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The Sedlec Ossuary was illuminated from within as they arrived. The small chapel rose high over a cemetery full of tombstones that seemed to huddle around the building as if they were chicks gathering close to the mother hen. The ancient stones glowed in the moonlight, as fog gathered between them. Lauren stepped out of the car and pulled the jacket around her to ward off the chill. The cold climbed up her leg like a snake, wrapping around her flesh, constricting the muscles. She took a step and tried to shake off the feeling. She could feel the warmth off his body when Tomáš came around behind her as she gazed up at the chapel.
“You okay?”
“There’s an old expression in English, one that isn’t used anymore,” Lauren said, tentatively. She hesitated a moment before she continued. He leaned in, waiting for her to finish. “This place gives me the morbs...” she said it first in English then translated it for him, demonstrating the abilities she’d told him about.
He considered her a moment before sticking out his lower lip. “It’s an appropriate expression.”
“Wait ‘til you see it inside.” Bertram was at her elbow before she even knew they were there.
Lauren didn’t move. “Tell me more about this place?”
“This is an ancient site,” Bertram said. “In the time of the Crusades, Henry, the Abbot of the monastery here was sent to the Holy Land by the King of Bohemia. He returned with earth he’d collected from Golgotha, where Jesus was crucified. He scattered the soil here. Word got out and this became among the most desirable cemeteries in Central Europe.” His voice added to the chill that was seeping into her bones. “When the Black Death and the Hussite Wars took their toll, thousands were buried here, and the cemetery had to be expanded. The cathedral was built in the 1400s with a lower chapel to be used as an ossuary for the mass graves that had to be unearthed during its construction.”
Lauren could almost envision the story as it was unfolding. The fog became a scene of the images of the workers, placing the stones and digging the bones from their resting place. Angels and demons swirled in the mist, battling each other for authority over the sacred land. Skeletal warriors rose from the black soil and took up arms for the Armies of Good and Evil.
“In the 1500s, a half-blind monk was given the task of exhuming the skeletons and stacking their bones in the chapel,” Bertram said. “Today, the largest collection of skeletal remains rests here. Some claim there are more bones here than in the catacombs of Paris. In truth, a full inventory of the dead here has never been completed.”
“What time is it?” Lauren turned to Kovač.
He glanced at his watch. “It’s just after 11:00.”
Her gaze was held by the cathedral and the path leading to the arching doorways. “It’s probably closed.” She hesitated to move.
“We’re expected.” Bertram pressed past her and started up the path.
Kovač started to follow, but when Lauren didn’t move, he turned back around. “What is it?”
She pursed her lips as her scowl created a wrinkle between her eyes. She looked up at him with a hesitant gaze. “I’m afraid.” Her voice sounded distant and small, even to her own ear.
Tomáš took her hand and held it between his. “Where your fear lies, there is your task,” he quoted. “Do you believe in God, Dr. Pierce?”
Lauren opened her mouth to answer as her eyes lifted back to the cathedral. “I believe there are more things under the heavens than I can ever explain without a belief in something greater than ourselves.” She swallowed hard.
“And that is what we call Faith.” He turned, her hand still in his, and led her to the cathedral.
Bertram and the others waited for them at the door. “The monk here has taken a vow of silence,” Bertram said. They entered the ossuary in reverence. The cathedral was lit by little more than candles on the wall. Their light was obstructed by the towers of bones that led the eye up to the ceiling where the geometric patterns of carefully arranged bones appeared like warped spinal columns. Jawless skulls perched on what might have been an arm bone, or perhaps a leg. They alternated: skull, bone, skull, bone. The gruesome image was accented by a chandelier of leg or arm bones as well. There wasn’t anything in the cathedral ceilings, other than the flickering candles that were of a different color than the aged skeletal décor.
The place smelled ancient, musty. Lauren pressed her sleeve to her nose, trying to force her stomach to remain calm. The bones had long since dried, but the faint, sweet tang of death was heavy in the air. It coated her tongue like grease and her stomach threatened to protest.
In the middle, there was a stone altar with a window behind it and a towering cross above it. Lauren noticed the pious paused upon entering to cross themselves respectfully. She realized Kovač had taken a rosary from his pocket. He turned back to her and pressed it into her hand. “Keep this,” he said, softly. “It’ll protect you.”
Lauren wrapped it around her wrist several times and clutched the crucifix in her palm. The crystals were cool but quickly warmed in her grasp.
The monk motioned for them to follow. Kovač nudged her and she moved ahead of him, falling in line behind the others. She stumbled, her foot catching a loose stone. She caught herself by putting her hand on the blond man’s upper arm and he turned as if her touch were lightning. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know your names,” she said softly.
