The Russian lifted his hands in surrender. “I did not come to fight. I have no weapon.”

“And he’s alone.” Emma emerged from the tunnel and sprinted up the stairs to stop on the landing next to Phineas. “The tunnel’s clear.”

Angus exited the tunnel, returning his claymore to the sheath on his back. He patted the Russian down from behind, then moved in front of him to pat him down again. He jerked the hood off the Russian’s head, then stepped back to glower at him. “Stanislav Serpukhov. What are ye up to?”

Robby stiffened at the sight of the Russian’s spiky white-blond hair. He’d seen that hair before. His newly healed fingers flexed jerkily around the hilt of his sword. “Ye were there. In the cave.”

Stanislav whirled around toward him and his eyes widened. “You?” He moved back, stumbling onto the first stair step. “You’re alive?”

Memories shot through Robby’s mind. Images of the torturers with their twisted, gleeful faces. The stench of his burning flesh. The snap of his breaking bones. “Ye bloody bastard. Ye were there.” He used both hands to raise his sword.

“Robby, stop!” Angus ordered.

“He was there!” Robby lurched toward the Russian, who scurried up the steps to the landing.

“I said stop.” Angus planted one hand against Robby’s chest and his other hand on Robby’s arm, forcing the sword down.

Robby glared at his great-great-grandfather, who only looked a few years older than himself. “I require revenge. Ye canna stop me.”

Angus glared back. “I expect you to follow orders.”

Robby pulled away from Angus’s grip and focused on the Russian. “I know who ye are now and where to find you.”

“I do not want trouble.” Stanislav sidled closer to Phineas.

The young black Vamp gave him an incredulous look. “What the hell are you doing, man? You think I’ll protect you? You’ve been trying to kill me.”