by Alex Archer
Outside her room, it sounded as if someone was in the hallway. A creak of the floorboards broke the silence.
Annja frowned. She hoped Gregor wasn’t coming to proposition her again.
Part of her wanted nothing but the release a sexual dalliance would grant her. It could be a great way to work off all the excess adrenaline from the day’s adventures. And she had to admit that Gregor wasn’t a bad prospect. He certainly had the body for it. And he had a quick mind, as well.
I wonder how much of what he told me tonight was the truth?
Another creak outside her door made her stop.
There was no way that Gregor could move that quietly in the drunken state he was in.
Unless he was playing drunk.
Annja frowned again. Why would he pretend to be drunk? That didn’t make any sense. Khosadam was dead and gone and they were going to leave as soon as possible. They’d had a celebratory dinner, almost a send-off for them.
No, Gregor hadn’t been lying about overdrinking—of that she felt sure.
But who was in the hallway?
The wind rattled a shutter against the side of her bedroom window, and Annja almost jumped out of her bed. She took a breath and leaned back, straining her ears to listen.
This is just like last night, she decided.
Maybe the inn is haunted.
No, she thought. Too many superstitions were floating around for her pragmatic mind to endure. She was falling for any little tale that came up, and it was starting to annoy her.
She turned over in the bed and closed her eyes. I’ll see Gregor in the morning and ask him then, she decided.
Then she heard another creak in the hallway. And then a thump.
Annja sat up in bed. “Hello?”
Her voice sounded higher from the anxiety she felt. She realized it sounded ridiculous to even break the silence like that. She rolled out of bed and crept toward her door. She heard nothing outside in the corridor.
The doorknob felt cold to the touch, but she gently turned it. I’ll just go check on Gregor and make sure he’s okay, she thought. Then it will be back into bed and off to dreamland.
Her door opened and Annja stepped out into the corridor. No more sounds reached her ears from downstairs. The innkeeper must have finished cleaning and gone to bed, as well.
Everything seemed silent.
Annja padded down the hallway, her feet making little noise as she moved. Once she stepped on a loose floorboard, but after adjusting her weight, she traveled the rest of the way in silence.
A line of sweat broke out along her hairline as she reached the end of the hallway and stood in front of Gregor’s door.
Am I sweating out of fear or excitement? she wondered. She grinned. This will be like Gregor’s best wish come true when I walk in there to check on him.
I wonder if he’s wearing anything? Annja shook her head. Enough. Open the door, check on Gregor and then get back to bed. There’s a lot to do tomorrow.
Annja reached out for Gregor’s doorknob. It felt warm.
A thought crossed her mind as Annja turned the doorknob. The door slid open and she stepped inside Gregor’s room.
Ahead of her, she could see the bed. Gregor had drawn the covers up, over his body.
She smiled.
The wind banged another shutter against the side of the inn, and Annja moved to the window to close the drapes. No sense waking him when the sun comes up first thing, she thought.
She looked at him sleeping and realized she couldn’t hear any breathing.
“Gregor?”
She moved to his side and shook him.
A pillow fell out from under the covers.
Annja tore back the blankets and saw the rest of the pillows bunched up to make a line in the bed.
Gregor was gone.
26
Annja ran downstairs. After shouting for the innkeeper a number of times, the sleepy-eyed man came out of his room.
“What is it?”
Annja pointed upstairs. “Gregor is gone. Have you seen him?”
“Not since you and he left me with a pile of dishes to clean. Now I am going back to bed.” He turned to leave.
Annja grabbed him by the arm. “You don’t understand. Gregor was drunk when I took him up to bed. There’s no way he could have made it down the stairs without making a ruckus.”
The innkeeper sighed. “So, what are you saying?”
“Someone must have taken him.”
The innkeeper grinned. “Are you joking with me, miss?”
“No, I’m not.”
The innkeeper pointed at the front door. “Do you see that plank? It is five inches thick and ten feet long. Nothing is getting through that door. And nothing has gotten through that door since you and Gregor came back this evening.”
“Don’t you have a back door?” Annja asked.
The innkeeper shook his head. “When Khosadam started hunting people in the village, we boarded it up and moved a shelf in front of it. It is as impenetrable as the front door.”
“What about windows, then? Surely the windows down here open.”
“They are all bolted when winter comes around.”
“Could someone have unbolted them?”
“Who would do such a thing?”
Annja looked at him. “What about you?”
The innkeeper shook his head. “You had also a lot to drink tonight, yes? Perhaps you should go back to bed. I am willing to bet that in the morning, your friend Gregor will be right back where you left him.”
Annja leaned back. “You don’t believe me.”
The innkeeper sighed. “I am very tired.”
Annja ran back upstairs and threw on her clothes and parka. Then she stomped back downstairs to find the innkeeper huddled over a cup of coffee. Annja cleared her throat and pointed to the front door. “Open it.”
