his hand. "Why? Do I disgust you?"

"You've got a screw loose," I said. "And you're the bottom scrapings of the magick gene pool. Sorry if I'm not moistening my panties at the thought of getting next to you."

"It's this, or I execute your friend and leave you as an experimental subject for Gorshkov. He's not only a bioengineer, you know. He has ... other hobbies. We met when he was my customer in Moscow, before I moved to more tolerant climes."

All of my instincts shouted for me to fight, because that's my training-you take control of a situation and if the other person won't give control, you fight for it, make a fuss, cause a scene until you're out of danger. But I'd tried with Grigorii, and he'd almost stopped my heart with a few hundred magick volts. The were paced at the edges of my mind and I let it creep in.

I was only going to get one chance here.

"Can I talk while we do this?" I asked, putting one knee up on the bed and exposing a generous length of thigh. Grigorii's smirk curled to life.

"Go right ahead, my dear. Although I must ask you to please refrain from attacking me again. I'm not into that sort of kink."

"What sort are you into?" I purred. Grigorii's mouth pulled down. I pasted a dopey smile on my face in return. Easy, Wilder. Don't lay it on too thick Easy, Wilder. Don't lay it on too thick.

"I don't believe in discussing my laundry list of perversions before the actual perversion begins," he said, running his fingers up my leg, grazing against the junction of my thigh.

"So," I said, tugging at the collar of my hospital gown, exposing the top curve of my breasts, "let me see if I'm getting all of this. This is a bioengineering lab. Gorshkov is doing gene therapy on Masha and on more before her. Masha is a were. So I'm thinking that you're doing some evil little experiment to manipulate Masha's were DNA."

I stood back from Grigorii and undid the ties on my gown, letting it pool around my ankles. "How right am I?"

He gave me an admiring nod. "The Soviet regime left behind many interesting projects that someone with vision could use to their benefit. My family has political ties, and a certain ambitious program came to my attention. I hired Gorshkov to implement it." Taking my hand, he drew me close enough to feel his body heat and reached out his free hand for my waist. "Now enough talk. Come to me, Luna," he purred, his tongue flicking out to caress his pale lips.

"You know," I said, running my hand down his jaw in return. His skin felt like wax, stiff and dead. "This is a very perverse way to make me earn my freedom."

"We'll see how you perform," Grigorii said. "And then I'll decide what gets done with you. To you." He guided my hand to his fly. "Get on your knees and take me with your mouth."

I gave him a wink and sank into a crouch. Grigorii's ego was really something-he honestly thought he was completely safe letting a pissy were female at the most sensitive part of his anatomy after I'd already fought him off once.

Idiot.

"Good woman." Grigorii stroked my hair. "They all come in with fire in their eyes, that entitled Western spark in their gaze, and they all break sooner or later and realize that submission is what's best."

I pulled my gown closer with my foot, dropped my hand to feel for the scissors in my sleeve.

"Submission is the only road to survival for people in your situation, my dear," Grigorii continued. "Don't you think I'm right?" He tugged at my scalp. "Tell me you think I'm right."

I looked up at his eyes and drew my lips back to show my fangs. "You know what I think?" I gripped the scissors, the cool metal slipping in the sweat of my palms. "I think you talk too gods-damned much."

Grigorii's face twisted. "I'll teach you to speak to me that way, whore..."

He stopped, just froze, letting out a small strangled sound as I buried the scissors in his groin with all of my strength, blood flowing fast, staining the wool of his obscenely expensive suit.

There were no screams, no words, just an expression of pure shock in Grigorii's eyes. I stood up, careful to keep myself away from the blood.

"Good news and bad news, Grigorii," I said, pulling the gown back on. "Good news is, I missed all your major arteries, so you probably won't bleed to death." Itugged the gown's strings tight, up to my throat. I couldn't stand being naked under his paralyzed, accusing gaze for another second. "Bad news is that unlike your buddy Rasputin, I doubt you'll bounce back from this."

Grigorii let out a hiss, a rasping screech of pain, his hands trying to stanch the bleeding, but it was too late. I saw his pupils dilate, black with shock, and his already white skin go cadaver-colored.

I could put a compress on the wound, stop the bleeding long enough for Grigorii to stumble downstairs to Dr. Gorshkov. I could elevate his feet, cover him in a heavy blanket to stave off shock and roll him there myself on one of these beds.

"Please..." Grigorii managed. He was on the floor now, a slow dark crimson pool spreading from his wound. I could get him up in a fireman's carry, because he was a small guy and I was strong, and run him back to the lab.

"Please..."

I didn't do any of the things I could have, except turn my back and walk out of the hospital ward, my bare feet not making a sound on the linoleum.

And I didn't feel anything when I did.

Once I'd cleared the ward I broke into a run. I had to make a break for it before the doctor figured out what was going on and burned the place to the ground to cover his tracks.

Masha. She was my first priority. Retracing my steps to the holding cells, I came upon the switchboard operator, who stared at me gape-jawed.

I slammed his forehead once into the controls for the cell doors, hard, and he slid out of his chair and curled on the floor with a soft moan. I hit the switch for cell sixteen and jogged down the corridor.

"Masha." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. "We gotta go."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "There might be a problem there."

"No time for teenage angst, sweetie," I said. "Up and run, now. This is a one-time special offer."

"It's not that," she said. "I'm not feeling so good after that injection..." She tried to stand and her stance was drunken, her knees buckling after a few seconds.

"Crap," I hissed under my breath and came into the cell, grabbing her by one arm and hauling her against me. "You hold on to me and don't let go, no matter what. Understand?"

"I feel sick," she said, her head lolling against me. "I'm seeing everything double..."

