20
I used Leischneudel’s cell phone to call Max and explain our suspicions.
“I have a theory, too,” said the mage. “I observed the phenomenon twice yesterday that soon after we entered the theater, Nelli experienced what appeared to be an allergic reaction and soon after we exited, she reverted to a state of robust good health. You and I assumed that something in the theater was troubling her senses.”
“Uh-huh.”
I made an exasperated gesture at Leischneudel, who was listening intently to my conversation, urging him to drink faster. Daemon could arrive at any moment, and we were still in his dressing room—since I thought we might be noticed if we left the room with half a bottle of blood in our possession. Besides, I didn’t want to bump into Tarr or Fiona, if I could avoid it.
Max continued, “I now postulate that, since Nelli is a mystical being, what irritated her senses yesterday was—”
“A vampire?” I guessed. “Or, rather, vampires.” Thack and Leischneudel had both been here, after all.
“Yes. I think it possible,” Max said, “that we were getting an affirmative reaction from Nelli. We just didn’t recognize it.”
“Because we were looking for something identical to her reactions to mystical threats on previous occasions,” I said.
“Precisely. A living vampire—as you now know from your friendships with two of them—is not inherently threatening or evil. That’s a matter of character and circumstances. Ergo, Nelli does not respond to vampirism as a threat. But I now suspect she does respond to it as an irritant to her delicate senses.”
I exercised tact and did not mention that Max’s delicately sensitive mystical familiar regularly gulped down discarded garbage during her habitual perambulations.
“The question is, Max, if I’m right and there is an unknown vampire wandering around here, can Nelli’s senses pinpoint him?”
“We can only ascertain that by making the attempt.”
“Can you bring her to the theater right away? Since the vampire hunter is coming to New York—”
“What?” Leischneudel blurted.
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” I whispered. Then I continued saying to Max, “We might be able to help narrow his search and end this nightmare faster if Nelli can identify the rogue vampire.”
“Nelli and I shall come to the Hamburg forthwith,” Max said. “However, under the terms of the treaty, if any representative of the council asks me to leave or wants Nelli to stand down—”
“Yes, I understand,” I said. “I’ll make sure someone knows at the stage door to let you in.”
As I ended the call, Leischneudel said, “A vampire hunter is coming here?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to spoil your dinner, so I was saving the news for afterward. Drink up, by the way.”
He pursed his bloody lips and cradled the mostly empty bottle against his chest, rocking back and forth a little. “I think I’ve lost my appetite. A Lithuanian vampire hunter?”
“You should keep a low profile while he’s here.”
“Oh, you think?” he snapped.
I realized he was very upset.
“There’s no need to panic,” I lied, recalling what Max had said about the ruthlessness of Lithuanian vampire hunters. “We can get through this.”
There was a sharp, heavy knock at the door. We both flinched, looked at it, and froze. A moment later, someone flung open the door.
Leischneudel hastily wiped his mouth with his hand. I glanced at him and saw with dismay that all that did was smear the blood around, making it even more noticeable.
A total stranger stood in the doorway. He was an older man, gray-haired and heavyset. He had a ruddy complexion and a pug nose, and he wore sensible clothing: a plaid flannel shirt, an anorak, khaki trousers, and sturdy shoes.
What I mostly noticed, though, was the crossbow in his hand.
He said, “I’m looking for Daemon Rav . . .” His blue eyes fixed on Leischneudel, who was frantically smearing blood across his mouth. “Vampire!”
The stranger raised his crossbow and took aim.
“No!” I leaped to my feet.
“Wait!” Leischneudel howled, diving sideways.
The vampire hunter shifted his crossbow to track Leischneudel’s evasive move. He stepped further in the room to corner his quarry—and slipped on the champagne I had spilled by the door. His eyes bulged as he cried out and sailed up into the air, where he seemed to hover for a moment like a cartoon character, then he crashed heavily to the floor, banging his head against the doorjamb as he fell.
I knelt down next to him and felt for a pulse.
Leischneudel peeked out from behind the chair he was hiding behind. “What did you do, Esther?”
I said, “He’s still alive.”
“Also trigger-happy!”
“Quite.” I took away the crossbow. “Do you think we should tie him up?”
