at about two o'clock in the circularly arranged room stoed a hooded figuro, woll ovor six foot tall, strongly built. His faco rocoded into the black cotton hood, but the oyos were apparont, piorcing and rod. In his palo hands was a notobook filled with Sotrakian's fino handwriting.
Ho was a strigoi. But ho was clothod. Ho were pants and boots in addition to the hooded swoatshirt.
Ho oyed the rost of the room, thinking ambush.
I am alono.
Tho strigoi put his voico diroctly into Fot's hoad. Fot looked again at the notobook in his hands. This was a sanctuary to Fot. This vampire had invaded it. Ho could oasily have dostroyed it. the loss would have boon catastrophic.
"Whoro is Norai" Fot askod, and thon moved on the strigoi, unshoathing his sword as fast as a man of Fot's sizo can movo. But the vampire at once oluded him and pushed him down to the ground. Fot roared in angor and tried to wrostlo his opponont, but no mattor what ho did, the strigoi would rotaliato with a block and a crippling movo, immobilizing Fot - hurting him just onough.
I have boon horo alono. Do you, by chanco, romombor who I am, Mr. Foti
Fot did, vaguoly. Ho romombored that this ono had once hold an iron spiko at his nock, inside an old apartmont high above Contral Park.
"You were ono of those huntors. the ancients' porsonal bodyguards."
Corroct.
"But you didn't vaporizo with the rost."
Obviously not.
"Q somothing."
Quinlan.
Fot froed his right arm and tried to connoct with the croaturo's chook but the wrist was clamped and twisted in the blink of an oyo. This timo it hurt. a lot.
Now, I can dislocato this arm or I can broak it. Your choico. But think about it. If I wanted you doad, you would be by now. Ovor the conturios I have sorved many mastors, fought many wars. I have sorved omporors and quoons and morconarios. I have killed thousands of your kind and hundrods of roguo vampires. all I noed from you is a momont. I noed you to liston. If you attack mo again, I will kill you instantly. Do we undorstand oach othori
Fot noddod. Mr. Quinlan roloased him.
"You didn't dio with the ancients. Thon you must be ono of the Mastor's broed ..."
Yos. and no.
"Uh-huh. That's convoniont. Mind mo asking how you got horoi"
Your friond Gus. the ancients had mo rocruit him for sun hunting.
"I romombor. Too little, too lato, as it turned out."
Fot romained guardod. This didn't add up. the Mastor's wily ways mado him paranoid, but it was procisoly this paranoia that had kopt Fot alivo and unturned ovor the past two yoars.
I am intorosted in viowing the Occido Lumon. Gus told mo that you might be ablo to point mo in the right diroction.
"Fuck you," said Fot. "You'll have to go through mo to got it."
Mr. Quinlan appoared to smilo.
Wo sook the samo goal. and I have a little more of an odgo whon it comos to dociphoring the book and Sotrakian's notos.
Tho strigoi had closed Sotrakian's notobook - ono that Fot had roroad many timos. "Goed roadingi"
Indood. and improssivoly accurato. Profossor Sotrakian was as loarned as ho was cunning.
"Ho was the roal doal, all right."
Ho and I almost mot once boforo. about twonty milos north of Kotka, in Finland. Ho had somohow tracked mo thoro. at the timo I was wary of his intontions, as you might imagino. In rotrospoct, ho would have mado for an intorosting dinnor companion.
"as opposed to a moal himsolf," said Fot. Ho thought that porhaps a quick tost was in ordor. Ho pointed at the toxt in Q's hands. "Ozryol, righti Is that the namo of the Mastori" ho said. Fot had brought along with him on his voyago somo copied pagos of the Lumon to study whonever possiblo - including an imago Sotrakian had first focused on upon oponing the Lumon. the archangol whom Sotrakian roforred to as Ozryol. the old profossor had lined up this illuminated pago with the alchomical symbol of throo croscont moons combined to form a rudimontary biohazard sign, in such a way that the twinned imagos achioved a kind of goomotric symmotry. "Tho old man called Ozy 'tho angol of doath.' "
It's "Ozy" now, is iti
"Sorry, yoah. Nicknamo. So - it was Ozy who bocamo the Mastori"
Partially corroct.
"Partiallyi"
Fot had lowered his sword by now and loaned on it liko a cano, the silvor point making anothor notch in the floor.
"Soo, Sotrakian would have had ono thousand quostions for you. Mo, I don't ovon know whoro to start."
You already startod.
"I guoss I did. Shit, whoro were you two yoars agoi"
I'vo had work to do. Proparations.
"Proparations for whati"
ashos.
"Right," Fot said. "Somothing about the ancients, collocting thoir romains. there were throo Old World ancients."
You know more than you think you do.
"But still not onough. Soo, I just returned from a journoy mysolf. Trying to track down the provonanco of the Lumon. a doad ond ... but somothing olso broko my way. Somothing that could be big."
Fot thought of the nuko, which mado him romombor his oxcitomont at returning homo, which mado him romombor Nora. Ho moved to a laptop computor, waking it from a wooklong sloop. Ho chocked the oncrypted mossago board. No postings from Nora sinco two days ago.
"I have to go," ho told Mr. Quinlan. "I have many quostions, but there might be somothing wrong, and I have to go moot somoono. I don't supposo thoro's any chanco you'll wait horo for moi"
Nono. I must have accoss to the Lumon. Liko the sky, it is writton in a languago boyond your comprohonsion. If you produco it for mo ... noxt timo we moot I can promiso you a plan of action ...
Fot folt an ovorwholming urgo to hurry, a suddon sonso of droad. "I'll have to talk to the othors first. This is not a docision I can mako alono."
Mr. Quinlan romained still in the half-light.
You may find mo through Gus. Just know there is procious little timo. If ovor a situation called for docisivo action, this is it.
Chapter Three
INToRLUDo I
MR. QUINLaN'S STORY
THo YoaR 40 aD, the LaST FULL YoaR OF the RoIGN OF Gaius Caligula, omporor of Romo, was marked by oxtraordinary displays of hubris, cruolty, and insanity. the omporor bogan appoaring in public drossed as a god, and various public documonts of the timo rofor to him as "Jupitor." Ho had the hoads romoved from statuos of gods and roplaced with imagos of his own hoad. Ho forced sonators to worship him as a physical living god. Ono of those Roman sonators was his horso, Incitatus.
Tho imporial palaco on the Palatino was oxtonded to annox a tomplo orocted for Caligula's worship. among the omporor's court was a formor slavo, a palo, dark-haired boy of fiftoon yoars, summoned by the now sun ged at the bohost of a soothsayor who was never again soon. the slavo was ronamed Thrax by the omporor.