"Hey!" I said, grabbing her chin. "I know you're stronger than this, Masha. Your father told me what hell you can give. Now suck it up and walk with me or we're both going to die in here. You want that?"

"No..." she moaned.

"Didn't think so. March." We made an odd creature, half-stumbling and half-running down the hall.

It wasn't difficult to find the way back to the door I'd come in, but getting out would be another matter.

We were in sight of the security cage when my grand plan shattered like an ice sculpture in July. A burst of automatic gunfire pocked the wall over my head with divots. Masha slid to the floor with a scream and I followed her, covering her body with mine.

"It's not that easy," said Mikel, walking over to us, his Kalashnikov hanging loosely from his crooked arm. "Haven't you learned by now?"

"You should be less worried about me and more worried about your boss," I said. "He wasn't looking so good when I left him."

Mikel frowned, turning over the possibilities. I was patient. If brains were computers, he'd still be running Windows 98. "Grigorii is a witch," he said finally. "This is just a bluff."

"Steel isn't great for magick-users, and witches can bleed out," I said, my eyes on the rifle. "Just like their hench-thugs."

Mikel glared. "What does that mean?"

I lashed out with my foot and knocked the rifle from his grasp, grabbing it as it slid to the floor. "It means that I meant what I said," I told him. Mikel threw up his hands, but I drove the butt of the Kalashnikov into his face and heard bone snap. I took the clip out of the rifle and dropped it, my heart thudding with the thrill of near-death.

"I told you," I said to Mikel.

He leaped at me again, with surprising fortitude for a plain human who'd just had his face smashed in. Not bright, but sure as hell persistent.

I fell as he grabbed my ankle, and gave a cry as a sharp sting drove through my calf. Mikel had a knife and he was raising it to slash me again.

"Luna!" Masha's small hands grabbed me and pulled me backward, into a small, dark box that smelled like rat poison.

"You can't run from me!" Mikel howled, but a door rolled shut and we began to descend, lights blinking past to show floors as the elevator dropped us into the belly of the lab.

"Where does this go?" I demanded.

"No idea," Masha said. "The lower floors are closed off because they're, like, a safety hazard. No one goes down here except Dr. Gorshkov. It's where the file room is."

"You figured out a lot in two weeks," I said.

"Not much else to do." She shrugged. "Except think about how my mother was probably going insane thinking I'd run off with my boyfriend."

"Your mother was worried sick," I said. Masha snorted.

"Whatever."

"You know, Masha..." I started, and then sighed. She coughed, a wet sound that indicated a deep infection, then shrugged at me in the dimness.

"What?"

"I was a lot like you," I said. "And believe me, there's plenty of time to make stupid fuckups about men and partying and your life in general when you're out of the house."

"I can't believe you're giving me a stern pep talk in a condemned elevator while we escape from some freak with a machine gun," she muttered.

"Blow me off if you want," I said. "But if I'd given my mother a little less stress, I wouldn't be a were, and I wouldn't be here, and believe me, sweetie, neither would you."

The elevator ground to a stop and Masha pulled herself to her feet. "Finally."

The door rolled back to dampness, darkness, a slow dripping far in the distance. I felt along the wall and found a panel of switches, which I flipped at random until the lights hissed on. One fizzed and went out immediately, water causing a shower of sparks.

"Comforting," I said. "Reminds me of my office at home."

"Your office is in the basement?" Masha snorted. "Who'd you piss off?"

"Bomb shelter," I corrected. "And too many people to count."

The elevator started to go up again, and I cursed. "Mikel. Come on, we need a place to hide."

We followed the precarious light trail through a maze of corridors, each danker and mustier than the last.

"My dad talked about you," Masha said. "When he came back. Said you were a real bitch and broke his heart over stupid reasons."

"Your dad always did have a way with words," I muttered. My calf was sticky with blood and I stopped to examine it.

"Are you okay?" Masha said anxiously, bending close. I gave her a look and she backed away, the tough teenager face back in place. "I mean, if you croak, who's going to take on that freak with the assault rifle?"

"It's only a flesh wound," I said, giving her a smile. She didn't react. "Monty Python and the Holy Grail "Monty Python and the Holy Grail?" I sighed. "Never mind. Sometimes I forget that you grew up in a country devoid of decadent Western ideas."

"What's next, an 'in Soviet Russia' joke?" she said. "You Americans seem to love those."

"Not bad," I said. "You've got a real mouth on you. I did, too, at your age. Still do. Don't lose it. A big mouth can be your best weapon."

"My mom and dad both tell me I talk too much," Masha said tightly, and clammed up.

I heard the elevator bell sound far behind us, and footsteps. Blood drifted to my nose, along with metal sweat and copper fear. At least now, I had the upper hand even if Mikel had the gun. "In here," I said, gesturing her through a door marked with bright red lettering.

"I dunno," Masha said. "I can't read Kazakh but in Russian it says danger-do not enter and some other crap I can't make out 'cause it's all faded. That doesn't look promising."

"Trust me," I said. "Come on."

The door led us into a long room, empty of anything at all. I tried the switch and only darkness responded. "Perfect," I said. "Stay behind the door, and stay quiet."

Mikel was calling something out in Ukrainian as he paced down the hallways toward us, singsong and high-pitched.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Masha whispered in translation. Mikel's footsteps stopped outside the door, and everything was quiet for a moment except for my heartbeat and Masha's.

And a third, far away in the shadows, thumping strong. A heartbeat that belonged to something I hadn't seen or scented.

Oh, Hex me.

"Masha," I hissed. She goggled at me. "Stay calm," I said. "But you need to know there's someone else in here."