Read Online Of Saints and Shadows (1994) by Christopher Golden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Golden
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cloth and a fine black powder.
The three monks crossed themselves, muttering a silent prayer. One of them produced a small plastic vial in which he collected some of the ash that had been the German vampire, to keep the remains unwhole. The three dragged their dead over to the house and threw them into the flames. Another prayer was said, and then they turned and. began to walk hack the way they hud come.
“ I never thought he would he that difficult ,” Thomas Montesi said.
“ Nor did I,” his brother Isaac continued. “He was one of the old ones. I was sure he would still believe.”
“ Ah,” said the third and youngest, Robert Montesi, “but he believed in the end. That’s what counts.”
“ Still,” argued Thomas, “His Holiness will surely want us to investigate further.”
“ Yes,” agreed. Isaac. “He’ll want to know how this old one discovered the truth. It means a lot of work for us.”
“ Perhaps,” Robert said, and smiled. “But only if we tell him. Besides, when he returns from his quest, we will all have more than enough to do.”
And then they were all smiling, and soon they began to whistle, the three of them, a song they had heard in a Bavarian inn the night before.
Peter Octavian woke with the smell of burned flesh in his nostrils. It was not suddenly, as if from a nightmare, or slowly and leisurely, as if from a long and profound slumber. He simply woke. One moment he was paralyzed and the next he could move and think and his eyes began to focus in the darkness of his room. Disoriented, he attempted to pull together the reality of what had happened. Even when he had made such psychic connections with Karl of his own accord, they had never been so vivid, so clear. He had been unable to analyze what he was seeing, only to react. And now that he could think it over, one thing remained clear. Whoever had done this to his old friend must pay with their lives.
The problem was that already the details were beginning to fade from memory. He knew the assailants in his vision were from the Vatican, but their faces were losing shape in his mind, as were, thankfully, the more gruesome details of the battle. Only the bare facts remained. Karl was dead, presumably murdered by the church. The Vatican rarely went after his kind unless a particular creature had directly challenged their authority.
He hungered for revenge and could not help but be angry with himself. He knew he could have done nothing, but a terrible guilt still hounded him. Perhaps if he hadn’t abandoned Karl and Alexandra and the others that New Year’s Eve almost a hundred years before, perhaps Karl would still be alive. Ah, but such fancy was idiocy. The question now was what to do about it.
As he got up and paced around the room, coming back to sit on the bed before getting up again and repeating the circuit, he realized that for now the answer was, do nothing. Though he mourned his longtime friend, he knew that there were others, still members of the coven, who were far closer geographically to Karl, and they would have to begin the investigation without him. He had business to take care of here in Boston. He only hoped they would not begin the revenge without him, even though he knew they would not welcome his presence. One way or the other, though, he would make sure Karl’s death did not go without retaliation.
The phone rang, and he realized he was still panting with his fury. He took a couple of deep breaths to try to calm down and answered it on the third ring.
“Octavian.”
“Yeah, Peter. Ted Gardiner.”
“Uh-huh. What’s up, Ted?”
“Um, listen, have I caught you at a bad time? I could call back.”
His voice had betrayed the anger he felt, but it was not time to share it. “No, I’m fine. Go ’head.”
“I’ve got the file on Janet’s disappearance for you whenever you want to pick it up. There isn’t much in here, but I’m sure you can do more with it than we can. Also, you asked me to
The three monks crossed themselves, muttering a silent prayer. One of them produced a small plastic vial in which he collected some of the ash that had been the German vampire, to keep the remains unwhole. The three dragged their dead over to the house and threw them into the flames. Another prayer was said, and then they turned and. began to walk hack the way they hud come.
“ I never thought he would he that difficult ,” Thomas Montesi said.
“ Nor did I,” his brother Isaac continued. “He was one of the old ones. I was sure he would still believe.”
“ Ah,” said the third and youngest, Robert Montesi, “but he believed in the end. That’s what counts.”
“ Still,” argued Thomas, “His Holiness will surely want us to investigate further.”
“ Yes,” agreed. Isaac. “He’ll want to know how this old one discovered the truth. It means a lot of work for us.”
“ Perhaps,” Robert said, and smiled. “But only if we tell him. Besides, when he returns from his quest, we will all have more than enough to do.”
And then they were all smiling, and soon they began to whistle, the three of them, a song they had heard in a Bavarian inn the night before.
Peter Octavian woke with the smell of burned flesh in his nostrils. It was not suddenly, as if from a nightmare, or slowly and leisurely, as if from a long and profound slumber. He simply woke. One moment he was paralyzed and the next he could move and think and his eyes began to focus in the darkness of his room. Disoriented, he attempted to pull together the reality of what had happened. Even when he had made such psychic connections with Karl of his own accord, they had never been so vivid, so clear. He had been unable to analyze what he was seeing, only to react. And now that he could think it over, one thing remained clear. Whoever had done this to his old friend must pay with their lives.
The problem was that already the details were beginning to fade from memory. He knew the assailants in his vision were from the Vatican, but their faces were losing shape in his mind, as were, thankfully, the more gruesome details of the battle. Only the bare facts remained. Karl was dead, presumably murdered by the church. The Vatican rarely went after his kind unless a particular creature had directly challenged their authority.
He hungered for revenge and could not help but be angry with himself. He knew he could have done nothing, but a terrible guilt still hounded him. Perhaps if he hadn’t abandoned Karl and Alexandra and the others that New Year’s Eve almost a hundred years before, perhaps Karl would still be alive. Ah, but such fancy was idiocy. The question now was what to do about it.
As he got up and paced around the room, coming back to sit on the bed before getting up again and repeating the circuit, he realized that for now the answer was, do nothing. Though he mourned his longtime friend, he knew that there were others, still members of the coven, who were far closer geographically to Karl, and they would have to begin the investigation without him. He had business to take care of here in Boston. He only hoped they would not begin the revenge without him, even though he knew they would not welcome his presence. One way or the other, though, he would make sure Karl’s death did not go without retaliation.
The phone rang, and he realized he was still panting with his fury. He took a couple of deep breaths to try to calm down and answered it on the third ring.
“Octavian.”
“Yeah, Peter. Ted Gardiner.”
“Uh-huh. What’s up, Ted?”
“Um, listen, have I caught you at a bad time? I could call back.”
His voice had betrayed the anger he felt, but it was not time to share it. “No, I’m fine. Go ’head.”
“I’ve got the file on Janet’s disappearance for you whenever you want to pick it up. There isn’t much in here, but I’m sure you can do more with it than we can. Also, you asked me to
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