The Second Siege

  Max paused and considered the question, which hung suspended in the vault’s still air.

  “I thought these things were reserved for the Red Branch,” replied Max, finally glancing back at the weapon. “I’d have to be a member, and you said there can be only twelve.”

  “That’s true,” said Vilyak quietly, “but one among our ranks is retiring—too old now to be of creditable service. You are young, Max, but I have never seen one so gifted. You have already been blooded. Extraordinary times may necessitate exceptions, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Max reached for the broken spear. He wanted to test the weight of it in his hand.

  “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  Ms. Richter’s voice shattered the tranquility of the vault. Max jerked back his hand and turned to see the Director in the vault’s doorway with arms folded and gray eyes ablaze, angrier than Max had ever seen her. Vilyak turned to face her.

  “Explain yourself, Commander,” seethed Ms. Richter.

  “Good evening, Gabrielle,” said Vilyak casually. “How nice to see you. I’d be happy to answer your question, but this vault is reserved for the Red Branch. If I were a stickler, I’d say you were trespassing. . . .”

  Max’s jaw fell open. The Director stood absolutely still, her attention fixed on Vilyak, who returned her stare with a patient smile, his black eyes fathomless and unblinking. Ms. Richter cleared her throat.

  “Max, you will step out of this vault immediately. Commander Vilyak, you are to return overseas at once and rendezvous with your squad in Paris. Another politician is missing, and there are power outages all over Europe. The situation is rapidly getting out of hand. You will take command of local field offices as you see fit.”

  “Of course, Gabrielle,” said Vilyak, standing at attention and leading Max out of the vault. Ms. Richter stepped aside as Vilyak closed the vault door, then patted Max on the shoulder.

  “Thanks for visiting with me, Max. I’ll see you later. Be good and study hard, eh?”

  “Yes, sir,” mumbled Max, shrinking under the laser-like focus of Ms. Richter’s keen eyes. Vilyak smiled and spun on his heel, making for the door without a parting glance or word for Ms. Richter. The Director watched him go, then turned to Max with a sigh.

  “I look before me and see a student,” she said. “What does Commander Vilyak see?”

  “I don’t know,” said Max, looking beyond her at the door’s red seal.

  “I think you do, Max.”

  “A recruit, I guess,” Max replied, his cheeks burning hot. “I’m sorry.”

  Ms. Richter gave a gentle smile, her gray eyes shining silver as their crow’s-feet crinkled to tight creases. It was such a hard face, but Max thought she must have been quite beautiful when she was younger.

  “You’re getting so big,” she said. “You’re almost as tall as I am now, and it’s only a year ago that I had to stoop to look at you. We’ve been through a lot this past year, haven’t we? I know I’ve been very busy, but it’s time we had a talk.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Max, exhaling now that he knew the Director was not angry with him. “But I should tell you that David’s found something important—he’s sitting right over there.”

  Ms. Richter raised her eyebrows and walked toward David’s table with Max in tow. David was just pouring himself another cup of coffee while studying a golden talisman that he dangled from a finger.

  “David,” groaned Ms. Richter, “how many times do I have to ask you not to drink coffee, much less bring it into the Archives?”

  “I’m careful,” David said defensively, still examining the talisman. “And besides, I can’t stop—coffee is the greatest invention of all time!”

  “Yes, well, as much as I’d love to debate the point, Max said you might have found something significant?”

  “Very significant,” said David with a sober nod, “but I think we should talk somewhere else.”

  Ms. Richter turned and narrowed her eyes at a nearby table of bearded scholars who were taking great pains to overhear their conversation.

  “Very well,” said Ms. Richter. “Let’s move to one of the reading rooms.”

  With just the slightest uplift of her finger, Ms. Richter raised David’s books and papers into the air. These followed behind the trio in a floating procession as the Director led Max and David into a snug little room off the second-floor balcony. The books and papers followed them inside, arranging themselves on a large table. Ms. Richter motioned for Max and David to sit in a pair of comfortable armchairs while she closed the door firmly behind them.

