He lunged out and touched her cheek, branding his mark into her flesh.
She immediately sagged against him. He caught her, embraced her. As he held her, he flipped through her memories like a book.
… walking the wet streets of London holding a hand above her head. Mother…
… standing before a simple white gravestone. Father…
… joyful people dancing in the streets. The Great War has ended, but so many lost. So many wild fields bombed into stripes of death…
… giant stones falling from the sky. Bombs. Another war, greater even than the last. Weapons that can annihilate everything that man was given…
… a man with eyes the color of thunderclouds and cold skin. He takes her blood and offers his in return…
… a battlefield of mud. Brown eyes, slanted at the corners. Bombs falling, destroying good and evil alike. Another war, Korea, and she hunts with the man with the storm-cloud eyes…
… a choice given by a woman wearing a cross. Repent or die. Wine burning against her lips…
Legion took in the nun’s life, breathing it all in, but her past held little interest. He pushed aside those memories and searched for fresher ones.
… The face of a woman appears. She has curls of black, eyes of silver gray. She is beautiful, and the cold form of Abigail hates her…
Legion extracted her name.
Countess Elizabeth Bathory.
She was of no use to Legion. Losing patience, he concentrated instead on a single purpose, focusing it into the woman he embraced.
Where are they going?
Abigail’s lips moved, already close to his ear. “They head to Prague.”
Legion shivered at that name, a place tied to his own history, where he had been first imprisoned. It seemed as much as he hunted the trio, they were closing in on his past.
He drew his intention into a single word.
Why?
Quiet words reached his ear. “They search for the journals of John Dee.”
This time, his own memories overwhelmed him.
… The man with a beard as white as milk and clever dark eyes…
… those eyes smile at me on the other side of the green flame. He is my jailer…
… I burn with pain and hatred…
He shoved Abigail away from him, holding her at arm’s length, his mark emblazoned on her cheek. He now knew where he must go.
To Prague.
He already had slaves nearby and would gather them toward that old city, but he intended to go there himself. Abigail could travel in the daylight, and she could help him do the same.
In that city, he would avenge his past, protect his future … and destroy the hopes of all mankind.
THIRD
For wickedness burneth as the fire: it shall devour the briers and thorns, and shall kindle in the thickets of the forest, and they shall mount up like the lifting up of smoke.
16
Seated at the back of the helicopter, Elizabeth held on to her safety harness with both hands. Rivers, trees, and towns had passed under their tiny aircraft with dizzying speed. Her window showed a toy world, and she was the child who looked down upon it, ready to play.
Within her blood, burning wine pushed against the dark strength. Still, she felt whole again, right for the first time in months.
This is who I am, who I am supposed to be.
Perhaps she could even forgive Rhun for all that he had cost her, because he had showed her the way here, led her to this moment.
Throughout the flight from Venice, Rhun cast long looks at her, as if he expected her to disappear. Across the cabin, Erin and Jordan had drifted off to sleep quickly, while Sophia and Christian sat together in the cockpit, piloting their craft along never-ending rivers of air.
This was an amazing time to be alive.
And I will drink it all in.
She searched the lands rolling ahead, knowing they would soon be in Prague. She wondered if she would recognize it or if it would be foreign to her, as so much of Rome had been. In truth, she did not care. She would learn and adapt, flow through the changes to come for all eternity.
But not alone.
She pictured Tommy’s small face. In the past, he had taught her much about these modern times. In turn, she would teach him the wonders of the night, of the pleasures of blood, of the march of years that would never touch them again.
She smiled.
Who needs the sun with a future so bright?
The radio crackled in the headphones she wore. Christian’s voice woke the others, stirring Rhun straighter. “We’re coming into Prague.”
Rhun noted the smile still on her face and matched it with one of his own. “You look well.”
“I am well… so very well.”
Rhun’s dark eyes were happy and kind. It would pain him when she abandoned the order. She was surprised to discover how much that thought bothered her.
She turned her eyes back to the window. Their helicopter skated over modern structures of glass and ugly buildings, but farther ahead, she recognized an older section of the city with red tile roofs and twisted narrow streets.
As the helicopter followed the flow of the wide Vltava River, she recognized the brick bridge that forded it, spanning the water in a row of majestic arches. She was happy to see not all had changed. It seemed Prague still retained many of its towers and landmarks.
“That’s the Charles Bridge,” Erin said, noting her attention.
Elizabeth stifled a wry smile. It had once been simply called the Stone Bridge. She watched people strolling along its span. In her days, horses or carriages once thronged the bridge.
So some things have changed.
As the helicopter headed toward the heart of the city, she drank in the sights, searching for streets and buildings that she had known in the past. She recognized the twin spires of Týn Church near the town square. The tower of city hall still bore the majesty of the Orloj, the city’s famous astronomical clock.
Erin had followed her gaze. “It’s a marvel, that medieval clock. It’s said that the clockmaker was blinded by order of the Councilors of Prague, so that he would never build another.”
Elizabeth nodded. “With a hot iron poker.”
“Harsh,” Jordan said. “Not much of a bonus for completing the job.”
“They were harsh times,” Elizabeth said. “But it is also said that the clockmaker took his revenge, that he crawled into the tower and destroyed the delicate mechanism by touch alone — then died in that tower. The clock could not be repaired for another hundred years.”
Elizabeth stared at the clock’s fanciful face. It was good that some of the past was still preserved and revered. Though the clockmaker had died, his masterwork had survived the march of years.
As will I.
Christian radioed back to them. “We’ll be on the ground in a few minutes.”
Elizabeth’s phone vibrated deep in her pocket. She covered it with her palm, hoping Rhun hadn’t heard it past the roar of the engine and the muffle of the headphones. It had to be Tommy. But why was he calling? Fearing the worst, she shifted impatiently in her seat, wishing she could talk to the boy. But to do so, she needed a moment alone.