“Yes.” Apparently too shaken to stand upright, Leischneudel crawled over to the stranger. “Let’s do that right now.”
I closed the door, since I shrewdly suspected that some of our colleagues might question our intentions if they saw us tying up an unconscious stranger.
Leischneudel, who was still in his street clothes, removed his belt and bound the stranger’s hands behind his back. Then he rooted around the room searching for something equally strong to use on the legs.
“I’m a little disappointed,” I said.
“What, that he didn’t kill me?”
“Calm down. I just mean this is the Dirty D’Artagnanator, sent all the way from Vilnius to slay our rogue vampire? He’s not quite what I expected.”
Leischneudel, who had found an electrical extension cord, started binding the man’s ankles with it. “What were you expecting?”
“Well, not a chubby old guy who immediately knocked himself out so we could tie him up.” Then I realized what else I hadn’t expected. “Wait a minute.”
I knelt beside the unconscious man and started fishing around in his pockets.
“What are you looking for?” Leischneudel asked as he finished his task.
“His ID. This man sounded American when he spoke. The vampire hunter who’s coming to New York doesn’t even speak English . . . Ah-hah! Here it is.” I found his wallet, opened it, and pulled out the driver’s license.
“Who is he?” Leischneudel asked.
I frowned, puzzled. “He’s Peter Simkus of Oshkosh, Wisconsin.” After a moment, it hit me. “Oh, crap. I need your phone again.”
Leischneudel handed it over.
I called Thack’s cell. He didn’t pick up, so I left a message on his voice mail. “Your Uncle Peter just tried to kill Leischneudel. We’ve knocked him out and tied him up in Daemon’s dressing room. I think you should come to the theater and talk to him. Right away.”
“Thack sent his uncle to kill me?” Leischneudel said shrilly. “I thought Thack liked me!”
“No, Uncle Peter was supposed to be the interpreter for the vampire hunter,” I said. “Thack mentioned that his uncle had done a little vampire hunting; but since he’s managed to be captured by us, I’d say he’s pretty rusty. I’m guessing he got a little too excited about being back in action and overstepped his mark.”
“Overstepped?” Leischneudel repeated. “Esther, he pointed a crossbow at my head!”
“We have the crossbow now,” I said reassuringly, waving it at him. “And he’s tied up.”
“Who let a stranger with a weapon into the building?” Leischneudel demanded.
“That’s a good question.” I knew the cops were overwhelmed, but I found it hard to believe they’d been distracted enough to let someone waltz past them with a crossbow. “And if Uncle Peter is here, then where is—”
Leischneudel and I clutched each other in panic as the door flew open without warning. Daemon stalked into the room.
He slipped on the spilled champagne and cursed as he righted himself. He tripped on Uncle Peter and gave the unconscious man an irritable kick before he stepped over him.
I quickly closed the door while Daemon flung himself into a chair.
“My God, I thought yesterday was the worst day of my life!” he said in an aggrieved tone, still looking hungover and wrung out from last night’s bender. “I now look back on yesterday as an innocent time of unspoiled pleasures and youthful dalliance. Do you know why?”
“Why?” Leischneudel asked, perhaps too accustomed to playing Aubrey to Daemon’s Ruthven.
“Because now I am living through today,” Daemon declared. “Do you have any fucking idea what has happened to me today?”
I said, “You’re not even curious, are you, about why we have an unconscious hostage and a crossbow in your dressing room?”
“Nocturne is threatening to fire me!” Daemon shouted. “I am the face and voice of Nocturne, and they’re talking about dumping me!”
“Oh! Because of the whole . . .” Leischneudel made a vague gesture. “The tabloids are just awful today.”
“You know what else? My movie deal is this close to being canceled!” Daemon held his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart.
“You have a movie deal?” Leischneudel asked in surprise.
“Princeling of Darkness,” Daemon replied.
“Feature film?” I asked.
“Cable TV,” Daemon said darkly. “It’s about a vampire who proves he’s innocent of murder by hunting down the fiend who actually exsanguinated his lover.
“Wow, and they might not want you for that anymore?” I said. “Go figure.”