Bertram paused and turned back. “My apologies, Dr. Pierce.” He kept his tone low as well. “I didn’t even think to make introductions. This is Simon Betancourt,” he introduced the blond man to Lauren. “And this is Lucca Campagna.”
“Madame,” the second one bowed. Meanwhile, the blond one, Simon, only gazed at her with that look that made her skin crawl. “We do beg your apologies for our ... methods when first we met you. We feared you already had the missing page,” Lucca said.
“You drugged her?” The Detective accused.
“We did no such thing,” Bertram defended. If Tomáš believed him, he gave no sign.
The monk motioned for them again, more insistence in his mannerisms this time. Lauren nodded her forgiveness to the Gendarmerie and fell in behind the monk. He led them along a hallway to a stone staircase that spiraled down. Braziers flickered on the walls as they passed in near silence — only the clap of leather soles on stones announced their presence. Lauren’s borrowed sneakers made no noise as she studied the bones that lined the stairway. Dead, empty eye sockets with wicked jawless grins met her gaze. She swallowed back a wave of nausea as a mist of cold sweat broke out on her upper lip.
She felt Tomáš’ hand snake into her arm as he moved even with her. He had to duck to pass under a curtain of bones, bringing his eyes to her level. “You’ve gone pale,” he said.
Her only response was a shivering nod of her head as she hesitated before the next step. She lost her footing, but with his arm in hers, he kept her on her feet and saved her from a terrible fall down the stone stairs.
“Dr. Pierce?” Bertram noticed her distress.
“I’m fine.”
The monk finally came to the bottom of the steps and took out a ring of metal skeleton keys. For a moment, Lauren mused over the irony of it, but pushed back the thought as the door swung open and the monk turned with a hand up, indicating they should wait. He entered the vault, disappearing into the dark gloom. Lauren leaned against the cool stone wall as she could hear a lighter being flicked. A glow brightened the space. A moment later, the monk stepped out and gestured for them to enter.
Lauren swallowed her fear and stepped through the portal, with Tomáš right behind her.
The room was much larger than she’d expected. The walls were lined with a configuration of tiny bones arranged like mosaic tiles. Carpals and metacarpals were mixed with tarsals and metatarsals. In the center of each of the patterns, vertebrae lay flat. More braziers cast shadows on the eerie spectacle. Shelves lined the opposite walls, like mortuary benches she’d seen in the Tibetan monastery near Everest. Except here, instead of mummified corpses, there were relics. Ancient pottery, copper cups, wooden boxes, and ceramic tablets with carefully scribed text in ancient Egyptian.
One wooden box in particular caught her attention. It appeared to be ebony wood, carved with ancient symbols; spells of holy protection. Lauren was immediately drawn to it. She knelt, pushing her hair back over her shoulder as she studied it. The monk came over and took a pair of cotton gloves from somewhere in his robes. He donned them, then lifted out the tablet from within the box to allow her to study it.
“Do you know what it says?” Kovač asked, gazing over her shoulder.
“It’s ...” she seemed breathless. “It’s from the Book of the Dead.”
“The Egyptian Book of the Dead?” Bertram scowled.
“I’d say it’s a spell from one of the later chapters,” she said. “It says here, having been tested by Osiris, the spirit having been vindicated assumes its rightful place in the heavens ... as a god.”
“That’s fascinating,” Tomáš said.
“But this isn’t right.” Lauren shook her head as the monk returned the tablet to the shelf.
“What do you mean?” Bertram lifted an inquisitive brow.
“The Book of the Dead was actually a collection of the many spells on papyrus that were gathered together ... only some of the exceedingly early ones were on tablets found in Egyptian tombs. But this is from the later period.”
“How is that possible?” Tomáš asked.
“I’m not sure.” Lauren stood fast, pondering how a tablet from ancient Egypt had come to a gothic chapel in Central Europe. “These spells were designed to ensure the soul of the deceased made it safely into the afterlife. This appears to come from the Judgment scene. The heart of the deceased was weighed against the feather of Ma’at, the goddess of Truth. If the heart was lighter than the feather, they were admitted safe passage. But if the heart were heavier, because its owner were wicked, it would be devoured by Ammit ...” Lauren’s voice trailed off. She’d heard this story from her husband’s professor. Dr. Badr had told it to her one afternoon when they’d gone to the market. She could hear Tima’s voice now as she spoke. “If their heart was devoured ...they died a second death. Their soul would be gone from existence, obliterated for all eternity.”
“I can imagine that would be a fate worse than death.” Tomáš smirked.
