Dorian glared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Which, obviously, she had. “Bloody hell, woman! Forgery or not, that statue was our only bargaining chip with—”
“The statue wasn’t the bargaining chip, Dorian.” Charlotte crouched down and retrieved something from the rubble—a long, slender object wrapped in an old cloth, dusty with clay.
When she got to her feet again, she swayed.
“Charlotte?” Dorian reached out to steady her. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, just… just a bout of vertigo. Combined with a big helping of déjà vu.” She took a breath and shook her head. “It seems to have passed. That was… weird.”
“Has this happened before?” Colin asked, immediately snapping into doctor mode.
“No. Probably just a head rush.”
“Or a side effect of your injuries.” Concern tightened his brow, and he held up a finger, asking her to follow it with her eyes. “Any other symptoms these past few days? Dizziness? Headache?”
“Honestly, I think I just got up too fast. I haven’t eaten anything yet today either, so that’s probably not helping.”
Colin sighed, but his eyes held only warmth and kindness for his newest patient. “Charlotte, as your unofficial vampire doctor, Iinsistyou take better care of yourself, lest I be forced to put you on bedrest under the watchful eye of my brooding brother.”
“Gabriel?” Dorian teased, wrapping an arm around Charlotte’s waist. “As if I’d allowhimto darken her doorstep.”
“I’mfine,” she insisted. “I’ll grab something to eat as soon as we get back upstairs.”
With a reassuring smile for them both, she slid out of Dorian’s hold and brought the bundle to the stone table, where she unwrapped it with a delicate touch.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, her eyes widening again as if the day just kept getting better and better.
“What is it?” Colin asked.
Cole peered over her shoulder. “Some kinda dagger. Old as shit. Good for stabbing, though. Nice and pointy.”
“Old as shit,” she repeated reverently. “And yes, definitely good for stabbing. Alotof stabbing, if the history is to be believed.”
“Whathistory?” Dorian asked.
“Our demonic pals aren’t after the Mother of Lost Souls, guys,” she said. “They’re after the blade of theBessmertnym Soldat—the Immortal Soldier.”
“Fancy name for a rusty old relic,” Cole said.
“Thisrelicallegedly killed some of the highest ranking generals in Napoleon’sGrande Arméeduring the Battle of Borodino,” she said. “Not to mention scores of secret police, government officials, thieves… It’s hundreds of years old. Thousands, maybe—its origins were never confirmed.”
She lifted the blade, still partially wrapped in the cloth, and passed it to Dorian for a closer look. The others crowded in around him.
“It’s falling apart,” he said, noticing all the notches in the blade.
“Considering its age and the method of storage, it’s actually quite well preserved,” she said, her eyes still sparkling at the find. “It was forged in the shape of a raven’s wing—the notches are intentional. MyGod, the detail work is just exquisite.”
“Did you say a raven’s wing?” Colin asked.
“Yes, the motif is repeated here too.” She pointed to a few etchings in the bone handle. “The raven was often associated with death and immortality. It was probably a symbol of power for the men who’d forged it—allegedly, members of one of the original Russian assassin’s guilds.”
“Where does the immortal bit come in?” Aiden asked.
“According to legend,” she said, “this blade was given to the most skilled assassin in the guild—a man known only as theBessmertnym Soldat. The Immortal Soldier.”
“Immortal, as in, all of this is no more than a myth?” Aiden asked. “A story told to naughty children at night to frighten them into behaving?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Immortal because he lived forever. At least, his persona did. Upon his death, his greatest apprentice would take up the blade and the identity, continuing the legacy. At any given time, no one knew the true identity of the Immortal Soldier, or for how long each assassin carried the name. The soldier—and this dagger—killed hundreds. Thousands. It vanished from the records soon after the Battle of Borodino, but there were rumors it was smuggled into England, hidden in a piece of art created for just that purpose. No one ever knew which piece.”