“And when I came to work just now, I was spat on, insulted, and pelted with garbage outside the theater by people who were my devoted fans before the tabloids tried to turn me into a demented killer!”
“Did you sneak in through the fire exit, like Victor suggested?” I asked,
Daemon looked blank. “When did Victor suggest that?”
“I think he left it on your voice mail.”
“Oh, I’ve had my phone turned off for hours. You would not believe the calls I’m getting! How do these people get my number, anyhow?” Daemon rubbed his forehead. “Where is Victor? Has he deserted me, too?”
“No, I think he’s probably waiting for you by the fire exit. Victor said . . .” My eyes met Leischneudel’s. “Victor.”
Leischneudel looked at me inquisitively.
“Who has the most access to this dressing room besides Daemon? Who can come and go without being noticed?” I gestured to the fridge, from which bottles of blood had been quietly disappearing. “Who can take things out of this room without being stopped or questioned?”
Leischneudel’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Victor!”
“What about Victor?” Daemon asked irritably.
“Where was he when Adele Olson was killed?”
“Who?” Daemon was absently fishing around in his pockets for something.
I whacked him upside the head. “The murder victim, you jackass!”
“Ow! Jesus, calm down, would you?” he said. “I’m the one having my life destroyed by this, not you.”
“Where was Victor when the murder was committed?”
“How should I know? I’m more interested in where he is now. I need something for my stomach. And my head. And I need to use his phone. I don’t want to turn mine on.”
“You really think Victor is . . .” Leischneudel wiggled his brows meaningfully at me.
Looking at him with a puzzled frown, Daemon said, “Gay? Probably. But I don’t ask about his personal life.”
“Tarr says he doesn’t have a personal life,” I mused.
How twisted might that make a person? Or a vampire?
“Tarr. Is he here?” Daemon stood up, swayed briefly, then pulled himself together. “I want a word with him. No! I want five minutes alone in a room with him, no rules, no referee.”
As he headed for the door, I said, “Don’t trip—”
Daemon tripped.
“—on Uncle Peter.”
Looking down at Thack’s uncle, Daemon said, “All right. Fine. I’ll bite. Why is there an unconscious man tied up on the floor of my dressing room?”
“No one really knows,” Leischneudel said.
“Here’s something else we don’t know.” I joined them in gazing down at Uncle Peter, who looked peaceful and was snoring a little now. “Where is the vampire hunter who was supposed to be with him? Did his airplane not take off from Vilnius? Did the guy never get here? Where . . . Oh, my God.”
“What?” Leischneudel said. “What?”
“He’s here,” I said with certainty. “The vampire hunter is in the building.”
“No!” Leischneudel dived behind a chair again, taking cover.
“That’s how they got in here with weapons,” I said. “They climbed up to the roof after dark, then rappelled down via old air shaft.” I looked down at Uncle Peter with more respect now. Sure, he was rusty, but he still had the right stuff. “Two ropes hanging down. Edvardas Froese is here, too.”
“For God’s sake,” Daemon said. “They couldn’t just buy tickets from a scalper, like everyone else?”
“They’re not here to see the show,” I snapped. “They’re vampire hunters. Uncle Peter probably came in here to interview you. While Edvardas is doing recon or something. Who knows? The only stories I’ve heard about vampire hunting are from eighteenth-century Serbia, and they were slaying the undead. Edvardas has a whole different sort of quarry to hunt down.”
From behind his chair, Leischneudel wailed.
“Just keep a low profile,” I said to him. “I’m going to go see if I can find Edvardas. A total stranger carrying a crossbow and speaking only Lithuanian probably stands out, even around here. I’ll see if I can get through to him with pantomime gestures or something. Don’t untie Uncle Peter until I get back. We want to make sure he knows not to kill you before we let him loose.”
Leischneudel grunted an affirmative.
“And I,” said Daemon through gritted teeth, “am going to find Tarr and kill him with my bare hands!”
He flung open the door to march through it.
We came face-to-face with a tall, slim, powerfully built man with a neatly trimmed beard who had his pale blond hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore a long suede coat, old boots, and leather pants, and he carried a crossbow.
Now this is more like it.
“Edvardas Froese,” I said with certainty.
