The dank passageways smelled of stale air, limestone and the grave. Row after row of bones and skulls were stacked carefully in shelves carved out of the living rock. He walked swiftly through the well-traveled areas until he came to a barred gate blocking his way. With a wave of his hand, the gate opened and he walked through. Many famous people’s bones were interred here. He found a chapel deep inside a section of the old limestone mines. The ruby in the dagger’s hilt glowed dully and Priest passed it by. Whatever evil was buried in that chapel was not at the level of Malenfant’s iniquity.
Far below he heard the gurgle of subterranean water flowing through the aquifer deep under the city. As the air grew steadily ranker, the dagger’s gems began to glow. He took a right turn and the glow faded so he turned around. He must find these bones. The skull in particular was a key component in the ritual that would return to him the gift of youth.
A black mountain dragon had granted Priest immortality when he was already a seventy-year-old man. He’d spent many centuries as an old man which he’d discovered was not a gift but a curse. He yearned for youth, strength of body, vigor, an end to aching bones and most of all, a raging erection.
His desire for these things outweighed anything else. When he’d acquired the Coeur de Flamme from Bryn Sahir, the huge emerald with a flaming ruby heart, he’d come straight to Paris. The stone was the most important element of his transformation. It contained untold energy. He touched it where it lay under his cassock close to his heart. Heat and power flowed from it and suddenly he knew exactly where to find Malenfant’s bones.
With this new-found knowledge, he raced through the passages. This time, he headed back to the more traveled sections. The dagger’s tip began to glow and he dived into a narrow side tunnel. He ran into another barred gate and slapped it open. The tunnel narrowed and he had to duck to get into a tiny chamber. The light of the dagger illuminated a small room with a low ceiling. In the center was an altar containing many guttered candles. The walls of the room were lined with rows of bones stacked and sorted according to type and size. Rows of skulls ran down the middle of the stacks and across the front forming a cross.
The dagger did not light up for any of these bones and for a moment, Priest was confused. He turned slowly as he held the dagger out in front of him. It beamed a shaft of light on part of the limestone wall beneath the bones. When Priest closely examined this wall, he saw it had ancient mortar crumbling in the cracks at all four edges. He used the dagger to dig out the mortar and soon, a block of limestone fell into his hand. In the bright light of the dagger, two dark eye holes glared at him from the skull resting on top of a pile of bones.
Success! Priest reverently removed the skull of Cardinal Malenfant, a man too evil to have his bones mingled with normal humans. He placed it in a velvet bag and turned to go, leaving the limestone block laying on the earthen floor of the chamber. He glanced back once at the exposed bones of Cardinal Malenfant and smiled. One more task for the ancient cardinal to fulfill and then he could rest in peace wherever his soul had been sent.
* * * *
Bryn patted Fenix’s back until she burped. Fed, clad in a fresh nappy and dress, the babe would be content for several hours. Taking care of an infant was a wearing task. It absorbed too much of her time and energy, energy she should be using to find Draak Priest and the Coeur de Flamme.
With Fenix napping in her cradle, Bryn ran down the stairs. She found Sam and Fingle sitting in the dining room talking. They had a close relationship. He had been her familiar when she was a witch in Salem. Bryn had saved her from being burned at the stake as a condemned witch, pulling her from the flames. Fingle had helped and been granted humanity. His flopping ears, droopy eyes and huge nose were holdovers from his time as a bloodhound. When Bryn had great need, he could revert to this creature and track people. She needed him now to find Draak Priest before he used the emerald to give himself youth. A youthful Priest was the last thing she wished to face. He desired her person with a flaming passion nothing seemed to extinguish.
“Sam, will you allow me to use Fingle to track Priest? Time is running out for us.”
Sam tilted her head. She had short boyish brown hair, freckles and a snub nose. Elegant eyebrows rose over round brown eyes. “You know he is always at your disposal, my darling.”
Bryn allowed Sam to pull her into a close embrace and kiss her. The warm kiss quickly ignited into passion. Sam pulled away and whispered into her ear. “Do you have time?”