  “Now,” she said, “what’s all this about? I didn’t think I could fit any more excitement into one day!”

  “The witches are telling the truth—Bram did promise three people to them,” said David quietly. “But it gets worse.”

  “Go on,” said Ms. Richter, her mouth a tight, straight line as she waited.

  “The Book of Thoth exists, and he’s looking for it right now,” continued David, playing with the strange talisman that lay on his palm.

  “Who exactly is looking for it?” asked Ms. Richter.

  “Astaroth,” whispered David. “But it gets even worse!”

  “David, would you please tell me what is the worst of it?” snapped Ms. Richter.

  “Bram hid the book away, but one other person knew how to find it. . . .”

  David glanced at Max and an icy, sinking sensation began to pool in Max’s belly.

  “Let me guess,” said Max. “Marley Augur.”

  “Marley Augur,” confirmed David with an ironic smile. “Strange as it sounds, though, we actually have Augur to thank for tipping us off that the book’s in danger. He made this for Bram before he turned traitor.”

  David held out the talisman, a golden disk on a slender chain engraved with an eight-pointed sun. Max squinted as David cupped it in his hands. The sun was giving off an unmistakable glow, as though a firefly were trapped inside it.

  “The talisman indicates if the book is safe from Astaroth,” said David. “According to Bram, it shines if the book’s in danger—can you see it glowing?”

  “Yes,” said Ms. Richter, peering intently at it. “How have you come to know all this?”

  “I found a letter from Bram,” said David. “It was filed away with a bunch of other papers under ‘Indecipherable.’ ”

  “So how did you manage to decode it?” asked Ms. Richter.

  “Thanks to Maya,” replied David, referring to his charge, a gazelle-like creature called an ulu. Reaching into his sweater pocket, David produced the mysterious vial of silvery liquid and a slim paintbrush. “These are a few drops of Maya’s blood,” he explained. “An ulu’s blood can be used to translate just about anything if it’s brushed over the words and the proper spells are spoken. That’s one of the reasons ulus are so rare—they were hunted down by Mystics and scholars, so now they’re almost extinct. What those awful people learned the hard way, though, is that the ulu has to give its blood willingly. If you take it by force, its composition changes to a very strong acid—strong enough to burn through whatever precious text its captors wanted to translate.”

  “I see,” said Ms. Richter, glancing at the vial.

  David began digging impatiently through the pile of loose papers and maps until he procured a delicate, yellowed piece of parchment. He thrust it at Ms. Richter.

  “Director,” said David, “whatever happens with the witches, we have to get the book before Astaroth. Nothing else is more important!”

  Ms. Richter took the parchment from David, holding it by the corners as she scanned it several times. With a brief nod, she handed the letter to Max. He blinked at the parchment’s dense grid of black-inked symbols. It was utterly incomprehensible until slowly, gradually, silvery words bobbed to the surface and made the message clear.

  March 15, 1648

  It escapes me why heaven and earth should conspire to conceive such a perilous thing, but the Book of Thoth
exists and must be forever hidden from those who would betray its secrets. For the present day, I have ensured the book’s safety, though I buy it at an awful price. May God forgive me as I barter lives that are not my own!

  And yet, three lives—no matter how blessed—are but a pittance to preserve man’s freedom. We have had a brush with apocalypse, for Astaroth had learned of the book’s location and resolved to take possession through guile or murder or war. The Demon is uncommon cunning and long has he sought this book and studied the arts that would deliver up its secrets. Perish the thought of the book in Astaroth’s keeping, for with it he might shape the world according to his will and rule the fates of men. My own struggle with the Demon is coming and it is against his wickedness that Elias Bram shall be tested.

  I pray the book may lie veiled for eternity, but time may bring strange tides that lay bare a thing thought hidden. Enclosed in this letter is a clever talisman, crafted by Augur, who is my confidant in these matters. Its face shall shine in equal measure to the book’s peril from the Demon who covets it.

