Frank Schätzing - Death and the Devil

Cautiously he made his way along the airy walkways. When he had almost reached the wheels he went to the edge and looked down inside the chancel.

It was breathtaking.

Each of the piers supporting the structure and separating the chapels seemed to be composed of many smaller columns of varying diameter, crowned by capitals of petrified foliage below the sweep of the vaults and arcades. Jacob was looking down into a ravine, as frightening as it was wonderful, an abyss containing nothing broad or bulky, only endless vertical lines.

Suddenly Jacob realized what kind of man Urquhart had pushed off the scaffolding.

His eye took in the central chapel. He could clearly see the pulpit from which Conrad was to preach. The archbishop could scarcely have chosen a better place—from the point of view of the assassin.

He took a step back and looked out over the roofs of the city to the hills of the County of Berg. The sun would soon be rising. A blur of noise reached his ear. He couldn’t see the procession, the streets were too narrow, but he could hear the singing and the jostle of the crowd. The wind tousled his hair. It was beautiful up here. Had Gerhard flown, too, he wondered, the architect taking flight? Some run away, others try to soar aloft.

He leaned forward again, as far as he could. Perhaps he’d see something even more wonderful.

Come on, a voice whispered in his head, it’s time you were hiding.

In a minute. It’s so beautiful here.

Quick!

In a minute.

Quick!!

Yes, in a minute. I just want to—

“What a pity I can’t push you over just there.”

Jacob felt a thousand tiny birds take off in his stomach, fluttering their wings in panic. Before he could turn around, he was dragged back and dumped on the planks with a jolt.

Urquhart was grinning down at him. He looked terrible. The left side of his face was in a bad way, the eyebrows singed off. Not much of his blond mane was left.

“Incredible sometimes, the way old friends meet, isn’t it?”

Jacob hastily slid backward and tried to get to his feet. Urquhart’s arm came down. The fingers grasped his habit and lifted him up like an empty sack.

“Thought you’d gotten rid of me, did you?” Urquhart laughed. His fist came flying and a bolt of lightning flashed right through Jacob’s head. He slammed painfully into the edge of the nearest tread wheel, fell to his knees, and was pulled up again.

“You thought wrong.”

The next blow was to his solar plexus. Pain stabbed through every part of his body. He slumped to the floor by the wheel in a writhing heap.

“Nobody gets rid of me.”

Jacob gagged. He pushed himself up on his hands and collapsed again. His mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood. Urquhart bent down and pulled him up with both hands. Jacob’s feet were off the ground. He kicked out helplessly, flailed his arms, and tried to grab Urquhart’s throat.

“Nobody, do you hear?” Urquhart whispered. “I’m inside your head. You can’t drive me away, can’t burn me or drown me. Your hatred isn’t enough to defeat me, it only makes me stronger. I feed on hatred. I am stronger than all of you, faster and cleverer. You will never get rid of me. I’m part of you. I’m inside you. Inside all of you.”

Jacob felt himself being lifted up and up, above Urquhart’s head, then sky and scaffolding scrambled. He flew through the air and landed on his side with a thump that made the whole structure shudder. He rolled to the edge of the platform and found himself looking down, a long way down, into Dranckgasse. His hands grabbed empty air. He was falling.

With a jerk that almost tore his scalp off, Urquhart grasped his hair and pulled him back up so vigorously he shot across the platform straight into the tread wheel.

The next moment Urquhart was there, leaning in.

“Not a good idea, to send you the same way as Gerhard,” he said. His eyes gleamed with perverse amusement. “Might interfere with my mission. Cause too much of a stir to have you lying down there, don’t you agree? Let’s continue our chat up here—”

Jacob tried to say something. All that came out was a weak groan. His desperate fingers clutched at the axle of the wheel he was inside to pull himself up.

Urquhart drew back his fist. “—seeing it’s so pleasant.”

The blow almost knocked Jacob out. His head crashed against the side of the wheel.

He had to get out of it. Urquhart was about to beat him to death.

“No,” he panted.

“No?” Urquhart placed his right hand on the top of the wheel. “Oh, yes.”

Out, out of here, Jacob thought. I must get out. He staggered to his feet and immediately fell down again as, with a squeal of protest, the huge drum slowly started to turn. For a moment he saw his feet above his head, then he tumbled back down. The wheel started to rotate more quickly, above and below were the same. Jacob was going around and around, arms outstretched. He could hear Urquhart laughing. It seemed to be coming from all sides and everything went black.

With what remained of his strength, he braced himself with both hands, threw himself to one side, and fell out of the wheel.

His head was still going around and around. Completely disoriented, he crawled across the planks. He heard rapid steps and looked up just in time to see Urquhart’s foot coming toward him. The toe of the boot struck him on the chest, sending him flat on his back.

The world around started to grow colder.

Urquhart came up to him and shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said. It sounded almost sympathetic.

Jacob coughed and felt the blood running down his chin. His lungs seemed unwilling to take in air. “I know that.” He had to force the words out.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just run away?”

“I was too slow.”

“You’re not slow.”

“Oh, yes, I am.” The air whistled as he sucked it in. “You’re always too slow when you run away.”

Urquhart hesitated. Then he gave an unexpected nod as his hand disappeared inside his cloak. When it reappeared Jacob saw the all-too-familiar little crossbow. The disfigured face twisted in a smile. “Welcome to nowhere, Jacob.”

Jacob turned his head away.

A voice rang out. “Urquhart of Monadhliath!”

The effect was startling. A look of pure horror appeared on Urquhart’s face. He swung around, pointing his bow with outstretched arm in the direction the voice had come from.

Jaspar’s voice!

Breathing heavily, Jacob rolled onto his side and crawled on all fours to the wheel. Away from Urquhart was the only thought in his head.

But the murderer seemed to have forgotten him. He was looking around wildly for Jaspar, who was nowhere to be seen, though his voice was still to be heard.

“Do you remember the children, Urquhart? What they did to the children? You wanted to stop them. Remember?”

It came from below. Jaspar must be somewhere on the scaffolding. Gasping with pain, Jacob pulled himself up and stood there, swaying. Urquhart leaped across to the side of the scaffolding and looked down into Dranckgasse. At the same time Jaspar’s head appeared farther away.

“But you couldn’t stop them,” he cried.

With a scream of fury, Urquhart whirled around toward him. But Jaspar had disappeared again.

“Lies!” he shouted. “Lies! I wasn’t there when it happened.”

From below came a clattering, like footsteps running, then it faded. Urquhart took a step forward, but there was nothing there. No boards, no struts, no rails. Urquhart drew back.

Then he turned to face Jacob again. His eyes had lost their icy coldness. All they registered was pure horror. The bolt was aimed at Jacob’s forehead.