Victor Gischler - Vampire A Go-Go

The final lens bathed the emperor’s cousin in warm red light. The waterwheel spun. A crack like thunder.

Kelley shoved the lever back into place, closing the lead box. He rushed up the dais, shut off the waterwheel. He pushed another lever, and the lenses encircling the dais retreated back to the ceiling.

He glanced at the table, jumped back, startled, eyes wide.

The emperor’s cousin was up on one elbow. He glanced around the cavern. “Am I in hell?”

“Yes,” Kelley said.

Rudolph and his men rushed up to the dais. “Cousin!”

“I remember the river,” the cousin said. “What happened?”

“Resurrection!” Rudolph said. “Nothing less than resurrection.”

Kelley studied the cousin’s face. Warm and alive. It had worked.

They crowded around the young man, slapped him on the back. The mood in the cavern became boisterous and celebratory. They escorted the cousin out, talk of a banquet leading the way.

Rudolph looked back at Kelley over his shoulder. “Good work, alchemist. Secure things here before you come up.”

And they were gone.

Kelley blew out a sigh, then sat down on the steps up to the dais. The only sound in the cavern was the flowing water, which had slowed again to a trickle.

He sat awhile.

Then he stood, again pulling the lever that lowered the apparatus with the circle of lenses, prism, and lead box. He climbed up on the table and unfastened the lead box from its place. He was surprised by its sudden weight and almost dropped it. He carried it down the steps to the bottom of the dais, then set it down hard, breathing heavily.

The morbid need to open the box and look inside nearly overwhelmed him, but the urge passed quickly.

He picked up the box again, grunted, and began the long climb back to the surface.

On his way back to the White Tower, he met the old nun who worked in the infirmary. She told Kelley that Roderick the astrologer had died.

Allen flipped another page carefully with the plastic stirs. “According to this, Edward Kelley was the only one to attend Roderick’s funeral. Not even a priest.”

“How awful,” Penny said.

“Oh, no.” Allen looked at the page, flipped back, read again.

“What is it?” Amy asked.

“Kelley put the philosopher’s stone in the grave with Roderick,” Allen said. “He said it seemed fitting. And he wanted to keep it hidden from Rudolph. A final act of defiance.”

“Wow,” Amy said. “And it’s still there?”

“I don’t know.” Allen flipped another page, kept reading.

“Then we’re good, right?” Penny said. “I mean, that solves the problem, doesn’t it? The stone is buried. Nobody evil gets it. All is right with the world.”

“It’s not that simple,” Amy said. “There’s the Kelley diary, for one thing.”

“Destroy it,” Penny said. “Burn it.”

“It’s too late for that. We all know about it. The right spells would make us talk, even good old-fashioned rubber hoses and bamboo under the fingernails.” Amy turned to Allen. “We’ve got to call the Society.”

Penny frowned. “How the hell would that help?”

“If they have the stone for safekeeping, then Allen’s out of danger. Making him talk won’t matter.”

“Then let’s call in the Vatican,” Penny said. “They can protect it better than your people.”

“You’re still forgetting I don’t trust either of those organizations,” Allen said. “We’ve come this far. I say we get the stone ourselves.”

“Dammit,” Amy said. “That’s exactly what Cassandra wants you to do.”

“Except I won’t be fetching it for her,” Allen said. “Ladies, I’m getting to the bottom of this. Are you with me or not?”

“You’re Indiana Jones all of a sudden?” Penny said. “I’m not sure I like this side of you.” A pause. “Or maybe I do.”

“We don’t even know what cemetery this astrologer guy is buried in,” Amy pointed out.

Allen shook his head. “I know. I can’t find anywhere in the manuscript where Kelley mentions the cemetery by name, and-” Allen sat up, eyes going unfocused, a strange expression on his face. “Cemetery.”

Penny reached for him, stopped short. “What is it?”

“In my dreams,” Allen said. “I’ve been seeing images of a cemetery.”

Amy asked, “Would you recognize it if you saw it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s make that our priority,” Penny said. “We’ll put his name into Google and find out where he’s buried. There’s an internet café upstairs.”

“And after we find out, then what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” A mischievous smile spread over Penny’s face. “We go grave robbing.”

Ninety minutes later they had nothing. None of the popular historical websites or Wikipedia mentioned Roderick by name, although accounts of alchemists and astrologers and other occult figures at court were plentiful. Amy brought up pictures of various graveyards around Prague, but Allen could not say for sure that any one of them matched his dream images.

“And the diary doesn’t say either,” Allen said. “Kelley says Roderick was entombed, and that he put the stone in with him. And he calls Rudolph a madman. But nothing about the name of the cemetery.”

Penny turned away from the computer screen, rubbed her eyes. “This is useless.”

“If I had all the time in the world, I could find it,” Allen said. “But if I have to dig up a grave, I’d like to be in and out of the cemetery before nightfall.”

“Why before nightfall?” Penny asked.

Amy put her fingers up to her mouth and mimed a set of fangs.

Penny blanched. “Oh, yeah.” Amy’s recent revelation still troubled her.

The three of them sat there. A minute passed.

“There might be somebody who can help,” Amy said.

Penny crossed her arms. “If you say somebody from your precious Society, I’ll scream.”

“No. Somebody freelance. The Society puts him on specialized errands from time to time.”

“This person is safe?” Allen asked.

“He can keep his mouth shut, if that’s what you mean.”

“Call him.”

Amy and Allen stood in the doorway of the two-story brick building in the old Jewish Quarter. The Quarter- Josefov -had an almost claustrophobic feel, the old buildings crowding the narrow, cobblestone street, souvenir kiosks hogging much of the sidewalk. To Allen, the Quarter felt old, with so much more history then the Letna area and the younger Holešovice suburb.

Amy raised her hand to knock but cast a sideways glance at Allen. “You sure about this?”

“There’s no time for anything else.”

It was already late afternoon. It had taken hours to track down Amy’s contact, and Allen felt more and more nervous every minute they inched toward nightfall. Allen worried with growing apprehension that there were still bits of Cassandra’s vampiric hypnotism lingering in his subconscious, and he couldn’t be sure how he would react if he saw her again.

Amy knocked. They waited.

Somewhere nearby Penny had installed herself at a café or coffeehouse. She didn’t tell them where in case Allen and Amy were interrogated, but she was close at hand in case she needed to effect some kind of rescue or, at the very least, call in the cavalry. Penny had raised holy hell about being left out, but she could see the wisdom of the maneuver.

Amy was about to knock again, when the door opened.

“Abraham Zabel?” Amy asked.

The man looked from Amy to Allen and back again. “You’re the one who called earlier?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “I’m Abraham Zabel. Please come in.”