Sixth Seal

by Thornbrugh, Josh

  If there had been any color left in Ana’s face, it disappeared when the Doctor spoke those words.

  “That’s the address that Lee told me to go to right before…” She handed the paper to the Doctor.

  His brows furrowed as he looked over it. He slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “What do you know about the Horsemen?”

  “Only what Lee told me. They’re a powerful organization with agents all over the world. They know of the book’s power and they want to unleash it for their own ends.”

  The Doctor seemed to think about that for a moment. “I think we need to get somewhere safe and think about what to do next. These people are obviously very dangerous and very resourceful. From what I’ve seen, they will stop at nothing.”

  “Where can we go? I don’t know anyone here.”

  He patted her knee again. “Don’t you worry, Ana. I have an old friend in Kronberg. He has a country estate. I don’t think anyone will think to look for us there, especially the police.” He gave her a knowing look.

  “That’s good. I’m probably not very popular with the local police at the moment. I think they might have gotten your tag number back there.”

  “I shouldn’t worry. We’ll be off the road soon.”

  The buildings thinned out a bit, and for the first time, Ana could see a highway. They paralleled it for a time before the Doctor took a ramp and merged into traffic. She settled back into the seat and tried to make sense of events.

  “You never did tell me how you happened to find me?”

  The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I?”

  Ana shook her head.

  “Well, it’s quite by accident actually. I was heading back toward the airport to look for you when I decided to stop at a cafe for some coffee. Just as I came back out, I heard sirens and a crash. I was heading toward the commotion to investigate when I ran into you.” He chuckled. “Quite literally.”

  Ana laughed with him, but something in the back of her mind gnawed at her. She just wasn’t sure what it was. For now the Doctor seemed like the best chance to find the answers she needed. She didn’t feel like she could do this on her own.

  ***

  Miles of buildings surrendered to gentle pastures dotted with the occasional barn. There were no signs of any of her earlier pursuers, no sirens, just the hypnotic drone of the Volvo’s tires on the smooth roadway. She had nodded off several times, and as a result, had no idea how long they had been traveling when the Doctor exited the highway, and pulled on to an idyllic country lane. Trees lined the road causing the sun to come through the window in intermittent bands.

  The house was set quite some distance from the road. To Ana it looked like something out of a storybook. Its two stories had touches of Tudor and were capped with slate dormers overlooking a circular drive edged in stone. The front of the structure looked more like a gatehouse than it did the entrance to a country estate. Slender spires climbed from each corner supporting red flags that rippled in the gentle breeze.

  As the car wound around the drive, Ana studied a golden crest above a massive set of oak doors. There was something vaguely familiar about it. She had seen it somewhere recently, or at least she thought she had. Hadn’t she? She was still tracing out the intricate scrollwork with her eyes when the Doctor appeared at her door. He opened it and ushered her out.

  “Here we are, my dear.” He waved his hand as if introducing her to royalty. “I think you should be comfortable here.”

  She pulled herself up out of the car, and stood in awe of the house. “I should say so.” She craned her neck to get a better look at the crest above the door. “Where have I seen that crest before?”

  The Doctor glanced back as though he hadn’t known it was there. “Oh, that. It’s a family crest I believe.” He held his hand out for her. “I doubt if you’ve seen it anywhere before, but you may have seen something similar since your arrival in Germany.”

  She took the Doctor’s hand and followed him up several stone steps to the door. It opened before they had a chance to knock, as though they were expected. The man at the door wore a dark suit. He held the door and nodded to the Doctor. Was that a wire snaking from his ear?

  “I know where I’ve seen that crest. It was on the tail of the helicopter that…” She pulled against the Doctor’s grip.

  His eyes met hers and she knew at that instant that he knew. He knew that she had realized the significance of the crest and therefore his association with it, but it was too late. He pulled her close to him with a strength that he didn’t look capable of.

  His pleasant demeanor turned chilling. “I was hoping to get you inside before we began with the proper introductions, but it seems you’ve already made the connection, my dear.”

  The man at the door came to her side without a word. The Doctor nodded to him. Ana pulled in a futile effort to extract herself as the man rolled up her sleeve and plunged a needle into her shoulder. A slow warmth traveled up her arm and across her chest. The Doctor was speaking to her, but she couldn’t make out any of the words. She was watching his lips move through a funhouse mirror. Blackness crept in from the edges of her vision and quickly swallowed her up.

  ***

  Sounds came to Ana as though she were beneath water. She opened her eyes up to narrow slits and kept her chin resting on her chest. She didn’t need to move to tell she was strapped to a chair, and a rather uncomfortable one at that. The carpet at her feet was a scene in a larger tapestry that her close view of only hinted at. Something about it spoke of wealth and power.

  “It appears our guest is rousing, Christopher,” said a craggy voice from somewhere in front of her.

