“No, never have. Don’t... don’t really like people that much.”
Silence followed.
“Burk?”
Are all the doors and windows locked?
“Yeah, why?”
The woman is back. In the company of fire breathers. Come upstairs quickly and lock every door between you and the garage. Hurry.
Adrenaline shot through Meino at the somber tone in Burkhart’s voice. “The woman? The one you said had an interest in me?”
Yes. Her interest might have been in the magic. She could be a scout.
“Oh, shit.” Meino looked around, wondering if he really had locked all the windows.
Run, my charge, run!
Meino let go of the broom and set into a sprint, closing and locking the door between the garage and the enclosure the Dodge stood in. From there, he continued through to the back door, made sure it was locked and turned off all the lights downstairs by pulling the fuse before climbing the stairs two or three at a time. He then locked the door to his apartment and ran for the terrace door to look out at Burkhart, who was crouching watchfully just outside.
“What do they want?”
Me and your books. If they find them. Pack them and some clothes. And sustenance for your body. I may have to take you away from them.
And just as Meino had gotten used to weird in his life and his mind off the magic books, people came for them. And he was definitely not as collected as he wished he was. His mind wouldn’t even take him to what he needed to put in a bag. His body tried to carry out Burkhart’s order anyway, but halfway through stuffing a bag with clothes, logic kicked in and reminded him he should probably pack clean clothes and not just what was closest.
He emptied the bag again and started over, grousing curses at himself for not being able to think straight.
Then his phone rang and scared him enough to jump.
Easy, little one. The woman has a phone to her ear. It might be her.
“What am I supposed to say?”
Repeat after me if you can’t lie.
“I can’t lie,” Meino said in a pathetic tone, but he answered the phone anyway, trying to sound normal. Not easy when out of breath from being scared. “Meino’s garage.”
“Hello, this is Lora. You helped me with my BMW this week, do you remember?”
“The busted starter, yes.”
“I’m so sorry to call you now, but it’s acting up again, and I really need the car this weekend to go to a meeting.”
Meino’s brain was blank, but Burkhart’s voice broke his thoughts and told him to repeat what he said. Meino did. “I’m sorry, I’m on my way out. Just finishing a shower because I’m going to a restaurant with some friends and family.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll only take a few minutes.”
“Cars never take just a minute. Especially not that model,” Meino said, feeling at home when talking about cars. “Really, you should take it to a BMW workshop.”
“Oh... okay... I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She hung up before Meino had to figure out anything else to say or before Burkhart had more lies for him to pass on.
They’re fifty meters out. Closing in on the front.
Meino felt almost proud of having pulled the fuse, because that meant they wouldn’t be able to make their way inside without flashlights. The downside to an empty garage was that nothing but a broom tossed haphazardly on the floor would slow them down when feeling their way through if they came that way. Or broke in, for that matter.
“Can they feel you?”
They follow magic. Since they come this close to sunset, they probably don’t know I am an animated watchman.
“Oh, shit,” Meino muttered, remembering the fire escape. “They can come up onto the roof. Then they’ll see you.”
Have you packed what I told you?
“No, I’ll do that now.” Meino ran around the place again to stuff his bag with the books and whatever non-perishables he had in the kitchen. He finally grabbed his old sleeping bag from the top of the closet and tied it to the front of the backpack.
They are at the fire escape. Three minutes until sundown. Stall them. Repeat after me if you must.
“Okay.” It was barely a whisper as he turned out the light and brought the bag to the terrace door. From there, he saw three figures come up the stairs to the roof. They stalled—probably when they saw Burkhart. They pointed at the Gargoyle, so it was definitely his presence that had scared them.
Come out. They are not armed with human weapons.
“Human weapons?” Meino muttered to himself but opened the door and stepped out. “Can I help you? This is private property.” Meino could barely make out the three men’s faces, but the light from the street lamps was bright enough to let him see some of them.
“Work clothes. Doesn’t look like you were just finishing a shower,” one of the three men said and stepped forward. The woman wasn’t there. Meino had enough light to make that out.
“Is this about the BMW?” Meino demanded.
“No. It’s about that thing.” The man pointed at the silent watchman by Meino’s side.
Burkhart spoke in Meino’s mind, and Meino repeated. “My Gargoyle? Why the hell ask about a busted BMW if you want to know about some heavy ass heirloom?”
“He’s quite a specimen. Will you sell him?”
“No!”
“We will pay handsomely for it.”
“No! It was willed to me by my great uncle in Florence. It’s been in our family for generations.”
“But Meino Ackermann, you don’t have any family but your mother’s sister and her kids here in Hamburg.”
Cold sweat broke out on Meino’s body. A fierce roar split the darkness, and Burkhart stood.
“It’s alive!” a man yelled, and the men rummaged through their pockets.
