Chain of Souls (Salem VI) (22 page)

He felt different and more alive in more ways than just his rediscovered appetite and knew his and Amy's version of the Great Rite had been just what the doctor ordered. And a second later he suffered a strong blast of guilt as he realized everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours had sidetracked him badly from the task of finding and rescuing Sarah.

Lisa interrupted his jumbled thoughts by saying, "Yesterday, I told you about myself. I hope you have had enough time to get somewhat comfortable with the fact that we are on the same side in this struggle, and that I will do everything in my power to see you are successful in overcoming Jessica Lodge and getting your daughter home safely. I hope you will trust me enough to tell me exactly what has happened to you over the past couple days. Amy has shared a small amount, but it would be extremely helpful to hear it from your perspective."

John glanced at Amy, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod, and after a second he leaned across the table and in a low voice told her everything had happened since Sarah's abduction, including his discovery that the police captain who appeared to be his friend, Andrew Card, had not been a policeman after all, but a member of ODX, and how John had found Card's horribly tortured body in a secret room at the top of the House of the Seven Gables. He also told Lisa about the two people who had tried to kill him in the parking lot at the House of the Seven Gables and how Father Faust had killed them and then left their bodies in the trunk of their car at Logan Airport."

Lisa listened without interrupting, and when John finished she folded her hands on her placemat and bowed her head for several moments in deep contemplation.

John cleared his throat after a time. "I have to tell you, all things being equal, my highest priority is finding my daughter and getting her back here in one piece."

Lisa raised her eyes, which were piercing and as grey as a winter sky. "Your daughter is alive," she said without the slightest hesitation, "but she is in great danger."

"Then I've got to get to England. I don't have time for some detour to Poland."

Lisa's eyes tightened. "If you go to England today, you will be dead tomorrow. I guarantee it. So will Amy. So if you don't care about yourself, at least give some thought to her welfare."

John glared back. "Then tell me what I'm supposed to do when I get to Krakow."

"Wait for someone to contact you."

"Another witch?" John said in a mocking tone.

"No."

John glared at Lisa Giles, but she gave him the glare right back. "You need to trust me, Mr. Andrews. Everything depends on you doing that."

THE NEXT DAY BEFORE THEY LEFT JOHN AND
Amy took all the precautions they could. John checked his Audi, both under the rear fender and inside the engine compartment, just the way Father Faust had done two days earlier. Then before carrying their suitcases out to the car, he had Amy go out and check the street to make sure it was empty. On the way to the airport they took an indirect route, doubling back several times to try and make certain they weren't followed.

Not knowing how long they would be gone, they put the car in long-term parking and went to the terminal, looking around constantly to see if there was any sign of a tail. The flight itself was on time, and it was long and uneventful. John managed a few hours of disjointed sleep on the way and they landed in Krakow at four p.m. Poland time a day later.

Following Lisa's instructions, they went to the Hotel Wen-tzl, checked in, ate dinner in the hotel dining room, and went to bed. John was pleased they were able to reenact the Great Rite yet again, and afterwards as he lay in the dark with Amy's head on his chest, listening to her breathe, he actually wondered if making love could have helped prepare them in any way for what followed. He had no idea if it could really be true, but he hoped that in addition to leaving him feeling absolutely wonderful, it was.

They awoke the next morning before the sun was even up, and having nothing better to do, they enacted the Great Rite yet again. "I think I'm developing a greater and greater respect for the Wiccan religion," John noted when they were lying together in the sleepy aftermath.

"I think you're developing a greater and greater respect for acting like a randy teenager."

"It's all your fault."

"I sincerely hope so."

They went downstairs a few minutes after seven and were drinking coffee and munching freshly baked rolls when the maitre d' came to their table. "Excuse, please. A man is asking for you. Should I send him to your table?"

John glanced toward the door and saw a man in a black suit with a long dark beard. He felt a twinge of alarm, wondering if this was indeed the person Lisa Giles had sent or if it might be an imposter sent by the Coven. He glanced at Amy, who nodded her assent, and in spite of his misgivings, he nodded as well. "Please," he told the man.

A moment later the bearded man approached their table. As he got closer John could see the man was younger than he'd first guessed, maybe not even thirty, but his face was made to seem older by the thick beard. At first John had thought the man looked thickly built, even heavy, but as he came toward them John could see he was actually thin with narrow shoulders and long arms that initially looked larger because the of very full cut of his dark clothes. Also, John now saw the yarmulke on the back of the man's head.

The man came to a stop and eyed them both, his eyes watery with what looked like exhaustion and also suspicion. "John Andrews?" he asked, looking at John. "And Amy Johnson?" he said as he turned his eyes on Amy.

"Yes," they both answered.

"May I sit?"

"Who told you to find us?" John asked.

"A woman in the United States named Lisa Giles," the man said, his English excellent but spoken with a British accent.

John reached over and pulled out a chair. "Have a seat."

The man sat, folded his hands on the table, and waited while the waiter put a napkin and silverware in front of him and poured coffee into his cup. When the waiter finished and walked away, the man leaned into the center of the table and said in low voice, "I am Rabbi Pawel Czarnecki, and I have been asked to spend the day with you. Pretend I am your tour guide," he said with a smile.

