Blood Infernal: The Order of the Sanguines Series (25 page)

Erin glanced to Elizabeth. The countess gave a small nod of acknowledgment, plainly knowing the place. From the darkening of her expression, she wasn’t pleased about this location.

As Tereza returned to her lecture with the others, Erin spoke quietly with Elizabeth. “What do you know about the Faust House?”

“It was a place of much infamy. Before Kelly moved in, Emperor Rudolf’s astrologer, Jakub Krucinek, resided there with his two sons. Later, the younger one killed the older one because of a supposed treasure hidden in that house. Kelly himself rigged the place with all sorts of trickery. Doors that would open by themselves, staircases that would fly around, handles that would shock you if you touched them.”

She made a sharp scoffing sound, then continued. “The man was a fraud and a swindler. But the house . . . it’s authentically malevolent. It’s why the house was associated with the Faust legend.”

“The scholar who made a pact with the devil?”

“Some say Faust himself lived there, that it was in that very house that he was sucked away to Hell, drawn straight through the ceiling.”

Erin eyed the countess doubtfully.

She shrugged. “Legend or not, strange occurrences have been associated with that place. Mysterious disappearances, loud blasts during the night, strange lights.”

Erin pointed to the paper with the Enochian writing. “Could Rudolf have left that secret message to you, directing you to the Faust House? The green diamond had a connection to a dark angel and so does that place.”

“Perhaps . . .”

Tereza spoke louder, stepping to a bookcase. “And now for the next stop on our tour.”

The guide shoved the bookcase to one side, revealing a set of steps leading down.

Jordan exclaimed loudly, sounding boyishly excited, “Cool! A secret passageway.”

Tereza stood at the threshold of the secret stairs. “This passage leads down to an alchemist’s private laboratory. If you’ll look down near the floor, you’ll see a large metal ring just inside. It is said that the Rabbi Loew chained his infamous golem there when it misbehaved.”

Erin smiled at the idea, but the Sanguinists looked down at the ring skeptically. Apparently, they believed in
strigoi
and angels but not in giant clay men brought to life by alchemists. She guessed they had to draw the line somewhere.

Tereza led them down the stairs.

Erin trailed with Elizabeth, who nudged the ring with her toe as she passed it. “Such nonsense,” the countess whispered. “Dee chained a wolf to that ring, a beast that answered to no one but Dee himself. On the day Dee died, Rudolf had to kill the animal to get into this room.”

Erin followed last down the stone steps. The stairs were narrow so that everyone had to go single file. At the base of the stairs, a tunnel ran ahead, and Tereza directed them onward. But Erin paused to examine a metal door on the left. It had a square opening at eye level, like the door to a prison cell. Through the opening, she could see another tunnel.

“Behind that door,” the guide called back, noting Erin’s attention, “is a tunnel that leads to the old town square. We discovered that tunnel and others a few years back following a great flood. It took some time to clean out the mud.”

Jordan glanced back at Erin, clearly remembering her recounting of that flood.

Tereza continued. “In the furnace room up ahead, we discovered a tunnel that leads under the river and runs all the way to Prague Castle.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Rudolf used that tunnel—and others—to come and go under the city, so that no one knew where he was.”

Erin could not help but be fascinated by these stories, trying to imagine that time when science, religion, and politics blurred together, wrapped in mysteries and legends.

They continued down the tunnel. Jordan had to keep his head ducked from the low ceiling. The passageway finally ended at a small room with a round metal stove in the center. The stove held metal flasks with long spouts, while a limp set of bellows rested in front of the stove’s opening. Soot covered everything: roof, walls, and even the stone tiles on the floor were black.

This must be the furnace room that Tereza had mentioned. At the back, another doorway led off to a neighboring dark room. Their guide pointed toward it. “In the next room is where the alchemists worked on transmutation—changing base metals to gold.”

Elizabeth muttered. “Such foolishness. Who could believe you could change simple metals to gold?”

Jordan heard her, glancing back with a grin. “Actually, it
is
possible. If you bombard a certain kind of mercury with neutrons. Unfortunately, the process costs more than the gold it produces. Plus, the gold ends up being radioactive and decays in a couple of days.”

Elizabeth gave an exaggerated sigh. “So it seems modern man has not given up his old obsessions.”

“The furnace and the larger flasks are original,” Tereza said, continuing her dialogue about the old alchemists’ attempts to brew an Elixir of Eternal Youth. “We found a vial of that elixir bricked up in a secret safe in the wall of this room. Along with a recipe to make it.”

Now it was Erin’s turn to scoff. “You can make it today?”

Tereza smiled. “It is a complicated process, with seventy-seven herbs, gathered by moonlight, infused into wine. The brewing takes a full year, but yes, it can be done. In fact, it is being made by monks in a monastery in Brno.”

Even Elizabeth looked surprised by this bit of trivia.

Erin studied this five-hundred-year-old time capsule of the alchemists’ world. She moved through the room, examining the furnace and glassware. She spied a small door behind the furnace.

Must be that tunnel to the castle
.

Rhun suddenly appeared at her side, clutching her arm. She turned, only now noting how the Sanguinists had gone stone-still, looking up. Even Elizabeth cocked her head, her nose high.

“What is it?” Jordan asked. His hand instinctively went to his waist, where he normally holstered his machine pistol, but due to the Czech gun laws, he hadn’t been allowed to pass through customs with any firearms.

“Blood.” Rhun whispered, gazing toward the tunnel that led up to the rooms above. “Much blood.”

March 18, 4:39
P
.
M
.
CET

Prague, Czech Republic

The blood is hot upon my tongue . . .

