Immanuel's Veins (23 page)

But here in this place my heart had been stolen and my mind had been stripped of all that I assumed to be normal.

Faint light flickered ahead and to my right.

I sprinted to a gated entrance along the wall and gripped steel bars. Beyond them was what appeared to be a study with one desk on the left and bookcases on the other walls. Nothing short of a prison. A torch blazed next to a large framed portrait of the creature I'd seen depicted before in this castle, that grotesque bat with folded wings. A creature of the night. A demon from hell.

But there was also a door at the back of that study, I saw.

A peal of muted thunder reached into the tunnel. I twisted and looked down the dark passage. Not a hint of light.

I couldn't head back the way I had come. They would be there, waiting.

The sound of that thunder had come from somewhere. I lifted the latch and pulled the iron gate open with an unnerving grate of metal against metal. Then I closed it behind me to leave no sign I'd entered.

Another peal of thunder, this one from beyond that door if there was a God and he was merciful. Not merciful to me, but to Lucine. Even my escaping was a kind of abandonment, and I will say that a large part of me wanted only to rush back upstairs and share her fate, whatever that might be. Wasn't it possible that I could still find a way to rescue her, however unlikely?

She doesn't love you, Toma
.

I cursed my mind for the thought as I hurried for the wood door.

A single name was etched into brass beneath the framed portrait.
Alucard
. So then devils had names. Valerik or Alucard or Beelzebub, names didn't matter to me. But there was some truth to the ranting of the priests after all, and this mattered much.

The door was unlocked. I paused for a moment to listen beyond the beating of my heart, then I pulled the door open.

Now I could hear the storm outside. Lightning flashed, illuminating a long vacant tunnel ending in steps that led up.

I was running already, not bothering to close the door behind me this time. New thoughts crashed through my mind. A fresh fear for Lucine now that I had seen the naked power of these Russians. They weren't Russians at all but something less than human.

I slid to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, and now I saw the rain falling above, illuminated from behind by flashes of lightning. But how could I leave her? I could not! I couldn't go down the mountain knowing that Lucine was in his clutches.

I had to go back!

And I almost did.

But before I was a lover, I was a warrior, and I knew that my flesh and blood could not influence the fight waged by these powers. I had to get out and return with help!

These stone stairs ended in a small enclosure that protected them from the rain. I'd dropped my jacket off my back in the front entrance; there would be no retrieving it. I only hoped that my horse was still tied up as I'd left him.

But I was free of the castle. That was the—

“Hello, Toma.”

I spun to my left. He stood there at the edge of this entryway. I didn't know who he was, because he wore a hood that kept his face deep in shadow. I could only see those red eyes, staring at me like twin cherries. His voice was low and gravelly, unlike any I'd heard, surely not entirely human.

And just as surely I knew that I could not in my right mind beat this man.

“She is mine now,” the man said. “This time I told them to let you go. If I had not, you would be dead, my friend. But if you return I will kill you. And I will kill Lucine as well.”

Now I did know. This was Vlad van Valerik.

Bitterness and rage flooded me. Uttering a feral cry of outrage, I hurled myself at the figure in two long strides, headlong.

I plowed into the wall behind him, palms, elbows, then chest.

A small chuckle rose to my left, but I couldn't see where he'd vanished to in such a hurry. These Russians could move with inhuman speed!

“Leave her!” I cried. “Leave her and I will spare you!” The words came from my heart, not my head.

The chuckle had already faded. I was left alone with the wind howling at my back and the rain wetting my shirt. I tell you it was all I could do to find a thread of good sense in my battered mind.

But I did, and the moment I found it, I turned and strode into the torrent, around the castle, all along cursing my failure.

My trusted steed was hunkered down against the storm as I'd trained him. I ran to him, leaped upon his back, and headed down the mountain, a beaten and pathetic man.

But I would return.

I would be back if it cost me my life.

