Breath of the Firebird: Modern Fantasy?

The spires of St. Petersburg rose before him, the breath of the firebird hissed past his ear, the heavy iron of the gun weighed down his hand, and the blood of the tsarina throbbed against his heart. He lifted his hand to touch the handkerchief the spot of her blood had fallen on in salute, and then he strode through the snow across the square to the squat building beside the spires. It was a bureaucratic, stolid-looking building, all about business and red tape and the necessary lubrications of rubles and vodka. But he came with a pack of invisible wolves raging across the snow behind him, leaving no tracks--

Inspiration: Everybody else is going to an awesome Russian vodka bar, and I'm staying home sick. I really wanted to visit this place, too.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: Obviously, lots and lots more research needs to be done. I don't even know the pieces to fit together. Something in the Russian folktales and the grim beauty of the land makes me want to write this, though. After a lot of research. In maybe 2-3 years, when I'll be able to write even better.