by Peter Dawes
Robin sighed at my interruption, exhaling a breath slowly before regaining his composure. “It has its own form of aesthetic beauty,” he said. “The skill of craftsmanship given over to the carvings alone… I can’t imagine replicating that seven times over with just as much precision.” I glanced up in time to see his head lift as well, our eyes meeting. “But to answer your question, no, the art of that time usually bore a concrete style to it. Predominately Christian.”
“Well, there is a bit of that as well.” I flipped the box so that the cross faced Robin, perking an eyebrow at my brother.
He furrowed his brow. Putting down the parchments, he reached for the complementary box and looked it over as well. This freed me to continue my criticism of the design. “The trim over here bears an entirely different style from the others,” I observed, “Not that I have much idea what style that might be.”
Robin hummed. “Yes, I see what you’re saying now. They managed to make this decorative enough that its finer embellishments fade into the background. They are, however, very contradictory designs.”
“Perhaps they could not make up their minds.” Opening the lid, I peered inside the box, focused first on the hollow space which allowed the scroll to sit nicely within the box’s confines. Empty, it bore nothing of note, causing my sight to jump up to the underside of the lid. As it did, though, I froze.
“Brother.” I blurted the term of endearment before I could stop myself and lifted to a stand, closing the short distance between me and where my brother sat. I felt his gaze settle on me while I sat on the arm of the chair and reached to open the lid of his artifact. When I saw the same adornment, I barked out a laugh “The markings are identical,” I said.
Robin raised an eyebrow when I glanced up at him. “Yes, I am not surprised whoever planted them would place them in matching containers.”
“Ah, but there is more to it.” I touched the engraving – an etching in gold of the same god which had been carved into the stone door of the crypt in Srinagar. A bright smile surfaced, excitement racing through me like quicksilver. “I saw that marking at the ruins where I procured this box.”
“You did?” Robin tilted the box toward his line of sight, pulling it up to study the engraving closer. “That is Ganesha. The Lord of obstacles in Hinduism.”
“Of removing them or putting them into place?”
“Both, as the situation calls for.”
“He was on the door blocking entry into the ruins.”
“Well, isn’t that curious?” Robin shut the lid, studying the top and brushing another etching with his thumb. He shook his head. “A marking on this box and on the gateway to where the seventh scroll was being kept.”
“Do you think that might be the case with all of them?” I asked, glancing over at my brother.
He shrugged. “As good of a theory as any,” he said. “We would have to find the other sites to know for certain, but now I am beginning to think I was remiss in ignoring the container itself.”
“These might be the other locations.” Zachary’s words to us echoed in my thoughts, bringing me to my feet again. I turned to face Robin. “The secret is in the box.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He chuckled, turning it upside down to regard the cross once more. “A Western European cross. Might be Rome for all we know, or somewhere near the Holy See. The column is Corinthian–” He righted the box and spun it to its side. “So, not Neoclassical, but Classical itself. That makes Greece.”
I tapped the Celtic knot. “Ian acquired his in Scotland.”
“That he did.” A smile danced across his lips as he examined the remainder of the box. “This etching is a Hebraic word. And this pattern is Slavic. Perhaps even Hungarian. Blessed providence at that, I happen to…” He trailed off, the delight in his expression slowly fading in a conspicuous manner.
He continued scanning the box’s exterior in silence. I perked an eyebrow at the swift transition. “What is it, brother?” I asked. “You were saying you happen… Happen to what?”
Robin did not answer me at first. He seemed focused on a different engraving, at first leading me to wonder if he had spontaneously gone both deaf and mute. Finally he sighed and looked back at me. “I know a coven master in Romania,” he said. “Though I hesitate to pull him into this sordid mess.”
My posture relaxed. I set the box down and plucked my cigarette from where I had deposited it, tapping the ash from its end first. “Is he aligned with anybody questionable?”
“Hardly. The man would sooner rip out the heart of a dark magician than curry favor with him.” Robin placed his artifact down as well and folded his hands together on his lap. “I met him through my travels with Sabrina, and her behavior toward him was strained, at best. I would have to explain too much about her demise for my taste and this man doesn’t take well to lying.”
“That does not seem a reason to hold back on paying him a visit.” I brought the cigarette to my lips and drew deeply from it. “If you hesitate to see him, then you do not have to. He has not met me yet.”
“Surely you are not suggesting you should talk with him alone.”
“Why not?”
“You are not equipped to play this game.” He frowned. “Peter, you seek so much to keep your hands clean, you have forgotten how to dirty them a little. And you would have to do far more than walk into his quarters and ask if he’s seen any suspicious ruins recently. Grigore is older and sharper than any vampire with whom you have dealt before. I daresay even I am not skilled enough to outthink him.”
I smirked. “I think you sell yourself short, brother. And me for that matter.”
“The answer is no. You are not going there by yourself.”
“Since when are you my keeper?” I took another draw of the cigarette and reached forward to extinguish it, fighting the urge to glare at my brother. “I thought you my ambassador, not my master.”
“I am your elder. And as your elder, I refuse to endorse this.”
