It was only as Tamara turned towards her rooms that she heard a gasp and the crash of china breaking on the floor.

'What happened to you?'

Tamara turned and looked at Nadia, and realized that she was reacting to the scratch marks that Raisa had left on her cheek. She hadn't even seen them herself yet, but judging from Nadia's reaction it was none too pretty a sight.

'You'd never believe me,' she said.

Then she went over to her rooms, through her study and into her bedroom, and collapsed on her bed, asleep.

It was dark when she awoke. There was a light, urgent tapping on her door. She was amazed that she had been able to sleep, with so many thoughts bouncing off the walls of her mind, but it had been over a day since she had last rested.

'Come in!' she shouted.

Nadia popped her head round the door. 'A gentleman asking for you,' she said.

'Tell him to pick someone else,' she snapped, then added, 'Tell him I've retired.' It was entirely an afterthought, but the very idea of it filled her with excitement.

'I don't think he's interested in that. He's not that sort of gentleman. He asked specifically to speak to you.'

Tamara leapt to her feet, all sleepiness banished in an instant. Could it be, at last? Had her father come to find her? She sped across her bedroom, into the study and through the salon to the front door.

Her face fell. She had no idea what Aleksei looked like, but this wasn't him. It was Gribov. She had never seen him at Degtyarny Lane before. She wasn't even sure if he knew the nature of the business that Yudin operated from there, but the very presence of the small, mild, bookish man seemed incongruous.

'I hope I haven't overstepped myself, Tamara Valentinovna,' he said, 'but given your researches, I felt sure you'd like to know.'

'Know what?'

'Aleksei Ivanovich. He has returned. He's in Moscow.'

That much was old news to Tamara, but she could only guess that Gribov had more to tell. 'Where is he?' she asked urgently.

'Actual State Councillor Yudin has shown an equal interest in speaking to him. That's why he's had him arrested.'

'Arrested? What for? He's been pardoned.'

'I fear Actual State Councillor Yudin regards that sort of thing as a detail. It was only luck that I was there when the gendarmes delivered him.'

'Delivered him? Where?'

Gribov swallowed visibly before answering. 'To Yudin's office. I saw them dragging him down the stairs, but they didn't stay there for long.'

'Where did they take him?' It was a stupid question, as Gribov made clear.

'I think, Tamara Valentinovna,' he said, scarcely raising his voice above a murmur, 'that you know that as well as I do.'

'Why?'

The word surprised Yudin, not in its meaning but in the fact that anyone had spoken at all. He had been expecting, on his return from the cells beneath, that his office would be empty. But then he had also been expecting, for some weeks now, that Dmitry would seek him out. It was an appointment that neither of them could shirk. And of all the ways that it might begin, Dmitry's 'Why?' had always been the most likely.

'You object?' Yudin countered.

'How could I? But that doesn't mean that I wouldn't have objected if I'd known.'

'You're sure of that?'

Dmitry paused. 'It's hard to tell. It's as if I was another person.'

'Really?' Yudin was, as ever, curious.

Dmitry did not choose to elucidate. 'How long has it been for you?' he asked instead.

'Barely thirty years. You remember when you left me and your father in Senate Square to face Nikolai's guns? It was within an hour of that.'

'Who was it that created you?'

'I'm unusual,' explained Yudin. 'I created myself.'

'From nothing? Like G.o.d?'

'Not quite. I needed a vampire's blood, but he was already dead.'

'So you are an orphan?' asked Dmitry.

'If you want to put it like that.'

'As am I.'

'Raisa's dead?' asked Yudin.

Dmitry nodded. 'I don't know what happened. Her mind was confused, and then was no more.'

Yudin sighed. It was a shame, but it had been a risk worth taking. Perhaps a stronger mind or one less vain would have dealt better with what it had witnessed in the looking gla.s.s, but Yudin still wasn't going to risk experimenting on himself, or even on Dmitry; not for now. He wished he were back in Chufut Kalye, where he'd had the facilities, and the guinea pigs, to conduct such elegant experiments.

Dmitry turned away and walked over to the map drawers. He reached out and pulled away the blanket, revealing the dressing-table mirror that had always stood there.

'Raisa told you that was there?' asked Yudin.

'I learned it from her. She was obsessed by it by mirrors. She thought you would be able to let her see her face.'

Yudin felt his muscles stiffen slightly, ready for action. Voordalaki were emotionless creatures, but he had learned over the years that the regard held by one of them for the vampire that created it could be strong; enough to lead to the desire for revenge over whoever had killed the vampire parent. Yudin did not feel the emotion himself how could he as a parricide? but in Dmitry it could prove dangerous. Neither of them knew how Raisa had died, but her reaction to the mirror must have been at least in part responsible. And Yudin had shown her the mirror.

