I hung on to the side of the bouncing car as we roared down the dirt road, back the way we came. Tsar Alexander didn't seem happy about this turn of events. "You didn't have a plan for how to escape?"

Colonel Mazur snapped at him, a far cry from his usual equanimity. "We did have a plan, but it didn't account for your wife's treachery, your grace."

I had a couple of weapons under my jacket as usual, but what I wouldn't have given for some heavy artillery or even a radio to call the gunship in to swoop us out of here.

"There!" Veronica shouted, "On the left!" She stabbed a finger at a dirt road looming out of the dark in front of us. The turn blended in amongst the trees, but we took it. At least now we were headed away from the gardens that by now would be swarming with troops.

"My maps didn't show this place being an island," Mazur said.

"Clearly your maps are out of date," the Tsar retorted. He was an ungrateful sort, I reflected, considering it was his treacherous wife who had gotten us into this situation.

“They’re trying to help you, Alexander,” Anastasia snapped. “You could be grateful.”

“I should have taken my chances with the admiral. You’re playing right into their hands.”

Up ahead the road abruptly ended in a yawning void. Mazur slammed on the brakes and spun over the wheel. We bumped and slid around a turn, coming up just short of the canal on another road that ran parallel to the watercourse. Under our feeble headlights, it was a pitch-black void some 10 meters across. I eyed it as we raced along, thinking I could almost jump that far, but was kidding myself. One of the Hussar girls could probably do it if she was full up on istota. Veronica wouldn’t have any istota at all, since she had not yet bonded a replacement mech. Maybe Anastasia could do it, but there were too many of us muggles to ferry conveniently across, and then we would be without a car anyway.

"Tamara should be up ahead somewhere," Veronica said. “If we can just reach her…”

Mazur nodded, "Maybe a mile, if the road continues."

Our headlights lit up a squad of Russian soldiers in the middle of the road. They yelled and scattered, diving out of the way of our speeding car. One slipped and fell into the canal with a yell and a plop. We roared through their group and continued on down the road. I kept expecting a shot from behind, but none came.

"They must have orders to hold their fire," Piotr said.

"Maybe, but I wouldn't count on it," Tsar Alexander interjected. "He will get more desperate if he thinks he's going to lose control of me completely. If it looks like we're going to get away, they'll probably gun us down."

Over the roar of the motor, I heard a distant rumble. It sounded as if it was far off to our right, probably miles away, but it was impossible to be sure over the engine. "Who here has weapons?" I asked. Since we'd just come from a party, I wasn't very hopeful.

Piotr and Veronica both promptly drew revolvers from their formal wear. I tried not to flinch as they waved them around, flagging everyone in the car. Figure and muzzle discipline was appalling in this era, but hey, at least they were armed.

"Okay, okay, put them away till we need them."

"How did they get orders not to fire so fast?" Colonel Mazur wondered. “There wouldn't have been time for a message to get out to here on foot.”

"The guardhouses have a telephone system," Tsar Alexander explained.

“But is there one near here?”

Even as Mazur finished asking, the flickering reflections of our headlights on glass and steel girders appeared in the distance. There was a bridge across the canal and a guard post situated next to it.

"Hold up here,” I said. “I have an idea."

The colonel glanced back at me before stomping on the brake. "It better be a good one."

“Don’t you know me by now?” I grinned in the dark. It was a really bad one.

Dmitri Vostov pointed his rifle at the glaring headlights. The car pulled up short of his guard post. "Hold your fire," he reminded the men with him, though they had all gotten the same orders. The amulet around his neck burned with intention. Recapture the Tsar. Do not harm him, the directive echoed in his mind. It was overwhelmingly powerful, stronger than any command he'd ever been sent by the amulet.

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One of his men fingered his own amulet and muttered something under his breath about the Blessed Virgin. "Don't shoot!" a voice called in Russian. "Don't shoot!" He lowered his rifle a fraction. He couldn't afford to risk shooting the Tsar. The idea of displeasing the Admiral whose power flowed through the amulet, terrified him to the deepest parts of his being.

The words echoed in his mind again. With shaky hands, his hand moved away from the trigger on its own. You must not harm the Tsar.

A figure was coming towards them, backlit by the headlights. It was difficult to make out. As he came closer, Dmitri realized it was two different people.

“Don’t shoot!” one called again. As they got closer, he could see hands raised in the air. The one in front was shorter and wore a fancy uniform. Behind him, another much taller man towered.

“We are coming to you. Do not shoot!”

The car’s motor was still running and the headlights still shone, although the figures had almost reached the guardhouse. Were there more of them in the automobile? Dmitri opened his mouth to shout for any others to come out, but before he could, he got a good look at the second of the two men. To his shock, Dmitri realized it was a golem, and a huge one at that.