  She lifted her head slowly and regarded the man that belonged to that voice. His head was crowned in full, but neatly trimmed white hair, and his emerald eyes looked like cold stones. He didn’t so much smile as reveal his teeth to her. The dark gray suit he wore was perfectly tailored and set off by a blood red tie. A little golden pin sat in its center. Two other men sat to either side of him behind a massive mahogany desk, but she found it difficult to look away from his eyes.

  “Yes, there’s our girl. No more running.” He cocked his head a little to the left. “Is that a stir of recognition? Are your memories coming back to you, child?”

  Despite a growing sense of dread, Ana managed to glare at him in reply. He waved his hand and Doctor Gabriel came into her vision. He had ditched his jacket and tie, and now wore a crisp white shirt. He pulled a pen from his pocket and lifted her eyelid with his thumb. A narrow beam of light flowed from the pen and dilated her pupil. He repeated the move with her other eye before turning back to the old man.

  “I think she’s ready, Martin.”

  “Very good,” said the man she now knew to be Martin. “Before we get started, dear, I’ll introduce you to everyone. It’s only proper manners after all.” He chuckled. It unnerved her even further. “You already know our man of action, Doctor Christopher Gabriel.”

  The Doctor winked at her and took a seat on the edge of the desk.

  Martin motioned to the man to his left. “This is Verner, he represents the third seal on the book of power, and like you, he is also a protector.”

  “He is nothing like me,” she said through clenched teeth, her fists balled and straining against the leather straps.

  “We are all more like you than you know, child. I myself represent the second seal, and Flins,” he gestured to the tall, pale man at his right, “represents the fourth.”

  “And what of the Doctor? Is he the first seal?”

  Martin laughed and the others followed suit. Even the Doctor seemed to find humor in her assertion.

  It was Verner who answered her. “Gabriel is invaluable to us. He is what you would call a gatherer, much like your recent traveling companion.” He smiled at her knowingly, his dark eyes speaking of malevolence. He was old like Martin, but his frame still appeared sturdy and strong. He sat in s
tark contrast to Flins, who looked like Death himself. Perhaps he was, she thought.

  Martin tapped on the desk as if calling a meeting to order, leaned forward, and then looked directly into her eyes. “Now that we have dispensed with the introductions, child, you will tell us where we can find the Eye of Jupiter.”

  “I don’t know what that is? Don’t you want the book?”

  The old man slammed a fist down on the desk, and then took a minute to regain his composure. He smoothed the surface with his palms before speaking again. “We want the Eye, my dear. We already have the book.”

  “How can that be?” She looked to Doctor Gabriel. He returned her gaze.

  “You really don’t know?” he asked. He looked back to Martin. “It’s possible she hasn’t connected all of the dots yet. We may need to probe her a little further to shake things loose.”

  “I thought you had already taken care of that, Christopher.” Martin glowered at the Doctor.

  “I’ve shaken quite a bit loose already, yes, but I think she may need a gentle nudge over the edge.”

  “Very well, but this time I’ll do it myself.” The old man got up from his seat and came around the desk.

  He placed a leathery hand on her wrist and the other under her chin. She struggled against him. Her eyes fell on Doctor Gabriel and in that moment awareness fell over her. She knew why the Doctor was so familiar. She had met him before in France at the Capitol de Toulouse. He had been toying with her for decades, possibly centuries.

  The old man jerked her chin toward him and locked onto her eyes. Those piercing emeralds burned into her being. He spoke to her without moving his mouth. He was inside her, commanding her, pushing away cobwebs, pulling to the surface the pain she had buried deep down. She screamed and writhed, but he was always there, commanding her. She was ensorcelled despite her best efforts. Her mind and soul spread before him like an offering. Her deepest secrets were revealed unto him. Secrets she kept even from herself.

  Resistance

  The big, black Mercedes barreled down the narrow streets, responding eagerly under Niklas’ guidance. Hannah could tell how much the young man enjoyed driving it. She wondered briefly what he would have made of his life had it not been for the war.

  Niklas pulled the car onto a large circular drive in front of a two-story stone building. Its architecture resembled that of the Capitole, if somewhat less grand. Still, it looked much too big to be a library.

  Apparently sensing her confusion, Niklas explained. “The Doctor asked me to bring you to the university. Its archives are the largest in the city.”

  “Certainly,” she said, as if she had already known the fact.

  “Of course, there are no students or professors here at the moment. All studies have been canceled by the Vichy until further notice.”

  “Is there anyone staffing the library?”

  Niklas turned off the engine. “Yes. At least I think so. There should be a few of the staff left. Command is using it as another office, and I believe the archives contain quite a few useful maps.”

  “Naturally.”

  “What was that?”

