Children of The Night

Chapter Twenty-seven

O’Rourke grunted as they glided under branches that grasped at Kate like bony hands. Then the bow was scraping rock with a noise that Kate was sure could be heard all the way across the island. Lucian ducked forward, O'Rourke tried to mute his gasps, and Kate grabbed on to roots and kept them from sliding back out into the current as the speedboat pounded its way past not ten yards from them.

Her heartbeat drowned even O'Rourke's panting until the patrol boat passed around the east point again. There was a soggy rope in the space under the bow. Water lapped halfway up Kate's calves.

Lucian went over the side, scrambled up the bank, tied the bowline around a stump, and motioned them up. Kate could hear O'Rourke sliding on dead leaves behind her as he grabbed for roots and rocks.

Fifteen feet up the bank and they were in a line of trees bounding a wide, grassy area. There was a snick near Kate's ear and she could just make out a knife in Lucian's hand as he gouged bark from an evergreen tree. Marking where the boat is, she thought. She was glad that someone was thinking.

They huddled at the edge of the tree line. “The chapel,” whispered Lucian, and Kate squinted west. Three spires rose above bare limbs. A line of torches flickered as more dark shapes followed an unseen path from the dock to the half hidden church. Kate could hear voices nowmale voices chanting something which was not quite Gregorian. The wind rose around them, rustling pine branches and setting Kate to shivering.

Lucian leaned closer. Kate thought she could see the pistol in his hand again. “It's the beginning of the Investiture Ceremony,” came his whisper. “I should have known it would be at the chapel at ~Snagov Monastery.”

The chanting seemed louder now.

“It's the chapel where Vlad Dracula's headless body was buried in fourteen seventysix,” whispered Lucian. “They excavated his tomb in nineteen thirty-two, but the grave was empty. Empty except for chewed animal bones.” Lucian turned and moved toward the chapel and torches in a silent, crouching run.

Kate hesitated only a second, touching O'Rourke's shoulder to make sure the priest was there, and then she followed.

The chapel was lit by torchlight, with more torches lining the walkway from the dock. A second large boat had arrived and a steady stream of darkrobed figures filed from the tiny pier to the church. Lucian led the way along the edge of a grassy area the size of a football field. Once he paused for breath and whispered to Kate and O'Rourke, “This was all inner courtyard and fortifications in Vlad Tepes' day.” Kate felt bricks or stones underfoot, set flush with the sod.

They almost walked into the guard. Lucian was leading the way under dripping trees, Kate had one hand on the back of his shirt and her other hand on O'Rourke's shoulder in the darkness, when suddenly a match flared twenty feet in front of them. Kate had the briefest of glimpses of a man's face in the match glowa face under a black skimask hood. Torn. Julie.

Lucian froze in place while Kate and O'Rourke stopped in midstep. Kate breathed through her mouth and watched the ember glow of the cigarette. After a long minute her heartbeat slowed; evidently the shuffle of feet and low chanting from the line of cowled figures on the other side of the chapel had masked any noise.

“This way,” whispered Lucian and led them to the right, past an ancient well with its steeproofed shelter, between what felt like rosebushes, and into a row of low trees. Kate could see another sentry near the corner of the chapel fifteen yards away. Torchlight made little impression on his black hood, black sweater, and the matteblack of the automatic weapon cradled in his arm.

They continued right, away from the chapel, crossed a low wire fence, and then Lucian led them to their left through an orchard. Dark buildingstwo peasantstyle farmhouses and a low brick barnloomed to their right. “The current monastery,” whispered Lucian. “They will not show a light or come out when the strigoi are here.”

They circled the chapel, keeping the torches in sight, moving around to the southwest end of the island. “Stay here while I look around. “ Lucian moved away through the thick brush.

Kate heard O'Rourke shift his bad leg as they crouched there; she just caught the small intake of pained breath. She touched the priest's shoulder. Lucian suddenly was a presence next to her. “We can get closer on this side.” His whisper was the softest breath in the silence. Kate realized that the chanting had ceased.

