Chain of Souls (Salem VI) (18 page)

"You think anybody will be there this early?" Amy asked.

John shrugged. "Joe D'Angelo was there at this time yesterday. I'm hoping he's a creature of habit."

He hadn't tried to call D'Angelo the previous evening or that morning because he feared that after his visit just a day earlier, D'Angelo would refuse his request to see the boxes of old documents from the House of the Seven Gables again. He was hoping that if he just showed up on the library's doorstep at the same early hour he had the day before that D'Angelo would find it harder to refuse his request.

They drove through the light traffic in silence, each of them alone with their thoughts. John glanced at Amy several times, but she kept her eyes on the road straight ahead. Her lips were pressed together and he could see tightness around the eyes he recognized as a combination of stress and concentration. He couldn't help but wonder whether she was reexamining the idea of getting involved with a man who had almost certainly been marked for death by the Coven.

If she was, he knew he couldn't blame her, because who in their right mind wanted a life spent looking over their shoulder every single moment? The previous night as sleep refused to come he had lain in bed beside her staring up at the ceiling and wondering how his own existence had come to such a pass, with a death threat held over his head, his daughter abducted, and constant suspicion bubbling in his guts that almost every single person around him might be a member of the Coven.

When they pulled into the lot at the Peabody Essex Institute they climbed out and walked across the nearly deserted grounds toward the library. A cold wind blew across the dead grass, tearing some of the last brown oak leaves from the trees and sending them scudding.

John checked his watch as he led the way up the steps of Plummer Hall. Ten to eight. The library wasn't supposed to open for another hour and ten minutes, but D'Angelo had been there at this hour a day earlier, even though the two of them had been just about the only two people in the library. Now John just had to hope D'Angelo was a creature of consistent habits.

He looked inside and felt a flush of dismay as he saw that there were very few lights burning, and those that were looked like the ones that would be left on all night. He rapped on the door and then waited a minute or two, pulling his coat tight to his throat to keep the wind from working its way inside. When he saw no one moving inside, he rapped again, and then, as an afterthought, he tried the door to see if D'Angelo had come to work and perhaps left the door unlocked for his co-workers.

To his delight, the door swung inward and he waved Amy and Faust in behind him. They walked into the main library, and their footsteps echoed on the polished wood floors as they looked around in the dimness to try and spot D'Angelo or any of the other librarians.

"Hello?" John called. "Is anybody here?" He paused and waited, and for a second he thought he heard distant footsteps, so he called out a second time.

Getting no response either time and thinking D'Angelo might be down working on the collection in the rare books section, John led the way through the small side door and down the staircase to the sign that read "Rare Books and Manuscripts Sections. Restricted Access."

John knew the room was locked and could only be accessed with a magnetic key card, but he remembered seeing a buzzer beside the lock that would enable visitors to summon one of the librarians to let them inside. John pushed the buzzer several times and stood back, hoping D'Angelo would soon open the door.

He turned to look at Amy and Faust as they came down the last steps and joined him outside the locked door. Amy was the one who noticed it. She glanced down at the floor by John's feet and pointed. "Is that blood?"

John stepped back and looked down. Where he had been standing the floor was smeared with something dark and red that made the soles of his shoes tacky. His heart went into his mouth, and he was just reaching behind his back for the .45 in his belt when the door to the rare books section jerked open from the inside.

Joe D'Angelo stood there blinking at him through bleary eyes, his cut scalp dripping blood down the side of his face. The rare books curator's arms was braced against the wall to help him stay on his feet, and as soon as he had the door open, he brought the handkerchief he was clutching in his right hand back to the cut on his head to try and staunch the flow of blood.

"Help me," D'Angelo whispered, and he took a step forward and collapsed into John's arms.

John took D'Angelo under the arms and together with Faust they managed to get him up the stairs and into the main reading room, while Amy whipped out her cell phone and called 911. By that time several other people had reported in for work in the main part of the library, and they helped get D'Angelo to a table where he sat and rested his head on his folded arms.

John sat down beside him at the table. "Don't go to sleep," he warned.

"Easy for you to say," Joe mumbled.

"Seriously," John insisted. "Sit up."

Joe sat up, and on his other side one of the other librarians, a heavyset woman in her late fifties, dabbed his head with damp paper towels to clean off the blood while someone else brought ice wrapped in a towel and laid it against his cut.

"What happened?" John asked when the bustling settled down again.

D'Angelo shook his head. "Somebody snuck up behind me and hit me. I left the door unlocked, and they must have just walked in after I got here."

"After they hit you, what did they do?"

"Dragged me into the rare books area and left me in the little room where we keep the gloves and sweaters. They went on into the collection and came out a minute later carrying something, I think. I was barely conscious and could hardly see.

John felt the anxiety building in his guts again. "Do you have any idea what they took?"

"I can't be sure until I have a chance to check, but I think it was those three boxes of new papers you were looking at yesterday." D'Angelo shook his head and mumbled something else.

"What was that?" John asked. "I can't understand what you just said."

"I said it doesn't make any sense to take those boxes, not when we've got Audubons and a Guttenberg Bible and lots of other books that are worth so much money."

John sat back and looked up at Amy and Faust who had been waiting behind his chair. "Yes, it does," he said under his breath.

A SHORT TIME LATER THEY WERE BACK AT JOHN'S
house gathered around the breakfast table drinking a fresh pot of coffee. John was hunched over with his elbows on the table and his hands on both sides of his head as he leaned forward and stared at the worn and scarred mahogany.

"They broke in and stole the three boxes. It had to be because of the drawing and the Elizabeth Turner letters. I'm certain of it."