  “Oh nothing…I mean…naturally this would be a good place to headquarter…given the resources.”

  She opened the door, but before she could climb out, Niklas was at her side, holding out his hand.

  “Thank you.”

  He shut the door behind her, and then gently guided her toward the entrance. When they were at the top of the steps, he opened the door and ushered her inside. The university was definitely less grand than the Capitole, but it was still quite impressive in its own right. The floors were marble with simple but elegant patterns that mirrored the latticework design of the ceiling. The walls were a rich, buttery hue that made the building feel more inviting than it had any right to be, given the current state of affairs.

  “The library is a few halls down.” Niklas pointed down the expansive corridor.

  A cacophony of clicks and clacks floated to her as they passed by an open doorway. Rows and rows of typewriters sat neatly in the center of tiny wooden tables. One of the women nearest the door looked up from her work long enough to watch them as they walked by. Hannah wondered if she was German, or if she was one of the locals who had been put to work. The brief moment of eye contact she was afforded made her think it was likely the latter.

  They passed several more rooms that had most likely been used for administration of the university, but were now offices for the SS. She wondered what sort of work was carried out here. Why such a big presence in Toulouse? Was it a strategic site, or did it have something to do with the book? Hannah’s assumption that the Nazis didn’t really know what kind of power they now held began to seem less and less likely to her.

  “Here we are, Miss.” Niklas stopped before a large arched doorway.

  “So when will you be coming back for me?”

  Niklas furrowed his brow. “Coming back? Oh, no, I’m supposed to stay with you.”

  “I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “I’m afraid I have my orders, Miss Klein.” He ushered her through the doorway.

  Hannah could see there was no point in arguing. Niklas was the type to follow orders to the letter, just the sort of young man the Nazis preferred. She decided to try another approach. Maybe if she could keep him busy, he wouldn’t notice if she slipped away. The library was certainly big enough to get lost in. The first floor had several rows of walnut reading tables capped with brass lamps and ringed by low-backed chairs. The tables were flanked by massive oak shelves that looked as though they had been there for ages. The second floor, which could be seen from the first, was lined neatly with a bewildering array of oak shelves. A wrought-iron spiral staircase connected it to the first floor.

  “Since you have to stay, maybe you can make yourself useful.” She pointed toward a card catalog cabinet sitting on a table just opposite the library counter. “I’ll make a list of some reference books that I need, and you can collect those while I look through the archives.”

  He rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn’t protest. Instead, he reached behind the counter and grabbed a slip of paper and a pen and handed it to her. “Here, make your list.”

  Before she could take the paper, a woman stepped out from behind one of the shelves. She stopped when she caught sight of Niklas. Her look reminded Hannah of a surprised animal, wild-eyed and ready to flee. The poor woman’s hair was disheveled and her skin was sallow. In fact, her arms and legs looked nearly as gray as her smock. She clutched a couple of books tightly to her chest.

  Her voice was so soft that Hannah saw her lips moving before she heard any sound.

  “May I help you?” She cast her eyes to the floor.

  Hannah thought Niklas looked as though he were going to say something unpleasant, so she spoke before he had the chance. “Could you point me in the direction of the archives? Specifically ancient texts.”

  “Yes, Miss.” The woman nodded and walked quickly to the counter. “The room is upstairs, but it’s locked. Let me get my keys and I’ll open it for you.”

  As the woman placed the books on the counter, and then made her way around it, Hannah took the paper and pen from Niklas. She scrawled a hurried list of books that she thought might keep him busy for a while.

  “Here, see if you can find these books and any others that relate to these subjects. Just put them on one of the tables. I’m going to check out the archives, so I might be a while.”

  Niklas took the list, eyed it and her, and then made his way toward the catalog.

  “I’ve found my key, Miss.” The woman held up the key, her hand shaking slightly. “If you’ll just follow me.”

  The woman walked in short, unsteady steps to the staircase. She gripped the railing tightly as she slowly wound her way up the stairs. Hannah kept one hand free to catch her if she fell backward. As the woman’s hand slid up the railing, Hannah noticed a small tattooed Star of
David on her wrist.

  The towering shelves formed a long, narrow passage leading to a solitary door at the far end. She could smell the leather bound volumes as they passed by. It reminded her of a happier time, when she was a little girl in her grandfather’s study, before the war, before the knowledge of herself.

  When they reached the door, the woman attempted to put the key in the lock. Her hand shook even more than before. Hannah wasn’t certain whether or not it was from malnutrition, fear, or a combination of the two. She placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. The woman flinched.

  “Here, let me help you.” Hannah put her hand over the woman’s. “You look tired…By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

  The woman looked up into her eyes. Again Hannah could sense the trepidation behind them. Her lips quivered, trying to form the words. Finally she managed to get them out. “My name is Amelia, Miss.”