Torches illuminated the open doors of Snagov Chapel. The crosses carved there similar to the doublecruciform of Lucian's Order of the Dragon pendant. Near the chapel was a whitewashed cottage and, ten yards closer to where the three of them hid in a vineyard, an ancient square tower. Lucian slid out of the vineyard and moved across the open space to the tower. Kate heard the soft rasp of a knife on hinges, and the old door became a black portal. Lucian gestured them closer.

Kate hugged her knees. “I don't know if I can do this,” she whispered to the priest. The idea of crossing the open space so near the strigoi guards terrified her.

O'Rourke leaned so close she could feel the scratch of his beard against her cheek. “We'll go together,” he whispered and took her hand.

They moved in a crouch, trying to set their feet only on grass. When they reached the open door, Kate hesitated two beats before stepping into the darkness. O'Rourke closed the door behind them. Lucian was crouched on the lowest step of a steep stairway. “There's a window,” he whispered, his voice almost inaudible. “But there are guards just below it.” They moved up the stairs slowly, testing for any creaks. The steps were centuries old but massive and sound; there were no creaks.

The tower window was only ten feet above the ground and it looked out over rows of what appeared to be more rosebushes and another low vineyard. Half a dozen blackgarbed sentries stood in the rose garden and along the trellised vines nearer the path, their presence made visible in silhouette against the torch lit chapel. More torches were visible through the open doors, the male voices audible.

“What are they saying?” whispered Kate.

Lucian shook his head. “It's not Romanian.”

O'Rourke leaned closer to the halfopen window. Birds rustled above them in the raftered recesses of the tower. “It's Latin,” he whispered.

Kate recognized the cadence of the Latin syllables but could not make out words. She strained to see through the chapel doors, strained to see the form of an infant in the arms of one of the black forms, but there were only the vague shapes, the occasional Latin syllable, and the frustration at not being able to see better. She clutched Lucian's jacket and pulled him closer until she could whisper directly in his ear. “Did you remember binoculars along with your pistol and knife?”

The young man shook his head.

Suddenly, with the abruptness of a church service ending, the chanting and moaning of ritual voices ceased, there was a moment of silence within the chapel and a general stirring among the guards, and then the cloaked figures came out onto the paved area between the church and the whitewashed cottage. Hoods came off, cloaks were removed, cigarettes were lighted, voices were raised in a more conversational tone, and the effect was startling in its resemblance to the scene outside any American church after a Sunday morning service. Men stood in clumps of three or fiveKate heard no women's voices, so she assumed they were all men, smoking and talking softly.

Kate leaned so far out in trying to see and hear that O'Rourke had to pull her back before one of the guards in the rose garden below looked up. The voices were maddeningly indistinct, but she had made out German, Italian, and English amongst the murmur of Romanian. “Can you understand“ she hissed at Lucian.

He shushed her and listened. It was hard to tell the actual size of the gathering since the dark forms looked much alike as they moved in and out of torchlight, but Kate guessed that there had been almost a hundred people in the chapel or waiting outside along the walkway to the dock.

“There . . . that's Radu Fortuna!” whispered Lucian and pointed at one of the men just emerging from the chapel door.

“Yes,” whispered O'Rourke.

Kate strained to see, but the torchlight was tricky, the men were moving, and she saw only distant faces in shadow before Lucian pulled her back. “Did you hear?” she whispered again. “Did you understand?”

“Shhh.” Lucian's finger touched her mouth. Guards were shouting to guards in Romanian. A deep voice barked commands from near the chapel doors.

They saw me, was Kate's panicked thought. A second later, they've found the boat. We'll never get off the island.

Flashlights stabbed on and one of the guards in the garden below switched on a handheld spotlight much brighter than the flashlight beams. Kate, Lucian, and O'Rourke all flinched back from the window, but in a moment it was apparent that the beams were aimed elsewhere. Kate edged up to the window and looked just as one of the men fired a short burst from his automatic weapon.

She flinched away again but not before seeing a large brown dog running between the trees in the orchard near the monastery huts. They all heard the howl and barking.