Legion knew it was not actually his own tongue. His body—rooted deep inside the black vessel of Leopold—lay sprawled in the back of a rumbling vehicle. The windows were darkened, shadowing the burn of the late-afternoon sun. He sensed sunset was near, but until then, he must hunt from afar, peering out other eyes, directing his will into those who bore his mark.

Closer at hand, the Sanguinist woman—Abigail—controlled the vehicle, this great rumbling black horse that spewed clouds of poison in its wake. She seemed oblivious of the sun. The wine of the Sanguinist protected her from the light, its holiness acting like a shield.

Legion was determined to brand more like her, to create forces that could move in light and darkness, swelling his ranks for the war to come.

Blood called to him again, drawing his awareness back to the slave who feasted on the old woman in the small room, a space full of dried herbs, dust, and books. He extended his senses farther, seeing out of three more pairs of eyes. Three more slaves, who were bound to his will, skulked through dark tunnels, closing in on the prey hidden below.

Legion had gathered these and others to this city, to destroy that ancient prophecy imbued into the body of the trio: the Warrior, the Woman, and the Knight.

He would allow them no rest, no safe refuge.

The mortals he intended to kill, but the one called Korza . . .

You will be my finest slave, a weapon to wield against Heaven
.

But first, Legion needed to flush that Knight out into the open.

He lifted his hand, watching the whorls of blackness swim across his palm. He sent out a command to those who bore his mark.

Kill them . . . but save the Knight for me
.

4:50
P
.
M
.

Standing in the furnace room, Jordan pulled Erin behind him. Rhun, Sophia, and Christian drew blades and kept watch on the far stairwell that led up to the museum.

“What are you doing?” Tereza asked, noting the weapons, covering her throat with her hand.

Erin took the woman’s other hand. “Stay close.”

Jordan stepped over and grabbed the only weapon in view: an old iron fireplace poker that lay propped up against the furnace stove.

Not the machine pistol he missed, but it would have to do.

Elizabeth noted him arming himself and did the same. She picked up a flask by its spout and shattered the bulbous base, creating a glass dagger.

Tereza gasped at the damage, but she kept to Erin’s side.

“Smoke,” Rhun said by the door.

Jordan shifted enough to peer over his shoulder. From the stairwell on the far side of the tunnel, a roll of sooty blackness flowed from the steps into the tunnel. The upstairs must be on fire.

“My . . . my mother,” Tereza said. She began to step forward, but Erin restrained her.

And with good reason.

From out of that pall of smoke, a dark figure appeared. It dropped into a crouch, revealing a large shaven-haired man with a muscular physique. He clutched a long knife in one fist. His white T-shirt was stained with the crimson of fresh blood. He bared fangs, sniffing at the air, hunting for them.

As he did so, Jordan spotted a five-fingered black brand on his throat, marking him as an enslaved
strigoi
, like the one who had attacked them in the cavern in Cumae.

Sophia hissed with recognition.

The
strigoi
lowered his gaze at the noise—then lunged forward, moving with incredible speed.

Rhun leaped forward into the tunnel, meeting the charge of the creature. The priest held a silver
karambit
in each hand, the curved metal blades looking like long claws. He slashed out as the beast reached him—but found only empty air.

The
strigoi
feinted low, then spun, striking out with his knife. But at the last moment, he turned its blade and smashed the steel hilt into the side of Rhun’s head. The blow knocked Rhun against the tunnel wall, clearly dazing him.

The
strigoi
barreled past him, going straight for Sophia and Christian.

Elizabeth shifted forward, concern ringing in her voice. “Rhun . . .”

Jordan pushed Erin and Tereza farther back. A moment too late, he realized the error of his defense. The creak of old hinges sounded behind him. He swung around in time to see a dark shape burst forth from the small door that led to Rudolf’s secret tunnel.

The
strigoi
ripped Tereza from Erin’s grip and tore into the young woman’s throat, drowning her surprised scream with blood. Another
strigoi
followed on that one’s heels, going straight for Erin with a long blade in hand.

Jordan was already moving by then. He reached Erin, spun her by the arm behind him, and blocked the
strigoi
’s blade with the length of his poker. As steel rang off iron, one thought rose in Jordan’s mind.

I shouldn’t have been able to move that fast
.

He had no time to comprehend this mystery, only be thankful for it.

The
strigoi
snarled, drawing back his blade and crouching in surprise. Behind him, the other beast finished with Tereza and joined his partner, hissing blood at Jordan. For the moment, they seemed cautious of Jordan, wary of his speed and strength.

Then Christian and Sophia joined him, flanking him to either side. Christian lifted a long sword, while Sophia carried two daggers, one in each hand.

Three against two . . . I like these odds better
.

Then a third
strigoi
appeared from the furnace-room tunnel, a massive giant, an ogre of a beast.

So much for those odds.

To the side, Erin grabbed a pair of metal tongs, readying herself to help. “We must get out into the sunlight!”

Easier said than done.

And the sun was close to setting.

Crashes behind him told him that Rhun and Elizabeth were still struggling with their first adversary in the tunnel. So that way was blocked. Plus the stairs leading up were on fire anyway.

Jordan concentrated on the three enemies before him. Beyond them, smoke billowed into the room through the small door, bringing with it the scent of burning wood and gasoline. It seemed their ambushers had set fire to that tunnel, too, ensuring no one escaped that way.

The huge
strigoi
, clearly the leader of this bunch, pushed past the other two. His face was a map of scar tissue, his fangs yellow. He lifted a broadsword and whirled it in a circle, so fast it became a silver blur.