The pack of wolves enjoyed their kill under the trees and feasted on the gypsy chovihano, leaving the bones and other remains scattered near the edge of the brimstone reeking hell-chasm that Bonifác had passed the afternoon he had first met Djordji and which Djordji had used to mark the extent of Bonifác’s after-death roaming. Fen’ka’s plea that there be “bones… scattered near the mouth of hell” had been granted.
In the days after his death, Bonifác discovered that he would wake within the dog again each night from a deep, uninterrupted sleep. He-and-the-dog would remain awake for little more than an hour and then, exhausted, would slink back into the shadows surrounding the chasm’s mouth and lose consciousness, the dog’s body seeming to melt into the shadows and darkness until the next night.
Exploring the limits of his freedom during the hour they were awake each night, Bonifác and the dog discovered that the gypsy wagons had gone from the forest. He found his way to the hell-chasm, the stench of brimstone still drifting up from it, and recognized the rags and tattered clothing mingled with the bones and remains of Djordji.
“Perhaps the curse has no power now that Djordji is dead!” Hope flared in the heart of the ghostly dog-man. He began to trot around and past the chasm, but as his first step came down onto the earth beyond the mouth of the chasm, innumerable but invisible dogs began to bark and howl. He felt their sharp teeth close around his legs and torso, the pain of the attack by the canine guardians of hell identical to how he had imagined the attack of wolves would feel. Then invisible flames roared around him and he felt as if his innermost human soul was withering to ash. It was only by stumbling back that he could save himself from that “second death” of both man and dog. He whined and whimpered with the pain, however, and it took many nights of licking his wounds to recover from his attempt to escape the prison Djordji had created.
It was the same when he placed a foot beyond the house at the edge of the forest. Placing his paws on the ground beyond the cottage was like stepping onto a bed of coals. What felt like a wall of flame roared and crackled before him, blistering his face beneath the dog’s fur. Although the blast of heat was searing and unmistakable, he could see neither coals nor flames. Infernal dogs howled and barked, locking their unseen jaws around his limbs. But he could see the castle across the great field, and the pain of knowing he had come so close to the city of his dreams burned even more fiercely than the invisible flames.
“No one,” Bonifác promised himself, “will suffer again like this because of men like Djordji! As long as we are able—the dog and I together—we will guide the lost and protect the endangered… in the area between the dog’s skull at the hell-chasm and the dog’s skull in the cottage garden, at least!”
Seven of Wands
(Friday, August 9—Saturday, August 10, 2002)
A
lessandro wandered over to a table laden with coffee and pastry when the first sessions of the day broke for midmorning coffee. He still couldn’t quite believe what he had experienced last night: being blown aloft from his bed and up to the Loreto plaza, where he had experienced the vision of George and Magdalena awakening Svetovit to inaugurate the condemnation of Prague. To say nothing about the glimpse of that horrific figure on the bridge as he was about to kiss Elizabeth. (He had been having a nightmare reenactment of Elizabeth’s seeming transformation into that skeletal, red-shrouded hag when he had been caught into the air and flown to the Loreto.) Did that figure have anything to do with what they had seen at the Loreto? Should he have told the others about it? He felt dizzy. And exhausted. He reached for a cup of black coffee and a sugar-encrusted pastry.
“Maybe these will keep me awake,” he hoped. He had dozed off briefly during the session that had just concluded and wanted to keep awake for the papers in the next session. He wolfed down half the cup of steaming coffee and then refilled it. Around him, people swirled around the coffee pots and pastry and conversations filled the air. It was almost as noisy as a bar. He was stepping toward a side table when Elizabeth emerged from the crowd. She delicately sipped the tea in her cup, the delegate pack clutched to her side under her elbow.
“Feeling better?” she asked, eyes twinkling. “That sudden queasiness on the bridge last evening anything more than one beer too many?”
He shook his head as he set his cup on the tall side table and then leaned his elbows on it. “No,” he admitted. “Nothing more serious than an extra beer or two. But I did wake up in the middle of the night and never really got back to sleep again. So I’m struggling to keep awake.” He took another bite of pastry. “You give your paper this afternoon, right?” he asked, his mouth still half-full.
Elizabeth nodded. “The second session this afternoon. It’s the ‘All the Ethnic Undead’ session. There will be papers about ‘Blacula’ movies and Jewish vampire legends… and mine, about the Irish ‘red blood sucker,’ the Dearg-due.” She smiled. “Will you be there?”
“I’m certainly planning on it.” Alessandro was feeling much more awake. Amazing how a beautiful woman talking with you can wake you up, he thought. He kept munching. Elizabeth brushed some of the falling crumbs off his shirt.
“I was hoping to see you there.” She kept her eyes on her hand near his shirt pocket. A tingle and a sense of calm radiated throughout his torso from her fingertips. A tension he had not known was there evaporated. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the sense of peace, staring out the nearby window.
He had never had much trouble making impromptu dates in bars or clubs, but this felt different. It seemed crazy, but he was already sure he wanted to see Elizabeth after the conferences were over. Not just before they each went off to the airport. After they had gone back home, to Australia and to Ireland.
