All those centuries ago, the book she and her father made together had soaked up bits of power from its cocreators. Bishop Andreas, the first to lay human hands on the Devil’s Bible, had felt it when he touched it. Jack Gray had felt it, too. Many in the intervening years had whispered about the dark secrets hidden in the ancient manuscript. Many had gone looking for those secrets in the text. But Mouse knew they wouldn’t find what they were looking for in the words or the pictures. The power lived in the book itself. And like any offspring, it bore more traits of one parent than the other. It was truly the Devil’s Bible.
Over the years, many had thought to use its dark forces for their own cause. Mouse had read about them—some famous, some not, some who spent an hour with the book, and others who spent years. The book changed them. The book broke them.
Now it was playing with Mouse, just as her father’s power had in the ruins of Podlažice. Only this time, it didn’t addle her mind. This time, it toyed with her anger.
The young man at the desk was directing Angelo to a set of stairs. “You’re looking for Eva Hedlin’s office, two flights down and to your left at the end of the hall.”
“You go on,” Mouse said as she turned back to the man and woman who had started to move slowly toward the same stairs. It would make a nice secluded spot for them to ambush Mouse and Angelo. She felt the power fingering her anger like someone turning the volume up. All she wanted right now was a fight.
“Mouse?” Angelo could tell something was wrong with her.
“I’ll catch up.”
Aware that the librarian was watching them, Angelo nodded and, as he disappeared down the stairs, Mouse spun toward the library entrance, smirking when she sensed the man and woman tense as she passed them.
A burst of air played with her hair when she shoved the doors open and walked down the portico to the back of the library, where she’d seen a stand of trees nestled beside a wing of the building. Her body taut with expectation, she smiled as the couple moved into the shadows with her. She kept her back to them, luring them in. Mouse lowered her head to listen for the intake of breath that signaled the attack. Her laugh bounced along the stone façade of the building as she hurdled the man’s kick and spun to catch the woman’s fist.
It was as if a curtain had been pulled back. No longer just a whisper at the back of her mind, Mouse felt the powerful malevolence in the Devil’s Bible call to her like a child for its mother.
She elbowed the man in the throat and twisted the woman’s fist until the bones in her wrist snapped. As the man grabbed his neck, careening off the building and landing on his knees gasping for breath, Mouse slapped her hand over the woman’s mouth, catching her scream. It tickled Mouse’s palm; it tickled the vicious thing inside her.
Then she saw her reflection in the woman’s wide eyes—Mouse’s face was full of naked joy at the pain she caused. She let the woman go.
The man slammed into her from behind. She twisted just as she made contact with the wall. The impact forced the air from her lungs and she doubled over as she tried to catch her breath. The man grabbed her head and yanked her backward; Mouse landed hard on the ground. As he stood over her with strands of her hair still twisted in his fingers, he glanced quickly at the shuttered windows of the lowest floor of the library and reached into his jacket, going for the knife Mouse could see strapped to his waist.
Mouse kicked out hard. The spiked heel of her shoe hit the man in the groin. She scrambled to her feet as he sank to his knees. The woman was still huddled at the wall holding her wrist.
Mouse felt the power beginning to swell in her again, but this time she tensed like someone fighting the urge to vomit, refusing to let her body give in to its impulses. “I will not kill anyone today,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to anchor herself against the influence working on her. She would not be her father. She would not be his puppet either.
But she was barely holding onto her will, barely in control of herself. She needed these people gone or else they’d be dead like her father’s minion back in Nashville. She wasn’t sure if she could command someone already under her father’s control, but she had to try.
“Go away,” Mouse said. The woman looked at her but made no move to leave. “Get out of here,” she said again, more forcefully. Still nothing. Mouse was scared to tap her power to issue a more forceful command, but she had no choice. “I will not kill anyone today,” she whispered. And then she took a deep breath. “Go home!”
The reaction was instant. Both the man and the woman turned on their heels and started walking away. They moved stiffly, their injured bodies rebelling, but the will to go home was more powerful than their pain. It was not their will but Mouse’s that drove them. They had no choice but to obey.
Mouse leaned against the wall of the library as she watched them go. Her hands were shaking and she sucked in ragged breaths through her nose, her mouth clenched against the power and the bile rising in her throat.
None of the violence had been necessary. Mouse had hurt them because she wanted to, because the thing in the Devil’s Bible wanted her to. Because her father wanted her to. This is how it would be if he finally caught her and claimed her. It was what she had run from all these years. She had gotten a taste of it during those weeks with him at Podlažice. He charmed and teased it out of her, this thirst for power, this hunger for violence. He would fan it to full flame, and God help her, she would love it. And what if she truly had the power the Bishop thought she had?
Mouse needed the last line of that spell.
She closed her eyes, counting her breaths, measuring her heartbeats, and building a wall against the onslaught of power that still beckoned to her as she headed back into the library. Two steps down the stairs, then six to the landing, twelve more steps, the hall, and then she heard Angelo’s voice. Her mind grasped at it like a lifeline.
