by AD Starrling
The chair rocked on its back legs as the bartender rose from his seat. ‘I think you should leave,’ he said coldly.
‘Look, we’re only trying to help,’ said Reid.
Tense silence followed. Grun frowned. ‘You don’t act like Hunters.’ He hesitated. ‘On the other hand, I don’t quite know what you are.’ He indicated the door. ‘I’m afraid I really do have to insist that you leave.’
We exited the tavern under the bartender’s hooded gaze and paused in the street outside.
‘He knows something,’ said Reid.
‘Yes, he does,’ I murmured.
‘What d’you wanna do?’
I studied the narrow lane. My gaze landed on a building hidden in the shadows some fifty feet away. Faint light shone through the thick lead windows. ‘Fancy some coffee?’
The cafe was small and rundown but proved an ideal place to watch the tavern from. At three in the morning, the last patrons finally left the bar. Grun stood on the threshold of the building and studied the street carefully before locking the front door. Lights came on behind the windows on the first floor. A shadow moved across the glass. Moments later, the lights went off and darkness shrouded the tavern. We waited for ten minutes.
The front door remained resolutely closed.
‘Is there an exit at the back?’ said Reid after a while.
‘Yes, but it only leads to an enclosed yard.’ I frowned while I carefully scanned the frontage, and almost missed the ghostly glow behind the small cellar window inches above the sidewalk. My eyes widened. ‘Damn!’ I hastily threw some coins on the table and raced out of the cafe. Reid followed on my heels.
‘What is it?’ he said harshly, coming to a halt at my side.
I squatted on the pavement outside the tavern and stared at the narrow, dark aperture below the ancient building. ‘I forgot about the underground passages,’ I replied, silently cursing my immortal mind. I closed my eyes briefly while I sifted through old memories. Seconds later, I rose and started to run towards the canal.
Reid was a few yards behind me as I climbed down the embankment. A hundred feet along the waterway, I skidded to a stop in front of a vertical grill in the wall. His eyebrows rose when he stopped beside me. ‘Isn’t this the sewers?’
‘Yes. It’s also one of the ways into the tunnels.’ I studied the bars carefully before grabbing a rectangular section of the grill. I pulled on it sharply. It came away in my hands. ‘This passage has been here since before the Ottoman siege. I’ve had to use it on a few occasions.’ I hesitated for a heartbeat before stepping inside the hole.
Reid came through the opening after me. ‘You’ve led a charming life, haven’t you?’ he muttered as water squelched beneath our feet. Several yards in, we were engulfed in darkness. There was a soft rustle behind me while Reid reached inside his coat and pulled out the pen torch. The narrow beam barely cut through the greasy gloom around us.
Deep beneath the cobble and paving stones of Vienna lay an extensive and intricate labyrinth of tunnels, halls, crypts, and cellars that had been in existence since before the late Middle Ages; some had probably even been there from the time the original Roman fortress of Vindobona stood on the site. In more recent history, parts of this underground city had been used as bunkers by the Germans during the Second World War.
The last time I was down here, the Turks had been trying to blow up the walls around Vienna.
The temperature dropped dramatically the deeper we went inside the tunnels and the water gradually subsided. Moments later, I paused at the entrance of a side passage. ‘I think this leads to the cellar under the tavern,’ I said hesitantly. ‘If so, Grun would have come this way.’ Reid directed the torch downwards. There were faint, fresh black scuff marks on the dry stone floor.
Grun moved surprisingly swiftly for a large man: it was another ten minutes before we caught up with him. By then, we had reached the catacombs of St. Stephen’s Cathedral.
Room after room stacked with bones and grinning skulls unrolled around us. We passed through crypts and vaults, where well preserved dusty caskets sat on low stone sepulchres. Though cool, the air was dry, courtesy of the ventilation shafts that had been built to create the steady underground climate necessary to preserve the ancient remains of those buried beneath the city.
A faint orange glow ahead finally alerted us to the presence of the bartender. We turned a corner and glimpsed the figure of the man outlined by the light of the flame torch he held in one hand. Reid directed the pen torch towards the floor and cupped the end in his palm to mask the beam.