Burkhart grabbed Meino around the waist and held him close. “Hold onto the bag, tightly.” With that, Burkhart ran three thundering steps toward the men, then flapped his wings, and Meino became lightheaded as they rose into the night air fast, leaving the shouting men behind on the rooftop.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Meino whimpered and clung onto Burkhart with arms and legs, gripping the bag tightly while the late autumn wind rushed past his ears and chilled his back.
He then remembered what he had forgotten. A coat.
It’s okay, Meino. I got you. They can’t hurt you now.
“You called them fire breathers. Are they the ones you talked about? The ones who feel equal to God?”
It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes.
“What do they want with you?”
Destroy me. They don’t know why we were made and think we are stones possessed by Demons.
Well, that certainly put some perspective on the need to prioritize. Yeah, Meino was cold, and yeah, he hated flying, and yeah, he’d just left his house wide open for those fire breathers to go through if they wanted. But Burkhart was alive because of him, and he was no longer alone. Meino was going to take care of him. No one was going to destroy his Gargoyle. The thought of the Charger was the one regret he couldn’t let go of, though. It and the books were all he had left of his dad.
God, he hoped they’d leave the car alone.
Meino had no idea how long they had flown, but he was cold, scared, and very tired by the time Burkhart landed in a field. Upon looking around, Meino saw a small country church lying isolated in beautiful surroundings.
“We are on hallowed ground. They cannot sense the magic that is me here.”
“Good.” Meino dropped the bag to rub some warmth into his cold limbs. “Where am I going to sleep?”
“Come. A tool shed is located back here, in the cemetery. It will shield you from the cold and give us time to make better plans to keep you safe.”
“Me? What will they do to me? I mean, wouldn’t it be safest to go to the crypt? They didn’t find you there for so many
years.”
“The fire breathers have hurt many humans who think differently from them.” Burkhart picked up the backpack and pointed Meino in a direction. “And now they have the scent of the magic in me. They can follow it. If I go to the crypt, they might be able to follow and destroy the others.”
“Not going there, then.”
They stopped at a locked shed. Burkhart grabbed the padlock and pulled it and the bolt off the door.
Meino scoffed. “Guess locks aren’t a problem for you.”
Burkhart merely smiled and opened the door to let Meino enter first. They helped each other make a bit of room by the wall, and Meino fished out his sleeping bag. It was not going to be a comfortable night. The worst part was that even though Meino felt tired to the bones, his mind wouldn’t stop running in circles. Thoughts he couldn’t shake would probably keep him awake. He’d never been good with mental stress. And again, he missed his garage—missed just being able to go downstairs and fix a car to take his mind off things. That had always been his vent. But it didn’t matter anymore. He had to push those thoughts from his mind because people were after him. After them. People who wanted to take Burkhart away from him. Kill him. Make him stone again.
Meino couldn’t allow that, but how was he going to make sure that didn’t happen?
In the end, he managed to shuffle into the sleeping bag, where he curled up for warmth. Burkhart snuggled up behind him and draped his wing over him to keep the cold at bay.
Meino sighed and relaxed into the embrace. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Meino.”
The warmth of the big body spread into Meino, and he allowed himself a bit of a breather from the rough beginning to the trip.
As expected, his mind kept running in circles, listing all the heartache of leaving everything he had worked so hard for behind and all the hassle of having to choose only a few belongings. What if they burned down his place? His Charger? He pushed those thoughts away once again and focused on the warmth and strength holding him. He’d come to feel safe around the big Gargoyle. He was no longer afraid of him or felt as weirded out about a being of stone coming to life. He had brought it to life, so he was responsible for Burkhart.
He’d focus on that. And on how to get to their next destination on foot, because flying again was not an option.
Chapter Eleven
Why did it have to be so difficult? Rebecca already knew that Alex Rhoden kept to himself. It wasn’t something she’d known when she’d been sent there with Tavi to figure out who the Collector was, and she still couldn’t believe that it was that intelligent, eloquent, and hardworking loner.
That was the worst part, actually. First of all, a man of his intelligence should know that what he and his kind collected of worldly possessions were of the Devil. Maybe he didn’t believe it? But why then would the intel on him say he attended mass so often? Was it all a ruse? Did he even believe in God, or was it just to keep up appearance?
She didn’t know—it wasn’t for her to know or question. She had her orders, and the ones sending her to do God’s work knew enough to send her. It was important she keep her mind on the task and not let herself be distracted by irrelevant details. That was the reason for the structure—both in Heaven and in the Church. She had faith in that.
But today, she struggled. So did Tavi. She figured as much after they’d both gone through his notes on the different possible Collectors, and the note on Alex Rhoden was not one she would have picked up on, either.
Since their time-consuming yet fruitless search through the notes, they’d both struggled with their faith in how the information had been handed to them. They had prayed for strength to believe it all for the best, and they had asked God to help them find sense and purpose in the difficult task.
But why did that man have to be so difficult? Over the past weeks, Rebecca had been in study group with him. She had even stepped up the flirtation, reassured by Father that God’s task at keeping such dangerous knowledge from the profaners was so important that she would, of course, be forgiven her ways because she was a soldier of God.
