Hotel Transylvania (33 page)

I regret my lamentable duty to inform you that I have reclaimed my property, which you have been so tardy in making available to me. Surely you did not think to escape that obligation. Particularly when Madelaine is so much admired and her manners so charming. As much as the young men, I find her to be utterly entrancing. It could hardly be otherwise, she is so lovely. I will admit that I will find it difficult to wait the necessary number of days before we offer her in sacrifice. But in that time, of course, she will have a service to perform for us all, and a way to prepare herself for the Winter Solstice. I am certain I will find ways to amuse her, my dear Robert. Tite, for example. You do remember my manservant, do you not? He still is best pleased when he is feared, and I know he can be very terrible. I will take her virginity, of course, but Tïte should be next, don't you think? It will be so much easier for the others when he is through with her. I have never known anyone to resist Tite for long.

Think of it: your daughter, my property, on the altar, bound, naked. She will lie there every night for forty days, Robert, and every night she will be used. When I have had her, Tite will enjoy himself for one night, and he will use his own methods to bend her to our will. When this is done, the rest of the Circle will be given access to her, for their pleasure as it suits them. There are quite a few of us, and some of that number have longed for this opportunity.

No doubt you remember Beauvrai's tastes still. What will Madelaine think, I wonder, when she is used by three at once? It is a pity that Beauvrai is so rough, for I am certain he will not be able to contain his passions when he is given his time with Madelaine. He will probably ask de la Sept-Nuit to join him, for Donatien also enjoys roughness. Do you remember that ingenious device that Beauvrai was working on, that allows him to penetrate front with his flesh, and back with the heated Devil's Member? He has done quite a lot of work with it these last few years. I gather by the reactions of other offerings that the process is quite painful.

By the time we pull her living heart from her, she will be happy to die, Robert. We will have defiled her in every way we know. However our fancy inspires us, that will we do, short of killing her. We will violate her, assault her, disfigure her, torture her, so that her death will be pleasing in the Eye of Satan.

If you had given her to us at the beginning, this need not have happened. She would then be one of us, and would participate with us rather than be our offering. For her degradation and death you have none to blame but yourself. Think of that while you search for her in vain.

This I promise you: I have found a new place for the Circle to make its sacrifice. No one will suspect us. You may torment yourself with that thought, and with the thought that every moment your child suffers adds to my power.

I do not forgive you for betraying your oath. I do not forgive you for taking my property out of my reach. I do not forgive you for raising her in the manner of the Sisters. In short, I hold you to blame, and I warn you now that with the new year, you will be marked by the Circle, and your life will be of no value.

Let me warn you further that if you attempt to find us and we snare you, that will not save Madelaine. It will only mean that your death will happen all the sooner. Two sacrifices will be better than one. I beg you to consider this before attempting any fruitless rescue or futile petitioning of the King. His Glorious Majesty Louis XV could not issue orders in time to save your daughter. At the first hint that you have attempted such a ploy, Madelaine will die, my friend.

Should you find someone foolhardy enough to aid you in your search for your daughter, do not place too much dependence on any victory. There are enough of us to take care of twenty more like you. And anyone assisting you would, of course, be subject to the same penalty as you are. Isn't it enough to lose your daughter? Let your friends live, Robert.

Until our reunion, late or early, it is my pleasure to be

Saint Sebastien

Chapter 6

Even as he woke on his monastically comfortless bed, Saint-Germain felt himself possessed of deep foreboding. His eyes searched his sleeping alcove, as if trying to read the cause of his alarm in the gathering dusk. He put his hands to his eyes, and a frown clouded his brow. The frown deepened, and then he nodded as if giving himself a signal. With a quick movement he had slipped to the floor, his loose robe of dark Egyptian cotton brushing the floor as he pushed aside the curtain masking his alcove, and walked into his sitting room.

This was the same room he had brought Madelaine to not so many days ago. For a few moments he thought he could see her garnets shining on the floor, and Madelaine blocking the door, her face filled with yearning. He smiled at the memory but it faded, to be replaced with worried malaise.

One candle burned on the mantel, and Saint-Germain used this to light the others in the tall branches. The room glowed, but its warmth did not communicate itself to its occupant. Saint-Germain tugged at the bell rope, his mind still probing restlessly to discover the source of his alarm. He touched the astrolabe, as if seeking answers from it.

"Master?" Roger said with a curt nod for form's sake as he came into the room.

"Um?" Saint-Germain turned, saying, "Close the door, Roger. What I have to say is private."

Roger did as he was told, waiting patiently for his instructions. He carried a towel over one arm and held a basin in the other hand. These he set down as he watched Saint-Germain move quickly about the room.

"I think it had better be a bath," he said slowly as he paused by the fireplace. "A bath, and then simple clothes. I think the linen breeches, or wool. And that shirt I was given in Persia, the one with the signs worked in Russian embroidery. And the wide-cuffed boots. Make sure that the heels and soles are well-filled. I sense I will have need of that protection tonight."

"As you wish," Roger said.

"Prepare my elk-leather riding coat, too. I will be leaving as soon as I have the bath." He stopped as he saw the note from Beverly Sattin propped against the mantel. He pulled the two crossed sheets open, reading swiftly, his face growing grim. "Le Grâce has seen Domingo y Roxas," Saint-Germain said as a brusque explanation as he burned the letter, holding the paper until he was sure the message would leave no trace in the ashes.

"When?"

