Part 11

Rasputin was waiting in the center chamber of the temple, the Idar Flamme. The holy temple of the demon god that Rasputin had raised above the once beautiful Petrograd, was a stinking hole filled with bacteria the size of a living man. Nicholai paused at the entrance to the main chamber and swallowed, his stomach roiling with distaste, but he schooled his expression to calm, cold indifference and entered.

The Master sat, legs crossed, on a throne set in the far wall, a sigil of his power glowing softly blue overhead. The power and the sigil told him more than he had anticipated, but he entered calmly, refusing to bend a knee to the man enthroned there. For Rasputin had changed. Tall and lanky he remained, but his complexion was now dark, vividly so, with veins of black running through his skin. He smelled of death and decay, much as the temple did. Nicholai remained impassive, but he had his suspicions.

"What do you want?" Rasputin asked, his voice once deep and melodic, now coarse and thrumming with power.

"Veronica is dead," Nicholai stated simply and waited for the Master's reaction.

"I see," the man said. "You may leave now."

Nicholai felt his brow puckering with a frown and quickly got control of himself.

"By morning, Petrograd will be reduced to ashes. Do you have plans after that," he asked, maintaining his reserve.

Rasputin's reply was abrupt.

"I couldn't care less. Soon my demon servants will bring death to all of Europe. After that, Asia, and then finally we will destroy America," and Rasputin's voice grated on Nicholai's ears. He shook his head slightly, long bangs falling across his eyes.

"Have your goals changed so much, Master?" he asked softly, anticipating a revelation – some kernel of truth from Rasputin's black lips. Rasputin, sitting on his throne, laughed, a grating, gravely sound.

"Goals?" He laughed again. "I have no goals. There's no longer any need to rush. One hundred years, two hundred years... time doesn't matter at all."

Nicholai looked down, avoiding Rasputin's dark glare, and his heart sank. His suspicions were confirmed. He had not moved against Rasputin in time and now...

"What's wrong? You should be happy. You no longer have to toil in the dark like a thief. You'll soon have revenge."

Nicholai, still looking at the floor, began to speak.

"After my mother died and I was orphaned, it was you who had the Vatican accept me, Master," he said, his voice soft. "I have done my best since then to try and repay that debt." What will he say to that, he wondered.

"Yes? Is that so?" Rasputin's reply seemed casual to Nicholai, nearly flippant, as if this discussion were a game. "A sad story, but what of it? I saved you to use as my tool, not because I had any love for you."

"So you have no desire to rebuild Russia after all the effort you spent in destroying her?" he accused, looking up at the dark visage of his former master, his love for his homeland slipping out in the words and in the passion he suddenly felt for the land and people beneath him, suffering and dying because of what – this madman?

"Irrelevant. Why would I concern myself with such paltry matters?"

"You were to succeed to the throne of Russia and become king of all Europe. What about those plans?" Nicholai asked.

Rasputin chuckled. "You really are dense... I've disposed of such petty human concerns. For me, snuffing out human life is nothing more than an amusement." There, now he knew. Nicholai felt his heart sink and yet, inside, within his own breast was the heart of Russia, and something else – something that recognized the darkness in Rasputin. Nicholai looking down, closed his eyes, his realization turning into determination. When he looked up again his green eyes were sharp, blazing with an inner light.

"You've been possessed by Asmodeus," he said calmly, the words a mere statement of fact.

Rasputin scowled, his dark features growing darker. He rose from his throne, moving out into the center of the room, his tall body thin, but reeking with power.

"Why did you come here? Was it to anger me?" he asked, then laughed, a grating sound in the quiet throne room. "Your little plan," he continued, "I've known of it for a long time - to kill me after I become emperor. You were planning to make yourself the new tsar instead, isn't that right?

"Yes. It is true, I may be merely a bastard son, but it's still my right to inherit the kingdom."

Rasputin laughed again, his thin frame shaking with the effort to remain standing while the laughter rocked him. He moved back, falling onto the throne. "Who will believe you?" he rasped out when he could form words again.

"My father," Nicholai replied and his pride of heritage shone from his emerald eyes. He straightened his shoulders, taking a deep breath of the foul smelling air. "Furthermore, you are a fool," he continued. "I came here to tell you something that you should already know."

