Vampire a Go-Go(28)

Allen realized it was no longer Cassandra’s control that compelled him. It was his own curiosity. Whatever the vampire had done, it must have worn off with time and distance. He still felt the urge to investigate, the need to get to the bottom of… of whatever the hell it was that had taken over his life. Or maybe he was kidding himself. Maybe it was part of her spell that made it seem like it was Allen’s own will that propelled him forward.

It didn’t matter. He was going to solve this. He was going to get answers.

He circled the base of Petrin Hill to the east and veered south until he ran into a busy street and a cluster of shops, cafés, and other businesses. He followed the boulevard about five minutes until he found the internet café more or less where the cop had indicated. He ordered another cup of strong, black coffee and paid for an hour of web time. At the end of the hour he paid for two more and switched to espresso.

The monastery had its own website; it must have been a popular attraction, because there was an English-language option. Allen steadily worked his way through a more detailed history of the place. He borrowed a pen and jotted notes on a paper napkin.

He was narrowing it down, getting a workable plan together for finding his prize.

A man named Jan Lohel was abbot at Strahov from 1586 to 1612, which covered the time period in question. Perhaps they organized their materials according to the time at which they were acquired. Some collections might be attributed to particular abbots. Allen made a note.

It would likely be a handwritten manuscript, and in English. Narrowing it to works in English would help a lot. There! What was that? He hit the Back button and read more carefully. There was a special treasury room that housed rare volumes and fragile manuscripts. Any handwritten originals would be there. He was certain of it. Allen was a step closer.

He guzzled espresso, the excitement of impending discovery fueled by caffeine.

Allen poured over detailed summaries of a dozen historical anecdotes that seemed pertinent at first, but ultimately he scrolled on.

And then he had it. By 1603, a number of longtime residents of Prague Castle had left for good, including astrologers and alchemists. Many personal effects and written documents had been sent to storage in Strahov Monastery.

Allen knew the room he had to search, and he’d narrowed it down to the exact year.

Very soon he would be reading the last written words of Holy Roman Alchemist Edward Kelley.





1599





THIRTY-TWO




This astrologer fellow is a complete ass, Kelley wrote in his journal. He’s almost as bad as Doctor Dee.

At least Roderick seemed to know his business better than that old fraud Dee had. For six weeks, Kelley had assisted the astrologer, working with the lenses and examining the stone from a safe distance, observing various experiments, many of which had been gruesome and dangerous. In no time at all, Kelley had been relegated to his typical duties of fetch and carry. Just like working for Dee all over again.

Except now Kelley felt he served two masters. Edgar sent his Society agents at least twice a week for progress reports. They frowned and crossed themselves upon hearing the details of Roderick’s vile experiments. Only occasionally did Edgar come himself, warning that soon the Society would need to make its move.

Kelley simultaneously dreaded and welcomed whatever the Society planned. On the one hand, he wanted this over, to be free of Prague Castle so he could leave and never look back. On the other hand, Edgar’s vague hints implied that the Society’s scheme involved sudden, blinding violence. Kelley was sure to be caught in the middle.

In the meantime, he kept the journal, partly so he could offer a detailed report when the Society agents checked up on him, but also because he thought somebody somewhere would need to know what had happened here. Anyway, his writings would probably be disregarded as delusional fantasy. Why bother? But he scribbled in the journal every day.

Kelley finished his morning entry, then slid the journal into its hiding place under his clothes chest at the foot of his bed. He walked the short journey through the castle courtyard, into the castle, and down the dark twisting steps to the dungeon, where he found Roderick.

Emperor Rudolph was there.

Kelley froze and began to back out of the chamber when Roderick looked up and spotted him.

“Ah, there you are, Kelley. Fetch a couple of bodies from the corpse room, will you? There’s a good man. Relatively fresh ones, please.”