The innkeeper’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me. Open the door. I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I’m going to look for my friend with or without your help.”
“It is freezing outside. If you wish to go out, you will do so alone.”
“Fine,” Annja growled.
The innkeeper grumbled but got to his feet. He shuffled over to the wooden plank and grunted as he lifted it. He set it down next to the door and then looked at Annja. “Once I let you out, I am putting this back in place. You will not be able to get back in here until after sunup. Do you understand?”
Annja pulled her hat and gloves on. “Just open the door.”
The innkeeper shook his head but slid back the bolt on the door. As soon as he cracked it, a gust of wind blew it all the way open, sending a barrage of snow inside that pelted Annja and the innkeeper in the face.
Annja stalked past the innkeeper out into the night.
The man had been right. The temperature felt as if it was at least ten below. Annja pulled up the collar on her parka and turned into the wind, taking a face full of snow as she did so.
She stared at the ground.
There were no footprints of any kind marking their way through the drifts. And while it was snowing heavily enough, it hadn’t been long enough to cover any prints.
There had to be another way out of the inn. But how could she find it?
Annja turned and looked around the village. Every light was off. Every window was dark. She turned and looked down the main street. A glint of dull yellow burned through one of the windows in the church.
Father Jakob?
Annja started walking toward the church. Perhaps he was still up. Maybe he was even still grieving about the creature.
If nothing else, maybe he would be able to shed some light on what might have happened to Gregor. He seemed to have good insight into people, and he had known Gregor for a number of years. Plus, she couldn’t go back to the hotel.
As Annja waded through the snowdrifts, her boots left twin lines in her wake. She kept her head down to ward off the wind. Why wou
ld Gregor have gone out on a night like this? Annja shook her head. No, that was stupid. He was too drunk to do so. Someone must have taken him.
Annja reached the church. She slipped on the first step, falling back into the snow. She brushed herself off as another gale of wind blasted her in the face. She could feel the snow melting on her skin as her breath made steam clouds in front of her.
She mounted the steps again and made her way to the porch. She could still see faint light coming from somewhere inside.
Annja knocked on the door.
She knocked again, this time louder until she could hear her pounding over the snowy wind.
No one seemed to stir from within the church.
Annja turned away from the door. Maybe she could walk around the church to see if she could look into any of the windows. If Father Jakob was still awake, he might hear her if she banged on a window.
At the bottom of the steps, she turned right and walked along next to the church. She could see the light better now, and it seemed to be coming from the kitchen at the back of the church.
Annja continued until she reached the back window. It was too high to see in through. She needed something to stand on.
Across the yard, she spotted some overturned wooden barrels. She rolled one over and placed it in front of the window. She tapped it down into the snow, hoping that the buttressing would help support her weight.
Here goes nothing, she thought. And she jumped onto the barrel and stood up on it. She could see a single candle flickering on the kitchen table. But no Father Jakob.
Where is he? Annja tapped on the window. Nothing moved within the church.
I’ve got to get in there, she thought. But there were bars on the kitchen window. So much for that.
Annja hopped down from the barrel and walked around to the front of the church again. By the front door, there was a window to the side that she presumed was the office for the church.
It’s not like I’m breaking stained glass, she thought as she elbowed her way through the window. Pieces of glass shattered on the floor inside the church.
Annja felt for the window catch, found it and then eased the window up so she could squeeze through.
The wind howled inside the church, as well, now that she’d broken the pane. But Annja managed to get through and found herself on a threadbare carpet in the office.
She stood and looked around. A small battered desk and chair stood in the corner. The outside wind scattered the papers that were on top of it. Aside from the desk, bookshelves lined the wall. But the writing was all Cyrillic and Annja couldn’t read any of it.
She found the door to the main part of the church and turned the knob. She closed the office door behind her. At least she could keep the wind contained.
Annja passed the pews and looked around. Churches at night always made her nervous. With nothing going on inside them, they seemed so dark and inhospitable. The statues, the candles and the faces all peering down at her made her distinctly uncomfortable.
She walked down the aisle, running her hands over the rough-hewn wood of the pews. She could see hymn books stacked neatly just inside on the benches themselves.
All around her, the church lay dormant. Annja wondered when mass was. She’d forgotten to ask Father Jakob about that. Not that she was exactly a churchgoing kind of woman, but she did like to cover her bases.
Annja shook her head. Forget about that for now, she told herself. We’re supposed to be looking for Father Jakob so he can help us find Gregor.
She heard a noise in the back of the church. “Father Jakob?” she called out.
Annja waited, but nothing sounded in reply.
“Father Jakob?”
Outside, the wind battered the church with more snow and ice. Annja shivered in spite of herself. The church was cold and her breath still made steam in front of her face.
Another noise sounded in the kitchen. Maybe he’s hard of hearing, she thought. Maybe he takes a hearing aid off each night and doesn’t know I’m here. He could be back there enjoying some coffee.