On his throne, Rasputin frowned. "What is that?"

"I'm more certain now that ever," Nicholai said, and he let a smirk play across his lips, his eyes crinkling with humor. He knew now what Rasputin was, and even though he had failed in his ploy to take Russia from the decaying hands of this madman, he knew who would. And it was fitting. The realization amused him.

"I asked what it is!" Rasputin raised his voice.

"You cannot defeat Yuri."

Startled, Rasputin took a breath, leaning back against his throne, looking down at the puny human in white.

"And what makes you say that?"

Nicholai smiled, the cold smile of someone playing with another human; like a cat and a canary. He doesn't understand, he thought. Even when I tell him, he won't understand. The very man I sought to kill...

"It's quite simple really. He's just a human, a simple human, but he's conquered Amon's soul. Do you understand what that means?" he said and looked up at Rasputin sitting on his dark throne. "His will power is simply extraordinary," Nicholai continued, as if speaking to a witless child. "The will power of a human and the destructive power of a demon - it's those two things that make him worthy of his name, Godslayer. You may have the power of a demon, but your will is weak." You've been devoured and you don't even know it, he thought with a smirk. "And that is why, you cannot win."

He turned away from his former master, turned his back on the man who had helped him through the trials of his earlier life, and walked down the corridor, his boot heels clicking on the metallic surface of the temple, his heart beating steadily, and his mind laughing. For yes, while Rasputin had the power of Asmodeus, and had lost in the battle of wills to control him. While he, Nicholai Conrad of Russia, had Astaroth – something his master but barely comprehended. And Nicholai did not intend to lose to the demon within, anymore than the Godslayer would lose to Rasputin. They would meet again, the fusionist and Nicholai, he was sure of it. In fact, he was on his way to ensure just that: to Apoina Tower in the Vatican.

Yes Godslayer, you will defeat Rasputin and free Mother Russia of this despot; but then you will face me. And I will not lose. Oh no, I will not lose. For I have a surprise in mind for you. And for Karin too. His thoughts turned to Karin as he summoned a transport spell.

When Nicholai materialized at the entrance to Apoina Tower, he was met by the Vatican guards. These he made short work of, leaving their slain bodies at the door as a signpost. Quickly he climbed the stairs to the upper floor, triggering the traps along the way to make the approach that much more difficult for his intended victim. And once in the Holy Chamber, where before he had obtained the Mistletoe, he paused at the huge golden relief on the far wall. For he knew the secret of that relief; that it was in fact, a doorway. He pulled his sword from its scabbard, set it down, leaning it against the door, hilt upward like a cross, and placed one hand on the surface. It was warm to the touch, as if heated from within, and Nicholai leaned against it, resting his cheek against his hand, listening.

The Tower's usual sounds of screeching despair reverberated in the door and Nicholai could sense something waiting just beyond the golden panels; it tickled his ears, tantalizing him with a touch of madness and he smiled. Yes, this will be perfect, he thought, and he turned to make his preparations.

By nightfall, he was finished and he paused, staring up at the golden doors; illumined now by two large braziers, the door glowed warmly. But Nicholai knew the heart of this tower was anything but warm. He listened to the voices calling, echoes of pain and suffering and misery - and something else. Some other voice whispered in his ears and he turned away from the door, taking a place at one of the tall windows. The upper room sported tiers of windows, narrow bands of clear glass around the walls. He stood at one of these and looked down on the Vatican; in the distance was St. Peter's Square, its crowds of believers only now beginning to disperse for the day. Beyond the Square were the Pope's quarters and a small light in the window indicated he was in residence.

Nicholai leaned against the windowpane, feeling the cool of the glass against his forehead and he listened, trying to place the sound he was hearing, feeling. He felt a stirring in his breast, and almost a moving in his mind – he knew Astaroth's power was with him, possibly Astaroth himself. But this was different, as if his earlier confrontation with Rasputin had brought something to a head, as if the very malice of this place was affecting him. He shuddered then, feeling something else a great distance away – the death of a very powerful demon.

Nicholai smiled, looking out to the stars above the tower and sighed.

"So he's won," he said and knew it meant that the Godslayer had killed Rasputin as he had predicted. That meant he would be coming here soon after. And with the young fighter would be the rest of his companions and… Karin.

