“How did you get in?” he demanded.
“Wh-what?” I whispered.
“How did you enter my room?”
My gaze shifted to the door. No discernible latching system. Not even a keyhole to peek through. But always locked. Through the dense wood, I had often picked up vibrations of muffled words, liturgical-like chants, and once, a high, chilling voice that sounded like nothing I’d ever heard. The voice gave me nightmares for a month. But it didn’t keep me from coming back to listen.
“I-I opened the door.”
“How?”
The word. There was a strange word Grandpa would utter every time he stood outside his attic door, before he turned the knob. As though he were muttering a brusque greeting to someone.
“I said what you say.”
His grip tightened on my wrist as he leaned closer. “And what do I say?”
“Apri—” I cleared my throat. “Aprire.”
As had happened when I’d spoken the word earlier, a current passed through me, and a pressure in the room seemed to release, like when your ears popped in a landing airplane. Grandpa blinked twice. He peered at the door for a full minute, then closed his eyes and exhaled through his large nostrils, as though he had just arrived at a grave conclusion.
“You should not hide up here,” he repeated, releasing my wrist and straightening. “You should not even be in here. Ever.”
I pulled my hand toward my chest, wounded finger extended, tears beginning to stand in my eyes. “Okay.”
I flinched when he reached down, but it was only to wipe the blood away with his large thumb. He uttered something as he ran the blood-smeared thumb up and down the flat of the sword before sliding it back into the cane. Without another word, he strode to the door, his dark linen suit swimming on his tall frame.
I followed, casting wary glances at the trunk, silent now, and bookshelves that held encyclopedias and reference books once more. Had I imagined everything?
“You are curious,” Grandpa said as he opened the door for me. “But you must not be foolish, Everson. Things heard cannot be unheard. Things seen unseen. Things spoken unspoken. And it is this last that is most important for those of our blood.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, not knowing what in the hell he was talking about.
I pattered down the narrow staircase, scared and confused. I had been in Nana and Grandpa’s care ever since my mother had died, which was ever since I could remember, and neither had ever hurt me. And on my birthday? Arriving in my room, I closed the door behind me with a foot, blind to the opened presents spread over my bed. I drew in a breath to steel myself, already anticipating the flayed fat pad, maybe even a bloody knot of bone. The slice had felt that deep.
But when I looked at my finger, all I found was a faint white line.
7
The wolf calls grew in number with the fading light. They volleyed back and forth, as though several had picked up our scent and were telling the others. When an especially loud cry rent the air, I jogged to catch up to James and Flor.
“I say we make camp,” I blurted. “Build a nice fire, set up some kind of watch.” My heart beat hard in my chest as I pointed off to the right. “There’s a flat spot over there, plenty of fallen limbs.”
James nodded his approval, then turned to Flor.
She looked at her watch and sighed. “Fine.”
I went to work on the fire, while James and Flor set up their tents. Using my gas stove, I was able to get a decent-sized blaze going before dusk became full dark. After gathering up a reserve of limbs to last the night, the three of us ate our dinners around the fire. I noticed Flor didn’t have my homemade repellent at hand.
“Where’s your bottle?” I asked.
“I left it at the pension.”
“On purpose?”
“The wolves will not come close to the fire.”
Deeper in the forest, above her right shoulder, a golden pair of eyes flashed and disappeared. And they weren’t the only ones. More sets of eyes winked in and out of the trees, like coins from a dark well. “Better rethink that logic,” I said, “because they’re already here.”
I shot to my feet, fingers wrapping the trigger of my spray bottle—which suddenly felt puny to the task. James rose with his bottle as well, but more in curiosity than fear, it seemed.
Flor remained seated. “That is as close as they will come.”
“Don’t know about that, love,” James said. “At least one of them sounds determined to make a fireside appearance.”
I turned to where James was aiming his bottle, away from the flashing of eyes, and then I heard it too. The sound of something large running through wet leaves, coming straight for us. A moment later, a shadow broke into the light.