"This morning. Sattin does not think he knows the Guild's present location, but that is scant comfort. If Le Grâce knows that the Guild is still in Paris, he will find a way to follow them, and then there will be a great deal of trouble." He untied his cotton robe. "That is all for the moment," he said, then changed his mind. "On second thought, Roger, send Hercule to me. I have some instructions to give him before I bathe."

He knelt to build up the fire in the grate, and found himself staring into the flames, held by the thought that they were vast, all-consuming. He felt as if he would find Madelaine in the flames, and in spite of the heat, he leaned farther forward, almost scorching the cotton of his open robe.

The door opened again, and Hercule came into the room. He stood just inside the door, still somewhat awkward with the braces he wore, but no longer using crutches. "Master?" he said when Saint-Germain did not turn.

"Hercule," le Comte said dreamily, still looking into the fire. "I have need of you, either tonight or tomorrow."

"Yes? What am I to do?" He hesitated, then closed the door.

With a quick, almost finicky motion, Saint-Germain brushed the ashes from his hands and rose swiftly. "I will need my Barb for tonight, but by tomorrow I should have need of my coach. As you love me, will you drive for me?"

Hercule grinned hugely. "I would drive to hell, master, only to hold reins again."

Saint-Germain did not smile. "You may well do just that. I ask you to consider this before you accept: there is great danger, I fear, in what we will do. If you fail me, I am dead. And you may not live, either."

"Tell me," Hercule said after a thoughtful pause, "does this danger come from le Baron Saint Sebastien?"

"Yes."

"I see." Hercule looked steadily at le Comte, and when he spoke, there was steely resolve in his words. "If your danger is from Saint Sebastien, and I may do anything to bring him to ruin, though it cost me my life and soul, I would do it. And think myself cheated if you denied me my vengeance."

Saint-Germain nodded, his opinion confirmed. "I will need my traveling coach, Hercule. I entrust you to have it ready. You will have the heavy team harnessed, for we will have to go far and go quickly if we are to escape."

"But where?"

"We will be bound for England. My friend Mer-Herbeux has a number of messages he would want me to deliver for him in London, clandestinely, of course. No one will wonder at my sudden departure. And it will allow us to do two things at once."

"Who will go with you?" Hercule asked, thinking of the road to Calais. "I will have to arrange for a change of horses along the way, and I do not know how many will travel with you. Or do you travel alone?"

"I think not alone," Saint-Germain said slowly. "Roger will come after me in the second coach, but that does not concern me or you. I may take up one or two of the sorcerers working under us, in the cellar. It may not be wise for them to remain here."

Hercule nodded, remembering the cold-blooded ferocity of Saint Sebastien. Anyone left behind would be in grave danger from him. "I will carry them," he said.

"Good. Roger will tell you where the coach is to meet us, and at what hour. You will follow Roger's instructions exactly. He speaks for me, and with my authority." He hesitated, then continued. "I charge you most particularly to be sure that there is a fresh layer of earth under the floorboards of the coach. You will find the appropriate earth in a special crate in the stables. Roger will show you. Be sure that the earth is laid under the floorboards before you start out. It is most important."

Confused by this unorthodox request, but committed to helping Saint-Germain, Hercule repeated, "It is important. I will see that it is done as you wish."

"You must not fail me in this, for it is my strength—the good earth that has nurtured me all my life. And I will need its strength after dealing with Saint Sebastien."

Hercule bowed. "As you order, master: I will obey you." He was prepared to withdraw, and wondered if he should wait, since he had not been dismissed, though Saint-Germain appeared to have forgotten him.

"Hercule," he said distantly, "I think you had best warn Sattin and the others. They must be prepared to leave on short notice. There is a concealed tunnel that runs toward the river. It is part of the old monastery vaults on which the foundation of this building is laid. The monks used it for escape when their monastery was under attack. It is below the third cellar, and a trapdoor will take them there. It is set in the northwest corner of the cellar, and takes them into a very old burial chapel. The tunnel is in the vault next to the chapel, on the north side. If they cannot leave here unnoticed, they must use that tunnel, or we will all be very much in danger of discovery.

"Then we are to leave soon?"

"I am not certain, Hercule. I would think that by nightfall tomorrow I will know what we must do, and where. If you have no word from me by sunset tomorrow, hold yourself in readiness here, no matter what happens, and no matter who gives you instructions to the contrary. Have the coach ready, the horses harnessed, and three or four heavy rugs in the coach, as it will be cold."

"Do you want postilions or outriders?"

"One outrider is all. I leave it to you to find someone who is trustworthy. Perhaps you know of someone already.

"If I have not come to you before the dawn day after tomorrow, you must assume that Saint Sebastien has won. In that case, find Cardinal Foutet at Chambord. Tell him what you know of Saint Sebastien. Tell him also that Saint Sebastien, along with Beauvrai and others, celebrated an Amatory Mass on the body of Lucienne Cressie, who is in retreat in Brittany, at la couvent de la Miséricordia et la Justice de le Rédempteur. She will supply any proof that is needed. And, Hercule," he added very carefully, "do not let yourself be caught with this knowledge. Should you fall into Saint Sebastien's hands, be sure that you are a dead man. Too many lives ride on your silence." He looked up as the door opened and Roger stepped into the room. "What is it?"

“The bath is ready," Roger said. "I have secured a vial of holy water, and I have put the Host into your pyx. If you need them."

Saint-Germain nodded. "Thank you, Roger," he said. "I will be with you directly." He turned once more to Hercule. "Remember what I said If you have faith, be shriven tonight.”

Hercule was rather white around the mouth at these uncompromising words, but he said, "I will see the priest within the hour. St Sulpice is not far from here, or Saint-Germain-des-Près."