Icefall (Dane Maddock Adventures)

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Authors: David Wood
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hand he held a crosier. “ You might be interested to know that, beneath this stature, are two stones from the saint ’ s sepulchre in Bethany.
    “ Don ’ t mess with me. I don ’ t want a statue. I want the real thing. ”
    Andre frowned. “ I do not understand. ”
    “ The skull! ” The man seemed to blot out the light as he came closer. “ I want to see the skull of Saint Lazarus. ”
    “ The bones of Lazarus are not here. ” Andre felt the blood drain from his face and his stomach grow cold. “ The saint died in Cyprus and his remains were later taken to Constantinople. Perhaps if you look... ” The man snatched Andre by the neck, squelching his words in a vise grip.
    “ We know the truth. The grotto, the three hares, all of it. ” He pulled Andre near enough that the priest could feel his hot breath. Up close, the scarred fac e was even more disconcerting.
    Andr e steeled his nerves, reminding himself that he was a man of God and the Spirit would protect him.
    “ It is a common misunderstanding, ” Andre gasped. “ Many confuse Lazarus of Bethany with the bishop of Aix, Lazarus. ”
    “ You aren ’ t fooling me, and if you waste one more minute of my time you will die a slow and painful death. I want to see the head of Lazarus. Now! ” He gave Andre a shove, sendin g him hard onto his backside. The man opened his jacket to reveal the handle of a weapon. Andre knew nothing about firearms, but the sight of it was all he needed to confirm the danger he was in.
    Andre had always considered his own mortality with a serenity grounded in his assurance of salvation. Of course, he had always i Magi ned meeting his maker at an advanced age, lying in his sick bed . The life of a priest was a secure one, at least physically. Now, for the first time in his life, he felt death staring him in the face. This man oozed evil.
    “ I will take you there. ” Andre slowly crawled to his feet. “ It is not far. ” His heart pounding and his bowels threatening to empty, he led the man to a door on the south side of the nave. It opened onto a staircase descending down into the ancient subterranean church beneath Saint Victor. This church, untouched after nearly two thousand years, had been built by Cassianite monks in the third century. Behind him, the man switched on a flashlight and Andre began his descent. The cold air chilled him to the bone, as did the feeling of great age and power. While many people found the fortress-like exterior of Saint Lazarus dark and intimidating, it was down underground where the true darkness lay.
    Andre did not care that this place had once been a church. Something was wrong down here. Perhaps it was that this place had the feel of a dungeon. O r , maybe it was the grotesque carvings, so many of which should not be in a place dedicated to Christ. No matter how many times Andre came down here, he always felt vulnerable and unwelcome.
    He passed beneath the high ceiling supported by a few round pillars, the silence broken only by the footfalls of the man behind him. Each step sounded to him like the ring of a hammer nailing the lid on his coffin. He forced himself to keep moving, and soon came to the entrance to the ancient grotto that had been the original first-century church of Saint Lazarus. A tangle of carved vines wound its way around the entrance, adding to the forbidding nature of this dark recess.
    “ It is in here. ” Andre stepped back and motioned for the man to enter.
    “ You first. ” The man ’ s tone made it clear he would accept nothing less than total obedience.
    Andre stepped inside with only the greatest reluctance. It was as if invisible hands held him back. His fear of the crypt, however, was nothing compared to his fear of the man behind him.
    “ Which one is Lazarus? ” The man swept his beam across the two stone sarcophagi. Between them lay a stone rectangle where a third sarcophagus had once rested.
    “ Neither, ” Andre stammered . “ These were too

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