“As a seer, I say try and stop me.”
Robin bristled visibly when we made eye contact again. I shimmied back in my seat and he crossed his legs, resting an elbow on the arm of his chair. “I thought you trusted my counsel,” he said. “Since when has that failed to be the case?”
“Since you have tried to assert your vampire authority over a mission entrusted to me by the Fates.” I extended a hand, pointing at the boxes. “I asked for the next piece of the puzzle and it was given to me. You even know a coven master in the area of one of these bloody things.”
“And I need time to finish my work, brother.”
“I am trying to give you time to finish your work. Allow me to go ahead of you so you might stay behind and translate what you have.” I frowned. “You act as though I am hurrying you along, when this could not be any further from the truth. I simply have no desire to linger here like a useless tool.”
My brother laughed, the tone of his voice acerbic. “This is absurd. And still proves you are a neophyte vampire in that you fail to see just how absurd this is.”
“I beg your pardon. Have we switched to condescension now?”
“Yes. Since you shifted from trust to mistrust, I have taken to question which brain is doing your thinking for you.”
“Bastard.” Coming to a stand, this time with much slower, more deliberate motions, I summoned a tight-lipped smile as the scowl on his face relaxed. “If you shall excuse me, I am going to shower at last. Apparently my sense of humor with regard to your constant derision of me and my motives is lacking tonight.”
“Go hifreann leat.” He spat the words, but as I turned away from him, he stood as well. I heard him pursue me, his tone of voice much softer when he added, “Brother, now is not the time to be petulant.”
“You may wish to inform yourself of that fact,” I said, not deterred from storming away in the slightest. Rounding a corner into one of the short corridors of the house, I disappeared inside the one which had been assigned to me
and shut the door. Only the mercy of the Fates prevented me from slamming it shut and although I felt the temptation to make up for it with the bathroom door, I held back. Instead, I stood in the small, enclosed area, taking a few moments to allow my anger to dissipate before turning on the shower. Steam enveloped me, yet I stood fully clothed for interminable minutes.
I did not think the suggestion unreasonable, nor did I intend to get so irate with Robin. At the same time, I disliked having to remain in place. Aggravated, I finally began the task of disrobing, stepping under the searing hot water once naked and turning down the temperature to something more reasonable. I frowned while cleaning myself, a hint of guilt nipping at me to accompany the justifiable anger. He could have at least listened to my side of matters. Would that have been so much to ask?
“No, it is not,” I murmured to myself before washing myself off and shutting off the tap. Stepping out of the stall, I grabbed for one of the towels, drying off while resigned to call the Order again and involve them further in my business. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I collected my soiled clothing, grateful that we had acquired another suit in Portland prior to leaving. I would take mine out and place a call to Seattle for transportation to somewhere in Romania. My brother did not wish himself involved with playing ambassador any longer?
So be it, I thought.
I emerged from the bathroom, so incensed that the sight of Robin sitting on my bed took me aback. He stared at his hands, shoulders slumped and a frown of defeat shadowing his countenance. “You will have to pose as an elder,” Robin said, punctuating the words with a sigh. “It’s the only way anyone will tell you anything.”
When he looked up at me, I felt a knot form in my stomach. That seedling of guilt grew into fruition, blossoming once I realized how long my brother must have been sitting there. A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth. “I can attempt it,” I said, perking an eyebrow. “I know my quirks make it rather difficult, but you said it yourself. I used to enjoy a ruse.”
“Flynn used to enjoy a ruse.” His gaze shifted away from mine, focusing on the wall in front of him. “And was rather accomplished at it. If I have any doubt, it’s that I don’t know entirely what motivates Peter. Aside from his witch.”
“I shall not take offense to the presumption. In part because you are not entirely wrong and not completely right.” Pulling the bathroom door closed, I walked closer to Robin and stopped. When he failed to meet my eyes again, my frown deepened. “Brother, you used to teach me the things I needed to know before sending me on my way, but you let me go without argument.”
“Mostly, I let you go because Sabrina would have pitched a fit. And you wouldn’t have listened to me anyway.”
“Not so much different, then, am I?”
He swallowed hard and finally lifted his gaze toward mine. I did not know how to read his expression, and hesitated to speculate. “You are night and day, Peter. But I suppose light always accompanies darkness and darkness, light.”
My expression evened. I padded over to the piece of luggage we had acquired with which to house my clothing and crouched to open it. “I am hardly an assassin any longer, that much is for certain.”
“A seer of the Supernatural Order, where once there had been the Devil’s son.”
“A bit melodramatic, brother.” Shooting him a quick glance, I attempted a smirk but noticed his eyes distant again. It forced me to regroup, my attention lingering on the suitcase. “Speaking of which,” I said after a significant pause, “I believe I am going to lean on their good graces again. If you approve of me going to… was it Romania?”
“Romania,” he said. “Bucharest.” Robin sighed. “I loathe the idea of you leaning upon their good graces for travel again.”
“So do I, but either I do this, or send myself via coffin. At least I can take the trains to anywhere else in Europe I might need to venture.”