Squinting, I rapid-fired the plastic trigger.
Shouts went up. Too late, I saw the figure wasn’t a wolf, but a person. The aerosol of pepper spray that enveloped him sent him shrieking to the ground, hands to his eyes. I noted the hair flapping from his slipping hood, and then the lumpy pack on the man’s back.
“My God, is that Bertrand?” James asked.
If there was any doubt, his stuffy voice removed it. “You animals!” Bertrand cried. “What kind of poison have you put into my eyes?”
“Just stop rubbing them,” I said with the annoyance of someone who’s just had the crap needlessly scared from him. I hurried to my pack and returned with a bottle of milk, which I’d stowed in the event of an accident.
‘What are you doing?” Bertrand sputtered, as the milk splashed over his face.
“Neutralizing the pepper, you idiot. Now hold still and let it flush everything out.”
He stopped slapping and writhing long enough to blink the milk into his bloodshot eyes.
“There,” I said, recapping the bottle with a sigh. “Give it a few seconds.”
James offered him a handkerchief, which Bertrand snatched away and used to mop his face and then pinch into the corners of his eyes. I noticed Flor had remained on her side of the fire the whole time, a half smile slanting her lips. My face flushed as I imagined how slap-sticky we must have looked. But the commotion must also have scared the wolves away, because I could no longer see their eyes.
I turned back to Bertrand, who was pushing himself to his knees.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I said, “but was that you fleeing for your life?” I was still bristling over the American-is-afraid jab. Not to mention his whole intellectual façade. “It couldn’t have had anything to do with those wolf tales, as you called them last night, could it?”
“Don’t be preposterous,” he replied stiffly, gaining his feet. “I was preparing my own camp over there when I saw your fire. It made no sense to pass the night alone, so I decided to join you.”
“Which involved running here at full speed.”
“Walk? Run? What does it matter how I arrived?” he spat. “Though I am beginning to see my mistake.”
I studied his black slicker and lined it up with the shadows I’d glimpsed earlier, the snapping of twigs, the feeling of being watched. “How long have you been following us?”
He blinked and straightened. “How dare you suggest—”
“Oh, spare us the dramatics,” I said. “That’s why you set out early, isn’t it? Not to get a head start, but to hide until we’d passed and then tail us. You don’t know the precise location of the monastery. Your plan was to let us lead you there, and then run ahead and claim the discovery and anything inside for yourself. It was all going along just hunky-dory until the wolves turned up. And then your little scheme didn’t seem so cunning, did it?”
“You have been watching too many stupid American movies,” he muttered, even as he shot nervous glances into the forest.
“Very good,” James said, stepping between us. “The important thing is that we’re all safe. Now, how should we divide up the shifts?”
“After all this excitement, you boys need your rest,” Flor said. “I will take the first.”
“And I the second,” Bertrand announced. “Which leaves you to take the third, and you the fourth.” He pointed to me and James in turn, as though we were his teaching assistants.
“Can you believe this guy?” I said, anger climbing my neck. “You’re not even a prof—”
“That will work just fine,” James interrupted. After Bertrand had given a self-satisfied nod and begun unpacking his shelter, James guided me a few steps away. “Better he doesn’t know we’re onto him, hmm?”
I narrowed my eyes at Bertrand. I had never been able to stand officious jerks, especially lying ones.
“And why’s that?” I asked.
“Well, if he suspects we know his true story, he’s likely to behave more carefully, cover his tracks. Then we may never learn what he’s doing here. We keep a sly eye on him, and sooner or later he’ll slip up.”
I nodded reluctantly. “And Flor?”
“Oh, she’s on board. We had the same chat earlier.”
“No, I mean, shouldn’t we be keeping an eye on her, as well?”
“Why, you’re quite right,” James said.