He started to raise his rifle again, but then the first man stepped into the light.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m here!”

It was the Tsar! He had succeeded in his mission. The wave of relief that flooded him was overwhelming. When his amulet gave a command, the desire to fulfill it was almost painful, and the relief that came with obedience was euphoric.

"Ah, your majesty, it's good that you're…"

The big man moved. Semyon was the closest soldier to him. His rifle, bayonet fixed, was held low. Dmitri couldn't even see the big artificial man move. The golem stepped forward and plucked the rifle from Semyon's hands like an adult stealing a toy from a child. Dmitri felt something thump against his chest. The air whooshed out of his lungs and he took a step back.

Bang!

A shot rang out. Dmitri blinked and saw the big man had an automatic in his hand, its barrel smoking faintly in the blinding floodlights of the guardhouse. He blinked. Semyon was down with a huge knife sticking out of his neck. Someone behind Dmitri had been shot. He heard the body fall to the ground.

His own body refused to move. He blinked down in disbelief to see Semyon's rifle sticking out of his own chest. He was pinned to the wall behind him by its slender bayonet blade. Dmitri blinked at it in disbelief as he felt his life slipping away.

The amulet on his chest burned. Tendrils of power came out of it and coursed through his veins. His limbs, whose strength had been draining away, filled with renewed energy. All thoughts in his mind were washed away by a single overriding urge.

Hunger.

Feed!

"Something's going on," Veronica said. I looked back at the guards. I didn't see anything. Two were slumped on the ground and their leader was pinned against the wall.

The one hanging off the wall from the rifle and bayonet twitched. What the hell? The body jerked upright and a hand lashed out. It grabbed my jacket and hauled me forward with inhuman force. The head still lolled to the side, eyes open and staring, but the mouth was moving. It moaned low and hungry sounding.

"Holy shit! Shit, zombies!" I jerked back and the hand came loose from my lapel.

Boom, boom! I put two rounds of .45 through its skull, splattering the wall with its own brains. There was a sharp cry from Veronica, not quite a scream. She had been standing near the Russian with a knife in his neck, bending to examine the body. Now reanimated, the Russian soldier had her by the leg. She thrust her hands forward and a blast of force that felt almost like wind swept across us all. The guard shack trembled. The undead soldier was shoved against the ground, but he didn't release his grip.

Then Piotr was there, revolver drawn. Boom! He shot the man in the head as Veronica drew her own revolver. She emptied it into the re-dead body. The gun clicked empty and she continued to pull the trigger. Click, click, click.

"It's alright," Piotr said.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, jerking away from his reassuring hand.

The third soldier hadn't stood since my shot earlier had taken him through the skull. It was a clean kill, but it still irked my old training, which had been to always shoot for the center of mass. The artificial reflexes I had now preferred headshots. But if this was a world that had zombies in it, I guess I couldn't complain about that.

I looked around, but there were no other soldiers in sight. A flimsy wooden crossing guard blocked the bridge. I almost tried to snap it off barehanded, but it was probably tougher than it looked, and I would look silly if it didn't break. Instead, I found the controls and raised the obstruction.

Tsar Alexander was calling for the colonel to bring the car up. We all waited. Everyone had guns out and was giving the bodies a careful eye, except Tsar Alexander, who stood with hands on hips, glaring at them as if they’d insulted his mother. Veronica, who was slowly getting her nerve back, peered at the one who was pinned to the wall. “What is this they wear? There is some magic on their chest!”

Alexander stepped up to the dead man, who was still impaled against the wall, and unbuttoned the top of his uniform. “Ah!” He jerked his hand back a moment later, muttering Russian curses.

“What is it?” I asked as he stepped over.

"He's wearing something around his neck. He's a devil!"

Veronica had picked up one of the dropped rifles, probably the impaled man's own weapon, and used the bayonet to prod his tunic open. A necklace slipped into view, glowing a sickly green. There were several sharp intakes of breath, one of which might have been my own, as the item appeared. It radiated a disturbing malice and evil that I couldn't identify. Even looking at it made my stomach twist.

There was a hissing in my ears that sounded like distant voices telling me to do things. I jerked my eyes away and the voices faded.

"Is that what woke these back up?" The Tsar was prodding one of the other bodies with his foot. "They all have one. This would be Admiral Karpov doing. It's a poorly kept secret that the man dabbles in dark magics."

I thought that might explain how he had gotten his clutches on the Tsar's wife, but I didn't say that out loud.

"Can we get out of here now before any more Russian zombies show up?" Veronica said. Her empty revolver dangled from her grip and she had her arms wrapped around herself.

"At least they die," Piotr said.

"You mean..." I shook my head. "You mean at least they die again."