“Tonight,” Bryn said with a smile. “Please say you’ll share our bed with Quinn. His hunger threatens to overcome his good sense.”
Sam pouted. “He will use me like a whore. He does not desire me.”
“I know, dear one, but he cannot have me as you know, and I, I desire to please him.”
Sam hugged her and grabbed her butt under the demure bustle of purple silk covered with black lace. She squeezed the ripe globe in one hand and nuzzled Bryn’s neck. “Only for you would I submit to the invasion of my body by a male organ.”
“I think you like it,” Bryn said as she straddled Sam’s knee and rubbed her sex against her leather apron. “Admit it.”
Sam moved her hand from Bryn’s ass to her breast where she lightly rubbed the tip of the nipple with her palm. Sam closed her eyes. “I love you. When we are together, it matters not how the deed is done, I enjoy it.”
Bryn placed a chaste kiss on Sam’s cheek. “Tonight.”
Fingle rose from the table in the small dining parlor. “I don’t be liking to hunt that evil no good son of a bitch,” he said in a mournful tone as his nose began to grow. “But I can’t stand to watch Miss Fenix die, even one more time, so let’s get to it.”
“I will change into my riding dress,” Bryn said. “And we will be off.”
Sam walked up the stairs with Bryn. They stopped at the door to her bed chamber. “And what are your plans for the day, my dear,” Bryn asked.
“I have an appointment with Monsieur Diesel. Tomlinson and I think his fuel might be the answer to our problems.”
“Of course.”
Sam grinned. “And, Tomlinson is meeting me at the Galerie des Machines inside the Exposition. It supposedly contains many new inventions, and then of course, I heard Buffalo Bill will perform this evening.”
Bryn nodded. “I may have to attend that.”
Sam grabbed Bryn’s hand. “Oh I know, it will be fun.”
Bryn swiftly changed into a split skirt and a tight purple jacket over a crisp white blouse, with lace foaming at her throat. She grabbed her whip and ran downstairs. Fingle’s nose had grown even larger and his ears had reached his shoulders. He handed her out the door, tossed her into the saddle of her feisty mare, Firefly, and dismissed the groom. Bryn urge her mare into a trot and Fingle loped along beside her as they headed for the entrance to the Catacombs.
At the entrance, Fingle began circling with his huge nose to the ground searching for the scent of Draak Priest, a smell Fingle was well acquainted with. Bryn’s horse stamped impatiently as Fingle searched. Clouds hung over the city, casting everything into gloom and creating a depressing atmosphere. More than anything, Bryn did not wish to enter the ossuary. Evil spirits lingered and dwelt in the dark corners. She could not imagine people descending into that horrible place unaware of their presence. The one time she’d visited it, she’d had to leave. The ghosts had sensed her and suffocated her with pleas for help.
She watched Fingle, praying all the while he would pick up Priest’s scent. She was not attending when a thin hand grabbed her horse’s bridle and stopped it in its tracks. Firefly nickered, drawing her attention to the hooded figure at her side. A claw-like hand reached up and stopped her from swinging her whip to strike his hand away. The hood fell back and she gasped. The face was familiar. A hooked beak of a nose, haunted blue eyes set deep into sockets covered by tightly drawn flesh the color of ashes. A thin lipless mouth above a square chin drew back in a parody of a smile. No warmth woul
d come from those eyes. They were a faded blue and lacked the spark of humanity. He was Lazarus, raised from the dead by Christ to walk forever as a blood sucker.
“Lazarus! Why are you here?”
“Come my child, draw off your dog and lead me to your domicile. Draak Priest entered the domain of the dead by quite another doorway. You will find no sign of him here and I know you don’t wish to go down…there.”
“You can’t come home with me. I would never invite a creature such as you inside.”
“Then you must come down off your mare and take me somewhere where we can talk. I have an interesting proposition for you. You won’t find Priest here today or any other day. He has collected his booty and will not descend into the catacombs again.”
“Then where is he?”
“Not in the streets, my dear. I will not discuss what I have to offer you in public. It is a matter for the utmost discretion.”