'I tried,' he said. 'But I could never find a way.'

Dmitry nodded. 'She thought you were stringing her along.'

For a moment, Yudin considered objecting to this untruth, but he realized it was wiser to let it lie. Dmitry seemed to bear no grudge over such minor trickery of Raisa and so it was best to have him go on believing it rather than hint that Yudin might ever have had the power to reveal to her her true likeness.

'We both benefited from our a.s.sociation,' he said.

'You still haven't explained why,' said Dmitry.

So many reasons. Some Dmitry would understand; most he would be indifferent to. One, however, was fundamental. 'I'd always planned it.'

'Always?'

'Since I first met you, a little boy of five, in Petersburg, in 1812.'

'That's a long time to nurture a plan.'

Yudin smiled, taking Dmitry's words as a compliment. 'Perhaps an option then, rather than a plan, but it was there from the beginning.'

'So why now?'

'Because you were on the point of working it out for yourself, and that would have made it far more difficult to persuade you. Then of course there was the fact that, with the amnesty, your father would be returning home soon.'

'And he would have stopped you?'

Was that a hint of pride that Yudin noted in Dmitry's voice? It was unlikely impossible, even. The intonation merely reflected years of habitually speaking of Aleksei in that way.

'Hardly,' Yudin countered. 'He's an old man now, and it's been a long time since he had more influence over you than I did.'

'So what's he got to do with it?'

'My dear Mitka, he's the reason for it all. He was what was on my mind, back in 1812, when I first met you and your mother. I remember so clearly thinking to myself, I am going to destroy these people, and I'm going to make Aleksei watch it.'

'Why do you hate him so?' There was no rebuke in Dmitry's question, merely enquiry.

'Hate him? I wouldn't go that far. Now, of course, hatred is lost to me, but even then, even when a human, I don't think I ever hated your father. Perhaps on brief occasions, when he thwarted me, but on the whole, no. He merely stood against me. He offered himself as an opponent and I accepted him. If the stakes have become higher than he originally supposed, then that merely makes the game more exciting.'

'I imagine he must hate you.'

Yudin considered, and then nodded. 'Then I have won,' he said.

'You failed to destroy my mother in front of him.'

'Did I? You never knew that your mother and I were sleeping together, did you?'

'You surprise me.' Dmitry's words were uttered with none of the emotion that might be expected to accompany them. It was news to him, but he was not upset.

'We surprised Aleksei when he found us together. And then when he discovered the influence I'd had on you throughout your life, the set was complete. I had stolen his entire family.'

'Stolen, but not destroyed.'

'There was still time.'

'But with my mother, cholera beat you to it.'

'Really?' asked Yudin.

'I'm sure Papa was upset, but he could hardly have blamed you. He was more likely relieved she was free of you.'

Yudin smiled. 'Come with me,' he said.

He went over to the door by which he had entered his office moments earlier and opened it. Dmitry followed him as he descended the stairs. Where they forked, Yudin nodded to the right.

'There are two coffins down there,' he explained. 'One is mine; the other was where Raisa Styepanovna sometimes slept. You're welcome to it now. There's a tunnel beyond to the river, if you can't get through the Kremlin.'

Dmitry looked in the direction Yudin had indicated, but made no comment. Yudin felt no particular desire for company as he slept, but neither did he shun it. The suggestion was purely practical. It was in Yudin's interests that Dmitry lived, and any extra hiding place he might know in Moscow would increase the chances of it.

They continued down the stone stairway and were soon in the short, low corridor with the six cells leading off. Dmitry had to stoop to walk through it, his shoulders almost filling the arch of the ceiling. From the grille in the door on the far right, a light shone, but at the moment there was no sound from within, save for the ever-present dribble of water. They would go there soon, but not now. For now, Yudin's goal was the seventh door, the one at the very end of the pa.s.sageway. He put the key into the lock and turned it, then drew back the three heavy bolts. It was built to be strong enough to hold a voordalak, though that was not its present use. Before opening it, he turned back to face Dmitry.

'Raisa and I lived in Moscow for many years,' he said. 'But no one ever sought us out. How much blood do you suppose we drank in that time? How many bodies did we drain? And yet where were the reports of missing persons? Where were the remains that revealed the tell-tale signs of a voordalak at table? Why did no mobs descend on the Kremlin, baying for revenge?'

'I imagine in your position you could suppress any such discoveries prevent gossip from becoming widespread.'

'You overestimate me, though you're right in part. Those disappearances that were necessary were kept quiet. But there were few bodies.'

He opened the door and stepped through. Dmitry followed. Beyond was a room, no taller than the corridor from which they had come, but wider. In the centre was a table, with food on it fresh food that Yudin had recently put there. Along the wall on each side were two doors, bolted shut. Yudin walked over to each of the four doors and drew the bolts, knowing that the noise they made would be enough to rouse those who were concealed behind them. Then he went back and stood beside Dmitry at the main entrance.

