Page 258 - Hunter - The Vigil

“Well, Ivan thought of himself as a progressive kind of tyrant, and he didn’t have any patience for
sorcerers, so he tried to have Khaurov arrested. Maybe he saw it coming, because when Ivan’s soldiers
turned up, they found Khaurov’s house in fl ames, and the sorcerer was gone. No one knows what happened to
him after that, although some scholars speculate he fl ed either to Siberia, or all the way to the Black
Forest in Germany.” Karl shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. No one ever saw Maxim again, but about 10
years after Ivan died, a guy showed up in Moscow claiming to be Khaurov’s son. Before long the guy was
tight with the new Tsar, and there are anecdotal reports of mysterious disappearances among Moscow’s

citizens during this period.”
The reporter leaned forward and held out his hand for the bottle of rum. Jack stared at Karl for a
moment, then handed it over. Karl nodded in thanks, took a good swallow and passed it back. “Khaurov’s
son must have learned his lesson after what happened to Maxim, because he kept things on the down
low. Got rewarded with a title and some estates by the Tsar and became rich. Within about 30 years,
the Khaurovs were one of Moscow’s most powerful — and secretive — families. But the rumors continued.
Powerful nobles who sought Khaurov’s favor prospered, and their enemies tended to disappear — along
with their wives and children. And this continued, more or less, for the next 300 years. Descendants of
Maxim Khaurov became great soldiers. Not necessarily great generals, mind you, but there was a Khaurov
present at every major battle the Tsars ever fought.”
“They surrounded themselves with death,” Andrea said quietly.
“Yeah. Funny thing, that,” Karl said. “Anyway, the Khaurovs and the Tsars had some kind of falling
out in the late 19 century, and their infl uence at court waned. And we all know what happened to the
Romanovs in 1918. The Communists took over — and lo and behold, a guy named Arkady Khaurov turns up as a
th
senior offi cer of the Cheka, the Bolshevik secret police.” The reporter pulled a cigarette from his jacket
pocket and lit up. “Things get kind of fuzzy after that,” he said, blowing a stream of smoke at the van’s
ceiling. “The Soviets were damn good at hiding what went on inside the halls of power. But some people
think the Khaurovs continued their dealings with the underworld right up until World War II, and possibly
beyond. It’s believed that the family lost most of its wealth during the war, and there are lots of occult
scholars who will tell you that the last of the family died at Stalingrad in ’42.”

“Apparently not,” Vince said.
“Yeah. Apparently not,” Karl said. “I’ve heard of reports of people claiming to be members of
the family turning up all the way into the ’90s, but nobody could confi rm anything.”
“Now they’re looking for a new start here,” Gabreski said. “And they’ve brought their demons

with them.”
Karl gave Vince a long, speculative look. His dark eyes were troubled.
Then everyone jumped as a deep voice croaked from the darkness at the back of the van.
“They aren’t demons,” the man in the business suit said. “They’re ghouls. Eaters of the dead.” He
rolled over with a groan. “And I’m the only chance you’ve got to stop them.”