It was here we first fought together, he remembered. Here we first risked our lives together. I thought you were magnificent. I still do. Karin as he last saw her suddenly appeared in his mind, the fiery glory that was the young swordswoman on the rooftop of the Hermitage. How he wanted to recreate that moment in his life, to change what had happened, change it from what was to what could have been... what will be, he thought and felt again her gentle lips on his, her breath tasting faintly of the food she'd eaten and her own spiciness. She had felt so soft to his touch, so feminine despite her attire as a soldier. He suddenly saw before him the bedroom in that small hotel in Florence, the Yadorigi in his hands and, sitting on the bed, sitting on his bed, her slight weight barely denting the mattress, her warmth barely heating the bed beneath her... He had touched her in his heart and in his mind, and he wished fervently he had touched her in fact - touched her, told her how he felt about her. But soon now, soon he would be able to do so. To prove to her finally that he was the man to bring her love and fulfillment, and be-damned if anyone was going to get in his way over that.

"Very well, Godslayer," he said to the silent room, his breath fogging slightly the glass in front of him. "Come here; I am waiting for you," he said, and for you too, Karin.

They were in Italy, approaching Apoina Tower as Rasputin had told them with his dying breath; that Nicholai was waiting for them here, and Karin felt again the nervous trepidation of entering this fabled tower. After hearing Rasputin's final statement, Yuri had been quiet, almost resigned to his fate. He had let Roger whisk them all away to Italy from the crashing ruin that was Idar Flamme, and he had not spoken the whole trip. Rasputin had told them that the curse of the Yadorigi, the Holy Mistletoe, was unbreakable, and that eventually it would destroy Yuri – not by killing him, but by wiping clean his soul and memories, condemning him to a mindless, soulless existence. Karin's heart went out to the fusionist, seeing the renewed pain the combat had given him - in spite of his fusion with Amon - seeing the lines of care forming under his scarlet eyes. She so wanted to take the burden from him, but she knew there was nothing she could do, except be there for him, support him and, if need be, hold his memories for him, she thought. Like that day in Zurich.

The group was on its way to Petrograd and Yuri had insisted they stop at Zurich. He hadn't said why, but when they arrived, he insisted the others stay in town while he and Karin took a walk up a nearby mountain trail.

"It's not far," he told her, "Just up over the rise. There's a meadow an' all..."

Karin nodded and looked around. The scenery was magnificent, the huge Alps in the distance, their peaks still covered in snow, and as they climbed the last ridge of the trail, a grassy meadow opened out before them; lush and green and fragrant with mountain pines and, at the far end, a lone Silver Spruce, its huge branches overhanging a small stone marker. As they got closer, Karin saw that it was a gravestone.

"Is this...?" Karin asked and looked down at the gravestone. It was a simple marker carved in granite, with Alice Elliot, 1893-1914 carved on it. Below were other words that Karin could not make out. Yuri knelt at the stone and brushed away the dirt and leaves.

"Yeah, Alice's grave. I haven't been here in a while and it's gotten so dirty," he said as he cleaned the stone with his gloved hand, then paused as his fingers touched the name carved on it. "It's been over a year now."

Karin looked from the grave to Yuri, seeing in his hunched shoulders the sense of loss he was experiencing. It hurt to see him this way.

"Why – why did you bring me here," she asked in a small voice.

Yuri rose to his feet and reached to take a small cross necklace from the grave, the little cross clinking softly against the stone.

"To give you this," he said and held it out to her on his open hand.

"A cross?" she asked and took it into her own hands, feeling the weight of the silver. It was a simple cross, yet elegant, and heavier than she would have thought. She ran her thumb over the ridge in the center.

Yuri nodded. "It belonged to my mother," he said and when Karin gasped her surprise, he shook his head. "It's all right; I want you to have it."

"Really?" Karin asked, surprise in her voice and on her mind. Such a lovely piece, and special. But why give it to me?

Yuri grinned at her, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed. "All of the people that I've ever loved have carried it. My mother and father and... Alice. Huh," he laughed softly. "I guess everyone that's ever carried it has died."

Karin felt her eyes widen as she suddenly held the cross away from her, as if it might bite her. Yuri chuckled, reaching across to reassure her, folding her fingers over the cross.

