The Soul Stealer. Alex Archer

rule out the whole supernatural angle?”

      “Just because you did not see the cemetery does not mean there is not one,” Gregor said. “The last time I was here, the villagers buried their dead behind the church.”

      Annja nodded. “Down at the end of the street. Father Jakob, you mentioned.”

      “Yes. He is Eastern Orthodox.”

      “You think he’s still here?”

      Gregor spoke to the old woman, who had come out with the bill. She handed it immediately to Bob, who started fumbling around with his wallet.

      When Gregor had finished speaking, the old woman nodded. Gregor looked back at Annja.

      “She says he is still here and that he will be here until the wind sweeps his dust away.”

      “Colorful,” Annja said, laughing.

      Bob fished out a wad of money and handed it to the old woman. She grabbed the bundle of cash and leafed through it. Her eyes softened and she kissed Bob on the forehead before trundling off.

      Annja shook her head. “Looks like you won her over.”

      “Money is the greatest facilitator of all,” Bob said. “A little extra green makes everyone all lovey-dovey.”

      “I guess we should go and see Father Jakob,” Annja said. “Maybe he’ll be able to shed a little light on this whole situation.”

      Walking out of the café, Annja felt a funny sensation and turned back to see the old woman peering through the torn lace curtain framing the windows. Gregor didn’t look back but steered Annja away.

      “As I said, they are distrustful of strangers. Give them time and they will warm up to you.”

      “This business of the Khosadam has them spooked,” Bob said. “Everyone is suspect.”

      Annja nodded. “Quite a place we’ve come to, Bob.”

      “It’s about to get even weirder if that sky carries through on the promise of a blizzard,” he said.

      Annja looked up, and the thick, bloated clouds seemed as if they might fall out of the sky. “How long?”

      “Soon,” Bob said. “Another hour perhaps.”

      Annja looked at Gregor. “Is there a place we can stay here in town?”

      Gregor pointed at a decrepit building that towered over the other buildings. “Yakutsk hotel. The only place in town.”

      It looked quite run-down, but any place would serve as long as it kept them warm and safe from the blizzard outside. Annja turned to Gregor again. “Has anyone in town died recently?”

      “No.”

      “So, if no one has died lately, how is this Khosadam supposed to eat?”

      Gregor frowned. “That is what has the villagers scared the most. It is said that when Khosadam cannot find a fresh grave, she will hunt the living.”

      “She’ll kill?” Annja asked in disbelief.

      “Yes. And when she kills, she will then wait for the dead person’s soul to lift from the body.”

      “And then she eats it?”

      Gregor nodded. “Yes.”

      The first flakes fell from the sky as they hurried toward the church. Already, the Siberian sky had darkened.

      Annja wondered what the night might hold in store for them all.