Lucky kid.
Other parents claimed other children until only Rasputin’s boy remained. With a slight bow toward them, he jumped off the platform and strode toward them with all the pride of Russian nobility.
Christian confronted the boy as he reached them. “Where is your master?”
The kid smiled, drawing a chill down Jordan’s spine. “I have two messages, but first you must answer a question. His Holiness has been watching you since you arrived. He says that you have come with two Women of Learning. The one he met in Russia and another from the true line of Bathory.”
It unnerved Jordan to learn how much Rasputin already knew about them.
But maybe that was the monk’s goal.
“And why does this concern him?” Rhun asked.
Alexei put his hands on his hips. “He said that there must be a test.”
Jordan didn’t like the sound of that.
“By his sworn word to your cardinal, His Holiness will only give the First Angel to the true Woman of Learning. Such is the bargain struck.”
Rhun looked ready to argue, but Erin stopped him.
“What kind of test?” she asked.
“Nothing too dangerous,” Alexei answered. “I will take two of you with one Woman of Learning, and Olga”—he motioned to the young girl with the blue hat—“will take two with the other.”
“What happens then?” Jordan asked.
“The first woman to find the First Angel wins.”
The countess shifted closer, sensing the game afoot, perhaps seeking a way to betray them. “What happens to the one who loses?”
Alexei shrugged. “I do not know.”
“I’m not putting Erin at risk,” Jordan said. “Find another way.”
The girl, Olga, spoke. Her voice was childishly sibilant, but her words were much too sophisticated and formal for someone of her apparent young age. “His Holiness has informed us to remind you that he possesses the First Angel. If you do not accede to his demands, you will never see him.”
Jordan frowned. Rasputin had them by the shorthairs and knew it.
“Where do we go?” Jordan asked, taking firm hold of Erin, refusing to be separated, irrevocably choosing which team he was going to play on. “Where do we begin this hunt?”
Alexei simply pointed to the sign Jordan had passed earlier.
The one shaped like an outstretched arm.
They were going into the ice maze.
26
December 19, 8:59 P.M. CET
Stockholm, Sweden
Erin followed Olga’s bobbing white pom-pom around the side of the choir stage and toward a narrow alleyway. The festival’s ice maze had been constructed in a neighboring square, hidden for now by the apartment buildings to either side.
Of course, Rasputin would pick such a maze for his test—a place both cold and confusing. And at this late hour with the market now closed, the Russian monk would merely need to post guards at the various entrances to the maze to ensure privacy inside. But what waited for them at the heart of this labyrinth? She pictured the giant blasphemare bear that Rasputin had kept caged below his church in St. Petersburg. What monsters waited for them inside here?
As she headed toward the entrance to the alley, Erin was flanked by Christian and Jordan. A glance to the left showed Alexei leading Rhun, Bathory, and Nadia. They appeared on the far side of the choir stage and headed for a different street. Likely it led to another entrance to the hidden ice maze, another starting point.
Rhun glanced toward her as he reached the mouth of his alley.
She lifted an arm, wishing his group well.
Then the two teams vanished into the narrow streets, ready to face the challenge ahead, to outrace each other for the prize at the center of the maze: the First Angel.
As Erin’s group entered the narrow lane, Jordan’s gaze traced the straight rooflines to either side. He kept watch on the heavy doors, ready for any sudden attack. From frosted windows, light spilled onto the snowy cobblestones. Blurred shadows moved about in the warm rooms, the occupants oblivious of the danger beyond their stone walls and wooden doors, blind to the monsters that still haunted the night.
For a moment, Erin wished for such simple ignorance.
But lack of knowledge was not the same as safety.
With her hands in her pockets, she felt Amy’s keepsake, the chunk of warm amber preserving a fragile feather. Her student had been equally unaware of this secret world—and it had killed her just the same.
After a few more steps, the street ended at another square. Erin stopped abruptly, halted by the sheer beauty of what lay ahead. It seemed this labyrinth was not a simple mimic of a hedge maze. Ahead rose a veritable palace of ice, filling the entire square, rising a hundred feet into the air, composed of spires and turrets all made of ice. Hundreds of sculptures topped its walls, etched with hoarfrost and dusted with snow.