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The door began to creak open, showing at first only the darkness of the corridor beyond. In time, it was fully open.

Behind it stood something.

It was tall, and human-sized, and in a dark cape. Pale eyes glinted in what little light there was.

VII

Mortus in anima

I long ago came to the conclusion that my night vision isn’t the best in the world – a particular shame in the darkened city where, lacking even a torch or a candle, I stumbled from wall to wall like a blindfolded drunk.

I was mindful of the increased frequency of the civil night-watch patrols, and the additional groups of soldiers who roamed the streets, but at least it meant that Kiev was swathed in dark silence. As a whole, the population unquestioningly obeyed the curfew, so there was little chance of me running into someone who might alert the authorities. (For all our attempts to blend into this culture, there was a certain alien distinctiveness about us that we could not shake off.)

I headed towards the cathedral – the one structure in Kiev that was big enough to break the grey sky with its own turreted darkness. I was, of course, hoping to find a way to observe Bishop Vasil, whom Olexander felt was not to be trusted. But the old man’s mention of the catacombs under the cathedral had intrigued me: I had no idea how to gain access to them, but, if I could, there was surely no more secure place in the whole city. I would be safe from the authorities for as long as I needed to be

– or until my food ran out, whichever happened first.

My only concern was the casket Olexander had described, and the fallen angel supposedly contained within it. My travels with the Doctor had pretty much cemented my own mistrust of superstition: everything I had encountered had some sort of rational explanation, even if I didn’t understand it. But a rational creature is as likely to kill you as an irrational one – maybe even more so, in my experience.

As I approached the cathedral I realised it was going to be difficult to observe and follow the archbishop. I didn’t know the layout of the building, I had no means of contacting the others with my discoveries – and I didn’t even know what Vasil looked like. By all accounts he liked to keep a low profile, and I had certainly never met the man. Even so, looking for him seemed a more profitable course of action than searching for the catacombs. In a building the size of the cathedral, stuffed full of rooms and corridors, frescos and tapestries, their entrance could be almost anywhere.

I sighed as I approached the cathedral, wondering for a moment if I should seek out Dodo, or even, heaven forbid, the governor. My anxious thoughts were interrupted by a small knot of men who seemed to appear from nowhere at the side of the great building. Their clothing was dark and they carried only one torch between them, so at first all I saw was a clutch of tiny bobbing heads, moving as one, some distance from me.

I looked more closely, and realised they were arranged almost as a defensive circle around a central figure. They were intent, it seemed, on keeping someone well away from even the most accidental or fleeting of glances. Thus, the single torch and the complete silence in which they moved.

I tried to make my way carefully towards them, but they were already marching away from me. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the central figure, who was covered from head to foot in a dark brown cloak with something like tassels at its base.

I was either going to have to jog after them to make up ground, or let them go. Although intrigued by the stranger in their midst, I settled on the latter. I told myself to concentrate on the task at hand, whatever the diversions placed in my way.

I was about to make my way towards the main doors of the cathedral when two men in dark ecclesiastical robes peeled away from the departing group and began walking in my direction.

I dropped back into the shadows, straining to hear their voices.