"No offense, Rabbi, but I don't have time to screw around on a tour," John said in a low voice.

"Neither do I, but to anyone observing us we need to make it look like a tour, understand?"

"Yes," Amy said very softly, then louder, "great I'm excited."

The rabbi turned to John. "Please play along," he whispered.

"Okay," John said, loud enough for anyone in the dining room to overhear, "let's get going."

They finished their coffee, John signed the check, and then they walked out of the hotel onto Krakow's main market square. The day was cool with a blustery wind, and they each pulled on overcoats and buttoned them tight to their throats as they followed the rabbi to the right where they followed a road called Grodzka away from the square and through an old part of the city.

They walked perhaps ten or fifteen minutes past the Uniwersytet Papieski Jana Pawla II, a six-hundred-year-old Catholic university on the left side of the street, and a large church on the right that Czarnecki said was St. Andrew's Church. They came at last to a large intersection and Czar-necki pointed to the right where a large castle rose above the buildings around it.

"Wawel Castle was begun sometime between 1330 and 1370 by Casimir III the Great," he said as he crossed the street toward the castle walls. He told them a bit about the castle as they walked, but John was hardly listening because two different times he caught Czarnecki exchanging glances with people on the street. One had appeared to be a shopkeeper who had been sweeping the sidewalk in front of his small shop, and the other appeared to be one of the guards outside the castle itself after they walked through a broad entrance into the center part of the castle and were walking out the other side.

"Who are those people?" John asked after the second man gave Czarnecki a nod that was more than casual. "They are making sure we're not being followed."

"And?"

"For now, we are clear."

Outside the castle again, they crossed the road and went to a small car park where Czarnecki led them to a well-used Peugeot sedan. John climbed into the front passenger seat and Amy got into the rear and they drove off with a broad river glittering off to their left.

They moved from the old section of the city to newer sections with taller, more modern buildings and quickly got on a four-lane limited access highway that swept them out of the city. Czarnecki said little as he drove, just looked in the rearview mirror every few seconds as if he was continuing to watch for tails.

"Where are we going?" John asked after the long silence began to grate on his nerves.

"Gmina Oswiecim," Czarnecki said.

John shook his head. "Why?"

"Lisa Giles instructed me to bring you here."

"You know she's a witch, right?" John asked. "You're a rabbi, and you're doing what she tells you?"

Czernecki gave him a questioning glance. "Yes."

"Do you have any idea why she wants you to bring me here?"

Again a glance, but this time it was hooded, as if Czarnecki was only going to share a certain amount of information. "I have a guess."

"You want to share it?"

"No."

AS SARAH CAME DOWN THE LONG STAIRCASE
to the bottom floor of the house, she could see muted morning light coming in through the tall windows in the parlor to her right. To her left, in the dining room, she spotted Jessica Lodge already at the table with her cup of hot tea to one side and the morning papers spread out before her on the table. At the sound of Sarah's footsteps, Jessica looked up and smiled.

"Good morning, my dear. Are you well rested?"

Sarah nodded. "Yes, very, thank you." Over the past however many days—she had lost count somewhere along the way—she had come to feel like a favorite granddaughter making an extended visit in her grandmother's large house.

"Well, sit down and have some breakfast, and we can decide where we should walk this morning."

Sarah pulled out a chair and sat down. Jessica picked up a small glass bell and rang it for the maid. A second later a woman in a black uniform with starched white cuffs and a white apron bustled through the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

"Breakfast, madam?" the maid asked.

"Yes," Sarah said. "Tea and juice please, and a couple of scrambled eggs."

"Sausage and toast, madam?"

"Why not?" Sarah said with a small laugh. "I might as well make myself fat."

The maid nodded and disappeared, and Jessica looked up from her paper again. "It's a bit colder this morning. You'll want something warmer than just a Barbour coat. I'll get you a nice heavy sweater, some gloves, and a woolen cap for our walk."

Sarah smiled and nodded her thanks. Their walks had become part of the daily ritual, something that happened every morning without fail, whether it was raining or fair. Sarah was aware the walks had become gradually longer every day, and she realized that every day her body felt a little less heavy and that she felt capable of handling the added distance. Part of her brain recorded the fact that she'd been drugged ever since she had first awoken in this house, but she also knew the drug dosages she was being given were declining every day. She was positive that was the reason she was capable of walking longer each morning.

The other things about the walks that struck her as unusual were twofold. First, Jessica Lodge was, according to Sarah's best guess, somewhere in her mid-eighties, but she seemed to move like a well-conditioned woman in her late fifties or early sixties. Her walking pace was brisk, she never stopped to catch her breath, and her flexibility and strength seemed to be that of a much younger person. There had been no day so far when Sarah hadn't been certain that Jessica could have walked her into the ground.

The second unusual thing about the walks wasn't just the fact that Jessica spoke almost nonstop from the time they left the house to the time they returned; it was the way Sarah seemed to hear two conversations at once. She heard the words Jessica spoke, but then underneath those words, almost like a television playing softly in the next room, she heard the undertone of a different conversation running on a parallel track so that when Jessica stopped talking the other conversation stopped as well. Sarah had ascribed it to one more effect from the drugs, but in a small part of her brain she wondered if it could be something else.