Flight of the Crow Read online

  “I am Bryn Sahir. I’ve known your people for many thousands of moon risings.”

  “I see you be a witch. Why you in the hut of Kivunjo?”

  “Is he the high priest of your tribe?”

  She nodded as she scowled and fed more grass into the fire. Smoke began to fill the hut. It smelled of dried vegetation, herbs and magic.

  Bryn felt the press of time eating at her. “Has he been sheltering an evil man?”

  “Dragon man been here.” The woman pointed with her chin. “He keeps his belongings in those bags over there.”

  Bryn’s heart leapt. The dagger could be here in this hut in one of those bags.

  “He plans much evil against me and my sister tonight. I need to search those bags.”

  “Dragon man no friend of mine. He promise my man many things give him nothing. He promise Kivunjo a dagger filled with powerful magics. He promise to help us get home. He promise Kivunjo lion skins and the horns of the rhinoceros.”

  Bryn crouched next to the woman and looked into her muddy brown eyes. She squatted on flat feet. She was very small with the round belly of a pregnant woman. “When will you have your baby?”

  The woman’s eyes were veined and the whites yellow. “Only Kivunjo know this. He want me to give birth at home in our village, but I think I will have this baby here in disgrace as a captive of the white demons.”

  Bryn went through the two carpet bags in the corner of the hut. She found nothing of interest or value. Priest was careful. When she’d finished going through the bags, she stood up and slapped her hands on her hips. Worry wrinkled her forehead. What if Quinn had been right?

  “When did the white man leave?”

  The pregnant woman groaned and rubbed her belly. “He turn into smoke and leave here when sun was well up. He think we too stupid to see him. Ha! Kivunjo follow him, keep eye on him. White man owe Kivunjo and Kivunjo make sure he get paid.”

  Bryn’s face flushed and sweat popped out on her face. Priest was going after the skull and she’d left Quinn by himself. Fear for Quinn rippled through her. What had she done?

  “Have you seen a white woman with hair the color of fire?” She asked the pregnant woman.

  The woman shook her head as she moved around the hut gathering ingredients for some kind of stew; dried meat, vegetables, herbs and grain she kept in a bowl. “Not see anything but inside of this hut. Hate going outside where all the eyes follow you watching and watching. I can’t get used to it.”

  “When I catch Draak Priest I shall help you get home,” she told the woman. “Your child should run free across the plains of your homeland not be penned up like an animal.”

  “If you truly do this thing for me, I will bless you and your offspring.”

  Bryn hugged her and ran out of the hut. She needed to get home immediately. Something terrible was happening. She could feel it. When she was outside the fence, she found Fingle sniffing around behind one of the buildings. “We must go home, Fingle. I have a very bad feeling I should not have left Quinn alone.”

  Fingle growled. “Yes, ma’am, but I wonder if I may sniff around inside this here building? I smells me the mother of all cats.”

  Bryn grabbed his arm. “Forget the cat. I think there’s a tiger exhibit in there. That cat you smell will eat you.”

  Fingle’s eyes flew open. “No!”

  “Yes, tigers are huge. Let’s go.”

  They left the Exposition. Outside on the city streets, Bryn’s anxiety would not be assuaged. “Make it home as fast as you can,” she told Fingle. “I’m going to fly.”

  He nodded and she quickly said the words that would turn her into a crow. She perched for a moment on a tree branch and cawed. Fingle woofed and Bryn took off flying high over Paris as she shot toward her home.

  * * * *

  Fenix landed on the roof and morphed back into a human. Something terrible had happened here. She took a deep breath as she ran down the stairs to the third floor. The first thing she saw was the pool of blood in the doorway of Bryn’s bedroom. Her heart thudded heavily as she ran lightly to the doorway and peered inside. When she saw the carnage, she gasped. Quinn lay on the floor, his hands a mangled bloody mess. Blood had soaked into the carpet and pooled on the hardwood floor.

  The remains of the bedroom door were spread everywhere. Under several large pieces lay Sam, unconscious, on her face on the floor. She went to Sam first, picked her up and held her. The witch groaned and turned over in Fenix’s arms. “Quinn,” she moaned.