TWENTY-THREE

T
he hour was late and the rain fell with God's wrath on those mountains. I felt like a fool for ever having doubted his existence. There was certainly a devil, for I had met either him or his offspring. If there was a devil, there must be a God, or I had no hope.

Fighting the badgering urge to return and fight, I thundered down the slippery road without care for my safety. My stallion had been bred for battle and had waded through as much blood on slopes before. My only concern now was for Lucine, and to save her I knew I would need more resources than I had.

I had to go to that bishop in Crysk who had jurisdiction over this diocese in Moldavia. Julian Petrov of the Russian Orthodox Church. I had taken a trip to pay my respects and earn his several days earlier, as well as to learn what I could of the war's progress. But he'd been gone and I'd met with a priest who proved to offer little help. This time I must find His Eminence, Bishop Petrov.

It would take an hour, perhaps two, to reach the monastery in this weather. I had no time to stop by the Cantemir estate to rearm or update the lady Kesia. So when I came to the fork that headed south toward Crysk, I took it without a second thought.

The rain let up when I arrived at the base of the Carpathians. To the east there was a clear sky with a bright, peering moon. But the clouds behind me were as ominous as before, dumping their wrath on the peaks and the secrets they hid so well.

My path was now clear. I would find Petrov and sit him down to hear me if I had to haul him out of bed. He would tell me what I already knew—that the devil had come out of his shell.

But he would also tell me what I did not know: how to defeat this devil.

I muttered prayers for the first time in many years. They amounted to no more than incoherent mumblings that joined the distant thunder, pleas to a God who did not know I existed because I had never been to his church in all these years.

Even so, I would find God's servant on earth and take up whatever tools were required to dispel the devil, and together we would go to the mountain and chase evil back into the dark.

My mind said all of this, but my heart wasn't convinced. I couldn't see how any tool of the church could go up against a man like Stefan, who'd taken a bullet in the head one night and moved like the wind only days later. What devastation could be done on the battlefield with an army of these!

But I had heard that evil feared the crucifix. Holy water could scald a witch's skin. Perhaps there was some truth to these rumors— I was certain to find out.

With the clearing weather, my journey was soon on dry ground, and however dirtied, my shirt and trousers were dried by the wind. I didn't bother tying my horse by the church's porch—he was too shredded to take another step.

The entrance was open, thank God. I plowed in, uncaring about my presentation on the red carpet that ran through the seating for the likes of me, unbelievers. This was the narthex, if I recalled.

“Hello there?” I shouted.

Marching into the next chamber, the nave, I found it also empty. But the door was open, so someone must be attending to the church.

“Hello there! I have urgent business in the name of Her Majesty, Catherine. Who's there?”

Not a peep. So I headed up the aisle, under the great dome with its painting of Christ, past the bishop's throne and choirs, to the foot of the steps that led to what they called the Beautiful Gates— the door into the sanctuary behind. Now, I wasn't a churchman, but I knew that this richly painted wall with its images of angels and the Christ beneath a golden crucifix was a barrier to all but clergy.

But I was needing clergy now. So I stepped up on the platform, past the golden candlesticks, and into the sanctuary behind.

“Hello?”

The altar was there along with the censer and other religious paraphernalia that I was only vaguely familiar with. But there was no priest here.

A gospel book lay open on the altar, and I grabbed it straightaway. This instrument was the holiest of all religious artifacts, surely. If the church had any tools to deal with the devil, they would be a part of this book.

A door to one side slammed; feet pattered away; a voice called frantically. Someone had seen me and gone to fetch a higher authority. I paced, hoping for them to speed up.

For over an hour I had ridden south, away from Lucine. I was certain that, at the very least, she had tasted the same blood that had turned me to milk. In such a weakened state she would have then been subjected to much worse. She, like Natasha and Alek, might succumb and embrace whatever witchery they were serving. Then I would lose her!