Coffee sounded good to her.
She walked farther down the aisle.
She heard another noise in the kitchen. This time it sounded like a door opening.
The door to the root cellar?
Annja licked her lips. Her throat felt dry. “Hello?”
She stood still, but heard nothing. She kept walking toward the altar. Beyond it, the door to the kitchen beckoned. She passed the altar and headed for the door. She grabbed the doorknob and turned it.
Inside the kitchen, she saw the candle she’d seen from outside.
It had been extinguished.
Annja felt the wax. It was still warm and pliable. Whoever had blown out the candle had done so only recently. Was it Father Jakob? Had he heard her and hidden? Maybe he didn’t know it was her.
A sound from the main church made her jump.
Annja turned and walked back through the door into the church. From where she stood, the darkness and the faint light from the snow outside twisted together, forming intricate shadows that seemed to grow and shrink with every breath.
Annja’s eyes searched the depths of the church, but she could see nothing.
She turned.
A thunderous explosion slammed into her head and Annja dropped as more blackness raced for her.
27
A steady drumming in her head woke her. Annja groaned as she tried to open her eyes. Fortunately, bright lights that might have made her wince didn’t greet her. Instead, she woke in total darkness.
She couldn’t move.
I’m on my back. Tied down? She flexed her wrists and found them bound somehow, as were her legs.
Her parka had vanished, but she still had her sweater and pants on. She shivered, aware that she was cold.
But where was she?
Annja closed her eyes again, straining her ears for any sound that might help her figure out her location. But she heard very little.
No wind. No sounds of shutters banging into the sides of windows.
Am I underground?
A thought came at her. Maybe Khosadam had knocked her out and dragged her back into the root cellar. Maybe Annja was going to be the next meal.
No, I killed that thing, she recalled.
Whoever had knocked her out, it wasn’t Khosadam.
But who did that leave? Father Jakob? Annja sighed. The old priest didn’t seem a likely candidate. He could barely move earlier when she and Gregor had come up from the root cellar. His body was old and looked racked with arthritis.
Gregor?
It wouldn’t be the first time a guy had double-crossed her.
In the darkness, Annja couldn’t see what bound her hands and feet. She worked her fingers, trying to get at the knots, but it was impossible. Someone who knew how to restrain humans had bound her wrists. Another sign that it was probably Gregor.
Bastard!
Annja shook her head. And to think, I almost slept with him. God knows what would have happened if I had.
She listened again. Now that her ears had adjusted a little bit more to her environment, she could pick up small sounds. And from what she heard, it definitely seemed likely that she was somewhere underground.
But where?
She and Gregor had explored the cave in the mountains that led to the tunnel to the root cellar and up into the back of the church. Was it possible that an entire network existed? And that it ran under the town?
Annja thought about it. It made sense. Considering the history of the area, perhaps there’d been some sort of underground railroad set up for refugees from the Kolyma mines. Maybe workers who fled hid out under the town.
And if there was an underground network, then that might explain how Gregor had disappeared. Maybe there was a secret entrance into the tunnels from the inn itself.
Annja nodded. It could happen.
But how did Gregor know about it? And how did he know where to look? He was
with Bob and Annja for most of the time except at night. And Annja didn’t know if that would be enough time to discover the secret entrance.
More to the point, why would Gregor be doing this? What did he hope to gain from it all? Was he working on another agenda entirely?
I’ve got to get out of here, she thought. There’s got to be something I can do to loosen these bonds and slip out. If Gregor is behind this, then I don’t trust him to keep me alive much longer.
Especially since he knows about the sword.
Annja slumped back. He knows about it. Why the hell did I take it out when he was around? Gregor knowing she had the sword meant he would make damned sure that she couldn’t bring her hands together and grab it from wherever it waited.
She heard a sound in the darkness. Annja stiffened. Was someone in the room with her? Was it Gregor? Was he here already to kill her?
Annja waited, straining her eyes to see. But the room was absolutely dark and she couldn’t see anything at all.
Another noise, which sounded like someone shifting. Annja’s throat felt dry again, although the steady drumming in her head seemed to be waning.
“Hello?” she called out.
It came out as a croak, but Annja felt better at least making a noise. She wasn’t going to be surprised again on this trip. Better to let them know she knew they were there.
“Hello?” she called out.
“Ughhh.”
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“Annja?”
Annja stopped. It couldn’t be. There was no way.
“Bob?”
He chuckled but it came out sounding weird.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Annja’s eyes felt burning hot and sticky. “It can’t be…. I saw you…. You died in my arms!”
“I thought so, too. I guess we were wrong,” he said.
Annja shook her head. “How can this be? Where are we?”
“I don’t know. I woke up a few hours ago, felt like hell and then someone came in and gave me something. I passed out again.”
“Are you in a bed?”
“I think so, but I’ve got some straps around me. I can’t move.”
“I’m tied down, too,” she said.
“Damn.”
