‘Moscow University,’ said Jacqui. ‘How about that? Another physicist in the family.’

Amy pulled up her knees and leant sideways on the couch towards Jacqui. ‘You’ve not been on vacation with Lucas yet, have you? Since moving in, I mean.’

Lucas blinked.

‘Why, no,’ said Jacqui. ‘Do you think Moscow is pretty this time of year?’

‘It’s December,’ said Brody. ‘Are you kidding? It’s bloody freezing.’

‘Er . . .’ Lucas gestured at Brody and Amy. ‘I thought we’d spend Christmas hanging with these guys.’

Jacqui nodded, solemnity in everything but her eyes, which danced. ‘So we’d better fly back before then.’

Lucas looked at Brody, who laughed.

‘Touché, Lucas, mon frère.’

‘Bring us back some of those dolls,’ said Amy.

‘And vodka.’ Brody waved his beer. ‘Definitely vodka.’

Lucas rubbed his eyes.

Their hotel was not what they had expected: heavy on the dark wooden furnishings, including thick doors that slid open rather than swung, and the twin beds were laid end-to-end along one wall, like bunks in a submarine, instead of side by side. In the hotel coffee shop – something familiar, they thought – when Lucas bit into his jam and cream scone, he nearly spat it onto Jacqui in reaction to the shock of salt and fish.

‘What the—?’

‘Oh,’ said Jacqui. ‘It’s red caviar, not strawberries.’

‘Holy bleeding crap.’

He wiped his mouth with a paper serviette, and pushed the plate aside.

‘It’s fun, Lucas. New culture. Exotic details you’d never learn by staying at home and reading.’

‘Ugh, right.’ He swigged coffee to get rid of the taste. ‘Are you sure you’re American?’

Jacqui kicked his shin under the table, but gently.

‘You are a bad person, Lucas Woods.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

The wide, traffic-choked boulevards were Paris writ large. Lucas and Jacqui wandered the city, used the famous Metro with the palatial marble-lined stations, saw Red Square and St Basil’s Cathedral, found nothing much to look at in the Cultural Park that was also Gorky Park – Lucas had thought they were different places – and had dinner at the hotel, took NoLag tablets and went to sleep.

Next day, feeling odd from the travellers’ medication, they took a taxi to the Sparrow Hills north of the city proper. Their appointment was at ten, and without the meds they would not have been awake at that time; but Lucas regretted taking the stuff until they were standing in clean cold air at the campus: suddenly he felt great.

Moscow University looked the way it should: neo-Baroque and magnificent, rearing above a snow-covered plaza that overlooked the curving river and the spreading city beyond.

‘I’m glad I thought of coming here,’ said Lucas.

‘Yes, dear,’ said Jacqui.

Their qPads worked with the campus systems, directing them to Astrophysics, along a corridor that led to a small office with one of those heavy doors on runners. As they approached, it slid open and a black-haired woman looked out.

‘Ludmila Shtemenko,’ she said. ‘How do you do.’

‘Lucas Woods, and this is Jacqui Khan.’

They shook hands and went inside, where his putative cousin poured them tea from a pot – Lucas was disappointed by the absence of a samovar – and handed over the steaming glasses.

‘Please call me Ludmila Arturovna.’ She smiled. ‘Is what colleagues do.’

‘Your father Artur,’ said Jacqui, ‘was Lucas’s uncle, though they never met. Sorry I don’t know your father’s patronymic.’

Lucas shrugged, not knowing how to cope with this cross cultural minefield. From his cousin’s frown, they might have offended her – or she might just be concentrating on the English words. He was a monoglot, and embarrassed by it.

‘Perhaps,’ said Ludmila Arturovna, ‘you should call me Luda. And I call you Luke and Jacqui, OK? If we are family.’

No one had ever addressed Lucas as Luke.

‘OK,’ he said.

Before coming, they had chatted online about the possible family connection, and a bit about their respective jobs. Now they went over the same ground in person, as a form of reassurance, growing used to each other.

‘Have you finished tea?’ asked Luda finally. ‘I show you laboratories.’

They poked around offices and cluttered labs with wire tangles everywhere, including the industrial-looking cryogenics area devoted to solid state research.

‘I was with Professor Zbruev’ – Luda dropped her voice as they neared one of the cryo chambers – ‘when gamma-ray burster event occurred. Interesting to see if you—Ah, there he is.’

Zbruev was an ordinary shaven-headed man in rumpled clothes – but Jacqui clutched Lucas’s arm and muttered: ‘Let’s go past.’

‘So,’ said Luda.

They ignored the remaining labs, and used a fire exit to walk outside into the snow.

‘Luke is my cousin,’ Luda went on. ‘But you saw it, Jacqui, no?’

Jacqui reached down, scooped up a little fresh snow, and rubbed her face with it.

‘Lucas had a girlfriend once,’ she told Luda, ‘who was just like Zbruev. Nasty bitch.’

‘Nasty . . .? Ah, I understand.’ Luda looked at Lucas. ‘You did not see lovely darkness?’

‘Lovely?’ said Jacqui.

‘Is . . . strong attractive, you understand?’

‘Alluring,’ said Jacqui. ‘You have to fight it.’

‘Yes.’

Lucas shivered, disoriented and wondering how much the meds had to do with this conversation. On the rare occasion Jacqui had raised the subject of dark auras, she said they repelled her. Luda’s reaction was different.

‘But you do fight it,’ said Jacqui. ‘That’s the main thing.’

Tears sprang out in Luda’s eyes. ‘I am so glad you are here.’

‘Me too.’ Jacqui touched her arm. ‘We know we’re not alone. What we see is real.’

‘Oh, I know is real. Always.’

Something in her voice broke Lucas’s heart.

Darkness fell, and they were still talking, but indoors. From the students’ union – if Lucas understood Luda’s description correctly – they moved to a faculty common room, and stayed until seven p.m. Now, besides night workers like cleaners, there was still a small number of people around, some carrying out research that for one reason or another was best done at night.

But Lucas, Jacqui and Luda were able to move around the corridors in the main physics block without seeing anyone. The room they ended up in was cluttered with SQUID scanners and atomic magnetometers; and to one side stood a glass-fronted cabinet, locked for the night, with shelves of items waiting to be analysed.

‘From archaeology.’ Luda pointed into the cabinet. ‘Found in grandfather’s, um, belongings when he died. FSB gave to Professor Zbruev’s department. Mother knew about crystal, but story was bitter. I don’t know details. Is very old,’ she added. ‘Centuries. Looks new.’

The object was crystalline but shaped like a spearhead.

‘Belongs in a museum,’ said Jacqui.

But Luda was lost in thought.

‘Grandfather told Mother, crystal was best thing to come from London, apart from Mother. Made Mother angry. I do not know why.’ Then she shrugged. ‘Had something else, FSB not know. Stayed in family. Also old, from Siberia. My grandfather found old site, kept piece no one knew about.’

Luda dug inside her pocket, and pulled out a metal shard. Then she held it close to the glass.

‘Holy crap,’ said Lucas.

Red fluorescence brightened inside the spearhead: sharp lines forming what looked a symbol:

Then Luda tugged at his arm, pulling him 90 degrees to one side. The upper ‘branch’ was hidden by the change in angle, while orthogonal lower ‘branches’ were revealed:

‘That’s not natural,’ said Lucas. ‘Really not natural.’

‘Pattern in crystal. Like two futharks superimposed.’ Luda gestured with the metal shard, and the red lines grew brighter. ‘Runes, you understand?’