  Fenix laid her down. “I’ll see to him,” she said.

  Quinn lay on his side with his ruined arms in front of him. When Fenix turned him onto his back he screamed. She sighed with relief. Where there was life, she could work her magic. If he’d been dead, saving him would have been beyond her abilities. She wasn’t God.

  “Quinn, hush, I will make you better.”

  “Skull,” he moaned. “Priest got the skull.”

  “Quiet,” she said as she knelt over Quinn. She held his ruined hands in her own though he fought and tried to pull away. Sympathy for his pain and suffering filled her and tears flowed from her golden eyes. Sam knelt beside her and watched with awe on her face as everywhere the tears touched, the flesh healed.

  Soon Quinn stopped struggling and paid close attention to what Fenix did. “I thought I was going to die,” he whispered.

  “You would have,” Fenix said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

  Quinn glanced at the carpet. “Looks like I lost all of it.”

  When his hands and arms were pink from the healing, Fenix dropped them. She was completely exhausted. Quinn had been desperately injured, truly at death’s door. Bringing him back had sapped her strength. A noise in the hallway startled them. Quinn struggled to his feet and pushed Fenix and Sam behind him. But it was only Bryn. She rushed into the room in time to catch Fenix as she fainted.

  * * * *

  Draak Priest entered Saint Sulpice Church and walked boldly past the sanctuary to the sacristy. It was after dark and the church was empty. He looked both ways before turning an ancient sconce to the left. The base of the sconce was a gold angel. The angel was holding the globe for the candle in both hands. When Priest turned it, a loud scraping announced the opening of the door to the catacombs below. Priest shot through it and touched a square of raised wood on the wall on the other side. The door closed with a bang and Priest headed down the steep stairs into the depths.

  When he hit the first landing, he stopped. Far above, he thought he heard the door scrape across the tiled floor of the sacristy. He waited holding his breath. Was someone following him? He shook his head. Who could be following him? Convinced of his superiority in all things and flying high on his recent success at defeating Bryn and her friends, he continued into the depths. He had little time before he must complete the ritual. The moon would soon be high above the church and the beam of light would come through the eye in the lamb. He had to be there with the Coeur de Flamme. He had to complete the ritual.

  When he reached the underground river, he followed the slippery path along the flow to the low door. Once inside the room with the cage, he unpacked all the things he would need. He held the skull of Cardinal Malenfant in his hands and felt the evil of the man flow into him. Malenfant had left a legacy of horror and darkness that still permeated his bones.

  Priest placed the skull in the position of honor on the altar and began lighting fresh candles. He lit five black candles and one red one, then he took the snail eggs out of his pack. The eggs were like white pearls. Each one was perfect and round. He poured the small pouch of eggs into a golden chalice and placed them in front of the skull and then pulled a watch out of a hidden pocket in his robe and checked it. The moon would be above the church in three minutes and would remain in the right position for three minutes.

  Priest slipped the huge emerald off his neck. It had hung there since he’d coughed it up after stealing it from Bryn Sahir by swallowing it. Oh, how angry she�
��d be when he appeared before her a young, vibrant man with all the power he now possessed. He would take her then, take her and take her until he was tired of her. Nothing would stop him. He would be invincible.

  With the emerald on the altar beside the chalice of snail eggs, he pulled the last element for the ritual out of his pack. The dagger of Lazarus gleamed in the light of the candles. The gems in the hilt glinted as he turned the knife this way and that to admire it. The vampire king would be furious if he knew what Priest planned to do with his precious knife.

  Priest checked the time again. One minute and the moon would send its powerful beam through the eye and into this chamber. Priest readied himself by holding the emerald under the tube where the moonlight would emerge. A sudden movement in the corridor outside the chamber caught his eye. A flash of light and a shadow appeared. Priest grabbed the dagger determined to kill whoever was there. It had to be one of the horrible twins. They had the knack of appearing wherever he least wished them to be.

  A huge shadow formed on the ceiling of the chamber. The shadow hovered over the rusted cage and grew until it covered the ceiling. Shadow arms reached for him and he screamed. Kivunjo had followed him!

