I stopped abruptly in my tracks, and I felt a few people bump into the back of me. "Pardon me?" I exclaimed.
"It was you. You shot that priest right on this canal."
"Ah, he was not really a priest."
"So that makes it OK?"
"Let me explain..."
I was dating a British woman named Cindy. She was a manager for some the IT department of a real estate company operating in Moscow and St. Petersburg. I was a "government employee" and that was good enough for her. That day we decided to take a boat tour of Petersburg that she had been nagging me to do with her. As I was buying our tickets I was already imaging the tandoori chicken I was going to eat after the tour.
But it was not to be. I made sure we were first to board and went straight to the back of the boat. I hate having my back to the snipers. And then my sense supernasty tripped. I started looking around. Something with bad intentions was approaching. And then I saw it. It was a...Russian Orthodox priest. Actually it was something disguising itself as a Russian Orthodox priest. As it was buying its ticket it said to me, "enjoy the tour, asshole". Actually there is no English word for what he called me - English does not have a word vulgar enough. But what worried me is that I could not see who or what this thing was, and normally I can see them as they really are.
As the boat got underway the tour guide started immediately blabbering into the loud speaker about this and that. As we passed the Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood (google map) where Tsar Aleksandr II was assassinated by anarchists. "Wow, Sasha, what do you think, if he had not been assassinated?" Cindy asked me in her broken Russian. I really hate that question, and it seems to be popular. But if you ask me I just say that taking history and asking "what if" is like playing a guitar without strings - you might enjoy it, but no one really cares.
"Yea, Sasha, what do you think if he hadn't been assassinated?" the priest mocked me in perfect Russian.
"Go fuck yourself," I replied.
"Sasha, stop ignoring me!" she said in English, tugging on my arm.
"Stop ignoring her. It's very rude," he continued to mock me, in perfect English. A lot of supernasties seem to speak languages flawlessly, at least the really powerful ones do. I got even more worried. I had no idea if my gun was going to actually damage this thing.
I shouted out loud, "everyone down!" (in Russian first since the tour was given only in Russian I figured that the majority of people on the boat would understand) as I jumped up pulling my pistol and taking aim for the back of the priest's head. And I added again in English, "everyone down!"
"I don't think so, hunter!" he exclaimed as he moved with blinding speed and had a blade to the little girl's throat who was sitting next to him. I pulled the trigger and the bullet slammed into his shoulder, punching a hole in the body armour he was wearing under his priestly garb. He spun around and the force wrenched the girl from his grasp.
"Stay down!" I shouted again despite a dumbass tourist running in front of me causing me to not get another shot at the priest. I pushed him to the ground, "Stay down," I shouted in Russian and English at him. The priest had recovered from being shot. In fact, he was charging me with such speed that I could not get a shot off. He slammed into me and I felt the blade puncture my stomach and the pain shot straight up my spine. I grabbed him by the body armour edges at his shoulders and fell backwards with the force of him slamming into me. His hand slipped off the blade as he tried to pull it out, and as I rolled on my back I used my feet as leverage to fling him over my head. It was at that point I saw his face had changed into a very ugly monstrous thing that I really am not sure how to explain. He slammed into the railing and went through tumbling off the boat into the water.
I picked up my pistol and as I stood up the pain doubled me over. I fought through it and shot the monster several times until my sense supernasty stopped registering positive. I collapsed to the deck, the knife had disappeared. I looked around, but it was gone. I was still wounded sure enough though, leaking blood quicker than I would have preferred. I passed out.
"A shape-shifting monster, ah?" the spirit asked, obviously skeptical.
"Yes," I replied.
"You expect me to believe in shape-shifting monsters?"
"Yes."
"That's just crazy talk," the spirit said and started laughing.
"Well I have to be on my way."
Still laughing, "take care, Sasha!"
