‘And how is Mademoiselle Dominique?’ asked Iuda. Aleksei had not thought of Domnikiia by the French version of her name for many years, but it was the only way Iuda had known her. ‘Thrown over for some newer beauty fresh from the cradle, no doubt.’

  Aleksei said nothing, but either Iuda knew already, or could read his expression, or his mind.

  ‘Not yet then,’ said Iuda with a smile. Aleksei tried to keep Tamara from his thoughts, for fear that Iuda could indeed read them, but the beautiful red-headed girl rushed into his consciousness. Iuda made no comment, and Aleksei dismissed his paranoia.

  ‘Are you all right, Your Majesty?’ he said, turning to the tsar.

  Aleksandr stood up. He looked pale and shocked. He nodded thoughtfully to himself. ‘Yes, yes, Colonel. I’m very well.’ He seemed to grow more confident of it as he spoke. ‘You know this man?’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Aleksei.

  ‘Some friends of mine and I helped Aleksei to save your country back in 1812,’ said Iuda airily. ‘Then he turned against us. I was the only survivor.’ His tone didn’t waver.

  The tsar looked over at Aleksei, who gave a slight shake of his head. Nothing that Iuda had said was false, but it would take too long to explain what had really happened.

  ‘I think you should leave, Your Majesty. They’re looking for you. You know the way out?’

  The tsar nodded. ‘I think I can remember it,’ he said.

  Another scream echoed from the tunnel down which Aleksei had come. Evidently the tattooed voordalak had lost the battle to master its pain.

  ‘And tell Dr Wylie he can stop now,’ Aleksei added. The tsar looked questioningly. ‘He’ll understand,’ said Aleksei.

  Aleksandr walked across the cavern and exited by another doorway. Aleksei was pleased – he did not want the tsar to have to pass by what he had seen. There could be equal horrors down that path too, but if so, Aleksandr would at least already have seen them. It was a risk to let him go unaccompanied, but Aleksei had business to attend to with Iuda alone.

  ‘So, is Cain your real name?’ he asked, sitting where the tsar had been. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, but still his two swords were ready to strike, and he felt the pistol nestling in his tunic.

  ‘It’s a name many know me by.’ Iuda leaned back against his desk.

  ‘In England?’

  Iuda nodded. ‘Yes. I am the real Richard Llywelyn Cain, to the extent that such a person exists.’

  ‘But it’s not the name you were born with – simply one you chose to use when dealing with the Romanovs.’

  Iuda looked at Aleksei, seemingly trying to judge how much he knew. In reality, Aleksei had no idea what had been going on between the tsar and his captor, but anything that might make Iuda wary could be helpful.

  ‘I am known by many names.’ He looked at Aleksei pointedly as he stressed the word ‘many’. ‘But of them all, you know, I think Iuda is my favourite.’ He sighed. ‘Happy memories.’

  ‘I should have seen the link,’ said Aleksei.

  ‘Cain and Iuda? An Old Testament murderer and a New Testament traitor? I suppose there’s a connection, but I can’t take all the credit. The name Iuda was chosen for me.’ He looked away, pondering the question.

  ‘I think I preferred Iuda,’ said Aleksei, ‘the man, not the name. I presume you are still a man?’

  ‘And not a vampire? As we discussed some years ago, I’m not sure I really see the benefits of such an existence. Though if I did, I would have no qualms about changing my . . . lifestyle. But I’m scarcely older than you, Lyosha; not yet fifty. One day, perhaps, it will be a better state in which to exist, though I have my doubts. When faced with death, I may see things differently, but I have plenty of time before I need to consider how I’m going to deal with my own mortality.’

  ‘Prove it.’ Aleksei had long ago learned that Iuda lied with much the same frequency as he spoke. If he were in fact a voordalak, and Aleksei judged him to be human, the consequences might prove fatal.

  ‘That I’m not a vampire? How?’

  Aleksei looked back at Iuda, then held out the two swords in his hands – one wooden, one steel. ‘These should discriminate,’ he said.

