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FORTY-SEVEN
High atop a rocky cliff, guarding the Vltava, the Vysehrad was much more a fortress than a palace. A zigzagging path climbed the cliff on the river side. A tram let off tourists on the other side. More respectable guidebooks than The Rogue’s Guide suggested a scenic walking tour that started at the tram stop, passed the highlights of the Vysehrad, including Dvoák’s tomb in the cemetery, and then took the zigzag path down the cliff to the river.
Allen, Amy, Pe
Fi
“It’s been a rough couple of days.”
“The trams don’t run this time of night, and it’s likely that side of the Vysehrad will be more closely watched,” Father Paul said. “More stealthy to come up this way.”
“Unless they hear young Cabbot’s heart pounding,” Fi
Allen wondered if he’d go to hell for giving a priest the finger.
Two o’clock in the morning. This is exactly what Allen didn’t want, to be skulking around at night with a vampire on the loose. He supposed a trio of battle priests, a werewolf, and a pretend witch might provide some measure of protection, but Allen didn’t feel protected. He clutched the crowbar tight. It was part of his grave-robbing gear, but Allen was ready and willing to smash anything in the face that tried to kill him or suck his blood. The others carried a variety of pickaxes and shovels. Allen also wore a backpack loaded with a flashlight and sundry other gear. Most important, he carried the Kelley diary. He refused to let it out of his possession.
“Let’s keep it quiet from here on,” Father Paul said. “This way to the cemetery. It’s behind the Cathedral of St. Paul and Peter.”
The winding paths, pleasant and open by day, were poorly lit at night, jagged shadows making the castle grounds seem eerie and dangerous. Pe
“This is starting to seem like a bad idea,” Pe
“Starting to seem like a bad idea?” Allen said.
“At least you can turn into a werewolf,” Amy said to Pe
“Lycanthrope,” Pe
“You know that’s not how it works,” snapped Amy.
Father Paul looked back and shushed them.
The girls lapsed into embarrassed silence.
The path took them to the cathedral. They circled behind it and found an iron gate. Padlocked. Father Starkes clipped it off with a sturdy pair of bolt cutters, and they all filed into the boneyard, Fi
“Hallowed ground,” Father Paul said.
“What’s that?” Allen asked.
“The vampire can’t come here.” Father Paul patted Allen on the shoulder. “That’s why she needed a patsy.”
“Thanks.”
“A lot of dead folk in here,” Fi
“I think you’re right,” Father Paul said. “Let’s break into two teams. We can cover more ground.”
“Split up?” Pe
Neither did Allen. “I’ve seen enough episodes of Scooby Doo to know that’s a bad idea.”
“Father Starkes will go with you and Pe
They split up, each team going a different direction. They raked monuments with flashlights, glimpsing names, trying to hurry. An hour later, Allen’s team ran back into Father Paul’s.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Allen said. “There’s got to be a way to narrow the search.”
Father Paul nodded. “I think you’re right. Fi
The big Irish priest slung off the backpack, pulled out a thin laptop computer, and booted it up. He set the computer on top of a tomb, the screen’s glow eerie in the cemetery. “We’ll have the satellite in a few seconds. Okay. Got it.”
“Let me try,” Allen said.
“Give it to him, Fi
Allen’s fingers flew across the keyboard, cross-referencing historical databases, Google, Wikipedia. He blinked at the computer screen, read the information again to be sure. “Oh… shit.”
Father Paul read the screen over Allen’s shoulder. “What is it?”
“The cemetery was founded in 1869,” Allen said. “Two hundred and sixty plus years after Roderick died. There’s no way he could be buried here.”
“But the ghost said the Vysehrad cemetery,” Pe
Allen shook his head. “No. He said the Vysehrad-the castle. Remember? Zabel just assumed the cemetery.”
“We can’t search the whole castle, all the grounds,” Fi
“More like days.” Father Paul sighed, shook a fresh cigarette from his pack.
“Wait,” Allen said. “Just nobody panic, okay? It’s just another research project, right?”
The priests looked at one another. Father Paul said, “What do you have in mind?”
“Let’s think it through. Hallowed ground, remember? If it were anywhere else in the Vysehrad, Cassandra could fetch it herself.”
Father Paul nodded. “Good point.”
“Right.” Allen’s hands went back to the keyboard. “So we concentrate on the cathedral and the cemetery.”
The priests and the girls watched Allen go at it, calling up databases, following links to other links, web pages to dead ends, backing up, starting again. He became one with the machine, a virtual explorer in an endless world of bits and bytes and information.
I am the Matrix. That made him chuckle.
“What is it?” Pe
“Nothing.”
He arrived at the home page for a European architectural society, which took him to something about the castles of Europe. Click. The castles and palaces of Prague. Click. The Vysehrad. Click.
“This is all in Czech,” Allen said.
“Hold on, lad.” Fi
“Thanks.” Allen took over the computer again.
His eyes took in the words almost by osmosis. Vysehrad constructed in the tenth century. Stonework. Bulwarks. Battlements. Masons.
Freemasons.
Allen cleared his throat. “Listen to this. A Mason hall was constructed to house all the stoneworkers during the construction of the Vysehrad. The hall stood until 1701, when it was gutted by a fire and the stone blocks were looted for other construction projects. But the stone foundation was reused later, when the cathedral was built around 1869.”
“What do Freemasons have to do with it?” Father Starkes asked.
“You’ve been neglecting your history lessons, Starkes.” Father Paul looked at Amy. “Our lady friend can tell you.”
Amy nodded slowly. “The Society hasn’t been part of the Freemasons in hundreds of years. But way the hell back then… yeah.”
“Edward Kelley had some sort of association with the Society,” Allen said. “I’m not exactly sure. There was no time to read the journal completely. Some sort of alliance, I think.”
Father Paul dropped the cigarette, mashed it out with his shoe. “Fi