"I know of him, that's all. He doesn't live in the Darkhavens," said the youth, referring to the secured communities that housed most of the Breed civilian populations throughout North America and Europe. "Dude's one nasty mofo from what I've heard."
Yeah, he was, Nikolai acknowledged inwardly. "Any idea where I might find him?"
"No."
"You sure about that?" Niko asked, watching as the woman at the bar slid off her stool and prepared to leave. She still had more than half a cocktail in her glass, but at the mere mention of Yakut's name, she seemed suddenly in a big hurry to get out of the place.
The Breed youth shook his head. "I don't know where to find the dude. Don't know why anyone would willingly look for him either, unless you got some kind of death wish."
Nikolai glanced over his shoulder as the tall brunette started edging her way through the crowd gathered near the bar. On impulse, she turned to look at him then, her jade-green gaze piercing beneath the fringe of dark lashes and the glossy swing of her sleek, chin-length bob. There was a note of fear in her eyes as she stared back at him, a na**d fear she didn't even attempt to hide. "I'll be damned," Niko muttered.
She knew something about Sergei Yakut.
Something more than just a passing knowledge, he was guessing. That startled, panicked look as she turned and broke for an escape said it all.
Nikolai took off after her. He weaved through the thicket of humans filling the club, his eyes trained on the silky black hair of his quarry. The female was quick, as fleet and agile as a gazelle, her dark clothes and hair letting her practically disappear into her surroundings.
But Niko was Breed, and there was no human in existence who could outrun one of his kind. She ducked out the club door and made a fast right onto the street outside. Nikolai followed. She must have sensed him hard on her heels because she pivoted her head around to gauge his pursuit and those pale green eyes locked on to him like lasers.
She ran faster now, turning the corner at the end of the block. Not two seconds later, Niko was there too. He grinned as he caught sight of her a few yards ahead of him. The alley she'd entered between two tall brick buildings was narrow and dark - a dead end sealed off by a dented metal Dumpster and a chain-link fence that climbed some ten feet up from the ground. The woman spun around on the spiked heels of her black boots, panting hard, eyes trained on him, watching his every move. Nikolai took a few steps into the lightless alley, then paused, his hands held benevolently out to his sides. "It's okay," he told her. "No need to run. I just want to talk to you."
She stared in silence.
"I want to ask you about Sergei Yakut."
She swallowed visibly, her smooth white throat flexing.
"You know him, don't you."
The edge of her mouth quirked only a fraction, but enough to tell him that he was correct - she was familiar with the reclusive Gen One. Whether she could lead Niko to him was another matter. Right now, she was his best, possibly his only, hope. "Tell me where he is. I need to find him."
At her sides, her hands balled into fists. Her feet were braced slightly apart as if she were prepared to bolt. Niko saw her glance subtly toward a battered door to her left.
She lunged for it.
Niko hissed a curse and flew after her with all the speed he possessed. By the time she'd thrown the door open on its groaning hinges, Nikolai was standing in front of her at the threshold, blocking her path into the darkness on the other side. He chuckled at the ease of it.
"I said there's no need to run," he said, shrugging lightly as she backed a step away from him. He let the door fall closed behind him as he followed her slow retreat into the alley.
Jesus, she was breathtaking. He'd only gotten a glimpse of her in the club, but now, standing just a couple of feet from her, he realized that she was absolutely stunning. Tall and lean, willowy beneath her fitted black clothing, with flawless milk-white skin and luminous almond-shaped eyes. Her heart-shaped face was a mesmerizing combination of strength and softness, her beauty equal parts light and dark. Nikolai knew he was gaping, but damn if he could help it.
"Talk to me," he said. "Tell me your name."
He reached for her, an easy, nonthreatening move of his hand. He sensed the jolt of adrenaline that shot into her bloodstream - he could smell the citrusy tang of it in the air, in fact - but he didn't see the roundhouse kick coming at him until he took the sharp heel of her boot squarely in his chest.
Goddamn.
He rocked back, more surprised than unfooted.
It was all the break she needed. The woman leapt for the door again, this time managing to disappear into the darkened building before Niko could wheel around and stop her. He gave chase, thundering in behind her.
The place was empty, just a lot of na**d concrete beneath his feet, bare bricks and exposed rafters all around him. Some fleeting sense of foreboding prickled at the back of his neck as he raced deeper into the darkness, but the bulk of his attention was focused on the female standing in the center of the vacant space. She stared him down as he approached, every muscle in her slim body seeming tensed for attack.
Nikolai held that sharp stare as he drew up in front of her. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I know." She smiled, just a slight curve of her lips. "You won't get that chance."
Her voice was velvety smooth, but the glint in her eyes took on a cold edge. Without warning, Niko felt a sudden, shattering tightness in his head. A high-frequency sound cranked up in his ears, louder than he could bear. Then louder still. He felt his legs give out beneath him. He dropped to his knees, his vision swimming while his head felt on the verge of exploding.