The wind moaned like a banshee as the party from Mara Vardac galloped up to the gates of Saint George’s. They were locked tight.
“How will we pass through?” Father Cernat shouted.
“We must pray they aren’t all pricolici,” Nathaniel shouted back. “If the brothers know help has come….” He pulled out his revolver and fired two shots into the air.
They waited, huddled against the heavy buttress, and then torches appeared, moving across the cloister. He recognized Brother Grigori, the monk who had greeted them before, along with two others. Grigori lifted the heavy crossbar and the gates swung wide.
Nathaniel slid from the saddle, one hand gripping the reins in a frozen claw. Within the walls, the wind had died some and he could see unbroken snow covering the cloister except for the footprints of the men who had just let them in.
“Where are they?” he demanded.
The brothers glanced at each other but said nothing.
“Forget your blasted vows of silence,” Nathaniel roared. “Where’s my wife?”
One pointed back at the refectory.
“And Karol? The pricolici?” Cristian’s eyes shone with fury.
“He was in the infirmary,” Nathaniel replied. “Follow me!”
He swung back into the saddle and they galloped across the yard. The monastery was dark, with no sign of anyone about. Cristian burst through the infirmary door first, his cousins on his heels, all of them with shotguns ready in their hands, and Nathaniel heard a wordless shout of anger. He pushed inside. The room was empty, Brother Karol gone, his ropes frayed.
The father of the dead children muttered something in Magyar and then a shadow skittered through the torchlight at the edge of the room.
It was only a rat, but the men were wound tight as bowstrings.
Nathaniel heard the thunder of shotguns firing, the flashes blinding inside the chamber. He felt a sudden agony in his leg that knocked him back against the wall.
“Stop!” he shouted. “For God’s sake, it was a bloody rat!”
The guns quieted, the stink of powder heavy in the air.
Nathaniel sank down against the wall, praying they hadn’t come too late.
Gunshots shattered the haze. Then a long silence. She dreamt of Alec, dreamt he was trying to scream her name but no sound came out….
“Vivienne!”
Her eyes cracked open.
The voice was muffled by stone, but she recognized it now.
Nathaniel.
My dear Nathaniel.
“Vivienne!”
She pressed chilled fingers against the wall. Whatever was in the brandy seemed to be wearing off, though she still felt awful.
Her first effort was a sad croak. How dry her mouth was, like she’d been chewing cotton. Vivienne coughed and tried again.
“Nathaniel…. Nathaniel!”
This time he seemed to hear her.
“Where are you? I can’t….” The rest was lost.
She gathered her strength and tried to stand. Failed. “There’s a secret door in the pantry. It leads to a passage!”
A long pause. She’d almost given up hope when she caught a faint reply.
“I’ve been shot, darling, but I’ll send someone straight over.”
Long minutes passed and then she saw candles coming down the narrow passage. It was the innkeeper’s son and Father Cernat. Andrei helped her to stand and they led her, stumbling, through endless twists and turns and finally out into the cold air of the cloister. The storm had eased and a few stars winked down as Vivienne emptied her stomach in the snow.
Father Cernat brought her a cup of water and she drank deeply.
“Did you pass anyone on the road?” she asked, feeling some strength return.
He shook his head. “And the gates were sealed behind us. No one has left.”
Relief flooded her. “They must still be here then. We’ll mount a search.”
She felt like death warmed over, but it didn’t stop her from enlisting Cristian and his brothers to comb every cell of the monastery, every outbuilding down to the chicken coops. But the men who had drugged her were gone without a trace.
Vivienne found Nathaniel in the infirmary. He lay on one of the beds, his leg resting on a pillow and a tightness around his eyes. They warmed with relief when she ran to him and took his hand.
“Who shot you?”
“It was an accident.” He looked her over. “Thank God they didn’t harm you. When I discovered the truth, I was so afraid, Vivienne.”
She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. A little woozy, that’s all.”
And then she told him all that had happened in the secret chamber — or almost all.
“But why did Karol attack the false abbot if they were all pricolici?” he asked weakly.
She could see Nathaniel was exhausted and in a great deal of pain.
“I’m not sure yet. At first I thought he wanted us to leave, but then….” She trailed off.
The door opened and Father Cernat entered, a queer look on his face. “I just spoke to Father Nicolae.”
“He’s unharmed?”
“Perfectly so. And he denies knowing anything about the men you describe.”
Vivienne felt a flash of rage and tried to bridle her temper. “Please explain to me how that can be possible. We were here for two full days.”
Cernat shrugged, though there was something in his eyes. “He did admit that the brothers buried in the cemetery were also killed by the pricolici some months ago.” A cough. “Father Nicolae claims it was the man named Adrian.”
She frowned. “The one lying dead in the infirmary?”
“That one, yes.”
None of it made sense.
“What about the other monks? We have to question them—”
He shook his head. “They will not break their vows.”
Vivienne swore softly. “I want to see Father Nicolae,” she said. “Right now.”
The old abbot was in his study, hands folded serenely, as if he had been waiting for her to come.
“May I sit?”
He made a small gesture at the chair.
Vivienne sank down, her back straight. “You know who they are.” It was not a question.
“What is it you want?” he asked mildly.
“I want their names. Everything you know about them.”
He leaned back with a sigh. “And if I told you? What would you do with the knowledge?”
“Find them.”
He shook his head. “That would not be wise.”
Vivienne wanted to seize him by his long white beard and shake him like a terrier with a rat. She clasped her hands to keep them from trembling. “Why not?” she asked tightly.
“Those men were not sent by the Devil.” The abbot sighed. “Go back to London, Lady Cumberland.”
“And the poor children’s father?” she said with a scorn she could no longer conceal. “What will you tell him?”
“I’ve already spoken with him. He knows that justice has been done.”
The abbot raised a finger and a brother appeared in the doorway.
“Please escort Lady Cumberland to the guest house,” the abbot said. “Our interview is concluded.”
Vivienne rose and strode to the door. She spun back and stared at him.
“If not by the Devil, then by whom, Father?”
He gave her only a gentle smile.
Vivienne refused to be packed off to the guest house, curling up in a chair in the infirmary as Nathaniel slipped into a fitful doze. When she heard his breath deepen to sleep, she finally broke down, sobbing as though her heart would break.
Alec, she thought. Oh, Alec. What have I done?
Outside, the blizzard was howling again.