Fingle stopped circling and bayed at the hem of Lazarus’s richly embellished robe. People began to gather and comment. “Stop it, Fingle. You draw attention to us.”
But Fingle was deep into his hound self and could not obey her. Bryn was forced to acquiesce to Lazarus’s demands. “Follow me,” she said tersely, turned her mare and trotted off toward rue Danville with Fingle trailing behind. When they reached her home, Fingle, now less a hound and more a man, took the mare to the mews after curling his lip and casting a glance filled with loathing at Lazarus.
“I will invite you in,” Bryn said feeling nothing but repugnance for the vampire. “But it is not an open invitation. You may come in this once and then I will ban you.”
Lazarus grinned, showing his lengthy incisors. “My dear, you waste your vituperations. I am so old, you see, I no longer need to wait to be invited. But do not worry,” he said lifting a bony finger. “I also no longer need to drink the blood of your kind.”
Bryn’s heart rate increased when she opened the door. Whatever Lazarus wanted from her would not be good. She suddenly feared for herself and Fenix. Her mission to find Priest had been subverted by Lazarus. He had said he wanted to offer her some kind of deal. As Lazarus brushed through the open door, bending his head on its long neck to do so, she shivered. Above her the pitiful wail of her sister drifted to her ears from the second floor and Lazarus grinned. “My bargain will fix that.”
“Fix what?”
“Why your darling sister, of course. I assume you wish her to once again be an adult with all of her memories intact.”
Chapter 3
“Take a seat in my morning room and stay there,” Bryn ordered Lazarus. Where in God’s name had Quinn gone? He must be with Tomlinson examining the wonders of the Exposition or contacting Scotland Yard. He had a knack for absenting himself when most she needed him. Whatever Lazarus wanted, his protestations of good intentions were not to be trusted. But his offer did intrigue her. What if he could help Fenix? She couldn’t afford not to listen to his proposition.
She ran upstairs and found Babbette struggling with her sister. Fenix was bawling heavily and could not be comforted by the maid. When Bryn took the babe into her arms, she immediately quieted. Bryn stared into the golden eyes. “Are you aware, my darling?” she asked as she held Fenix close. The eyes seemed to stare into hers with perfect understanding and for a moment, Bryn was sure Fenix understood.
She carried the baby down to the morning room. Sun shone in the large windows from the small garden at the rear of the house. It was a pleasant room with a lovely view of flowers and greenery. Lazarus sat in his corner exuding darkness like an unwholesome cloud. It filled the side of the room where he waited, tendrils of that evil seeping from his robed person and into the room like smoke from a fire burning wet wood. Bryn wrinkled her nose. Though he did not smell, the taint of evil filled her nostrils. She took a seat on the opposite side of the room with the baby on her lap.
“What an affecting scene. The poor baby cursed to rise up in ignorance and be struck down in full bloom.”
His voice had an oily quality. Bryn shivered and wished she had no need to speak to him, but his offer of a solution more than piqued her interest. If he had some way to cure Fenix or help her, it was her duty to listen. “Tell me about this bargain and be quick about it. I find your presence in my house offensive.”
Lazarus leaned back in his flowered damask chair and crossed one leg. A bony ankle and sandals were revealed when his robe fell away. Bryn swallowed the nausea building in her nervous stomach and took a deep breath to quiet her racing heart. He seemed so at ease. What he had to say must truly be something she wanted or he wouldn’t be so sure of himself.
“What is your most pressing desire, Bryn Sahir? What do you wish more than anything in life?” When he sneered, one side of his mouth moved and his flat pale-blue eyes showed no hint of life or amusement.
“Get on with it, Lazarus. Do not play games with me. We both know what my desire is. I hold it in my lap.”
Lazarus leaned forward and pressed his palms together as if he were praying. “I can give her back her memories. I can make her older.”
Bryn sucked in a huge breath as goose bumps shimmered up and down her arms. “No one can do that. Think you I have not tried to find a cure? I have searched in every corner of the world for centuries.”
“I do not offer a cure. I only offer to give your sister back her memories, all of them, and make her an adult again.”