“To disappear in a poof versus a lifetime of eternal torture?” Bertram questioned the detective. “I say better to be gone than to burn.”
“In a society where you lived your entire life to earn your eternal existence in the afterworld, annihilation was the worst thing the ancient Egyptians could imagine.” Lauren pointed out. She’d learned as much from Rowan’s studies — and his professor — as he had. She’d sat in on some of Tima’s lectures, too. “To be forgotten, to suddenly have never lived. Their view of purgatory was far different from those of the Christian faith.”
“How is this going to help us stop the dark forces?” Simon snapped impatiently. That dark scowl that made his blue eyes radiate made Lauren recoil. “We need the lost pages from the Codex.”
The monk nodded and lifted a hand a moment, then went over to another wooden box on the same shelf. He picked it up and carried it to the table. The VIS agents followed him over. Lauren hesitated a moment, glancing at the detective before she moved.
This box was roughly three feet long and appeared incredibly ancient. The rosewood might have been pristine at one time but appeared gnarled from age. There were cracks that suggested water intrusion, along with tiny worm holes where wee beasties had once feasted.
The monk reached under the neck of his robe and revealed a leather thong with a crude ceramic crucifix and a single iron key. He lifted it over his head and handed it to Lauren reverently.
The metal warmed against her hand, but she chilled as she lay one hand atop the unadorned box. She placed the key into the lock. Taking a deep breath, she turned it. The ancient tumblers resisted moving at first. Twisting her mouth with determination, she added to her effort and the lock clicked open as the mechanism surrendered.
Feeling light-headed, Lauren moved back. The monk stepped in, taking over. As the lid opened, the dank aroma of rot melded with the mélange of ancient magic that filled the air. Lauren tried to breathe calm into her thundering heart, but to no avail.
The monk lifted the large vellum scroll from the chest and lay it out, unfurling it as they gathered around. The animal hide had dried and was riddled with worm holes. It flaked as the monk gingerly unfurled it.
Curiosity now guided Lauren and any fear was pushed to the back of her mind as she stood gazing at the cursed text. She put her hand over her mouth in fear that the words might escape her lips and call evil to her even in this holiest of places.
“What does it say?” Tomáš asked.
Lucca started to translate the text that was written in Latin.
Lauren reached out and caught his arm. “Don’t.”
He looked at her with shock written on his face. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t read the spell,” she said. “You don’t know what it will do.”
“And I suppose you read Latin, too?” Simon scowled.
Lauren and Tomáš exchanged cautious glances. “Yes, as a matter of fact she does,” Kovač said. “So, it is a spell?” He turned to her.
“Not like bubble, bubble toil and trouble, but ...” she returned her attention to it. “In its simplest terms, this page speaks of the end times. It speaks of the one who should not be named and his return ...” She was intentionally being vague. She hesitated and felt the blood drain from her face as she read on.
“What is it?” Tomáš asked. “Lauren?”
“It speaks of a child ... a child of the gods who will be sent to destroy the Dark One. This tells how the Deceiver might be able to destroy him.”
“As I said, it is a common theme in myth and religion,” Bertram said to her.
“The Dark One? He-who-must-not-be-named? Like ...” Tomáš’ face screwed up in confusion. “Like, Voldemort?” His tone lowered as did the volume of his words, as if speaking the fictitious name would bring evil upon them.
“Oh, the page names him, but no good will come from reading this aloud.” Lauren turned and took a step away. “Most people think of the Apocalypse as the second coming of Christ. But this ... calls it the second coming of the anti-Christ.”
“We have to get this somewhere safe,” Bertram said.
“What place could be safer than this?” Tomáš argued.
“I agree with Bertram.” Lauren turned to Tomáš, stepping away from the table, leading him aside.
“I thought you said this was a trap ... to bait you into moving the page so it can be ... reclaimed?” Tomáš crossed his arms. His brows knitted over his ice blue eyes that flickered in the candlelight.
“If we can be deceived, anyone can.” Lauren’s thumbnail went to her teeth, and she realized there was nothing left. Instead, she tucked her hand in her pocket, trying to break the bad habit. “But I think there’s a way ...”
“You can’t take it off sacred ground without exposing it to risk, isn’t that what you said? That’s why they got the first page from the museum, right?”
“Maybe we can’t take it off sacred ground, but we can take sacred ground with us.”
The three Gendarmerie turned sharply, glaring at her. “What?” Bertram gazed at her curiously.
“If Henry the Abbott brought soil from Golgotha, I’m going to need a sample of it.”
The monk walked over from the place in the shadows where he waited patiently for them to finish their examination. He managed a beatific smile and curled his finger at Lauren for her to follow.