  Iuda swallowed with mocking exaggeration. ‘I don’t think we need to go that far,’ he said. He turned slightly and picked up the knife with which he had been menacing the tsar. Its two blades were sharp. He held his left hand upright, its palm facing towards Aleksei, and moved the knife towards it. For a moment Aleksei thought he was going to witness a repeat of Kyesha’s demonstration in Saint Vasiliy’s – but in that instance the intent had been to demonstrate that Kyesha was a vampire.

  Iuda’s performance was somewhat more restrained; a tiny scratch, just along the outside of his palm. The blood ran down his wrist and disappeared beneath his cuff.

  ‘“If you prick us, do we not bleed?”’ said Iuda. ‘We certainly don’t heal, as they do.’

  Aleksei shook his head. ‘Not good enough, I’m afraid. I know a voordalak can hold off regrowth if need be. I’ve read your book, remember?’

  Iuda raised both his eyebrows, then smiled benevolently. Damn it! thought Aleksei. Iuda hadn’t known he had the book.

  ‘So that’s where it got to,’ said Iuda. ‘But you’re right; it’s a poor proof.’ He put his hand to his lips to clean the blood. It was an ordinary enough action, but it seemed deliberately intended to cast further doubt into Aleksei’s mind. Iuda walked over to a high bookcase he had somehow assembled there, deep underground. A ladder lay against it, allowing access to the upper shelves. Iuda climbed the ladder but ignored the books, instead reaching out for a cord that stretched out up to the cavern’s ceiling. He tugged at it and above the shelves a curtain was pulled back, allowing Aleksei to see the sky.

  ‘You see,’ said Iuda as he descended, ‘we’re actually very close to the cliff here. As you can imagine, I need light for my experiments.’ He climbed down and walked across the room to where the beam of sunlight that had been let in hit the floor. He stood in its rays and held his arms open, smiling up at the sky as if basking in the sun’s warmth. The patch of light was wide enough that even his outstretched fingertips did not escape it on either side. If Iuda had been a vampire, he could not have stood there for even a fraction of a second and lived.

  ‘Very well,’ said Aleksei. ‘Now tell me, what is all this – all this experimentation? And what’s it got to do with the tsar?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ said Iuda, almost bemused by the suggestion that it should. ‘In my dealings with Aleksandr Pavlovich I am acting merely as an intermediary; as a representative of an old friend. In terms of my discoveries – I have you to thank for that.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You inspired me.’ He walked out of the sunlight and over to a huge tapestry that covered one of the cavern walls, becoming the foreground to a scene of unicorns and demure maidens. ‘You remember when we met in that house in Moscow, when you pulled down the boards over the window and trapped us in the corner of the room?’

  ‘I remember,’ said Aleksei. ‘Are you saying that’s what gave you the idea for “Prometheus” back there?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Iuda, his enthusiasm breaking into his voice, ‘but more than that. You inspired me to learn. Don’t you remember? You asked so many questions – questions I found myself unable to answer. About how they die – how they breed. I’m not a man who likes to be floored.’

  ‘And so you decided to find out?’

  ‘They are wonderful creatures in many ways – dangerous. Can you imagine how powerful that danger would be if it could be directed?’

  ‘That was Dmitry Fetyukovich’s idea when he first brought you to Russia. It didn’t work.’

  ‘Really?’ replied Iuda. He seemed more nervous than in the past. Perhaps that was a trick of Aleksei’s memory, though he doubted it. Every detail of Iuda’s persona had stayed with him over the years, engraved on his heart. ‘I would suppose that it didn’t work for Dmitry because I knew better than he how to direct the behaviour of the brutes,’ continued Iuda. ‘But not all vampires are brutes, and so one must learn their subtleties.’

  Of course, the anxiety that Aleksei perceived in Iuda might still be an artefact of the passing years, not a result of Aleksei’s fading memory, but of the ageing process in Iuda himself. What had he gone through since they had last met? Aleksei’s instinct was to imagine for him a life of success after perverted success, but the reality could have been very different.

  ‘Now I know their strengths and weaknesses.’ Iuda was still speaking, but Aleksei was scarcely listening to his words. Even so, he noticed that the tone was becoming more confident. Was he bluffing now, to cover his unease? Or had the bluff been in the earlier mood?