Grun unlocked a grille door at the end of a corridor, closed it behind him and started down a flight of stairs. We waited until the sound of his footsteps had faded in the distance before approaching the door. After studying the keyhole for a moment, Reid inserted a fine pin inside it. Seconds later, there was a faint click.
Beyond the doorway, narrow stone steps spiralled downwards into darkness. They ended two floors below, where they opened onto a passage that gradually widened out. We followed it and soon arrived a junction. A thin stream of water coursed along the shallow grooves in the floor in front of us. Beyond it, the tunnel branched out into three corridors. I glimpsed a pale light fading around a corner at the end of the passage on the far right. We headed in that direction.
The tunnel twisted and split again several times. More locked grilles appeared in our path. Had it not been for the fresh tracks in the dirt and mud on the floor, we would have lost Grun’s trail.
The footprints finally ended in front of a solid, iron-plated oak door. There was a faded, double-headed eagle crest engraved on the wall next to it.
I lifted a hand and traced the shape slowly with my fingertips, my heart sinking at the significance of the symbol.
‘What is it?’ said Reid.
I was silent for some time. ‘This is the coat of arms of the House of Habsburg,’ I finally murmured.
Reid’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘And?’
‘I think we’re under the Hofburg Palace,’ I said grimly.
Reid frowned. ‘Judging from your expression, I take it that’s a bad thing?’
‘The Hofburg is the official residence of the President of Austria,’ I replied.
‘Ah,’ said Reid. A glum look dawned on his face. ‘That’s definitely bad.’
Chapter Ten
Reid tried several lock pins in the keyhole of the oak door. There was a soft, undeniable click after the fifth attempt. He pulled on the handle. The door refused to budge. He frowned. ‘There must be a bolt on the other side.’
I looked down the passage to the right. ‘Let’s keep going.’
A hundred feet later, another door appeared in the stone wall. There was no lock on this one. The wooden bar behind it gave away after a few kicks.
‘You know, that’s going to be a bit hard to explain if we come across any guards,’ said Reid darkly as he followed me across the threshold.
‘Trust me, it’ll be the least of our problems if we meet any.’ I studied the room we had entered. The ceiling was higher than the tunnel outside. The chamber itself was a narrow rectangular cell with four bare stone walls and no other apparent exits. I walked to the other side of the room and started to feel gently along the granite blocks.
‘What’re you doing?’ said Reid curiously.
‘Checking for a hidden door,’ I murmured.
He stared at me incredulously. ‘Honestly?’
I shrugged. ‘Old buildings like this one always have hidden doors.’
A sigh left his lips before he joined me. ‘I feel like I’m in a bad spy movie,’ he said under his breath.
It took a couple of minutes to find the subtle oval depression in the stonework. I paused, pressed my fingers against it and stood back. A section of the wall swung inwards with a low grinding noise.
Reid’s eyebrows rose. ‘Well, what do you know?’
The opening revealed was just wide enough for one person to squeeze through at a time, which
was the way it had been designed: the cell was a safe room in which the nobles who lived in the palace could hide if enemies ever attacked the place. On the other side of it lay another corridor.
Grun’s footprints had all but faded on the dry stone floor. We followed the faint tracks and came to an empty chamber. Fresh cigarette butts littered the ground and a camping gas stove stood in a corner next to a kettle and three tin mugs. There were more footprints in the dust. We carried on down another passage, crossed a further two rooms and finally reached another door. A dull yellow light flickered through the narrow gap at the bottom: the low rumble of conversation drifted through the thick wood from the space beyond.
I glanced at Reid. He nodded, drew the Glock and stood to the side of the door. I stepped back, raised my leg and kicked sharply at the lock. It gave way immediately.
In the chamber on the other side, Oktav Grun turned and stared at me, open-mouthed. Two of the three men seated at the table in the middle of the floor rose and reached inside their coats.
I felt Reid move behind me. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ he said warningly. The tip of the Glock appeared next to my left ear as he aimed the gun levelly at the room’s other occupants.