  Should the Book of Thoth be at risk once again, the solver of my riddle may yet rescue it from harm. I dare not write in plainer prose lest the Enemy come by this letter and all is lost. If you should succeed in finding the book, loath should you be to use it! Follow the path of wisdom and surrender it to safety where it may lie quiet till the end of days. . . .

  Beneath where Teuton kings were crowned

  There is a key with notches four

  To steer my steed beyond the sun

  And safely knock on heaven’s door,

  For there the book doth lie with those

  Who sleep beneath both hill and tree.

  But keep in mind, dear Sorcerer,

  No spell will pry its secrets free.

  In haste,

  Elias Bram

  Max handed the letter back to Ms. Richter, who slipped it carefully into an archival box. David reached out to hand her the talisman, but Ms. Richter shook her head.

  “No, David, I’d like you to hold on to that just now. You’ve done some excellent work, and I can’t think of anyone whom I’d rather have in possession of that talisman for the time being. Have you committed this letter to memory?”

  “Yes, Director,” said David.

  “Good, because I need to take the original and share it with several colleagues immediately. I’d like you to begin working on Bram’s Riddle and see if you can make sense of it. I’ll be working on it, too. The witches arrive in two weeks’ time. Given the circumstances, I am going to invite others to that meeting.”

  “Are we going off with the witches, Ms. Richter? Should we pack our things?” asked David with just a tiny hint of humor.

  “Not just yet, David,” said Ms. Richter with a weary smile. “I would ask that you have faith. And Max?” Ms. Richter looked at the dark-haired boy as she stopped at the door.

  “Yes, Ms. Richter?”

  “I would ask that you have patience,” said the Director softly. “Your greatness shines for all to see, but the Red Branch is not for one so young. They are invaluable and we honor them, but theirs is grim and solitary work. I would spare you such a life until you’re of an age to choose for yourself. Commander Vilyak is an excellent Agent, but he is ambitious and ambition can cloud even the finest judgment. No one else can wield the weapon of Cúchulain . . . it will be waiting for you when you’re ready. Goodnight.”

  Max and David said goodnight as Ms. Richter closed the door behind her. David tapped the talisman with his finger, squinting at the sun on its face.

  “What was that all about?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” said Max, digesting Ms. Richter’s words. “Vilyak showed me a vault and some weapons, and Ms. Richter thinks he’s trying to recruit me.”

  “Is he?” asked David, glancing up from the talisman.

  “I guess he is,” sighed Max.

  “Beware the flatterers of the world,” said David, wagging his finger, “for what is music to the ears may be poison to the soul.”

  “Who said that?” asked Max.

  “I did,” said David, his eyes twinkling as he reached for a book on German history.

  Max shook his head and stood up from his chair.

  “Are you going to be here all night working on the Riddle?”

  “Yes indeed,” said David, thumbing through the book. “I’ll be here until the witches throw me in a sack and cart me away.”

  “Don’t even joke,” said Max, poking his head out of the reading room to glance at the door to the Archives. “Do you think those shedu will eat me if I leave here alone?”

  “I don’t think so,” said David, stifling a yawn. “They’re more concerned with who gets in than who gets out. Do you want me to walk you up?”

  “No,” said Max, gazing out the door and up at the frescoes high above. “I’ll be fine. If you find anything out, tell me right away—even if I’m sleeping.”

  “Will do,” said David, giving a little wave before burying his nose back in his book.

  Max hurried out of the Archives, past the stony shedu, and up the many stairs to emerge once more in the gloom of Room 313. By the time he arrived back at his room, he noticed that the door was ajar by the tiniest of slivers. Walking cautiously inside, Max saw Connor lounging with his textbooks by the fireplace on the lower level. On the table stood Mr. Sikes, dressed impeccably as ever and clasping his hands expectantly.