She found him in a large office sitting across from a woman with short, graying hair. They were laughing at something, both of them obviously already comfortable with each other. Mouse pushed back against a flicker of irrational irritation.
“This is my assistant, Dr. Emma Lucas. I have her on loan from England.” Angelo’s voice dripped with feigned arrogance, but he frowned as he noticed the bits of grass on Mouse’s skirt and the sweat beaded on her forehead.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hedlin.” Mouse gave her a tight smile as she sat in the chair opposite Angelo. She licked her lips and worked to concentrate on keeping up with the conversation so she could play her part when it was time, but she was still walling herself up against the power, one counted breath at a time.
The librarian never took her eyes off Angelo. Mouse could see how well he had charmed her.
“As I was saying,” Angelo continued, “I’m afraid we have a last-minute request for access to one of your holdings in Special Collections. And I do apologize. Normally Dr. Lucas travels ahead and manages all of this for me, but not this time. We needed to take advantage of the opportunity. You understand, of course.” Angelo intentionally tangled the narrative so the most potentially difficult information came at the librarian’s request.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. What opportunity?”
Mouse knew her lines, but her hands, skin red and broken at the knuckles, trembled as she laid them her in her lap. “Deacon D’Amato is working with Bishop Bernardo Sebastian at the Vatican to produce a book highlighting 13th- and 14th-century Christian art. The Bishop hopes the book will raise funds to help with several restoration projects he oversees.” Mouse handed the woman Angelo’s fake portfolio. “He has a Papal Commission, you see.”
Mouse almost sighed with relief when the woman barely glanced at the letter of reference. Ms. Hedlin seemed more interested in Angelo’s photos at the back of the case.
“You are very good.” Ms. Hedlin nodded at Angelo, waiting for his pleased expression at her praise.
“Thank you.” He gave her just what she wanted.
/> “I’m still unclear about what I can do for you.”
Mouse felt heady with a fresh surge of power pulsing through her as she relaxed into the conversation and lowered her defenses. She almost abandoned their plan in a flash of arrogance. It would have been so much easier just to command the pompous woman to bring them the Devil’s Bible. The book belonged to Mouse anyway, and the longer she sat there, the more Mouse wanted it.
Angelo looked at her expectantly; she had missed her cue.
“We just learned . . . um, I’m sorry.” Mouse stuttered as she worked to catch up. “Two days ago we learned that you were about to start a preservation process on the Codex Gigas. The Devil’s Bible?”
“It’s only a routine procedure when one of our antiquities returns after a prolonged public exhibit. The Codex has just come back to us from Prague, actually,” Ms. Hedlin said.
“Yes, yes. This is why we’re here,” Angelo said. “The Bishop wants pictures of before and after. He wants to document the work you do to preserve these important artifacts of Christendom. We have similar photos of restorations of some German frescoes and of a small church in Ireland. But we have nothing for a textual work like the Devil’s Bible.” Angelo very softly stroked her ego.
“You want to photograph the Codex? Today?” The woman frowned and began thumbing through the portfolio again.
“Well we already have the equipment with us. We could take the before pictures today and return at your convenience for the after pictures.” Mouse tried to sound matter-of-fact.
“And who did you say you were working for?” She stopped on the letter of reference. “Oh, I see.”
She pulled out her phone and keyed-in the numbers.
Angelo shrank back in his chair, and Mouse tensed. They knew this might happen. It had been a gamble. They had debated putting a fake number on the reference, but if they did and got caught, the game was over. Instead they had rolled the dice that the librarian would see polished professionals and not bother to check on their credentials. So much for luck being with them.
“Bishop Bernardo Sebastian, please.” Eva Hedlin smiled at Angelo as she waited for the connection.
Mouse felt the room closing in on her. This was the part of the gamble that held the most risk. She and Angelo had very different ideas about how they thought the Bishop would respond if he did get called.
“Good Morning, Your Excellency. I’m Eva Hedlin, the chief librarian at Kungliga Biblioteket. I have a young man and woman in my office requesting permission to take pictures of the Codex Gigas on behalf of a project they are working on with you.” She let her tone ask the question.
Mouse and Angelo tensed as the librarian paused to listen to something the Bishop said. Then she smiled.
“Yes, that’s right. Angelo D’Amato and Emma Lucas.” Mouse and Angelo exchanged a glance. Ms. Hedlin’s forehead creased and her lips pressed into a thin line.
Mouse wetted her lips and prepared herself to do what was necessary; the power was jumping for release.
“Well, of course, Your Excellency. One moment.” Ms. Hedlin held out the phone, and Angelo reached to take it.
But the librarian turned to Mouse. “He wants to talk to you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The draw of the power pulsing from the Devil’s Bible clawed at Mouse’s neck. The last thing she wanted right now was to talk to Bishop Sebastian, but she had no choice.
“Yes?” Her voice was high and tight. She lifted her hand to her forehead and wiped the sweat away.
“When my people told me you were on your way to Stockholm, I wondered. The Devil’s Bible?” He didn’t sound nearly as warm and charming on the phone as he had in person. He sounded angry and worried. “So you’re choosing family over the righteous then?”