I glanced at the mattresses and camping gear against the wall on the right, before directing a steady stare at Grun. ‘Where are they?’
The bartender frowned. ‘How the devil did you find me?’ he said harshly.
My eyes narrowed: I had just noticed the door in the rear wall. ‘You’re not the only immortal who’s used these tunnels,’ I replied curtly.
The third figure sitting at the table finally stirred. ‘Oktav, who are these people?’ he said calmly.
I studied the middle-aged man who had spoken. Piercing dark eyes dominated his slim and rugged features. He sported a trim beard and a moustache, both of which bore an elegant sprinkle of grey, and wore a dark blue suit with a grey shirt. His tone, though slightly accented, was old school aristocracy.
‘My name is Lucas Soul. I’m looking for a man and a woman who arrived in Vienna by train tonight.’ Something flickered in the other man’s eyes. I paused. ‘The Crovirs tried to kill them at the Hauptbahnhof in Zurich earlier today.’
Tense silence followed.
‘Look, we just want to talk to them,’ said Reid. He lowered the Glock. ‘They may be able to tell us why the Crovir Hunters are trying to kill him again.’ He cocked his head towards me.
The man with the beard stared at me, his eyes narrowing. ‘The Crovirs are after you?’ he said stiffly.
‘Yes,’ I replied steadily. From his tone and his words, I concluded that he was also a Bastian immortal.
He exchanged a silent glance with Grun and the two bodyguards hovering next to him. There was a long pause. Finally, he sighed and rubbed a hand tiredly across his face. ‘I’m sorry. I wish I could help, but I’m sure Tomas wouldn’t want me to get you involved in this matter any further,’ he murmured.
I frowned at the unfamiliar name. ‘Tomas?’
A sad smile flitted across the older man’s face. ‘I’ve already said too much.’ He rose wearily from his seat. ‘I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.’
‘Hang on a minute—’ started Reid.
The sound of gunshots suddenly rose in the distance, faint but unmistakable. For a moment, we all stood frozen.
‘Verdammt!’ swore the bearded man in German. ‘How the devil did they find us?!’ He pulled a Beretta 92 from a holster under his arm and strode towards the door at the back of the room. His bodyguards drew identical semi-automatic pistols from inside their coats and fell into step behind him. ‘Oktav, warn the others,’ he said harshly over his shoulder. He hesitated and glanced at us. ‘You two, come with me.’
Grun frowned. ‘Victor—’ he started to say.
The bearded man glared at him. ‘I know you want to fight. But right now the safety of our other friends is paramount!’
The bartender hesitated before nodding grudgingly. Reid and I left him standing forlornly by the table and followed the three men out of the room. Beyond it was a maze of underground cellars and tunnels lit by flickering flame torches. Our shadows danced wildly on the walls as we raced towards the noise of further gunfire.
Minutes later, we emerged under a bridge somewhere below the streets of the city. Lights from an overpass cast a muted glow across the canal on either side of where we stood. In the sky beyond it, stars shone faintly next to a crescent moon. I breathed the fresh night air gratefully and looked around.
A hundred feet to the right, a group of dark-clad men chased silently after five figures. Muzzles flashed in the darkness. The gun blasts echoed around the stone walls of the water duct.
We were already running when two of the figures being pursued fell. The men at the rear of the chasing pack turned at the sound of our footsteps. Gunshots erupted around me as Reid and the three immortals engaged the Crovir Hunters.
I left my guns in their holsters and pulled the daisho from its twin sheaths.
The katana hissed through the air, moonlight glinting on the edge of the metal. Two immortals fell beneath the blade. A third one pulled a German longsword from beneath his coat and turned to face me.
The man was good, but nowhere near as good as Haus had been. Seconds later, I pulled the bloodied katana from his still figure. A scream rose somewhere ahead. My head snapped up.
The man from the daguerreotype had fallen to his knees: he bent over with a faint groan and clutched at his side.
‘Grandfather!’ shouted the woman I now knew as Anna. She ran back towards the old man, her eyes wide with fear and her cheeks gleaming with tears, and wrapped an arm awkwardly under his shoulders. They struggled upright and started to run.