He glanced at me and lifted one brow. He looked at Daemon, and his eyes narrowed in recognition. Perhaps he’d had a case file to study on his transatlantic journey.
Then he saw Uncle Peter lying on the floor behind me, unconscious and securely bound. In a split second, he raised his crossbow and pointed it at Daemon.
“Vampyras!” Edvardas cried in a deep baritone voice.
I didn’t need to speak Lithuanian to understand that.
“Whoa.” Daemon raised his hands. “What the hell are you doing, man?”
“He doesn’t speak English,” I said.
Daemon looked at me. “You know this guy?”
“Not exactly.”
Edvardas spoke coldly to Daemon. I didn’t understand the words, but the intent certainly came across as, “I’ll see you in hell!”
“Wait! No!” With no idea what else to do, I raised Uncle Peter’s crossbow, which I was still holding, and pointed it at Edvardas.
Keeping his eyes on Daemon, he said something dismissive to me.
“I’ll shoot!” I warned.
Daemon sighed. “Look, I don’t know what language this guy is speaking. But I’m pretty sure he’s telling you that thing isn’t loaded.”
“What?” I looked down at my weapon. “How can you tell?”
Edvardas snickered.
“Oh, shit,” I said. “Uncle Peter’s even rustier than we thought.”
“The old man was pointing an empty weapon at me?” Leischneudel blurted from his hiding place inside the dressing room.
On our left, Bill was running down the hall toward us. “What the hell is going on here?” he shouted. “Esther! Daemon! Who is that?”
Somewhere to our right, Mad Rachel starting screaming, “They’re coming in! They’re coming in!”
The combination of stimuli was enough to distract even a seasoned vampire hunter. Edvardas looked around, perhaps thinking he was being ambushed from multiple directions. I realized we had to disarm him to prevent a potential fatality before his interpreter woke up and could be convinced to tell him not to kill us. So I flung myself at him while he was off his guard, and the two of us went flying into the far wall together.
I heard a short, soft, menacing sound that I didn’t recognize, immediately followed by Daemon shouting, “Jesus! That nearly hit me!”
I realized the crossbow had misfired when Edvardas stumbled into the wall with me. He flung me aside with one muscular arm as easily as if I were a paper napkin. I reeled backward and fell down as he launched himself at Daemon, who was shrieking, “I’m an actor! I’m an actor!”
Leischneudel appeared in the doorway, his lips quivering, his eyes glassy with fear. But he was a hero, deep down. When he saw what was happening, he joined Bill in jumping on top of the vampire hunter and pummeling him.
Edvardas was darned impressive, I had to admit. He fought three men at once (well, two, anyhow—Daemon was mostly cowering and shrieking over and over that he was an actor), and he seemed to be winning.
Down the hallway, I could hear Mad Rachel screaming, “Here they come! What do we do?”
I noticed a crossbow lying on the floor near me while Edvardas fought his adversaries. He had his hands around Daemon’s neck now, and he looked like he was trying to rip his head off, exactly as Jurgis Radvila had done with an undead vampire in a Serbian cemetery long ago. Acting on instinct, I picked up the crossbow, rose to my feet, and walloped Edvardas over the head with it as hard as I could.
He cried out, swayed unsteadily on his feet for a minute, then collapsed.
Daemon was choking and gagging, red-faced, with tears streaming from his eyes.
“Oh, my God,” Leischneudel said, panting with panic and exertion. “What do we do now?”
Bill was breathing hard, too. “I came back here to tell you the lobby has been breached. The crowds are pouring into the house. They’ve gone insane!”
I was also panting. “Crazy crowds rioting inside the theater? Two homicidal vampire hunters backstage, one of whom doesn’t understand English?” I looked at my companions. “I say we run for it!”
“Good plan,” said Leischneudel.
“I like it!” Bill seemed bizarrely cheerful.
Daemon was waving his arms feebly, indicating he needed help to stand up. Bill and Leischneudel hauled him off the floor. He was swaying dizzily in their arms as we all turned in the direction of the stage door to make our escape.
“Run for your lives!” Mad Rachel screamed.
I stared dumbfounded as Tarr and Rachel—who was in full costume and makeup—ran straight toward us from that direction, shouting their heads off. Then I heard the rising din of voices behind them, angry shouts, the roar of the crowd.