  The witch doctor put a tube to his mouth and a dart flew at Priest. He tried to dodge it, but the small feathered dart stuck in the fleshy upper part of his arm. Kivunjo leaped into the room and shrieked a blood-curdling cry that filled Priest with terror. His head swam as he yanked the dart out of his arm. The tip was stained an ominous green. He’d been poisoned.

  Kivunjo laughed a hideous giggle as though he were insane. “Where my dagger, white demon?”

  He spotted Lazarus’s dagger in Priest’s hand and leaped onto the top of the cage. “Mine!” he crowed. “I take it now.”

  Priest fought the tide of darkness spinning toward him. The poison was making him so dizzy. He might be immortal, but this evil little demon had powers. Kivunjo leaped off the cage and grabbed for the dagger. Priest moaned and slipped out of the way in the nick of time. The Coeur de Flamme caught the witch doctor’s yellow eye and he reached for it. Priest stabbed wildly for Kivunjo with the dagger and nicked the witch doctor’s ear. Blood flowed as suddenly the small chamber was filled with blue light. The full moon had reached the right position. Priest had to perform the ritual now or wait another year.

  Chapter 17

  “We must find Priest,” Fenix said to her sister. “He has the skull, the dagger, the emerald and those blasted snail eggs. He’s going to perform the ritual.”

  “Where?” Bryn asked.

  “He must plan to use the chamber under the catacombs. He took me there. There’s an altar and a cage. Everything at that level is ancient.”

  “How do we find it?”

  Fingle walked into the room at that moment. “I be thinking we try the church,” Fingle said. “Down there under that church. I smelled him with my sniffer, I did. He was down there. There’s an entrance somewhere inside Saint Sulpice.”

  “He must be in the chamber with the cage,” Fenix said. “The chamber is really deep under the city. I remember going down and down. I thought the stairs would never end. And when we got to the bottom, we walked along an underground river. I was disoriented when Lazarus brought me out. I’m so sorry, I can’t remember how to get back down there. So many turns and stairs and it was dark.”

  “There’s no time to waste,” Bryn said. “We must leave immediately.” She patted Fenix softly. “Don’t worry, darling, Fingle will find Priest’s secret entrance and then maybe you can recognize something.”

  Quinn lay in her bed covered with the quilt. Babbette had come up from the servant’s quarters with Fingle. She leaned over Quinn helping him drink a sustaining cordial Bryn kept in a carafe on her dresser. He sipped the ruby-red liquid and tried to get up. “I shall go with you.”

  Bryn laid a restraining hand on his chest. “No, you’ll just be in the way. We need to move fast, my dear, and you need to regain your strength. You almost died.”

  Quinn flopped back against the pillows. “I feel so useless, like half a man.”

  “You were right about Priest coming for the skull,” Bryn admitted. “I was wrong. I should have been here to keep you from harm. We might have caught Priest. You’re not useless, my dear. Your brain is marvelous. You were ahead of me. I should have listened to you.”

  Bryn tried to kiss him but he turned his face away. “I need to be with you.”

  “You need to regain your strength. Don’t fight with me about this, Quinn. Stay here. Priest has gone to ground in the catacombs to perform his ritual. We have to stop him. He has that dagger. Lazarus will come for it tomorrow and if I can’t present it to him all is lost. He’ll take Fenix from me.” She took a deep shuddering breath. “I couldn’t bear that, Quinn. You must know it.”

  “Then go,” he snapped. “Leave me here but hurry back for I shall be sick with worry.”

  Bryn managed to place a kiss on his forehead. Fenix was ready to go. “Babbette, look after Quinn and Sam. We will return as quickly as we can.”

  They raced out of the house. Tomlinson was waiting outside with a pair of strange two-wheeled vehicles. “Can you drive this?” Tomlinson asked Fingle.

  “Show me what to do, Mr. Tomlinson, and I’ll manage. There ain’t a carriage or wagon made I can’t drive.”

  “Where did you get these things?” Bryn snapped. “They look dangerous.”

  “An inventor from the Exposition had them on display. He called them motor-bicycles. I bought them from him. Sam and I have added several improvements to the original design and now they are quite fast, hopefully not dangerous.”

  “We’re all going to die,” Bryn pronounced.