“No, Your Excellency. Deacon D’Amato and I thought the book would be perfect for your current project,” Mouse stretched her neck like a horse pulling at the bit as she fought to find something appropriate to say with the librarian staring at her.
“Am I to understand that your actions are on my behalf? That you are working for the Novus Rishi?”
Mouse wanted to fill his ear with what she thought of him and his Novus Rishi, but it would not get her what she wanted. What she needed. “That’s correct, Your Excellency.”
After a moment’s silence, the Bishop said, “My people told me about the man found in the bathroom at Prague. Was that necessary?”
“Yes, Your Excellency. Deacon D’Amato is in good health.”
“He was in danger?” Bishop Sebastian hissed.
“I’m afraid so, Your Excellency.”
“I want him back,” the Bishop said.
“That is not my decision to make, Your Excellency.”
“He has not answered any of my messages.”
“That’s unfortunate, Your Excellency.”
“I know that Angelo would not, of his own will, leave me and the Church. He owes his life to it,” the Bishop said. “And I’m confident that as your father’s daughter you’ve got the power to get what you want, including Angelo.”
Her eyes flicked to Angelo. “Would you like to speak with him yourself, Your Excellency? He might be able to answer your concerns better than I.”
“Are you telling me he is not under your persuasion?”
“That is correct, Your Excellency.”
“You could be lying.”
“Yes, Your Excellency, I could.”
Mouse heard him swallow.
“I see. And am I to understand, given your request to see the Devil’s Bible, that you are operating on some plan?” He had recovered his smooth tone, like they were having a pleasant conversation over tea.
“As you say, Your Excellency, ‘Act and God will act.’”
“Don’t play games with me. Do you have a plan to deal with your father?”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Mouse could feel the vein jumping in her neck and wondered if the librarian could see it.
“And if this plan fails? You are prepared for . . . other options to keep him from using you?”
Mouse chewed her lip at the Bishop’s ultimatum—take her father out or take herself out. She glanced at Angelo. She very much did not want to die, not now when there was so much to live for.
Angelo narrowed his eyes at her pale face.
“Dr. Lucas?” the Bishop said.
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“You are prepared to do whatever is necessary to keep yourself out of your father’s hands—whether that means sacrificing yourself or putting yourself in my care for safekeeping?”
The last part of his question caught her off guard. An image of Father Lucas flared in her mind. Bishop Sebastian might not bear personal responsibility for what happened to Father Lucas, but people just like him did. She had no doubt the Bishop would sanction torture or anything else he thought would help him win. That was his idea of safekeeping; that was his idea of righteousness. But it wasn’t even fear of what he might do that made it so difficult for Mouse to concede. Every thread of her independence, of her own will screamed against turning herself over to his control. But what choice did she have?
“Yes.” Her mouth was too dry for more.
“I see.” Then nothing.
In the silence, Mouse shifted her weight nervously from one leg to the other. Angelo cleared his throat, startling Eva Hedlin, who turned quickly back to Mouse, brow furrowed.
“I would like to pray for you and your efforts,” the Bishop said. “Would you allow me?”
This was the last thing Mouse expected.
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Her words were barely audible. Mouse closed her eyes and listened to the Bishop’s warm voice recite St. Michael’s prayer.
“Dr. Lucas?” he said after the amen.
“Yes?”
“I mean for him to come back to me when this is finished.”
“I told you, that’s not my decision to make.”
“We shall see,” the Bi
shop said. “You may send me back to the librarian now.”
As Mouse handed over the phone, she could not look at Angelo.
Minutes later, they were following Eva Hedlin down another flight of stairs to a small room where she left them. She returned quickly, accompanied by a guard; they carried a large metal case between them, which they lowered carefully onto the table in the center of the room. Ms. Hedlin unlatched the top of the case.
Mouse felt a rush of adrenaline as the power filled the room. Instinctively, she lifted a hand to run across the book, as she had so many times before.
“Oh, no, my dear.” The librarian had reached out protectively and pushed Mouse’s hand away. “We’ll lift the book out of the case and turn the pages for you.” Mouse bit into her lip to keep from slapping the woman. She was starting to lose control again with the book so close. The power was intoxicating.
As Angelo busied himself setting up tripods and lights, Mouse watched as the librarian slipped on a pair of white gloves and reached into the case. Mouse thought about Jack Gray, his boast that he had touched the Devil’s Bible, and the wild gleam in his eye as he confessed. She had known all along that they would not let her touch the text. But she had to. Mouse had to touch it to get what she needed.
When the librarian and the guard lifted the Devil’s Bible out of the case and laid it on the table, Mouse moved swiftly across the room toward them. In the moment that she issued the command, she saw the shock of betrayal in Angelo’s face.
Then three bodies fell to the floor.
She walked to where Angelo lay in front of the closed door and locked it as she looked down at him. The Devil’s Bible beckoned her. She should just grab it and go. Let Angelo stay with the others. Let him go back to his bishop. That’s what he wanted anyway, and she didn’t need him. The voice in her head hissed with bitterness like a viper. She didn’t need anyone.
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