It was the one nearest to them on the left that opened first. A man emerged. He glanced around furtively, seeing that Yudin and Dmitry were there, but also seeing the food. He was Yudin's most recent acquisition kept down here for less than two years. He was somewhere in his thirties, and his blood was still rich and vigorous. He scampered over to the table, revealing the chain that stretched out beside him and back into his cell. Close to him, it split into three strands, two shackled to his ankles and one to an iron ring about his neck. It was just long enough for him to reach the table. He began to eat hungrily, stuffing the cold meat, bread, cabbage and beetroot into his mouth. It was a diet that had been carefully selected by Yudin and honed over the years to its present form. It was not intended to be flavoursome, or to provide strength. Its twin goals were merely to sustain life, and to sweeten the blood.

Once the first one had begun to eat, the others came quickly as quickly as they could. They did not want to lose out on their meal. There were two more men, both older than the first, and from the far right-hand cell a woman, who was by a long way the oldest of all. All were fettered in a similar fashion.

'Occasionally they die,' explained Yudin. 'Usually of disease, although sometimes as the result of overindulgence on my part or Raisa's.' He lowered his voice. 'And then there's always suicide.'

He took a step into the room and grabbed the chain of the youngest man, pulling him close. 'This one's called Bogdan,' he said. Bogdan had learned by now that it was futile to defy Yudin's strength and so did not try to struggle. Instead he grabbed a few last morsels of food and shoved them into his mouth. Once he was close, Yudin offered the chain to Dmitry. 'Hold him!' Dmitry complied.

Yudin grabbed Bogdan's arm and rolled up his sleeve. There were two wounds revealed on the inside of his forearm. One was almost healed, the other still had a fresh scab on it.

'The risk of death is too great if we drink from the neck,' Yudin explained. Bogdan eyed him as he spoke, quite able to understand him, but quite uninterested. He had heard it all before. Yudin made very sure that everything was explained. It was best if Bogdan and the others understood the reason that they were still alive.

Yudin pressed his lips against a clear patch of skin on Bogdan's arm, between the two wounds, and bit. In the early days, the man would have pulled away, hit him, tried to fight him off, but his spirit was broken now. Even if it hadn't been, the fact that Dmitry was there would dampen any thoughts of resistance. It was when Yudin came alone that they were most restive, thinking that they might be able to overcome him. That had been one of the benefits of having Raisa at his side. Those who did not know thought she would be weak an easy victory. She soon disabused them of the idea.

Yudin drank, but not for long. He raised his head and took the chain from Dmitry, wrapping it once around his wrist. 'Enjoy,' he said.

Dmitry gave him a brief glance, seeking confirmation, and when he got it, he bent forward, sucking from the wound that Yudin had already created. As he did so, Yudin looked into Bogdan's face. This was another benefit of there being two of them here. The man's eyes were blank. They met Yudin's without fear, but without hatred either though perhaps there was a little of that, or the memory of it, hidden in there somewhere. But most of all, it was a look of acceptance; acceptance both of his situation, and of his lack of power to do anything about it. It was the look of the dairy cow to the milkmaid hiding the secret hope that soon it would be taken to slaughter.

Dmitry raised his head. He seemed unimpressed. 'I suppose you get used to it,' he said.

Yudin understood him. The experience was not the best. Drinking from the arm, or anywhere on the body other than the neck and Yudin had tried most places in the never-ending search for a fresh patch of skin was not the same. And the restraint of drinking but not killing was a tiresome burden. But this way was far less risky.

'It ensures that you live long enough to get used to it,' he said.

Dmitry nodded non-committally, and Yudin released the chain. Bogdan gave them each a brief glance and then hurried back to the table, eager to eat before the food was all gone. The four humans didn't talk to each other. Yudin had done nothing to stop them, but, with every one of those he had kept down here, it seemed to come naturally. They didn't want him to hear. When they were in their cells and didn't know he was outside listening, they would talk. Occasionally one of them invariably a newcomer would try and inspire the others with some plan of escape, but it was never taken up. Yudin was always careful. No one new was ever brought in until those there were well and truly broken.

Yudin began to walk around the side of the room, avoiding disturbing the four figures at the table, until he was behind the old woman in the far right-hand corner. Dmitry followed him. Yudin lifted up her chain and pulled her towards them. She offered no resistance; she had hardly been eating anyway. She would be dead soon; that was Yudin's guess. Even now she was too weak to raise her head and look either of them in the face. It was lucky that events had timed themselves so perfectly.

Yudin grabbed her arm as he had done with Bogdan, but this time offered it straight to Dmitry. 'I think you'll find this one interesting,' he said.