More shouts in Romanian. Some laughter. One by one the flashlight beams switched off.

It took half an hour for the men to file back to their boats and board, for the torches to be extinguishedthe guards snuffed and retrieved the last ones along the walkwayand then there came the sound of the patrol boats roaring away to escort the ferries. The chapel was dark.

Kate sat on the narrow landing with the two men for the better part of an hour before anyone spoke or moved. She imagined the blackgarbed guards still lying in ambush in the dark. Finally the resumption of insect sounds, the throb of frogs from the lake's edge, and the sight of the brown dog sniffing along the chapel stones unchallenged gave them courage to tiptoe downstairs, open the heavy door, and retrace their tracks back through the orchard and east. The stars had come out and Kate caught a glimpse of the knife in Lucian's hand.

“For the dog if he barks,” whispered the medical student, but the dog did not approach them as they scurried around the edge of the old courtyards.

The boat was where they had left it, The two men waded in and tipped the boat to let the half foot of water out. Kate was last aboard, untying the line and slipping down rocks onto the bow. Lucian pushed off with one of the oars and edged out slowly from under the tree.

The broad lake appeared empty. The great estate on the southwest shore was dark. They did not speak as Lucian rowed them across the lake and into the lagoon. They were silent as the three of them carried the rowboat back to its heap of rowboats, flipped it, and set it softly on the pile of rowboats. There was still no light or sound from the shack in the boatyard.

The Dacia looked undisturbed, but Lucian had them wait in the darkness of the trees as he slipped out, approached the car warily, and checked its interior. The two joined him and the old vehicle started without protest.

Lucian left the abandoned park area with the car lights out, picking his way along by starlight, finally turning the headlights on as they left the sleeping village of Snagov.

“I didn't see Joshua,” Kate said, her voice sounding strange and strained even to herself. “I didn't see any children.”

“No,” said O'Rourke. The priest had slid into the front passenger seat; Kate rode in back.

“Did you hear any of what they said?” she asked Lucian.

He drove in silence for another minute. “I think I heard someone say something about it being the first night . . . good for the first night, I think.”

“First night of what?” Kate pressed her cheek against the cold window on her right to help her stay awake.

“The Investiture Ceremony,” said Lucian. “I should have known Snagov Monastery would have been the site of the first night's ceremony. “

“Because it's important to the strigoi?” said O'Rourke.

Lucian chewed his lip. His face was very pale in the dim light from the instrument lights. “It was one of Vlad Tepes' fortresses. Legend had it that he was buried there.”

“You said that the grave was empty,” said Kate.

“Yes. But they found a headless corpse in another tomb in the chapel, set near the doorway rather than next to the altar where one would expect royalty to have been buried.” He slowed the car at the intersection to the main highway and turned left, toward Bucharest. “Archaeologists think that it may have been a little joke the monks pulled . . . moving his corpse. “

O'Rourke scratched his beard. “Or a deliberate act. They may have considered his burial so close to the altar a sacrilege.”

Lucian nodded. “If it was Vlad Dracula. The Order maintains that the Prince had one of his servants decapitated and buried in royal robes . . . even wearing one of the rings of the Dragon . . . in order to throw off his enemies.”

Kate was close to losing her temper. “It doesn't really matter who was buried there five centuries ago, does it? What matters is what they were doing there tonight . . . and what it has to do with Joshua.”

They passed Otopeni Airport and saw the reflected lights of Bucharest ahead. It was clouding up again. Only trucks were on the highway. “If it is the Investiture Ceremony,” said Lucian as if thinking aloud, “and if Joshua is the chosen one, then there will be several more nights of strigoi ceremony before he receives the Sacrament of human blood.” He rubbed his cheek. “Or so go the legends.”

Kate's voice was hard. “And do your legends tell you where the ceremonies are held? Snagov again?”

“No,” said Lucian. “But I don't think there'll be anything else at the monastery. Perhaps places important to the strigoi Family . . . important to the legend of Vlad Tepes. I don't know.”