“They’re coming through the stage door!” Tarr shouted. “The cops can’t hold them off! Why do we even pay taxes in this city?”
Pelting down the hall behind them, I saw six men: my vampire posse and Leischneudel’s Caped Crusaders.
When Flame saw me, he shouted, “The perimeter has been breached! Our position has been flanked! Man overboard!”
Silent shouted at him, “Oh, shut up!” Then to me: “Esther, run! We’ll hold them off until you’re gone!”
Then he laughed exultantly and turned to confront the sea of costumed, wing-wearing, befanged, gothpainted, Jane-look-alike, and mad-scientist vamparazzi piling through the stage door and flooding the hallway.
I saw Treat and Casper knock down Dr. Hal (whose picket sign today said: IMMORTAL LIFE IN PRISON!) while he was shouting, “No prisoners!” Then they high-fived each other.
The two Caped Crusaders leaped into the oncoming sea of people, swirling their capes with gusto and shouting, “Bam! Pow! Zam!” as they shoved and hit people.
A gaggle of Janes, unable to get past the bottleneck my posse was creating in the hall, were screeching, “Daemon! Daemon! Please.” Some of them were weeping with lust-maddened hysteria.
“Fire exit!” Daemon choked out, his nose running and his eyes still streaming. “Didn’t you say something about the fire exit?”
“Hah! Yes!” Bill laughed maniacally as he and Leischneudel grabbed Daemon and started half-carrying, halfdragging him. “Fire exit! Stay together, everyone!”
As he passed Edvardas’ prone body, Tarr asked me, “What is that?”
“A Lithuanian vampire hunter.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Mad Rachel started bawling her eyes out, making her makeup run as she wailed, “I want Eric! I want my mamma!”
“Come on,” I said, dragging her by the arm. “Didn’t you hear Bill? Stay together!”
We all ran toward the darkened wings, through them, and then across the stage. The curtain was down, and the working-lights for the crew offered enough illumination to ensure we didn’t trip over the furniture in our mad dash to escape. The house of the Hamburg, directly on the other side of the curtain, sounded like the Roman Coliseum in some epic gladiator film. As the others kept running (except for Daemon, who was staggering while being dragged), I paused to peek through the curtain, wondering if there was any possibility of escaping unseen via the fire exit in the house.
“Good God!” I blurted.
There were dozens of people rampaging through the theater, with still more pouring through the doors at the back.
“Come on, come on!” Tarr grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the curtain, hauling me the rest of the way across the stage with him. “That is not your audience anymore, kiddo!”
“Don’t call me that,” I snarled at him and jerked my arm out of his grasp. “This is all your fault!”
“Hey, Daemon wanted to be noticed,” Tarr said with a nasty sneer. “Well, now he’s been noticed.”
“Run! Turn back! RUNNNNNNN!”
Emerging from the darkened wings at this end of the stage, Victor collided with Bill, Leischneudel, and Daemon. The four men all fell down, tumbling across the stage like billiard balls.
Rachel ignored them all and kept running forward, disappearing beyond the wings.
Victor was babbling as he hauled himself off the stage, and then scooped Daemon up. “I was waiting for you. By the door. Like I said I would! There was a knock. I thought it was you!”
“You opened the fire door?” I guessed.
Rachel screamed in terror and came running back this way.
Tarr said, “Yep, he opened the fire door.”
“And they came pouring in,” Victor wailed. “Dozens of them! What do we do?”
“No, no, no!” Daemon shouted. “How can this be happening to me?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said.
Bill pointed at the curtain. Beyond it, the decibel level of the seething horde was still rising. “There’s a fire exit that way, if we can get to it.”
I shook my head. “Not a chance. I looked.”
Bill was practically jumping up and down with excitement as he said, “Stage door, no. Fire exit, no. House, no.”
“Are you saying we’re trapped?” Leischneudel asked in horror.
“We all going to die!” Rachel howled while runny mascara streaked down her face.
“I know another way out!” I said suddenly. “If we can get to it.” There might be time, if we move fast enough. “This way!”