"It's okay, you don't have to worry," he said. "It's not like it's cursed or anything." He looked at her with his strangely crimson eyes and she felt her heart reaching out to him, feeling his pain and his loneliness. For a fleeting moment, a shadow crossed his eyes and she quickly reached out with her other hand, taking his, together the two of them holding the cross. He smiled then. "If I lose my memories," he continued, "do you think that all of the memories locked up in that cross will disappear too?" He asked it quietly, as if afraid to ask, as if afraid of her answer, and Karin felt again the depth of his despair. He was fighting so hard, and he didn't know if he would live through tomorrow and all because of...

"Yuri," she said softy, but before she could say more he squeezed her hand and let it go.

"Karin, I want you to hold it for me. So the memories don't disappear. My mother, my father, Alice and... me; a part of all of us is in that cross. I know I shouldn't ask," he said and for a moment, guilt and fear waged a war in his eyes that neither won. "I feel bad doing it but... but it has to be you Karin."

She looked down at her hand holding the cross, slowly opening the fingers and moving them, tilting the cross a little left, then right, catching the glint of light on the silver. This was his heirloom, his past, his present and, in giving this to her, his future - his hope.

"I'll do it," she said and looked up at him, his worried expression suddenly changing to a warm and embarrassed smile. "I'll do it," she nodded and laughed quietly. Relieved, Yuri joined her in a laugh before he took the cross again and, opening the small clasp, put it around her neck. His leather gloves felt warm against her skin and when he was done, he rested one hand on her shoulder a moment.

"Thank you," he said softly and then he turned to leave. As she moved away, Karin finally caught the words carved low on the stone:

Be at Peace, Alice Elliot! This I swear, your soul will have my lifelong love... Yours, Yuri. For a moment her breath caught in her throat but then she knew he loved her; knew he loved Alice and that was all right.

Standing outside Apoina Tower Karin now caught her breath at the signs left by Nicholai. It had to be him; corpses left where they lay, blood dripping down the stone steps in a tiny river of carmine. What had Nicholai become that he could do this? Was he still bent on revenge? Rasputin had said he was planning something here, in Apoina Tower, but even he did not say what. Karin looked at the bloated bodies and silently followed Yuri up the stairs and into the tower.

"You were here once before, weren't you?" he asked her as they entered the main floor. He walked to the center, looking around at the ceiling, judging potential hazards while Lucia and Gepetto crossed the polished tiles to stare enraptured by the Pieta.

"Yes," Karin responded, looking around as well. "We took those stairs up to a transport point. It took us to the top of the tower."

Yuri nodded. "All right. Let's go," he said and lead the way. Up and around the outer walls they climbed until they reached the transport floor and, to Karin's dismay, found it disabled. Yuri shrugged.

"We'll just have to climb. How hard can it be?" he said and continued around the outer stairs, fighting ghosts, monsters and his own pain along the way, and solving the puzzles and traps that Nicholai had set to slow them down. For that was what they did, forcing the party to solve a conundrum to open a door, flip a switch, move cages around on chains to clear the path to the upper floor. Nothing they couldn't do, but it delayed them and tired them so that by the time they reached the top floor everyone was fatigued.

"He'll be waiting for us, you know," the old puppeteer Gepetto remarked and next to him Joachim nodded, folding his massive arms across his equally massive chest.

"Yes. And I don't like his game," the big man commented.

Lucia waved to them all, making them stop before opening the last door.

"Here, here," she said. "Just a moment." She pulled several phials from her bag, and taking the flask of wine from Gepetto, she began to measure in drops of essential oil. "These should help," she said, put the stopper in and swirled the flask around before offering it to Yuri. The fusionist looked at the proffered tonic and sighed.

"Well, you haven't poisoned us yet... just keep those cards in your bag," he said and, pulling the stopper, took a long drink. "Ahhh, that's not bad," he said and handed it off to Karin. She took a more delicate sip and was surprised at the bouquet. Gepetto was not known for his choice of vintage wine, so it had to be the essential oils. Sudden warmth filled her belly and flowed through her, and as she passed the flask on to Anastasia, she felt herself renewed.

"Thank you Lucia. That was most helpful," she said.

Lucia smiled, shaking her shoulders and giggling.

"I am so glad," she bubbled. "At least some people appreciate my talents."