Kate lay back on the dusty cushions. “This is nuts.” She pounded her fists against the door. “My baby has been kidnapped and I'm out playing Indiana Jones.”

Lucian made a noise. “It wasn't as interesting as Indiana Jones,” he said. “I couldn't see anything clearly. If there was a human sacrifice, I missed it. “ He realized what he had said and bit his lip.

No one stopped them as they took back streets to their abandoned tenement and basement apartment. Lucian parked in an alley a block from the building and they let themselves in with more exhaustion than precaution. No one was waiting in the cold darkness.

“What next?” asked O'Rourke. “Do we stake out Radu Fortuna's place again in the daylight?” He glanced at his watch. “It's almost daylight now.”

Lucian seemed to sag onto the cushions of the couch. “I don't know. I can't think.”

“Stay here tonight,” said Kate. “I think we should stay together. There are two mattresses on the little bed in there. We'll drag one out for you.”

Lucian could only nod.

“Let's sleep,” she said. “We're all stupid with fatigue. We'll talk about things later.” She realized that she needed solitude as much as sleep, that the idea of being aloneeven in the freezing, dank basement roomwas an almost physical necessity for her now.

They dragged out Lucian's mattress, there was a small domestic moment of finding an extra blanket, and then Kate was alone, the door locked. She slipped out of her grimy clothes, pulled flannel pajamas from her one bag, and crawled under the covers. She was shaking, more from the aftereffects of the long night than from the cold, but sleep settled on her like vertigo.

Suddenly she slammed awake and ran to the door, unlocking it with clumsy fingers. Lucian's flashlight beam caught her in the eyes and she waved it away, seeing the two men's startled faces even as she began to explain.

“I've been thinking all along that I'm going after Joshua as much for medical reasons as for personal ones. Do you understand? We had extracted and cloned the retrovirus at CDC . . . I told you that .. . . Chandra was beginning to understand the mechanism, I think, but more importantly, her team was doing trials on the virus's effect on cultured samples . . . cancer, HIV . . .”

“Neuman,” said O'Rourke, “can we talk about this later?”

“No!” said Kate. “Listen. It's important . . . I mean; the retrovirus has incredible immunologicaland oncological implications. But I've been fixated on finding Joshua . . . in retrieving the sample of Joshua's blood . . .”

Lucian was nodding. “I see. But you realize that any of the strigoi would do. Those men we saw tonight . . .”

“No!” Kate lowered her voice. “The body . . . the thing you have in the vat at the medical school. His blood has the pure Jvirus. I was so stupid . . . so obsessed with Joshua.”

Lucian was staring, rubbing his eyes. “I had no idea you could apply the strigoi virus for immunoreconstruction.” He stood up, naked, and began struggling into his jeans.

Kate set her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back onto the mattress, noting idly that his body was muscled in the way she liked men's bodies, a swimmer's or runner's physique. “Later today,” she said, “we'll get redundant samples, assay them to make sure that there's no contamination, and then get them to CDC Boulder. I'll include instructions so Ken Mauberly will know exactly what to do with the new team.”

“How . . .” began the priest.

“Your job will be to get the sample and my note to the U.S. Embassy,” she said. “One of your Franciscan priest buddies in mufti, perhaps. I'm sure the strigoi are watching for us to appear at the embassy.”

“Yes,” said Lucian. “That is certain.”

“But all we have to do is get the sample in,” continued Kate. She pointed at O'Rourke. “You invoke Senator Harlen's name in a note, or do whatever political magic you can, and the sample will be in a diplomatic pouch headed Stateside by tonight.”

The priest rubbed his beard. “It might work.”

“It will work,” said Kate. She was so tired that she sagged against the doorframe. “I didn't need Joshua's blood after all. “

“But that doesn't make any difference in your going after him, does it, Kate?” said O'Rourke.

She blinked at him. “No. No difference at all.”

O'Rourke pulled his blanket up. “Then we might as well get a couple of hours' sleep before we cure AIDS and cancer. It promises to be another long day.”