I ran toward the rear of the backstage area, near where Bill had found the rappelling ropes earlier. I went past the spot where Lopez and I had sat talking two nights ago, and down the hallway where he had then led me, into the alcove where the basement door was.
“No, this is a dead end,” Leischneudel protested.
“It’s not! Who has a flashlight?” I asked.
Bill pulled one out of his work belt. “I do.”
Victor, who was hauling Daemon now, said, “I have a small one on my key chain.”
“Me, too.” Tarr added to me, as if I might care, “I like gadgets.”
I opened the basement door.
“No!” Rachel howled. “We’ll be trapped like rats!”
“There’s an underground tunnel,” I said. “Abandoned old water mains. We can escape this way. Hurry! Before anyone realizes where we’ve gone.”
I lifted up my Regency skirts and started descending the stairs, the adrenaline of terror making me unusually swift and agile. I heard my colleagues stampeding behind me, and then the heavy basement door, already high above my head now, thudded shut behind us.
“Get out your flashlights,” I said. “Bill, shut off the overhead light.” When the vamparazzi got as far as that dead-end alcove, there was less chance they’d look for us down here if the basement was dark.
By then, I hoped, we’d be long gone, anyhow. Lopez had said there were other exits from the tunnel. It shouldn’t be too hard to find one.
As soon as the lights went out, Rachel wailed, “This place is scary! I want Eric!”
“Shut up,” Tarr and I said in unison.
In the faint illumination provided by one large and two very small flashlights, I led them all across the basement, behind the rusted-out machinery and forgotten junk, and down the slick old steps to the heavy door in the wall.
Bill was laughing with delight. “What is this place? Esther, this is amazing!”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet. Come on.”
We entered the tunnel that ran under the street and connected the Hamburg to the old underground access chamber below Eighth Avenue. I was halfway to it when Victor, at the end of our queue, called out to me, “Uh, Esther? Problem.”
Daemon’s voice was raspy as he said, “Leischneudel, come on. What’s the hold-up?”
“Uh, I’ll wait here,” Leischneudel said. “No one will look this far away for me. And the cops will have things under control in a while.”
I said to Bill, “You take the lead. The access chamber is right ahead of you. When you get there, open the old iron door under the spiral stairs. It’s very stiff, but it opens. That’s the tunnel. From there you can get to an exit. A manhole or something like that.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you with Leischneudel.”
“Esther!”
“You guys go ahead. I know where I’m going.” I added, “And whatever’s wrong with Leischneudel, I can bring him around. Go.”
As they proceeded toward the access chamber, I started making my way back through this tunnel, passing my colleagues. When I reached Tarr, I realized I’d need a flashlight, and I took his without apology as I said, “Give me that. You can follow Bill.”
As I passed Victor and Daemon, I remembered with a sudden chill that I suspected Victor of being the rogue vampire.
He said something to me, but I didn’t hear what it was. The tunnel was reverberating with the echo of Mad Rachel’s wails.
When I reached the door to the basement, where Leischneudel stood wringing his hands, trembling and sweating, it was pretty easy to guess what was troubling him. “Claustrophobia?”
He nodded. “I don’t have too many problems in ordinary daily life, but an underground tunnel? I can’t. Esther, I can’t.”
I tried to convince him that we could do this as if it were a trust exercise in acting class, where he’d close his eyes and just let me lead him. But his nerves were shot to hell, and he was too frantic and panicky to be talked into this.
As we stood arguing, the lights suddenly came blazing on throughout the cellar, making us blink and squint. We heard the basement door slam in the distance, and then we heard two men’s voices. After a moment, we realized whose voice it was and why we couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“The vampire hunters!” Leischneudel whispered in terror.
“My God, those guys are tough,” I said with reluctant admiration.
Leischneudel grabbed my arm, pulled me inside the dark tunnel with him, and quietly closed the heavy door behind us.
“Come on, come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go.”
“I thought you were claustrophobic?”
“I am. It turns out I’m just more phobic about vampire hunters.”
We proceeded through the dark, uneven tunnel with fast, fear-fueled steps. When we emerged into the access chamber, our colleagues had already pried opened the door and entered the tunnel. We were alone in the chamber. Leischneudel paused and looked around at the nineteenth-century construction and the crumbling spiral staircase that led to nowhere.