“So tell me about this red blood sucker that your paper is about,” Alessandro said after a brief but comfortable silence.
“Well, she is quite a fascinating character,” Elizabeth told him. “I love to talk about her. She lived in the mid-1700s near Waterford. She was a beautiful young woman from a poor family, in love with a farmhand but forced by her father to marry a rich landowner. The landowner did not love her and abused her, as we would say now, and finally beat her to death. No one, not even her father, mourned her death. Her father had become quite well-to-do, thanks to her advantageous marriage, and her husband was certain he would find another young wife in short order. Only the farmhand she had loved mourned for her. She rose from her grave shortly thereafter, and avenged herself by slaying both her abusive husband and her money-grubbing father. She slew them and slaked her thirst for vengeance with their blood.”
“Ah!” Alessandro recognized that element of the story. “A vampire!”
“Well, certainly similar to a vampire,” Elizabeth agreed. “She is clearly one of the undead, as they are, but…” she paused, searching for the right word. “If the undead are the genus, then vampires and the Dearg-due are two distinct but related species. The vampires from Transylvania and Romania that most people are familiar with have very different weaknesses than the Irish Dearg-due. For one thing, crosses and garlic and holy water have no effect on the Dearg-due. For another, Romanian vampires can be destroyed by sunlight or killed with wooden stakes. The Dearg-due, on the other hand, cannot apparently ever be destroyed but only temporarily detained in her grave, and sunlight has no effect on her.”
“An indestructible female vampire? Very impressive!” Alessandro raised his empty coffee cup in a toast. “Here’s to very powerful women!” Elizabeth touched her coffee cup to his and they laughed again.
“I would love to hear your paper, too,” Elizabeth added, her eyes still downcast on the back of her own hand. She looked up. “When did you say your session is?”
“Sunday morning. First session. First paper in the first session.” He groaned. She laughed quietly.
“Well, even if no one else makes it there, I’ll be in the room,” she promised.
“At least one set of sympathetic ears. That’ll be go
od.” He looked into her eyes. He felt comfortable with her, even though he was exhausted and struggling to overcome his lack of sleep. He placed his hand over hers. A thought occurred to him.
“I will certainly be at your paper,” he promised. “But I might not make it to the other sessions before that, so don’t be surprised if you don’t see me until then. It’s not that I will be trying to avoid you.” They both laughed.
“I would never have suspected it,” she murmured. “Where will you be?”
“I need to take advantage of my time in Prague.” He thought this was not much of an exaggeration or stretching of the truth. “I thought of a project while I couldn’t sleep last night. I want to compare some Australian and Italian uses of magicians’ staves—you know, magic wands—with central European stories. Given Prague’s reputation as a magical center even up to the early modern period, it seems likely that there is probably even a staff dedicated to the use of the city, not only wands dedicated to use by individuals. What do you think? So I want to locate the Prague staff, if there is one, and see what stories I can locate about it.”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” Elizabeth agreed. “This is a perfect research opportunity for academics interested in magic and monsters. This whole city is a fascinating library, in addition to being a practical case study of an occult center ‘gone wild.’ I’m sure you’re bound to find something.”
A clock chimed somewhere in an office through a half-closed door and the people milling about made their way slowly back into the lecture halls for the next session. Some consulted programs to see if they were more interested in the Monsters or the Evil conference session and shifted direction to the appropriate rooms. Alessandro leaned over and gave Elizabeth a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“If I don’t see you at lunch, I’ll be there at your paper,” he reminded her.
“You have no idea of the consequences if you miss it!” she joked with him and they both laughed again, her eyes sparkling. She stepped towards a lecture hall and he moved against the flow of the foot traffic towards the stairway. As he descended the steps, he saw Hron and Theo concluding their private chat.
Alessandro moved slowly down the stairs as others who had stepped onto the street either to smoke or run a brief errand were ascending. At the registration desk, he passed Magdalena, who was answering a question from a handful of professors looking for a meeting room down the hall. On the other side of the stairs, George was talking with a short, older woman with glasses hanging on a chain about her neck. The woman and the Jesuit seemed locked in a discussion of some fine point of theology. Neither noticed Alessandro.
“Well, that’s a good sign,” though Alessandro. “As long as he and Magdalena are both here, attending the conference, they can’t be out looking for the magical tools. And George seemed oblivious of me. Just as well. If he were aware that anyone was onto him, he would have been keeping an eye on us.” Alessandro walked across the lobby at the foot of the stairs and out onto the street, where he took another deep breath.
“The fresh air should wake me up,” he thought. “Or I can go back to the hotel and take a nap.”
George finished climbing the stairs and made it into the conference session dealing with the Nazis. He slipped into a seat near the door and pulled out his program and a pen to make notes. Hron walked in and took a seat near the front, next to someone he seemed to know, as they shook hands and began speaking immediately, as if resuming an interrupted conversation. The seats were quickly filling, but George preferred to sit by himself. He placed his delegate pack on the seat next to him, as if holding the chair for someone. The three panel members of this session made their way to the head table. The room settled down and the first speaker, after a brief introduction, began his presentation.