Kelley’s shoulders slumped. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

He trudged the corridor, grumbling under his breath, until he arrived at a thick wooden door. He pulled it open on creaking hinges and went inside. Dark, only the flickering torchlight from the hall behind casting its dim orange light on the pile of dead bodies. The ones on top would most likely be the freshest. He grabbed a man that looked a bit on the thin side-easier to carry-and took him back to the stone chamber, passing under the sharp eyes of Roderick and the emperor. He arranged the man in a wooden chair ten feet from the iron box, then went back to fetch the next body.

A young girl with a good volume of red hair. Slight. She looked easy to carry too. He bent, grunted as he heaved her over his shoulder and lugged her back. As he arranged her in the chair, he froze, going cold, heart skipping a beat. He knew that face.

Oh, God. Bianca.

He had finally remembered her name. The young serving girl who had warmed his bed so many times. He hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks, and the kitchen staff had told him she’d come down with fever. Bianca.

Kelley stood, backed away from Bianca, feeling leaden, like his skin was made of ice. He went back to Roderick, indicated the bodies were in position.

“What’s the matter with you, Kelley? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s just… nothing.”

“Well, pay attention. His Highness has asked for a demonstration, and I mean to oblige him.” Roderick turned to the emperor. “Highness, there is still much work to be done before we reach our ultimate goal, but I believe you’ll be impressed with our progress thus far.”

Roderick entered the stone chamber, motioned for Kelley to follow him. “Help me position the lenses.”

Kelley had watched the elaborate construction process as a dozen men had labored to install the apparatus. The machine consisted of a series of round frames into which the lenses were slid into place. There were eight sets of lenses, with three lenses in each set. Pulleys and levers had been rigged to raise or lower the lenses into place, and there were multiple permutations of ways the lenses could be arranged. Roderick and Kelley lowered the apparatus until the lenses encircled the iron box.

“I want the middle lenses only,” Roderick said.

Kelley turned screws, loosening the middle lenses in their brackets, lowering them into place, then tightening the screws again.

“Okay,” Roderick said. “Out of the room.”

They retreated back into the hall and shut the iron door with a clang. A window about the size of a serving tray had been cut into the door, thick and obscenely expensive glass separating the observers from the goings-on within. After having conducted several experiments, Roderick had described the additional precautions as likely unnecessary but prudent nonetheless.

Roderick stood close to the door and peered through the window at the iron box and lenses, with the corpses sitting limply by. He signaled Kelley.

Kelley went to the big crank on the wall, grabbed the handle with both hands, grunted, put his back into it, and started turning. He picked up speed. The crank turned a shaft that connected to gears on the other side of the wall that connected to another shaft, which ran along the ceiling to more gears that turned the apparatus.

The lenses began to spin around the iron box, slowly at first. They picked up speed until they were a shimmering glass blur surrounding the box. Sweat broke out on Kelley’s forehead and under his arms, but he kept up the pace.

When Roderick judged the speed sufficient, he pulled the lever that opened the iron box. The stone glowed a deep red, lighting up the lenses with almost blinding intensity. Kelley had seen it before and had thought, at first, that the light show had actually been quite beautiful.

Until he’d seen the result.

Roderick motioned Rudolph to the window. “Come witness, Your Highness.”

The emperor paused. “Is it safe?”

“Quite safe behind the protective barrier, I assure you.” Roderick knocked on the iron door to indicate its sturdiness. “Come see. The effects will soon make themselves evident.”

Rudolph approached the window tentatively until he was standing shoulder to shoulder with the astrologer, his nose a half inch from the window glass. The Holy Roman Emperor was obviously curious. Years of planning and a small fortune had gone into his scheme. Just as obvious was the fact that he was a little nervous. Even emperors reported to a higher power.

The interior of the chamber was awash in bloodred light, pulsing as the stone emanated its rays.

“Observe, Highness.” Roderick pointed. “Like our sun in the sky, the stone emits a spectrum of rays with a variety of properties. I believe the stone is attuned with the very fabric of reality, the same force that controls the tides and the seasons. The special lenses filter out the properties we don’t want or need while allowing the beneficial properties to continue on. By controlling these rays we can achieve different effects. There! It begins.”