He had taken the last of her blood, but had not drunk it. He lay in the dungeon, dormant thanks to the lack of nourishment, for fourteen months. Eventually someone had bothered to break down the door and investigate the cellars below and had found the various rotting bodies that lay there, along with Iuda’s strangely undecayed corpse. They had carried it back up. Somewhere on the short journey they’d twisted or jolted their load, and the small vial of human blood – the blood Iuda had taken from Marfa and lodged in his own throat before losing consciousness – was spilled. It was so little, but it meant so much. He was recalled to life.
When he awoke, he was lying on the floor of his own office. He barely recognized it. Dust sheets were thrown over the furniture and repainting had begun. The stairs led up to the Kremlin above, but Iuda did not need to see the glimmer of light shining down them to know that it was mid-afternoon – he felt it in his gut.
He could hear voices down in the cellars below, and footsteps ascending. There were two of them. Normally, he would have no concerns about defeating them, but he’d consumed such a tiny amount of blood that he was still weak. He would hardly be able to stand without support.
‘Let’s get on with it then.’
The timbre of the voices had changed; the men had climbed the steps and were now in the office. He sensed them moving towards him and then leaning over. He let out a groan. He felt them grip him and begin to lift. They hadn’t noticed. He coughed a little and felt the hands release him.
‘Jesus Christ! This one’s alive.’
‘Bollocks. It’s just air escaping.’
Iuda coughed again, letting his body convulse a little.
There was silence – a stunned silence, he presumed. Then the second man spoke. ‘What do we do?’
They clearly needed guidance. Iuda opened his lips, flexing them after months of disuse. He tried to make his speech appear weak, but discovered he had little need to pretend. He allowed his eyes to flicker open and saw the two men peering over him. One of them knelt down and bent his head forward to listen more closely. His ear hovered above Iuda’s lips, meaning that his neck was not far away. Iuda sensed the blood pulsing in the man’s jugular vein – so close that only a slight movement would allow Iuda to bury his teeth deep into the sweet pink flesh. But it was not worth the risk. He raised his head just a little.
‘Water,’ he muttered, and then fell back, closing his eyes as if the effort had exhausted him.
‘What?’ asked the man standing.
‘Water. He wants water. Go find some.’
Iuda heard feet pattering up the stairs to the Kremlin. He opened his eyes. The first part of the plan – to separate them – had worked. The other man was still there, his hands clasped to his chest, his eyes raised upwards, his lips moving in a rapid whisper. Iuda suppressed the urge to laugh at the realization that the man was praying for him. He’d have need to pray for himself soon enough.
Iuda began to speak again, mumbling without any thought as to what he was pretending to say. The man squeezed his arm reassuringly.
‘It’s all right. You’re safe now.’
Evidently this was going to require a little more bait.
‘No, please, listen,’ Iuda croaked. ‘There’s not much time.’
The man looked down, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s about …’ Iuda allowed his voice to die away. The man bent forward, but not close enough. Iuda raised his arm and beckoned, letting it fall again with an exhaustion he had little need to feign. He could not be sure he even had the strength to do this – but it would be his only chance. The man leaned over him again, just as he had done before, his ear close to Iuda’s cracked lips.
Iuda pounced.
His hands clamped on to the man – one to his head, the other to his back. Iuda’s nails dug through his hair and into his scalp, twisting his head to one side. The man pulled away. Iuda felt his emaciated muscles scream at him in pain, but he held on. The man was strong and was soon halfway to his feet, but he brought Iuda with him. Iuda bit. The instant rush of blood was bliss, but his first need was not to drink. The