I noticed that ever since we’d arrived at the campsite, her titanium case had never been more than an arm’s length away from her. I nodded at it now. “I’ll use my shift to see if I can get a peek at whatever’s she’s carrying. Maybe it’ll tip us off to what she’s doing here.”
“Careful, mate,” he said. “Minefield, remember?”
“Yeah, I’m used to those.”
8
I was awakened by muttered curses and red light flaring against my eyelids, growing brighter. I had fallen asleep to a modest campfire, an ample reserve of wood stacked beside it. Now I squinted my eyes open to a furious blaze. One onto which Bertrand was dumping the final thick branches.
“What in the hell are you doing?” I hissed, kicking away my sleeping bag and unzipping my fly net. “You’re using up all the fuel!”
Bertrand acknowledged me with a tight glance before dusting off his hands and sweeping his gaze over the forest. When I focused past him, all the fight fell out of me. The wolves were back and crowding against the boundary between dark and light, flashing eyes set in long, gray faces. There were more of them than earlier, and whether it was some trick of light, they looked like small bulls.
“They were closer before I fed the blaze,” Bertrand said.
“That’s genius, professor, but we’re out of wood now.”
I scanned our campsite, but we had cleared it of branches. The only fuel lay beyond the ring of predators, who looked on silently. No more pack to call. They were all here. I flinched when the fire snapped behind me and stove in slightly. As the orb of light shrank, the wolves inched nearer. The closest ones were no more than thirty feet away.
“Everyone up!” I called, rustling James’s tent and Flor’s tarp. “We’ve got company.”
James emerged first and looked around sleepily. “Well, I’d say.”
“Get your repellent,” I told him.
“I do applaud your ingenuity,” he said, arriving beside me. He peered from our bottles back to the wolves. “However, it looks as if the current advantage lies with our furry friends.”
I shook my bottle to stir up the pepper dregs. “You saw what this stuff did to the professor. It doesn’t take much. I say we release a few sprays into the wind, enough to warn them away.”
“Or more likely provoke them into an attack,” Bertrand said from behind us.
“Funny coming from a man who said they were harmless,” I growled.
James turned to me. “Bertrand does make a case.”
I checked my watch and did the math. “The sun doesn’t come up for another five hours. Our fire, whose exhaustion the brilliant professor here saw fit to hasten, isn’t going to last another two.”
The fire stove in again, and the wolves inched forward another foot. Several began snapping at one another for position, fangs bright and lethal in the firelight.
“Hmm,” James said. “I see your point.”
We raised our spray bottles.
“Don’t,” Bertrand warned, his voice as taut as a guy wire. “They will attack.”
“Three squirts,” I said to James. “You fan yours out a little that way. I’ll aim a little more this way.”
“Got it.”
“On my countdown,” I said, my hand trembling. “Three… two…”
“No!” Bertrand leapt between us and brought his fist down on my forearm. The bottle fell to the ground. James’s grunt told me Bertrand had struck him as well. “I will not be a victim of your stupidity!”
He kicked my bottle away and began wrestling with James for his.
I turned to where the bottle rolled to a stop, on the very verge of the firelight. One of the wolves leaned forward to sniff it. Was it a wolf? Its snout seemed too thick, too blunt, teeth hooking over its lower jaw. And it’s front paw splayed out like a bear’s instead of a canine’s, ending in thick claws. No wonder the driver’s scars had looked like the work of a grizzly. James’s account of the Romanian werewolf, the pricolici, flashed through my mind.
The beast bared its teeth at the bottle, then up at me, as though assigning blame for the poison, before drawing back into the shadows again.
Behind me, James spoke through clenched teeth, “You’re going about this all rather roughly.”
I looked to find him and Bertrand still grappling for the bottle. The barks and snarls from the ring of wolves rose in pitch. I hooked an arm around Bertrand’s throat and tried to pull him away.
“Stop fighting, goddammit,” I hissed in his ear. “You’re exciting them.”
“You are the ones … exciting them,” Bertrand grunted, pistoning a sharp elbow into my ribs.