And yet I was down here, so far removed from that mountain pass that I might as well be back in Moscow, asleep in a warm bed. It was unforgivable!

“What are you doing?” a voice snapped.

I twisted to the side door where a holy man stood, eyes round at my intrusion into his sacred space. “You're Julian Petrov?” I asked.

“I am the bishop.” His eyes ran down my body and settled on my boots. They were clotted with dried mud. I had left crumbs on his red floor.

“Get out!” he demanded.

His tone was not the kind I appreciated. “I don't think you understand, Your Eminence. I have the most urgent business ordered by Her Majesty, Catherine the Great.”

“Then say it outside where you belong. Not in God's sanctuary!”

The man had a large nose and big ears for such a narrow face. His red robes were loose and his black cap was slightly askew, giving me the impression he'd thrown them on before rushing here.

“I have come to solicit God's help,” I said. “Surely he'll understand.”

“By setting foot in this sanctuary and crossing me, you have defiled his body. Any believer knows this! Out, man, out!” He thrust a shaking finger at the door.

Now I grew incensed myself.

“But I'm not a believer. So I'm not subject to your rules. Now listen to me, you priest, I've just come from the most terrifying vision of evil. I've come to meet your God and see if he can save me. Are you telling me your great God is put off by my mud?”

“Cleanliness is next to godliness. But you of no learning would know nothing of that. Now please, if you don't mind, leave this sanctuary.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Should I?”

“My name is Toma Nicolescu. I was sent by Her Majesty to oversee the safety of the Cantemir estate—you're familiar with the letter I left with your man?”

He hesitated. Clearly I'd gained his attention. His eyes grabbed another look at my dirty boots. “What of it?”

I paced in front of him. “Lucine Cantemir has been taken captive. I have reason to believe that her life is in danger. But I don't have at my disposal the tools I need to deliver her.”

“I don't command an army.”

“But you can command the devil, yes? Because she is taken by hell itself, I swear, and we must return at once to deliver her.”

His eyes lingered on me for a long while, trying to judge me. “What devil?”

“He goes by the name Vlad van Valerik, and he lives in the Castle Castile with his retinue, a coven of witches who drink blood and seduce the innocent.”

Not a hint of alarm crossed his face. I realized that I must be sounding like a lunatic.

“I was just there,” I snapped. “I too drank that blood, and it twisted my thinking!”

“I was told that Lucine is being courted by—”

“You know of this?” I demanded, shocked by his knowledge.

“I was informed by a messenger from Lady Cantemir, yes. And you must know that I approve. The duke is a man of significant standing. What is this nonsense about drinking blood? It's an outrage!”

“I drank that blood! I saw what they did to Natasha and to my man, Alek Cardei! They have become shells of themselves.” His eyes were dark with doubt. He wasn't going to help me. I saw it on his face and I struggled not to lose my self-restraint. We didn't have time for this!

I grabbed a candlestick and shook it, sending the white candle flying. “For the love of all that is holy, man, give me something to fight evil! Tell me what I must know!”

“This is sacrilege!” he cried.

“Then pay me some respect!”

He reached out lovingly for the candlestick. “Please, put the candle down. You are defiling our sanctuary.”

“Tell me you have the means to put a devil down.”

“I do. I do . . . please.”

I gave him his precious candlestick. “Then tell me. I will do whatever is needed. Convert me, baptize me, commission me, give me the means.”

The bishop sighed. “I would guess that you are the devil here.”

“Does the devil wish to fight the devil?”

He frowned at me, then stormed out of the sanctuary. I followed.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now tell me what you know.”

So I did. I told him the whole story, beginning with Valerik's first visit to the Cantemir estate and the death and resurrection of Stefan. I explained the events of last night, when I'd been bewitched by drinking the blood, and I did not skip a single detail through my meeting of Valerik as I escaped from the castle only two hours earlier. He watched with one eyebrow raised half the time.

When I finished, he stared at me as if I might indeed be a lunatic.