Thirty feet behind, two Crovir Hunters closed in silently on them. I felt my heart stutter in my chest.
‘Go!’ yelled the man called Victor to my right. ‘We’ll cover you!’
I raced towards the running figures, my feet splashing in the bloodstained water. Bullets thudded into the Crovirs who tried to block my path. Black clad bodies fell around me. My gaze stayed focused on the retreating backs of the wounded man and woman, my heartbeat matching my steps.
The pair had just entered the shadow of another bridge when they stumbled and fell to their knees next to a stone buttress. One of the Crovir Hunters in pursuit raised a gun and aimed it at the old man’s back. My eyes narrowed. I dropped the wakizashi, drew the Smith and Wesson and fired. The immortal cursed, the weapon dropping from his wounded hand. A second later, I swung the katana and caught him across the arm.
The second Hunter turned, pistol in hand. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Anna look around wildly. She grabbed a piece of driftwood from the ground and hurled it with a cry. It struck the immortal on the shoulder just as he fired. The bullet hissed past my ear. The Hunter blinked, took aim again and suddenly froze. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked down slowly at the blade in his chest. I pulled the katana out. He fell backwards with a dull thud.
‘Look out!’ shouted Anna.
There was movement behind me. I turned.
The other Hunter was back on his feet, gun in hand. Blood dripped down his wounded arm as he took aim.
The first bullet grazed my left cheek. I was already running towards the stone pillar of the buttress when the second and third bullets left the barrel of the gun, missing me by inches. I leapt, pushed at the wall with one foot, twisted through the air and kicked the weapon out of the immortal’s hand. He staggered backwards and went to reach for a gun in his ankle holster.
A soft grunt left his lips as the bloodstained katana slashed across his neck. He dropped to his knees, his fingers clutching at the crimson jet spurting from the fatal wound at his throat, before collapsing to the ground.
I stabbed the sword savagely into his chest and stood there breathlessly, blood pounding in my ears. There was a noise behind me. ‘Help me,’ said Anna softly.
I removed the katana from the Hu
nter’s body and walked to the fallen pair. Together, Anna and I lifted the old man under his shoulders and carried him towards a flight of stone steps at the side of the bridge. His eyes blinked opened when we propped him against the canal wall. He gazed at me blearily. ‘Lucas?’ he murmured hoarsely.
I hesitated. An eerie feeling of familiarity stole over me again as I studied the older man’s face. ‘Yes.’
His eyes widened. ‘What are you doing here?’ He struggled upright and winced.
‘Don’t!’ said Anna sharply. She pressed her hands against the wound in his flank, a slight grimace crossing her face as she favoured her right arm. Blood seeped between her slim fingers where they lay on the old man’s clothes.
Above the musty odour of mould that coated the banks of the canal and the rank smell from the thin line of water that coursed along its floor, I detected the faint scent of oranges drifting from her hair. It was too dark to see the colour of her eyes.
‘I’ve been looking for you,’ I said, glancing from her to the injured man.
A grunt of pain left the latter’s lips. ‘I told you not to follow us,’ he said harshly.
I looked at him steadily. ‘The Crovirs are after me.’ I paused. ‘I think it has something to do with you.’ My gaze shifted briefly to Anna.
The old man seemed to freeze. He stared at me for silent seconds, a horrified expression dawning on his face. My eyes widened when a stream of colourful Czech suddenly left his mouth. ‘Damn that Vellacrus woman!’ he hissed at the end.
Footsteps sounded behind us. I stood up swiftly, my fingers curling around the handle of the katana.
Victor and his men rounded the corner of the buttress. Reid followed a few paces behind. He stopped, handed me the wakizashi wordlessly and pointed a finger at my left cheek. I wiped at the trickle of blood coursing down my face.
‘Is everyone all right?’ said Victor with a frown.
‘Grandfather’s hurt,’ Anna replied stiffly. Though a fierce expression shone on her face, I was the only one close enough to see the faint tremor in her hands as she pressed them against the old man’s wound.