"All right, let's get this over with," Yuri said and pushed open the doors to the upper floor.

The chamber was dim, lit by only two large braziers that caused the far panels to glow a warm gold. Karin gasped, seeing them again and recognizing the room as once holding the altar and the Yadorigi. She looked around and spotted Nicholai standing to one side, waiting for them.

"Well," Nicholai said, stepping into the light by the golden doors. "It's been a long time." Yuri paused watching with narrowed eyes while Karin took a few more steps into the room.

"Nicholai, Rasputin is dead now," Karin told him.

Nicholai nodded, his green eyes shielded as he used one hand to lift his bangs free of his face. The light from the torches burnished his hair to near bronze, catching on the gold at his collar and cuff and reflecting off the pectoral cross. Karin looked at him and for a moment, seeing again the handsome young exorcist who traveled with her some months ago, and who gave her a kiss she well remembered. In the glow of the torches, he did not look like the man who could so wantonly kill and destroy. She blinked, and that man was gone, replaced with the cold emerald eyes of an enemy.

"Yes, I know, but what of it? He was never your true enemy anyway."

Yuri walked to the center of the chamber, one hand on his hip. He looked at Nicholai with narrowed eyes.

"Nicholai, what are you trying to accomplish? What are you after?"

Nicholai's answer was a laugh tinged with madness. He stepped back toward the vault and slapped his hand to its hard surface.

"This vault is filled to over flowing with the hatred, malice and despair of the countless souls who have perished here. What if all that malice was to be suddenly released?" he asked, with a glint of mischief and madness in his eyes, his voice teasing them.

"Yeah, what if?" Yuri asked, with a tilt of his head.

"It would creep into the hearts of people all over the world; all their petty, paltry vices would become magnified, warped into bitterness, anger, envy," he said, smiling, his eyes bright at the prospect and Karin, standing to the side, shuddered. No, this is not the man I remember. "Don't you see, men will slaughter each other like cattle to get ahead. Yes, the 20th century will be an unprecedented time of conflict and bloodshed."

"Nicholai," Karin cried, "how can you...?"

"Very easily," he said but he was not looking at her, he was looking at Yuri. "Do you think you can stop me?"

"Yeah," the fusionist replied, a smile beginning to curl on his lips and Karin moved closer.

"Nicholai, please, this isn't like you," she said softly, but the exorcist in white did not hear her, instead he focused on Yuri, his eyes hard and he laughed, a gay sound that sent shivers down her spine.

"What I want to do is crush you, the man who beat Cardinal Albert Simon, who endured the mistletoe's curse, and who refused to bend before Rasputin." He stepped back, picking up the sword he'd left leaning on the vault doors and raised it up. "If I can't destroy you, I'll never be able to forgive myself."

Without looking, he slammed the sword hilt into the golden doors. They rang with a deep boom of metal and slowly began to open, revealing a slit of blackness shot through with coruscating energy. As the doors opened further, the energy began to explode forth, shooting past and through the exorcist's body, screaming through the chamber and out through the walls and windows to rain down onto the Vatican and beyond.

"Behold! Aren't they beautiful?" Nicholai cried, arms raised in welcome of the streaking lights, unheeding that they passed through him. "Perfect balls of negative energy. Godslayer, Pandora's Box has been reopened. These unfettered bundles of malice will infect the world forever!" He laughed again with a touch of hysteria. "You can try your best, but no matter how much you fight, the age of darkness is nigh!" His laugh was insane, he was insane – Karin knew it now, could see it in his body as it smoldered and smoked with black energies. He's possessed of a demon, she thought. Oh, Nicholai...

In the next moment, his body began to warp and change, twisting into some foul creature, and Yuri quickly snapped on his fighting claws, shouting his own challenge as he leapt forward. Karin, feeling the room spin around her, drew her sword and performed her Bullenfogel sword technique, sending a shaft of fire straight at the transformed exorcist. Beside her Lucia, the dancing prognosticator, was quickly mixing oils and she saw Joachim, suddenly vanish as he became invisible. Good, she thought. He won't get hurt and Lucia's oils will help and Yuri...