The door near George creaked slightly and a latecomer slipped into the room. He was always annoyed by such latecomers, who interrupted the flow of a presentation. The figure scanned the room for a seat and moved toward George. He winced.
Rather than asking George if the delegate pack was his or if the seat was taken, the figure simply slipped into the chair next to him and set the delegate pack on the floor. George turned to glare at the newcomer. It was Elizabeth.
She smiled and leaned close to his ear. He bent forward to hear her better. “Is something wrong?” he hissed.
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth admitted in a very quiet whisper. “It might be nothing. I was talking to Alessandro during the break. He seems to have gotten interested in finding the magical staff of Prague, though he claims to be unsure if such a thing exists. What do you think? Is he getting in the way on purpose or is he honestly curious about the magical lore of the city?”
George leaned back in his seat and thought. He leaned over again, and now it was Elizabeth’s turn to bow her head to bring her ear closer to his lips.
“You’re right,” he confessed. “It is hard to tell if he is suspicious or simply curious. Best to keep him distracted, in either case, and make sure his research is off-track. We can’t risk him getting in the way.”
People sitting around them shifted uneasily in their seats. Some turned to stare or frown at them, hoping to prompt them to stop talking during the presentation. George paused but then continued.
“I will leave it up to you how best to keep him distracted,” he instructed Elizabeth. “But it would be best if you simply keep him confused. I realize you need to nourish and sustain yourself. That was part of the reason you were so excited to be summoned here, the chance to find men who would not be expecting your seductions.”
“Fresh hunting, yes,” Elizabeth bristled at the suggestion that she was primarily in Prague to eat the unsuspecting men. “But I was called here, as were you, to help bring Fen’ka’s last, dying words at the stake to fruition. I am here to help Fen’ka avenge herself against the city that betrayed and murdered her. She and I understand one another because we have a common enemy: men who treacherously murdered us to satisfy their own greed and lust for power. I may enjoy the benefit of fresh hunting in a place that does not expect me to be hunting here, but I am not here to eat as much as I am here to avenge another innocent woman like myself.”
“But we can’t afford the attention that would be generated by the discovery of a mutilated corpse drained of its blood. No matter how hungry you become or desirous of him in particular, we must maintain a low profile. I must stress this to you. Kill him only as a last resort.” George was adamant about this.
“I understand.” Elizabeth nodded. She was glad she had been able to dispose of the import-export man’s body in the river. It would be days before it would be found and the current would carry it far from Prague, so there was no risk she would be discovered. “Not dead. At least, not yet.” Her small smile caught George’s attention. He smiled broadly.
“Good girl. I know I can trust you,” he congratulated her, patting her knee. He settled back in his seat and returned his attention to the speaker. This first presentation of the panel was nearly over.
“I wish I hadn’t missed so much,” he thought. “I don’t want to sound stupid if I ask about something obvious from the presentation.” He made a note to invite the speaker out for lunch or a drink.
Elizabeth sat back in her chair, too. How would she distract and confuse Alessandro? A few ideas occurred to her. It was never difficult to cloud the minds of mortal men. Even her façade hid the truth of her appearance until the moment she attacked. It was a simple matter to befuddle the thoughts and eyesight of men.
But George had made a good point. She was not hungry now but she would be soon. It had been so long since the last time she had eaten—before the Turk—that she would soon be ravenous. Even though she could and did eat mundane food, it was the blood of her victims that was her true sustenance. It would be more and more difficult to resist finding a victim. The discovery of a body in the condition she usually left her victims would be difficult to disguise and would cause an outburst of police activity. But
it would be only mundane police attention. Given that no one expected her, or any creature like her, to be in Prague, the discovery of a mutilated and drained male corpse would not attract the attention it would back in Ireland.
She would be able to resist her hunger for now. But for how long? She could not say. Even though she realized how important it was to avoid attention, her needs might become overwhelming.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she decided. She chuckled, pleased with her own pun, given George’s plans to rip apart the power of the Charles Bridge and turn the power of the four magical tools against the city they had been intended to protect. The irony was almost as delicious as the memory of her victim last night.
Alessandro sat on a bench in Wenceslaus Square, a block or two away, during the session. Although the air was fresh and a gentle breeze kept the humidity from becoming oppressive, the strange overcast tone in the sky persisted. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky, allowing his mind to drift. Not quite ever sleeping, he did feel rested when he stirred himself and finally stood. He made his way back to the Angel House in time to meet Theo and the others for lunch.
As they ate, Theo revealed the results of his discussion with Hron. Alessandro perked up when he heard that the staff he and Sophia were assigned to retrieve was almost certainly the staff of the rabbi, although it was anyone’s guess if the staff was still in the Old-New Synagogue.
As the lunch broke up and the eight academics made their way back onto the street, Alessandro found himself walking next to Sophia and her husband back towards Angel House.
“Well, shall we begin?” Sophia asked the Australian. “It seems we may have a slight edge over George if we begin looking right away.”
Fr. Dmitri nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, if most of the rest of us return to the conference, George probably won’t notice your absence, and although it may not be as simple as walking into the synagogue and asking for the staff, at least you can get an idea of the layout and where the staff might be hidden.”
Come Hell or High Water: The Complete Trilogy Page 51