“Wow, this is amazing!” he said. “If I weren’t terrified out of my mind, I think I’d enjoy this.”
We heard shouts behind us in Lithuanian.
“Holy shit! Get in the tunnel,” I said. “Now.”
We ran through the iron door, sloshing into the thin layer of water there and slipping a little on the tunnel’s old curved floor.
“Should we close it behind us?” Leischneudel reached for the rusty door and tugged. It screeched a little.
Something whizzed past us with deadly speed. A crossbow bolt!
“Uncle Peter!” I cried. “Edvardas! Stop this now!”
The next crossbow bolt came so close to me it brushed my arm. Startled, I nearly dropped Tarr’s key-chain light. Then I turned it off, realizing what a good target it made me. I hastily stuffed the thing inside my corset so I wouldn’t lose it. As my eyes adjusted to the complete, opaque blackness underground, I saw the dancing lights of the Lithuanians’ flashlights flicker through the open doorway and bounce around the brick wall.
“Let’s go,” I whispered. “We’ll have to lose them in the tunnels.”
“Right.”
I turned and ran. So did he.
Terrified, confused, and functioning in pitch darkness in a strange place, it was a few seconds before we each realized we weren’t running in the same direction.
“Esther!”
“Leischneudel!” I took a step in his direction, then stopped abruptly when I heard two crossbow bolts fly through the door directly between us and clatter violently against the curved brick wall.
I instinctively backed up a step—then shrieked when something snakelike touched me, hanging down from the ceiling.
“Esther!” Leischneudel shouted.
“I’m all right!” I realized in that instant what it was. Tree roots. Hanging down through the ceiling. I remembered Lopez showing this to me. “Leischneudel, there are stalactites hanging down near you. Be careful. Now run! You’ll come to an exit! You will. Go!”
“Esther, no, I won’t leave you—”
“I’m not a vampire, and they know it. They won’t kill me.” I hoped I was right about that. “I’m going to try to reason with them. Go!”
“No, Esther—”
“Go!” Some brick dust fell on my head and into my eyes. I couldn’t see anyhow, but the stinging was painful and distracting, and it made my eyes water. As some bits of mortar fell on my head, I remembered Lopez telling me that intruding tree roots could cause structural instability in these old underground tunnels.
I heard Leischneudel’s footsteps sloshing through the water as he fled into the dark. The tree root brushed me again, making me jump and gasp in frightened revulsion a second time. I backed well away from it, not wanting it to touch me again.
I heard the Lithuanian voices getting closer.
“Uncle Peter, can you hear me?” I called.
“Who is that?” the old man called.
I heard something all around me that sounded like sliding pebbles. I backed up a step further, my heart pounding with instinctive fear.
“I’m a friend of Thack’s! Do not shoot me.”
“Friend of who?”
I heard rumbling like thunder, followed by cracking.
“Your nephew! Thackeray Shackleton!”
“Oh—that ridiculous name! What was the boy thinking?”
“Do not come into the tunnel.” My chest was pounding with anxiety. “I think it’s in danger of caving in!”
I moved forward, feeling my way along the wall. Something big fell in front of me, plummeting from the ceiling and hitting the water with a heavy thud and a splash. Pebbles hit me in the head.
“Young woman! Come out of there!” The voice was frightened, not threatening.
“I’m try—”
Somewhere behind me, from the far, dark reaches of this long-abandoned tunnel, a woman screamed in bloodcurdling terror.
The echo reverberated through the darkness and seemed to trigger the cave-in in earnest. The whole ceiling collapsed above me, and I threw myself backward just in time to avoid being buried by it. The long, echoing, thundering crash was deafening as the tunnel shook and I scrambled around in stygian darkness, screaming in blind, panic-stricken fear. I was coughing, holding my hand over my nose and mouth as I crawled through the water on my hands and knees, struggling to move in this ridiculous Regency costume while trying to escape from plummeting rocks and debris.
When the bricks finally stopped falling and I stopped screaming in hysterical terror, I was alone, in the dark, with the exit to the Hamburg sealed off by an immense pile of ruined masonry.
Behind me, trapped somewhere else in this tunnel with me, she screamed again.