Bryn scoffed. “I don’t believe you can do this.”
Lazarus rose to his feet in a fluid motion and towered over her. “Do not mock me!” He bellowed. “I have the power to do these things. But such gifts come at a price.”
“Please sit down,” Bryn said. “I’m not mocking you. I would not. But this thing you say you can do, is impossible.”
He folded his thin body back into the chair and leaned forward with an eager expression on his face Bryn found even more disturbing than the sneer. “I cannot cure your sister. You are right about that. And please understand, what I can do will only last for this one incarnation.”
Bryn’s heart raced as she thought about the possibilities. If Fenix was no longer an infant, she would be free to pursue Priest and recover the emerald before he performed his ritual. Priest wanted to be young as much as she wished to end hers and Fenix’s curses. He would fight to keep the Coeur de Flamme and he was a fearful enemy. She would need all her resources and all of her strength to defeat him or to take the stone from him. Being distracted by an infant sister would hinder her to no end and endanger all of them, but she knew Lazarus would demand something horrible as payment for his services and she dreaded hearing it. Once she knew the extent of his demands, she would have to make a decision. She wanted what he offered as much as she wished to keep breathing, but at what cost?
“What do you want in return for this amazing service I do not as yet believe you can perform?”
Lazarus drew his thin lips back in a smile more frightening than his sneer. His fangs were revealed and they were over an inch long and sharp. “I need something Draak Priest stole from me centuries ago when he was a Greek Orthodox priest living in the Sumela Monastery in the Black Mountains of Turkey. I was looking for a safe place to recover after being staked in Russia. I was weak, I was on the run and the monks took me in.” He stopped and pushed back the cowl of his robe. “I carried with me a special dagger blessed by Christ himself. It gives life to the dead and can locate evil. I could not touch the hilt unless I wrapped my hand and even then it burned my flesh. It is made of silver blended with a metal not known on this planet but rumored to have been taken from a star stone.”
Bryn shook her head. “He must keep it close to him. Getting it will probably require killing him.”
Lazarus grinned again. “I do not care what you have to do to recover the dagger. It is a powerful weapon and a gift to me from God. I have little enough joy in the life I’ve been given. You think it is a pleasure to walk in my shoes? Think again. I was granted life and immortality
. I would trade it in an instant for love and the feel of the sun on my face.”
“But I saw you walk in daylight.”
“I wear this robe to cover my face, but yes I can move about during the day as long as it’s cloudy. What say you to my bargain?”
“What if I fail?”
Lazarus laughed then. “Not sure of your abilities, my dear? I thought you were a thief of extraordinary talents not to mention a powerful witch.”
Bryn snarled. “What if I fail?”
Lazarus leaned forward, an eager expression on his emaciated features. “Why then I get your sister. She will become my bride and I will make her one with me.”
Bryn gagged and turned away so he could not see the revulsion she felt at the thought of so horrible a penalty. She was being handed the opportunity to risk Fenix’s life in return for a grown sister who would no longer be ignorant of her past lives. And this gift would only last until Fenix turned thirty if she could not steal something she was sure Priest valued as highly as his life.
What should she do? “Can I have half a day to consider your offer?”
Lazarus snarled. “Answer me now or I leave you with your baby and find another tool.”
Bryn fought the desire to moan with frustration. Fear rose in her throat like a tide of lava. She clutched Fenix hard and the infant wailed in protest. When she moved Fenix to the other side of her lap, the baby cried harder and louder. When Bryn glanced at Lazarus, he lifted an arched eyebrow and sneered. Fenix’s sobbing grew so violent Bryn was forced to stand up and bounce the baby on her shoulder. Nothing would make her quiet.
The baby’s desperate sobbing only cemented Bryn’s feelings of helplessness and frustration. She could not deal with Draak Priest and care for an infant. It was just too hard. Pushed beyond reason, she answered the leering vampire. “I will steal the dagger for you, but only after you have changed Fenix. I still have my doubts that this thing can actually be done.”
Flight of the Crow Page 2