  5

  DARKMATTERS

  Max took comfort in the fact that he had walked this path many times before. Etched in his memory were the lane’s muddy grooves, its gentle rise, and the slow curve that would bring the grand house into view. And there it was, a jagged silhouette on the hill whose narrow windows spilled warm light into the evening. As usual, the wolfhound was waiting for him. It padded slowly from the underbrush to block his path, a monstrous, tangled thing of gigantic proportions that stopped and appraised him in the twilight.

  As the hound approached, something caught Max’s attention. There, hidden behind the trunk of an alder tree, was the small, slim form of Mr. Sikes. Max scowled at the imp’s luminous cat’s eyes.

  “Go away,” Max murmured. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Just ignore me,” purred Mr. Sikes, raising a tiny finger to his lips.

  Max would have argued, but the hound was almost upon him, bigger than a horse and smelling of wet fur and earth. Its great, panting head loomed above Max. Holding his breath, Max braced himself for the question that he knew would come.

  “What are you about? Answer quick or I’ll gobble you up!”

  Max hesitated.

  True to its word, the hound’s jaws yawned open and Max was swallowed up in one great gulp. He shut his eyes as the hound’s teeth crunched closed behind him. For several dizzying moments his body seemed to slide, limp and languid, down the beast’s gullet and into the soft, spongy bed of its belly.

  When Max opened his eyes, he glimpsed that Mr. Sikes was still watching from the safety of the alder tree. A low growl sounded from Max’s throat; he swung his heavy head full round to glower upon the little imp. Mr. Sikes retreated farther into the shadows.

  Shifting his weight, Max dug a massive paw into the soft earth.

  With a sudden pop Mr. Sikes transformed into a field mouse and fled up the path in a series of zigzagging hops. Max gave a roar and chased after, running with terrible speed on his four legs as the mouse made for the lights of the house.

  The intrusive imp was not nearly quick enough.

  Mr. Sikes had gained the front steps when Max overtook him, seizing the mouse in his jaws as his momentum brought them both crashing against the door. Scrambling to his feet, Max growled and gave the mouse a sudden shake, tossing its body far out onto the wet grass.

  The door opened behind him, and light streamed out onto the lawn, spotlighting the small, still form of the mouse.

  “Max, what have you done?”

  Max whirled at the sound
of his mother’s voice. She stood in the open doorway, hand in hand with his father. She was just as he remembered her. Max felt a sudden stab of longing to come inside the house and join them.

  Something in his mother’s features stopped him, however. Her dark eyes widened as she raised a trembling hand and pointed beyond him. Max turned to look again at the lifeless lump of Mr. Sikes, but the mouse was gone.

  There, on the grass, lay the curled, broken body of Alex Muñoz.

  Max screamed.

  He awoke to see David standing by his bed, holding a lamp and looking frightened.

  “You were dreaming,” his roommate said. “You’re okay, you know.”

  “Sure,” croaked Max, blinking at the twinkling constellations and the lamp’s reflection in the glass dome. He flung the sweat-soaked sheets away from him and propped himself against the headboard. The disturbing details of his dream, so vivid a moment earlier, began to fade. He was almost certain, however, that he had seen Mr. Sikes. Max had no idea why the imp would have been visiting his dreams, but he was strangely loath to share the incident with David.

  “It’s past four,” whispered David. “The witches will be here soon. I’m going to watch for them if you want to come.”

  Max swung his legs over the bed with a nod and minutes later the two were creeping down the dormitory’s hallway, wrapped in sweaters and blankets to guard against the morning chill. They found a suitable perch in a cozy nook on the third floor where lead-paned windows looked out onto the front lawn and drive. There was no hint of sun outside, just a dull wash of chalky gray that extended to the horizon. Max rested his forehead against the cool window.

  “How’s the Riddle coming?” asked Max, fogging the glass while David studied a small slip of paper.

  David shrugged.

  “Some of it is easy. ‘Beneath where Teuton kings were crowned’ is obviously a reference to Frankfurt, Germany. Frankfurt’s where German rulers were elected and it’s the headquarters for the Workshop. The other stuff is a little trickier.”