"Weren't there a lot of other documents in those boxes beside those letters?"

"Yes, but everything else was straightforward. I mean, they might have wanted the Hawthorne journal, as well, but nothing was like the Elizabeth Turner letters. They were so . . . cryptic."

"Is there any chance the library would have made copies?"

Suddenly John looked up at her and then he slapped his hand hard on the tabletop. "God, what an ass I am!" He jammed his hand in his pocket and came out with his cell phone. "I forgot I'd taken a picture of the letter and the drawing." He clicked on his photo file and started paging through to the most recent pictures. "I didn't think I was supposed to photograph anything, but Joe D'Angelo left me alone so I took a couple shots."

He found the photos, then stood and hurried upstairs to his desk where he woke up his computer and plugged in the phone. A couple moments later all three of them were looking at a large image of the drawings he had photographed.

Faust squinted hard at the drawing of the house and the lines that came from it, running outward from each of the gables. Then he looked at the map of the world drawn below.

"What is it?" Amy asked.

After a few more seconds, Faust shook his head. "I think it's part of a map."

"Where would the rest of the map be?" John asked. "I have no idea."

"What's it a map of?"

Faust was quiet for several moments, and then he shook his head again. "Sorry, I don't know." He took a sip of his coffee and turned away from the computer. "What I do know is you need to get over to England as quickly as possible. I don't know what the Coven is planning or why this map was so important to them, but we can't allow any more time to pass. We need to move."

Amy stiffened. "Wait a minute. We have no idea what we're doing. If we go over there, we don't know who or what we're facing. I think it's crazy to just rush in."

Faust spun toward her, his face suddenly twisted with anger. "And if you don't rush in, John's daughter is liable to die!" He jerked his thumb toward John. "Ask him if he's willing wait any longer!"

"Amy," John said. "I have no choice. I have to go."

"No, you don't," Amy shot back. "Not like this!"

The sound of the doorbell made all three of their heads turn toward the staircase. "Who could that be?" Amy asked.

"No idea," John said as he reached into his belt for his .45. He went quickly down the stairs and tiptoed over to stand just to the side of the door. "Who's there?" he asked.

"My name is Lisa Giles."

"What do you want?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder in time to see Amy and Faust coming down the stairs then heading back toward the kitchen.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'd like to talk to you, Mr. Andrews."

"About?"

"About what I think is our common problem?"

John's heart started to beat faster. "What problem is that?" he asked, then held his breath, half expecting bullets to start coming through the door, but not expecting the next words. "The Coven," Lisa Giles said in a low voice.

John looked back at Amy and Father Faust, raising his eyebrows in question. Amy shrugged, and they both stepped out of sight. John paused, and then holding the pistol down by his leg, he reached over and opened the door.

For a second nothing happened, and then a woman stepped into the opening. She was small and slightly built, probably late forties or early fifties, John thought, with curly brown hair, big glasses, and nervous, birdlike movements. Her gaze quickly dropped from his face to his hands. Her eyes widened when she saw the gun. "I'm not a threat, Mr. Andrews." She nodded. "I assume you
are
Mr. Andrews?"

John nodded and closed the door behind her, turning the deadbolt as he did. "You said we have a common problem."

Lisa Giles stiffened as Amy and Father Faust stepped out from where they had been hiding around the corner. Faust had unbuttoned his coat, and his Roman collar was visible. Lisa Giles scowled.

"I didn't know you had one of
them
here," she said. "I'll come back another time." She turned and reached for the doorknob.

"Hold, witch!" Faust cried, his voice cracking like a whip.

John looked at the priest in amazement then froze when he saw Faust's gun. It was aimed at the woman. John swore he could see Faust tightening his finger on the trigger.

He held up his hand. "Are you crazy? No!"

Without even thinking about what he was about to do he stepped sideways, blocking Faust's clear shot, and he closed his eyes and tensed, waiting for the impact of a bullet.

A second passed, then two. When John opened his eyes, what he saw next shocked him even more than the sight of Faust's gun. Amy had stepped right behind Faust and had a large chef's knife she must have snatched from the knife block in the kitchen held tight to Faust's throat. John could see the handle of a second knife in Amy's left hand that was prodding the priest in the kidney.

"Drop the gun," Amy hissed.

Faust's eyes were white with shock and fear. "You don't know what you're doing," he snarled. "She's our enemy!"

"Don't move, and don't say another word. Just drop the gun."

Faust's face twisted with helpless fury, but he did as Amy commanded. His gun clattered to the floor.

"Now kick it toward John," Amy snapped.

Faust hesitated, then did as she ordered.

"John, pick up the gun," Amy said.

For a second John didn't move, rather he gaped at her open mouthed. She was acting totally different from the woman he thought he knew.

"John!" Amy snapped.

He snapped out of his trance, went over and picked up Faust's gun. Once he did, Amy took the knives away and shoved Faust forward.

With a blade no longer at his throat, Faust seemed to recover some of his courage. He looked at John, his expression filled with incomprehension. "I saved your life and you treat me like this!"

"You were going to shoot this woman!" John shouted back. "What were you thinking?"

"She's a
witch!"

Behind Faust Amy nodded. "Yes, she is, and you're a member of ODX, aren't you?"

John held up a hand for silence, and then he looked between Faust and Lisa Giles, who hadn't said a word since Faust pulled his gun. Unlike Faust, who was full of wild emotions, Lisa Giles seemed understandably shaken yet remarkably calm. She appeared to be such a small, mousy woman; he was amazed she wasn't a trembling wreck.