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“Surprised?” Fay asked. “Poor little girl can’t make her magic work.”
Tears welled in her eyes. No. There had been a mistake. This wasn’t right. Sam. Was Sam really dead?
Clover turned, ran for the door.
Fay cut her off, grabbed an arm, twisted it behind her back. Pain lanced up through her shoulder, and she went rigid. Suddenly there was a blade at her throat. She wept, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.
“You spoiled the party,” Fay said. “Now, why would you do that?”
“I… I…” What could she say? Oh, Sam. Poor Sam.
“I would have let you join in,” Fay said. “Would that have been so bad? All I needed was a ride from the airport, and if you’re not going to provide me with any entertainment, then I’m afraid you’re no longer of any use, young lady.”
Clover drew a breath for a scream, but nobody ever heard it. Fay’s blade bit quick and deep.
FORTY
Allen got on his hands and knees, and peered under a thorny bush. “I mean, Jesus. You know? What am I supposed to think? It’s like I don’t even know you.”
Pe
“This is different.”
“Of course it’s different. It’s always different.”
“But you’re very very different.”
“You don’t have to treat me any different,” Pe
“Racism? It’s not like you’re Chinese.”
“Animalism then,” Pe
“I mean, you’re a… a-”
“Don’t say it!”
“Say what?”
“Werewolf,” Pe
Allen walked in a widening circle, bent over, sca
“Lycanthrope.”
“Lycan-what?”
“Lycanthropy is a disorder,” Pe
“I’ve never heard of a Third Vatican Council.”
“You’re not supposed to have.” Pe
“I don’t know,” Allen said. “I was slightly terrified at the time.”
“Following your scent was the only way I could think to find you, and I can only do that in wolf form. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
Allen sighed. “I just need to let this sink in. It’s been a strange couple of days.”
“For me too,” Pe
“Over here!” Amy’s voice came from forty yards away, through more thick bushes.
Allen and Pe
“It seems okay.”
“Open it,” Pe
“Not here.” Allen clutched the manuscript to his chest. “It’s too old.”
“I don’t even know what it is,” Pe
“I told you. It’s Edward Kelley’s diary. The alchemist.”
“Back to my apartment,” Pe
“No,” Amy said quickly. “They’ll think to look there.”
“I told you I didn’t tell Father Paul where we were,” Pe
“I don’t trust you.”
Pe
“I’m not saying your motives are bad,” Amy said. “I just won’t risk it.”
“Oh, you so very much suck.”
“I just need a table and someplace quiet,” Allen said. “Preferably not too crowded.”
“Like a library?” Amy said.
“Been there. Done that.”
“I know a place,” Pe
“Okay then,” Amy said. “Breakfast.”
They walked back through Mala Strana in no particular hurry. The city was waking, the morning cool and dewy. They circled Prague Castle on the north side, pausing to gander at the walls and towers.
“In there.” Allen tapped the Kelley diary. “That’s where he wrote it.”
They continued on, back through Letna Park. In the light of day it was pleasant, trees arching in a canopy over the path. Allen pictured himself here with Pe
They reached the Holešovice suburb and found a hip little café that was just opening, serving eggs, toast, sausage heavy enough to sink a naval destroyer, and coffee so strong it could eat the paint off the wall.
“Push the dishes aside,” Pe
Allen shook his head. “No way. Spill some of that coffee on it, and the whole thing will disintegrate.”
“I’m so curious, I can’t stand it,” she said. “How did you even know to look for it?”
Allen went a little pale remembering his encounter with Cassandra. He couldn’t quite bring himself to relate that experience to Pe
“Pe
“What?”
Allen related the story to the girls, how he’d found the professor dead, the chunk bitten out of his throat.
“Oh, my God,” Pe
Amy said, “Good.”
Pe
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean I hope he suffered or anything like that. It’s just good he’s out of the way. He was a traitor to the Society. We were all pretty worried he’d get a hold of the philosopher’s stone and do something really fucked up with it. His wife’s a vampire, you know.”
Pe
“Vampire.”
“Unbelievable,” Pe
Amy pointed a finger at her. “You’re a werewolf.”
“Lycanthrope!”
Amy narrowed her eyes, turned back to Allen. “How did you know about the diary? How did you know to look in the monastery?”
Allen opened his mouth to tell them. Of course he would tell them. Time to come clean. These people were on his side. So why wouldn’t the words come out? He suddenly felt Cassandra’s cold touch and shivered. He realized with acute dread that whatever spell the vampire had put on him had not completely evaporated.
He held up his hand for the waitress. “Check, please.”
Pe
A gleaming example of modern architecture, the Trade Fair Palace housed Prague’s collection of twentieth-century art and was one of the main reasons tourists made it out to the suburb. The four floors of paintings and sculptures attracted groups of students on the weekends, but on an early weekday morning, the small café in the lobby was utterly deserted. All very modern, sharp angles and white plastic, metal chairs that looked uncomfortable but weren’t.
“They have a couple of Picassos here,” Pe
Allen held up his copy of The Rogue’s Guide. “This place isn’t even in here. All this book tells you is where to get drunk and laid.”
Pe
They picked the table farthest from the entrance, and Allen untied the twine, peeled away the newspaper.
Amy and Pe
“I can’t do this with you reading over my shoulder,” he said. “You’re making me anxious.”
“We’re curious too,” Pe
Amy crossed her arms. “Yeah.”
“Okay, just wait. Hold on.” Allen pointed at the café counter. “I need napkins and plastic coffee stirs.”
“One second.” Pe