  ‘The knowledge of their weaknesses protects me from them – makes me almost free to walk amongst them, taking a few sensible precautions. But to know only how they are weak would be of little benefit if I did not also know how they are strong.’

  Iuda’s voice began to rise with a controlled anger that Aleksei found chillingly familiar.

  ‘That knowledge gives me a far greater power,’ he continued. ‘It is an understanding of their strengths that makes them, in my hands, an invincible weapon . . . a weapon against anyone who would dare to threaten me!’

  As he spoke he reached up and grabbed the edge of the tapestry, pulling it aside. It easily came loose from its fixings and fell to the floor. Behind it was revealed another set of cages, with voordalaki within. Aleksei could not see how he operated the mechanism, but in an instant Iuda had unlocked the barred iron gates. There were four of the monsters, and they at first appeared confused, but Iuda shouted directions at them and they turned to face Aleksei. Meanwhile, Iuda crossed to the other side of the room and pulled aside another curtain. Behind that were three more of the creatures, which he released in a similar manner.

  ‘If only I’d known you were coming, Lyosha,’ said Iuda, ‘I would have had more time. I would have taken such pleasure in chatting with you.’ He looked at Aleksei and to all the world seemed sincere in what he was saying. ‘But the fact that you let Aleksandr Pavlovich go really does cause problems for me, and I don’t have time to deal with you in a more interesting manner. I’m truly sorry.’

  Aleksei backed away as the seven voordalaki approached him. Converging from either side, they had already cut him off from both the door he had come in by and that by which the tsar had left. The only possibility of safety lay in the patch of light in which Iuda had stood earlier, and that would only protect him until nightfall. Moreover, it would not protect him from Iuda. He had already noticed the pistols in the cabinet against the wall. Iuda would not even have to come within reach of his sword to get rid of him – or wound him and leave him to his fate.

  ‘I will give you one small consolation, however,’ continued Iuda. ‘When you were attempting to kill me, there was one question on your mind; a question which I was happy to answer, but over which you found yourself quite unable to trust me.’

  Though it was already thumping in fear, Aleksei’s heart beat a little faster still. That mistrust had been deliberately kindled by Iuda himself, so that Aleksei could never believe what he said and hence never know the answer. And yet now, at the moment of Aleksei’s death, perhaps he would tell the truth. What would be the point of lying? Aleksei knew Iuda did not need there to be a point, but still he listened eagerly.

  ‘You saw me at the window with a woman,’ said Iuda, ‘but you have never been sure who that woman was. At one time you believed it to be Dominique; at another Margarita. You require the truth and now there is no point me keeping it from you. At the moment of your death, you will receive enlightenment. The woman you saw me with was . . .’ He grinned and scratched his head. ‘Who was it now? Oh yes. It . . .’

  ‘Look!’

  The shout, in Russian, came from one of the vampires on Aleksei’s left. It pointed out towards him; towards his hand. Aleksei realized in an instant what had caught its attention. He transferred the wooden sword over to his right hand and stood calmly upright, his left palm facing out towards the voordalaki.

  ‘The three-fingered man,’ murmured one of the creatures.

  ‘What?’ asked Iuda, almost laughing. Whatever myths about Aleksei had spread amongst the vampires had not been shared with their master. They hesitated, some stepping back – none moving forward. ‘He’s just a man. Devour him!’

  ‘A three-fingered man,’ said Aleksei. ‘Do you fear Cain?’ he asked, addressing the vampires. None spoke, but it was obvious they didn’t obey him out of love. ‘And whom does he fear?’ Aleksei asked. He again held up his left hand, swinging it from side to side so that all could see his deformity.

  The vampire that had first noticed his fingers turned towards Iuda. Iuda took a step back and the creature advanced, along with two of its comrades. Iuda glanced around. It was difficult to see what power it was he had over them, except perhaps the power of his reputation, and his overblown self-confidence. It was the same authority that Louis XVI had held over France – a bubble of credulity on the part of both the oppressor and the oppressed that could for years allow one to hold sway over the other, and yet which could be burst as soon as enough of them, on either side, saw it for what it was. Perhaps it had only been one brief comment that had revealed to Iuda’s captives his fear of Aleksei, even if he had not mentioned him by name. Perhaps the fear itself had not even been real in Iuda – a self-deprecating joke. It did not matter; they believed in that fear, and the presence of the three-fingered man, a myth made real, transformed that belief into certainty.