A single ragged cry went up and I felt, more than heard, the circle of wolves collapse. I released Bertrand and turned in time to meet the beast plowing into me. Two hundred pounds of brawn and thick, wet hair drove me onto my back, foul breath breaking against my face. The beast strained against my forearm, which I’d managed to brace against its throat. Lips drew from a double set of fanged teeth as its dense brow collapsed over furious eyes. Eyes that, save for their deep yellow irises, appeared almost human.
I was struggling against its straining neck, and starting to lose, when a tight explosion pierced the tumult.
Something hot sprayed my face. The wolf on top of me crashed to its side and then tore at the ground to right itself. More explosions sounded, and the wolves fled, one dragging a blood-drenched hind leg.
I thrashed to my feet, looking from the disappearing wolves to the source of the explosions. Across the fire, Flor stood holding what looked like a military-grade rifle. She scanned the woods in a three-hundred-sixty-degree arc, smoke drifting from the barrel. When she faced me once more, she said, “You wanted to know what was in the case?”
My shocked gaze fell to the open titanium container at her feet, the black foam bed inside designed to hold the disassembled rifle.
“Wow,” I said, wiping wolf blood from my face. “Good planning.”
I turned to find James climbing from the ground, excitement coloring his pink cheeks. Bertrand, who had fallen to his back nearby, continued to slap the air as though the wolves were still attacking.
“Are either of you injured?” I asked.
James gave his spray bottle a light toss in the air. “Your repellent worked a charm, my friend,” he said, catching it again. “Got two right in the old peepers before Flor here came to the rescue.”
“Bertrand?” I said, stooping beside him.
He had stopped thrashing and was grasping his ankle in both hands now. Blood glistened between his fingers. “I told you not to excite them,” he hissed through his crooked teeth. “Why didn’t you imbeciles listen? And my food bag! They have taken my food bag!”
I shoved down my annoyance, and made him move his hands. The gash was bad, but more worrying was the swelling. One of the wolves had gotten its jaws a
round him pretty good. I raised my face to James and Flor. “Ankle looks ugly. Could be broken. Should we draw straws to see who takes him back.”
“I cannot,” Flor said, not bothering to elaborate.
James rubbed his neck. “And I’m afraid this is my one crack to graduate.”
I leaned my hands against my thighs and sighed. I could ask James to locate the Book of Souls, transcribe as much as he could, and mail the notes to me back in the States. I would compensate him, of course. But man, to be this close…
“All right,” I said to Bertrand. “Looks like it’s you and me. We’ll head down in the morning.”
He shoved me away. “Nonsense! I will not go back and have these two ruin what may be the most important finding of our lifetimes.” He struggled to his knees, then to one foot. But when he attempted to step with his injured leg, he screamed and fell to the ground again.
“Would you look at yourself?” I said. “You can’t even walk.”
“It is only a sprain. Splint it and you will see. Tomorrow, I will be ready to travel.”
“Your bag’s gone,” I reminded him. “You have no food.”
Grunting, Bertrand crawled on hands and knees to his tent, zipping it closed behind him.
“Just what we need,” I muttered. “Dead weight.”
“Well,” James said cheerily, “shall we gather some more wood, then get a little shut eye before we’re off again.”
“I will take the remaining shifts,” Flor declared, rifle propped over her shoulder.
Neither James nor I argued.
9
We set out the next morning, Bertrand cursing with every hopping step. We had fashioned a splint for him using cut-up sections of my backpack’s interior frame and some sports tape Flor happened to be carrying.
“You doing all right?” I called back to him.
“Do not worry about me,” he snapped, leaning on his branches-cum-crutches. “I know the way.”
Sure you do, prof.
I imagined the injury had thrown a wrench into whatever he’d been planning. On the flip side, the injury meant one less worry for the rest of us. Far easier to keep tabs on a crippled fraud than an able-bodied one.
Book of Souls: A Prof Croft Prequel Page 3