As Christian swung them around a shoulder of a mountain, a small village appeared, tucked against the slope. Atop the peaked slate roofs, chimneys cast ribbons of smoke into the air, showing people inside cooking, laughing, living. It reminded her of what they were fighting to preserve.
A lone yak walked along a narrow snow-covered path. A brightly clad figure walked at its side, a cap pulled tightly over a round head. Both the dark-skinned man and the yak stopped to stare up at their helicopter.
Erin pressed a palm against the glass, wishing them both a long and happy life.
As the village vanished behind them, the last sight of habitation was a Buddhist temple, its gutters strewn with lines of fluttering prayer flags.
But it was not the temple they had come to find.
Christian continued onward, heading for the spot marked on Hugh’s map. “I don’t see any lake, unless it’s under all that snow. I might have to circle around.”
As he lifted their aircraft higher, Erin spotted a bowl-shaped gorge to the right. “Over there!” she called to Christian, leaning forward and pointing.
Christian nodded. “Got it. Let’s check it out.”
He angled toward that basin, sweeping between two peaks. At the bottom of this smaller valley spread a flat expanse of snow, about half the size of a football field, but its surface was not unbroken. Black ice reflected up at them, like dark cracks in the glaze of a white vase.
“That’s got to be it,” Erin said.
“Only one way to find out.” Christian manipulated the helicopter’s stick and lowered their aircraft to a hover over the snow.
Wind from the rotors blew the fine snow away to reveal an expanse of frozen lake. Its surface was black, like obsidian, like the black lake painted on the mural in the Faust House. But here there were no monsters crawling forth.
At least not yet.
Erin checked the sky, noting the moon had already taken a bite out of the sun.
“Think we got the right place?” Christian asked.
Sophia spoke up from the far side of the cabin and pointed. “Look up by the cliffs on this side.”
Erin wriggled to see better. It took her a moment to note what had drawn the small nun’s attention. But then she spotted it, too. Half hidden by the shadow of the sheer rock face, two giant trees hugged the cliff. Both were leafless with pale gray trunks, their branches crusted with ice and frosted with snow.
Sophia faced them. “Didn’t Hugh de Payens mention that the valley home of those strigoi monks had two mighty trees growing in it?
Possibly the Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Eternal Life.
Erin felt a sinking of disappointment at the sight of them. The pair looked like ordinary trees, certainly old, but nothing spectacular. Still, they matched Hugh’s description.
“Put us down,” Erin said. “This must be the right place.”
Christian obeyed, warning them. “Let’s hope the ice is thick enough to hold us. It’s the only place to land.”
He was right. All around, the banks sloped steeply, rising and merging with the cliffs of rock. He lowered their craft cautiously until the skids gently kissed the ice. Only when the surface seemed to support their weight did he allow the aircraft to fully settle.
“Looks good,” he said and powered the aircraft down.
Erin took off her headphones and waited while the Sanguinists, even Elizabeth, exited first, wary of any dangers. As soon as the door was open, a frigid breeze blasted inside, sweeping around as if trying to flush her out. She shuddered in her parka, but not from the cold. Instead, every hair on her body seemed to suddenly stand on end.
The Sanguinists reacted even more strongly: Christian crashed to a knee out on the ice, Sophia gasped loudly enough that Erin heard her above the sharp whistling of the wind, Rhun clutched for the cross hidden under his coat, wavering drunkenly as he took a few steps. Elizabeth caught his elbow and steadied him, frowning at the others.
Erin remembered seeing the Sanguinists react the same at the Faust House. The unholiness here was much stronger.
Even I feel it, she thought, shivering with unease.
Next to her, Jordan clenched his shoulders toward his ears and cocked his head, wincing. “That noise… like fingernails on a chalkboard. No, make that steel claws digging into a blackboard. Gawd…”
He looked sick to his stomach.
Erin didn’t hear what he heard, but he alone had heard singing from the stones. His ears were clearly tuned to an entirely different wavelength than hers.
She climbed out of the aircraft to join the others, with Jordan hopping out after her. As her steel crampons touched the ice, her legs went cold, as if the heat of her body were sucked out through her feet.
Behind Jordan, the cat leaped free, jumping high as if trying to avoid the ice, but the shore was too far. The cub landed on his silver claws, then crossed toward Rhun, lifting each foot daintily before placing it down again, as if he were trying not to touch that black surface.
“Something’s wrong here,” she whispered.
“A powerful evil resides in this lake,” Rhun agreed. “Let us be away quickly.”
Despite the desire to run for the shoreline, they proceeded cautiously, careful of the ice’s slipperiness and fearful of disturbing what lay below. Rhun aimed them for the bank closest to those shadowy trees.
Erin sighed when her legs finally stepped from ice to rock. She immediately felt pounds lighter, as if the backpack over her shoulders had been lifted free.
Rhun joined her, his spine straighter now. The Sanguinists looked revived as they left the lake, like flowers opening to sunlight.
“I can still feel it,” Sophia said. “Wafting off the lake, filling this valley.”
Rhun nodded.
Christian wiped his brow with a glove and looked longingly toward the helicopter. “Now I wish I’d parked closer. Don’t look forward to hiking back out again.”
Hopefully we’ll get a chance to.
Erin looked to the sky, squinting at the sun’s glare as the moon continued to edge farther over its face. She lowered her gaze to the steep rocky slope that led up toward those massive trees. Only now did she note that the boulders looked artfully placed, framing a snowy trail that wended up toward the cliffs.
“There’s a trail,” she said and began to head toward it.
Jordan stopped her. “Stay by my side.”
She glanced at him, glad to see his protective nature showing itself again. She took his hand, wishing they didn’t have to wear gloves.
With the lion at his side, Rhun took the lead. They slowly climbed through the boulders, careful of patches of ice. As the trail took its final switchback near the top, Rhun suddenly stopped, the lion let out a low growl.
“We’re not alone,” Rhun said.
Rhun had almost missed them.
Three men knelt between the huge boles of the trees, so still and unmoving that they could be statues. Snow rested upon their shoulders and atop their bald pates, creating powdery skullcaps. Rhun heard no heartbeats from them, but he knew they still lived.
Eyes stared toward him, shining out of the shadows under the leafless bower.