  And once the concept of Iuda’s fear became real for his victims, it became just as real for him. It showed itself in his eyes. He stood his ground for a moment, hoping to reverse a tide that he must have succeeded in turning many times before, but quickly understood that, on this occasion, he would fail. He turned and leapt into the cone of sunlight he had basked in earlier. The vampires approached, surrounding him, but not daring to come into contact with the sun’s rays. They had forgotten Aleksei for the moment. He walked over, closer to Iuda, but staying back from the circle of voordalaki. Iuda crouched, turning from side to side, trying to face an enemy which came from all directions. In his hand he held the knife that was so familiar to Aleksei, with two parallel blades separated by the width of two fingers, razor sharp on the bottom and serrated on the top. It would do him little good against the creatures that now faced him.

  ‘Clinging on to life for just a little longer?’ said Aleksei. ‘It’ll be dark soon; then what will you do?’

  ‘Please, Lyosha,’ said Iuda. ‘Call them off.’

  Several of the vampires looked towards Aleksei expectantly, as if waiting for him to give them such an order, as if they would obey him if he did. Such was the authority of the three-fingered man. But Aleksei had no plans to give any such command.

  ‘They’ll turn on you too,’ shouted Iuda to him. ‘You can’t trust them – you know that.’

  ‘I think I can trust them to deal with you. And by then I’ll be long gone.’

  Suddenly, one of the voordalaki screamed. Aleksei smelled the foul, familiar smell of burning vampire flesh. The creature had dared to step up close to Iuda, but as it screamed it fell back. Aleksei looked at Iuda and saw that in his hands he was holding a small looking-glass. He had reflected the sun’s rays on to the face of one vampire, and now he was directing them at another. The beam caught Aleksei’s eyes, but it was triflingly weak – enough, though, for the voordalaki. They began to step back. Wary glances were exchanged between them. One took a step forward, and Iuda flashed the mirror towards it and smoke erupted from its cheek. It screamed and fell away.

  ‘Back to your cells, now,’ said Iuda. His voice was calm and firm, like a shepherd talking to his dogs. Whatever tortures he had used to train them – and this trick with the mirror could only be a small part of it – had broken their wills sufficiently that some of them now began to obey, returning awkwardly to the cages from which he had released them. Soon it would be just man against man – Iuda and Aleksei. It was a fight Aleksei felt comfortable he could still win, but he would be a fool to yield such an advantage.

  ‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake!’ he shouted, marching over towards Iuda. He brought the flat of his blade down sharply on Iuda’s hand. The mirror flew to the ground and shattered, its fragments cascading across the stone floor before coming to rest. Iuda snatched back his hand and rubbed it. Aleksei wondered why he had chosen not to use the edge of his sword and sever the man’s hand – it seemed no less brutal than leaving him to be devoured by his former prisoners, as Aleksei assuredly intended to do.

  It was a simple enough action to break the mirror, but one that would have been impossible for any of the vampires. The fact that it was done by Aleksei – the three-fingered man – might have added something to their bravura as well. Once more they advanced on their former master.

  ‘You’re going to have to stick around, I think, Lyosha,’ said Iuda. ‘To keep an eye on things. I can easily control this lot.’

  Aleksei noticed the unusual stress in what Iuda had said. ‘This lot?’ he queried.

  ‘All of them,’ replied Iuda quickly; too quickly. It would make sense that the vampires Iuda left in here – the ones he had felt assured enough of to release and set on to Aleksei – would be the ones he had made most subservient to his will. But they could not all be like that. The more assertive ones – the more dangerous ones – he would keep separately, locked in a separate cell, or manacled to a wall. Aleksei headed for Iuda’s desk and began searching it.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Iuda. His fear revealed he had some inkling of what Aleksei had worked out.