Chapter Twenty-Five
I’m standing in a corridor under JFK, looking wide-eyed at Woland—the leader of the recently departed chorts.
“I thought you ran back to St. Petersburg,” I say and back up a step.
“I’m going there soon.” Advancing on me, he pulls out a syringe. “As are you, assuming you want to live.”
I stare at him, my brain having trouble working with all the adrenaline sloshing around my skull.
“I’m going to give you two choices,” Woland says. “Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head so I can inject you with this tranquilizer”—he waves the syringe in the air—“or I’ll stop your heart right here and now.”
I take another step back.
He tsk-tsks. “Last chance. I’m not bluffing.”
Great. My choices are fight him so I can rush to save Nero, or get put under to wake up i
