Chapter Ten
Woland—the polite older chort with the goatee—whooshes out of the office, leaving his screaming colleagues behind.
He looks upset—at least until he spots the person in his way.
Me.
My martial arts training kicking in, I throw a punch at his face.
Instead of connecting, my fist goes through his cheek as if it were a cloud of vapor. All of Woland, in fact, suddenly looks like a cloud of vapor or a hologram.
Did he just turn incorporeal?
Fighting a swell of jealousy at this stage-worthy power, I jerk my hand away.
Woland’s head re-solidifies, making his scowl more visible.
I must be stunned or confused, because I miss it when he leaps away from me and sprints down the corridor.
Marius jumps up.
Woland dodges the werewolf’s massive jaws and dives under Nostradamus’s exte