  Each two-wheeled vehicle had two tufted black leather seats with a small steam engine mounted behind over the back wheel. Bryn climbed on one behind Fingle and Fenix climbed on the other behind Tomlinson. Tomlinson tapped a foot pedal and the steam engine roared. The brass stack belched black smoke. When Tomlinson released a lever between his knees, the vehicle shot off down the road at a frightening speed. Fingle followed Tomlinson’s example and Bryn hung on for dear life. The machine’s powerful engine propelled the light-weight vehicle through the streets of Paris so fast, tears filled Bryn’s eyes. Tomlinson and Fingle, both wearing thick rubber goggles, wove between wagons and carriages, terrifying horses as they jumped curbs and shot down alleys. Bryn clutched Fingle’s shoulders as they raced toward Saint Sulpice. It seemed like only minutes and they were there. Bryn fell off the back of the machine grateful it had stopped. “Never again,” she said. “I’m not climbing on the back of that thing ever again.”

  “It was amazing!” Fenix crowed. “I loved it.”

  “Now what?” Tomlinson asked.

  “Fingle, find the entrance to the catacombs. It must be inside the church.” Bryn struggled to steady her wobbly legs. What a terrible ride.

  Fingle raced through the arched doorway and they followed. He was deep into his hound mode, nose enormous, ears flapping as he searched the church. He made a beeline for the altar never hesitating, galloped through the sanctuary and into the sacristy where he stopped abruptly at one of the gilded walls and pointed. “Door be here, Miss Bryn. I smells that evil demon. And Miss Fenix done been here, too, but not lately.”

  “Do you smell anyone else?” Bryn was terrified Lazarus would get the dagger himself and she would lose by forfeit.

  Fingle tilted his head. He looked exactly like a puzzled dog. “There is something, a strange smell like ashes and mud and herbs. Not herbs like you use, Miss Bryn, strange plants like from some other country and one of them smells dangerous.”

  “The witch doctor,” Tomlinson piped in. “The whole Negro village smelled like that. Maybe the witch doctor followed Priest. Maybe the dangerous smell is poison.”

  “It doesn’t matter who or what followed Priest,” Bryn said. “As long as it’s not Lazarus. Let’s go.”

  Bryn didn’t have time to dither. She
waved Fenix’s wand at the wall and a door scraped open. “This way,” she cried.

  They thundered down the steep stone stairs into the belly of the catacombs. Bryn fairly flew. She had to get that dagger. This was her last chance. If Priest was down here the dagger was, too. She greatly feared he would break his own curse and become, as he’d wished for centuries, a young man. He would be impossible to contain if he were suddenly young and vigorous.

  When they hit the bottom of the long flight of stairs, Bryn stopped. “Which way?” she asked her sister.

  Fenix lifted her head. “I smell water that way.”

  Fingle nodded. “I hears the rushing river in that direction.”

  Bryn took off running down the passage to the left. The rough stone floor angled gradually down even further under the city. It opened on a river that appeared deep as it surged through a narrow gorge. The ceiling over the river was low and covered with dripping green slime and moss. The water was black and opaque. A strange radiance from the moss lighted the tunnel through which the water flowed as well as the narrow pathway edging the rock wall and the river. “Which way now?” she asked Fenix.

  Her sister looked thoughtful. “Left,” she finally said and pointed down the narrow trail. The stone under their feet was worn smooth by the passage of many feet and dripping water from the ceiling only inches above their heads.

  Bryn didn’t hesitate, she took off at a dead run in that direction. Fenix passed her, stopped abruptly, and dived through a low doorway. Bryn ducked in after her sister and froze. Draak Priest was holding the very dagger she sought and a strange little black man covered in white paint was perched on top of a rusty iron cage. The rough rock ceiling was barely taller than Priest’s head. As Bryn watched with her hand over her mouth, the black man leaped on top of Priest and made a grab for the dagger. Priest seemed disoriented. He tipped over a chalice filled with what looked like pearly-white eggs. The eggs exploded and a hundred tiny black dragons filled the air. Each dragon blew flames as they attacked the black man who screamed and took cover out of reach on the top of the cage. Tomlinson erupted into the chamber and gasped. “The witch doctor!”