Extracting a fresh change of clothing, I stood again and caught my brother looking at me again. The tenor of his gaze remained unreadable, his voice all the more subdued. “Are you to see the rest of this mission out without me?”
“Heavens no, Robin.” I perked an eyebrow. “I should like to think when you have whatever tools you shall need for the remainder of our travels, that you would be rejoining me.”
He nodded once, his shoulders relaxing and the air around him shifting. Robin took a deep breath. “Very well, then. In return, I ask that you keep in contact with me.”
“You have my promise that I shall.”
“And, for the record, travel by coffin isn’t as bad as you think. I would favor it over that would-be torture chamber we flew in.”
When he finally grinned at me, I felt a wave of relief and shot my brother a goodnatured glare, intending to bring us back to our normal tenor. “No. Bloody. Coffins.” I wagged my finger at him before disappearing into the bathroom. The distinct sound of him laughing accompanied the creak of my mattress as I heard him settle himself onto my bed. Grumbling softly, I set out my clothing in the modest amount of space I had available and started dressing. “What can you tell me about Romania?” I asked. “If I am to play an elder as you have advised.”
A pause preceded his response. “I haven’t been there in half a century or better, Peter,” he finally managed. “I am not sure my experiences there will help you.”
“How are you certain, then, that your former acquaintance will still be there?”
“Because his coven has been there for the better part of two centuries. It would take the complete destruction of Bucharest itself for him to relocate. Grigore was hospitable, though. If you can manage your former talent for deception, he might be knowledgeable enough to give you some idea of what we might be looking for.”
I perked an eyebrow, stepping into my boxers first, and then reaching for my pants. “Provided he cares much for sharing those sorts of details.”
“This is why I wish you would linger a few extra days and wait for me to join you. Loathe as I am to discuss Sabrina with somebody, I would prefer it to this.”
“I mean it when I say I would go mad, dear brother.” Sighing, I pulled my pants up to my waist and reached for my red shirt. Each arm threaded through a shirtsleeve, fabric hanging from my shoulders. My gaze strayed to the sole mirror in the bathroom for a few lingering seconds, taking in the reflection which should not have been present as I stopped to think. “What sorts of questions would you recommend I ask?”
Robin sighed. “This gentleman? We’re touching upon old memories, dear brother, but my best advice would be to remain cordial and attentive. Find the spaces in which to issue the questions which come naturally. A lot of this is dependent on you acting the part of a confident vampire, so be warned you are going to be asked to feed with them and not turn your nose up at it. Do so, however, and you would gain his trust.”
“If I must, then I must.” A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth, fingers beginning the task of fastening buttons. I glanced away from the mirror. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do, I suppose.”
“More like, ‘When in Rome, be a Roman.’ You won’t win any favor being indecisive.”
“Point noted.” I fell silent, allowing the rest of my time dressing to be spent in silence. As I emerged from the bathroom, I shut off the light and shot my brother a smile. He lay exactly as I envisioned him, hands folded on his stomach, a pensive look on his face. I nudged his shoulder as I sat beside him on the bed. “I shall be fine. Continue your work here, and then join me when you are finished.”
His gaze strayed to me briefly before returning to the ceiling. “I have nothing better to do while here.”
“Which should make the time pass faster.”
“One would hope.” He turned his head, allowing our eyes to intersect for a longer stare. “I apologize for my cutting remarks, but brother, I do want to make certain your wits are properly in the game. I know how difficult it must be to be separated from your witch, but I fear your shortsightedness is abo
ut to get you into trouble.”
Tension settled in the air again. I fought to ignore it. “What about it do you fear?”
He mirrored my frown. “I fear everything. There are some situations you can’t fight your way out of with a sword. And should you fail, I will not be close at hand to come and rescue you.”
“You shall not always be present when I make mistakes. Nor should you expect to be.”
“Granted,” he said. Our gazes remained locked in a stalemate. I watched his Adam’s apple bob, my brother choking back something before he sat up and rose to a stand. The smile he summoned was painted on, at best. “You will have to do something about those eyes of yours. Attempt to summon some of Flynn’s fancy for the game. I know how much you despise those sunglasses, but they will be a necessity.”
I nodded, just as a curious thought crossed my mind. My brow furrowed and his creased to follow suit, both of us locked in a stalemate while I realized I had options. “No,” I said. “Actually, I can do better than that.” Lifting to a stand, I led a procession down the hallway and back to where I had left my coat. Plucking it from the back of the couch, I folded it in the crook of my arm and turned to face Robin.
His face still held the same expression of befuddlement. “Where are you off to so soon?” he asked.
“To see a friend about the matter of my eyes.” My lips curled in a mischievous grin. “I promise to be back before sunrise.”
“Very well,” Robin managed, but I had already spun for the door and exited out without another word exchanged between the two of us. Light, yet purposeful, steps lead me onward, toward where Darshan and Kamini resided. Granted, I did not have my watcher, and heaven only knew how much I would have rather asked Monica to carry out the notion which had crossed my mind.
