It was Anastasia's voice that seemed to find him first in within that darkened space. The very blackness of shadow that surrounded them seeming to make that darkness feel all the more cold agianst his skin. How very tomb-like that church felt in that moment and yet, for now, the Frenchman so hardly allowed such thoughts to prevail within the depths of his mind as he strode forward, as boldly as ever, into that shadowy embrace and toward the voice of his beloved niece. Anastasia, as always, remained seemingly unconcerned by her aggressor. Though the very man whom prowled that darkness was the one whom had reduced her family to ruin with the pointed tip of that dagger of lies he wielded so well- she remained unfaltering. Alexander, it seemed, had taught her well. Those emotions, he knew, surely turned within her with a tumultuous, unrelenting force and yet her composure hardly faltered as she sought to draw her enemy from the darkness. Matteo, in turn, seeking the other man as he aimed to offer his own distraction. The Fae allowed his own accented voice to break that silence. Rasputin, he knew, would already be aware he was present. To afford the other man his exact location within that holy space sure to act as a distraction and afford Anastasia, in turn, time to enact her own plan. A woman she might be- yet she was hardly of the helpless breed. Alexander would never allow a child of his own making to face any situation unprepared. Anastasia, since her earliest days as a Hunter, had proven decidedly skilled in both swordplay and simple intuition. That very intuition having surely saved her from that man within her human years. How unfortunate the rest of her family had not seen fit to heed her warnings.

Rasputin, as he had anticipated, was unable to ignore his presence. That rasping voice erupting from within the gloom to inform him, rather pointedly, that that they were within a meeting of sorts, a reunion, and one he was so seemingly unwelcome to take part in. The Frenchmans hands reached silently upward to grasp the hilts of those dual swords at his back. The sliding hiss of unsheathing steel echoed through that dark space. A faint touch of light reflected briefly from those polished blades as he pressed closer to the pair still. A further distraction. One he knew Anastastia was more than capable of taking advantage off. His niece so hardly disappointing him. Rasputin's gaze had no sooner shifted toward the French Fae and his silent but swift approach then Anastasia took that opportunity to strike. The young woman armed, as Alexander had always insisted she be, with that favoured dagger. Her strike was swift and efficient, her hand a sweeping arc through the darkness to allow that blade to make contact with skin and send Rasputin reeling backwards with those cries of alarm as blood splattered the stone and marble of the church interior. How unfortunate it was to be forced to desecrate such a Holy place and yet, surely, such fault remained in the hands of Rasputin alone.

Anastasia moved towards him in the same moments that Matteo sought his niece in turn, his hand reached out to grasp her own, that sword briefly twisted downward and away to prevent its point finding Anastasia's skin and he pulled her towards and agianst himself with a gentle and yet firm assurance. The pair reunited in the gloom of the church, their adversary left to face them both as he sputtered his outrage. Alexander would kill him himself if he allowed any harm to come to his daughter. Those protective instincts soothed only by her presence beside him now. Matteo once more taking up that second sword until one blade remained positioned neatly in each hand.

"Ah, Mon Cherie, if you had been Catholic this would not have happened."

Now, surely, was hardly the time for such jests and yet it had so eternally been the Frenchmans manner. Much to Alexander's own utter annoyance. Matteo so seemingly capable of finding a glimmer of amusement in even the most hopeless of situations. Positivity, in some form, so never lacking for the ancient Fae. It was that sudden rising of power within theroom that so readily saw his attention return to the matter at hand. That very darkness itself seeming to summon to Rasputins command as that near glowing ball of blackened energy so appeared within the charlatans hands to be launched with furious disdain at Fae and Hunter both. It was Matteo's own gift to see that future that so surely prompted the man to move mere seconds before the release of that blast, his own form stepped neatly in front of Anastasia, those blades crossed over to form an X to act as both shield and weapon in turn agianst that blast. The ball of blackened energy struck those blades within their center as Matteo flung both both arms to the left, sending that energy ball ricocheting sideways and into the church wall. The foundations crumbling with the force. Rasputin so already preparing himself for a second strike as the Frenchman's head angled but briefly backward to the Huntress behind him.

"It would be unwise, Mon Cherie, to let one of them strike you. I can deflect them for you- but you need get close once more if you hope to strike again. Ready yourself. He is about to get very angry at me and increase that power."

c'est dur d'être un dieu.