Yuri had transformed as well, becoming the demon Amon, and Karin fought for her own sanity a moment when looking at the frightening creature. But she knew from before, that this manifestation of Yuri's could dish out horrendous damage while taking a good deal of it himself, and she also remembered those sad, sad eyes, and turned her attention to her swordplay and the crests she was carrying.

More than once in the next few minutes Karin found herself using her healing crest to help a companion. Lucia's essential oils had done their wonderful perfumed magic and everyone seemed to be working smoothly, their attacks more efficient than usual. The wolf Blanca attacked repeatedly, his own special form of magic howling down from somewhere, screaming into and around the demonic Nicholai and from somewhere Joachim struck repeatedly. Karin wondered though - as she took a breath and tried to summon one more fire attack - just how much longer demon-Nicholai could stand. Her question became academic in the next second, however, as Amon leapt in, and with one razored arm, sliced a long and bloody furrow down the monster's side and it collapsed to the floor, black smoke oozing from its pores as it shimmered and twisted. Lying on the floor was Nicholai, wan and panting, a trickle of blood dribbling from his lips.

"I – I suppose that I am beaten... even with the power of Astaroth...time to finish it..." and he looked up at Yuri, now released from his own demon fusion, and waited for the deathblow. How could I have been mistaken, he wondered as he watched the fusionist approach, the fighter's claws razor sharp and dripping with ichor. He killed Rasputin, but I thought I could beat him... I thought I could win her heart...

Yuri stared down at the fallen priest with a fire lit in his eyes. Karin looked across at him and knew, with all certainty, that the fusionist would kill Nicholai. No, he can't... he wouldn't... It is going all wrong.

"Yuri don't," she called to him and was about to stop him when a whooshing sound came from her left and she gasped. Appearing out of nowhere was the man Yuri had introduced in Southampton, Special Envoy, Masaji Kato. He stepped in front of the open vault doors and gestured, closing them slowly. When they banged shut, he turned and faced Yuri, Nicholai at his feet. The exorcist looked up at the Japanese officer with bleary eyes and, with a groan, passed out, his head thudding to the floor.

"Kato," Yuri said, and Karin could hear a mixture of pleasure and anger in his voice.

"In the name of the Emperor, I'm taking this man under my protection," Kato said in an official voice. Then with a quick glance at Yuri's assembled companions, "I do not wish to fight you; please leave."

"No way..." Yuri did not sound like he was backing down.

"If this man is truly the next in line to the Tsardom of Russia," Kato said, "then as an allied country we cannot simply let you kill him."

Behind him Anastasia gasped, however Yuri simply gestured to the streaks of light falling down from the tower, showering over the city, moving beyond into the rest of the country.

"Look at those; do you have any idea what those are going to do?"

Kato frowned. "It was you who let it happen. The malice is already invading the people's hearts; it's too late for them. Taking this person's life is not going to change anything."

But they're innocent, Karin thought and looked from the windows and back to Kato. How can he be so cold?

"Stay outta this..." Yuri growled and pulled back a fist even as he headed for Nicholai. Kato gestured again, a raised hand, and Yuri was picked up bodily, and slammed into the far wall.

"Yuri!" Karin cried and forgotten was Nicholai, lying unconscious on the floor. She ran to Yuri's side, helping him to sit up even as Kato's strange guards stepped between them.

Kato looked at Yuri, his one time friend, and shook his head sadly.

"I'm going back to the capitol," he said looking at Yuri. "Your war is over now. Look for another way to live. Farewell." He gestured again and a vortex opened up, swallowing him, his guards, and Nicholai.

Karin, holding Yuri in her arms, looked up at the vanishing Japanese and the exorcist and felt her heart wrenching. Why does it have to be this way? Why? Her mind was filled with questions she could not answer and her heart was torn between the man she found so alluring, the man she'd just fought against for her very life, and this man at her knees.

Life is so unfair, she thought as she helped Yuri to his feet.

Reviewers:

Aegis, dear, that was Gepetto's complaint. Under the circumstances, I wouldn't trust the old perv either.

Ravin: no problem, family always comes first. I kinda liked Veronica myself, especially after playing the DC version of this game. I could even swing with the idea of a VeronicaXNicholai ... damn Pink Candy anyway... now I want to see that picture!

Puffy- more fluff, sort of. More angst, yeah definitely. But the heat is coming - somewhere around the Fujisan episode. So hang in there!