From there to actually letting a man touch her was a different matter, though. She had not found peace in that yet. And Alex seemed uninterested in what her body had to offer of worldly pleasure. Was he pure? Could he be, if he collected power from the Devil?
Having just come home from another study group where she felt like a harlot for the amount of interest she’d shown in Alex Rhoden, she decided it was time to pray long and hard on how to proceed.
God would show her the way. God would speak to her in her dreams. God would provide.
Chapter Twelve
Gershman’s classes were always Nathan’s favorite. Today was no different, and Gershman seemed to have something special up his sleeve. The old professor stood by the desk with a secretive smile on his face. So patient, so good-natured, and so humorous.
“I know I gave you all an assignment two weeks ago, and I know you are all working very hard on that particular assignment.” Gershman’s expression said it all, and Nathan was far from the only student sniggering at the obvious sarcasm in the old man’s expression.
Nathan had already finished said assignment and looked forward to what the old professor had up his sleeve. Gershman waved his hand, and three students began distributing books. Nathan looked up when the student stopped at Nathan’s seat and looked at a list. He then looked through his stack of books, which, to Nathan’s surprise, were not of one title. The young man handed Nathan a book and continued on to the next student, while Nathan turned his attention to the old tattered thing in his hands. He couldn’t help himself—he smelled the binding. Old, dusty, and the lingering smell of being stored among other old books. He loved that smell and almost rolled his eyes in delight.
Instead, he glanced at Gershman, finding the old man smiling at him. Oh yeah, he had a kindred spirit there. Curious at what the old man had found for him—and apparently found specifically for him—Nathan looked up the colophon.
The book was gold.
During their conversation a few weeks earlier, when Nathan had asked about Alex Rhoden, the professor had diverted their subject to the assignment, and they had gone on for hours about everything from a to z in any library. For a moment, Nathan wondered whether their conversation had inspired the old man’s choice.
Either way, a lexicon on occult alphabets was just what Nathan wanted.
“My idea for this little assignment is that I’d like each and every one of you to look at the book presented to you,” Gershman said, spreading his arms. “I don’t expect you to read it, but I do want your thoughts on whatever subject has landed on your table. I want to learn about your point of view.”
Gold. Nathan couldn’t see it as anything but.
“Man, I’m glad he doesn’t expect me to read this. I mean, pictographic secrets are exciting and all, but I wouldn’t be able to read six hundred pages in a week with all the other books we get,” the guy next to Nathan said.
“I know what you mean,” Nathan said, holding up his book. “A lexicon.”
The guy scoffed and turned his attention to his own book with a far more grateful look than what he’d been sporting a moment ago. Listening in on the others, it sounded like Gershman had made the effort to find gold for each and every student. A few girls not far from Nathan whispered excitedly enough to gather the interest of several others, and the room soon hummed with low conversation.
“Oh, Lucien, I’m gonna feel so bad for getting this book,” Nathan muttered, feeling his lover’s essence settle in him. “I’m so gonna make it up to you, though.”
“What?” the guy next to his asked, ruining Nathan’s further fantasies.
“Nothing, I was speaking to myself.”
“Oh.”
Nathan tried to focus on what Professor Gershman was saying, but his mind was already snapping hungrily at the contents of the book, and Nathan f
ound himself leafing through it, sharing his attention between Gershman as he outlined the plan for the next week and the book.
A mark on a page stood out, catching all of Nathan’s attention. He’d seen it before. Lucien had tried to teach him some memory tricks to better his photographic memory, and some of it had stuck. But not enough. That particular mark, though, he’d seen it enough times to remember and even where—it was on Lucien’s chain.
Adrenaline shot through Nathan as eagerness and hope welled up inside of him. He didn’t even manage to think his thought through before he stood resolutely. “Professor, would you excuse me for the rest of the class?” he asked, his eyes glued to the picture in the book.
“That is for you to prioritize, Mr. Grewe,” Professor Gershman said.
“Thank you.” Nathan barely looked up from the page as he stuffed his bag with everything except the new book, and he left class with an essence filled with eagerness and a heart full of hope at finally having stumbled upon something that could help him keep his promise to the Shadows of the Order. To free them.
* * * *
Nathan was back in deep reading mode, and Lucien watched from the shadows while Nathan spread books all over the floor, crawled around to find what he needed, and took notes. It never ceased to amaze Lucien how engaged Nathan was or how focused he could be. He didn’t even mind it anymore, because when Nathan focused on Lucien, it was the same. It made him feel like the center of his lover’s universe.
That Nathan could feel the need to make it up to him warmed his heart, too. Nathan was really good at dropping everything to redirect his focus on Lucien when he needed it.
Lucien remembered the first time he’d seen Nathan work like that. It had been while hiding in a motel room after the Thule member had found Nathan in the basement of the auction house. Remembering that the only thing not covered in books back then had been the bed made him smile. They’d had research sex in the middle of all the books to not let the squeaky bed give away their actions.
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