He sighed. “We are not brutal, nor are we unkind. But you do not understand how important the stone in your hand is. If you did, you would know that any stubbornness will put you and your friends in grave danger.”
“We’ve already been in grave danger from this body-jumping bounty hunter you hired to catch us.” Emily gestured toward Rose, and the vicious Manipulator who possessed her. Rose’s body looked even worse for wear now; her eyes were desperate as a trapped animal’s and there were swollen, painful scrapes on her face where Emily had beaten her with the carpetbag. Emily shifted her eyes back to the white-blond Russian. “You see how he hunts, don’t you? The girl he’s riding right now … he’s killing her. You hired a monster like that, and I’m supposed to believe you have my best interests at heart?”
“We could not allow him to hand you over to the Maelstroms. As I have said, you do not understand how important the stone in your hand is.”
“Tell me, then,” Emily said. “Make me understand.”
“Ah.” Perun exhaled a curl of blue smoke that glowed in the very first light of dawn. “That would be a story that would take millions of years to tell in words.”
The echo sent a chill down Emily’s spine. Those were Komé’s words. The words the Holy Woman had spoken in her dream.
Perun saw the recognition on her face and nodded with satisfaction.
“You have experienced the consciousness of the earth. We call her mat syra zemlya, the Great Mother. She has bestowed a rare gift upon you, Miss Edwards, and an even rarer duty—a duty you share with the Holy Woman. A duty she has surrendered her physical existence to serve. We, too, have come to serve, and you will find us no less dedicated.”
“How do you know all this?” Emily’s throat was dry.
“I will tell you all about it when we reach a place of safety. I will tell you everything you wish to know.”
Perun bent his head closer to hers.
“And I can tell you even more than that,” he murmured in her ear. “You have heard the name Lyakhov, have you not?”
Emily trembled, the sound of the name sending little explosions through her brain.
“That’s not my name,” she said softly.
“You are correct, it is not,” Perun said. “A daughter would be more properly called Lyakhova.”
Emily’s eyes flashed up.
“You knew my mother?”
Perun seemed to choose his next words carefully. “I can tell you where you came from, Miss Lyakhova. Who you really are. These are things you have always wished to know. The service of mat syra zemlya is not without reward.”
Emily looked over at Stanton. His eyes gleamed warning; he shook his head as violently as his restraints would allow. In the rising light of dawn, the Cockatrice shone dull gray.
“All right.” Emily quickly shifted her gaze back to Perun to avoid Stanton’s eyes. “I’ll go with you. But you have to let Mr. Hembry and Mr. Stanton leave. Let them take the Cockatrice. I want to know that they’re safe.”
“You will go with us in any case.” Perun’s voice was cool and firm. “I have no need to bargain with you.”
“You want me to trust you? There’s nothing you can say in a million words that will speak louder than a single action.” Her voice became softer. “Please.”
Perun looked at her. He breathed smoke in and out. Finally, he gave a curt nod.
“For you, Miss Lyakhova, I will do this,” he said.
Reaching inside his coat, Perun retrieved a small vial. Tucking the cigarette between his lips, he squinted against the rising smoke as he unscrewed the top. Stepping over to where the men lay captive, he dripped liquid from the bottle on each of them. The silk floss sizzled and hissed, individual strands becoming a gleaming, brittle mass that crumbled easily. Stanton jumped to his feet but Rose’s revolvers swung up, staying his movements.
“It’ll be all right, Mr. Stanton,” Emily said.
“If she’s going, I’m going,” Stanton said.
“You arrogant, stubborn, troublesome Warlock!” Grimaldi spat furiously, advancing on Stanton. Rose shoved the revolvers into Stanton’s belly, teeth bared. “Who do you think you are? Who do you think holds the guns? If you do not do as you are told, I will blow your guts through your body and give to Miss Edwards the heart she has become so silly over.”
“Stop, Grimaldi.” Perun’s voice rang out. “The Warlock may leave. I have given my word on it.” He paused. “But under no