The Secret of Lions (32 page)

Evan rose to his feet and approached
Kobnhavn’s body.

Kobnhavn slowly turned over to face Evan.
His gun lay on the floor next to him, but he did not try for it.
Instead, he used both hands to hold tightly to his chest. He had
several bullet holes. Desperately, he clung to them, trying to plug
them with his fingers.

“Kobnhavn. Where is he?” Evan asked.

“Who?” he asked, gurgling blood out of his
lips.

“Beowulf? Where?”

“Beowulf is…Beowulf is dead,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Evan said. He pressed his
shoe heel against Kobnhavn’s hands. He pushed down, forcing
Kobnhavn to experience tremendous pain.

“Beowulf is…”

“He is what?” Evan asked. But it was too
late—Kobnhavn was dead.

Evan sighed. He turned to Barbara. He looked
at the gun in his hands and dropped it.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“I'm sorry, Willem. I’m so sorry,” she said.
She ran toward him and hugged him tightly.

“Come on; we have to leave,” he said.

“We’ll need help. I know who we can ask,”
Barbara said.

92

Outside Dr. Blake’s classroom, they waited
on the steps to the art building. Barbara peered in through one of
the windows to the building and then returned to Evan.

“Okay, he’s still in there,” she said,
taking Willem’s hand and snuggling next to him on the steps.

“Listen. Someone is going to find those
bodies soon. We need to leave now,” he said.

“Okay, you go and get whatever you need and
meet me and Blake back at my dorm,” she said.

“That sounds risky. Beowulf could be here.
You know how dangerous he is,” Evan said.

“I know, but Blake’s class is going to be
another hour. Go ahead. I’ll be fine. I’ll go and sit in it or
something,” she said. “I’ll be safe in a crowd of students. Beowulf
won’t get me there. I have some sorority sisters in the class
anyway.”

Willem scratched his head. Her plan sounded
good. He desperately needed to call the safe number Bosworth had
given him. It was only to be used in an emergency. And this was
definitely the right scenario.

Evan nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “That sounds good. But
don’t leave Blake’s side. I’ll meet you both here.”

“Okay,” she said.

Evan kissed her and quietly ran off into the
darkness toward his flat.

93

Charles Blake was nearing the end of a
lecture on destroyed artwork from the Nazi regime in Europe.

“As many of you know, Hitler was against art
that was not pro-German,” he said.

Barbara opened the doors to the classroom
and slid in. She entered through the back, virtually undetected;
that was, until Dr. Blake stopped dead in his tracks when he saw
her.

“Ah...Hitler’s regime destroyed some great
paintings,” he said. Blake glared at Barbara for an instant.

“Now, I had a series of slides to show you,”
Charles Blake said, shuffling through his belongings resting on a
desk in the middle of the classroom. “But I can’t seem to find
them. So you are all spared for the moment.”

Laughter broke out over the crowd of
students.

Barbara felt a sense of relief; she had
already had this course. She had seen too many of his slides,
enough to fill half of the semester.

“Since I can’t locate my slides, I guess
class is dismissed for the evening,” he said. The students started
gathering their belongings and standing up.

Blake raised his voice and said, “But
consider this a reprieve. You will all have double slides next
week.”

Barbara rose quickly from her seat and made
her way down toward him before the crowd. Students filled the
aisles and poured out of the classroom.

“Dr. Blake,” she said.

“Why, Barbara?” Blake asked, looking dazed
by her presence.

“Dr. Blake. I’m glad I’ve found you,” she
said.

“Oh Barbara, I’m sorry about your project,”
he said.

Barbara stood only meters from him.

“What are you talking about?” she asked,
confused.

“I was just saying I’m sorry you didn’t
locate the real artist. I didn’t think you would,” he said. He
smiled at her, but he was starting to sense her uneasiness.

“What do you mean?”

“You know. Your project. That’s why you’re
here right? Kobnhavn was sure you had found the real Kessler. But
he was wrong, right?” Blake asked.

A sudden wave of panic swept over
Barbara.

“Kobnhavn?” she muttered. She began inching
back away from Blake.

“Yeah, Kobnhavn. You met with him. He was
wrong. Right?” Charles Blake asked. He smiled at her, as he grew
suspicious of her behavior.

“I never told you I was meeting with him,”
she said. She glanced back at the students; most of them had exited
the room.

“So, he told me,” Blake said. “Barbara
what’s wrong with you?”

“Kobnhavn is dead,” she said.

Charles Blake’s smile slowly evaporated into
his face. His muscles locked up and he stood completely
straight.

Barbara, still inching backward, retreated
closer and closer toward the doors.

She looked directly into Blake’s eyes. She
said, “Beowulf?”

Charles Blake leered at her. He began to
charge toward her.

“Barbara! Barbara!” two of her sorority
sisters said. They came prancing down the aisles. They stood
directly between her and Blake.

Beowulf stopped dead in his tracks and
watched closely as the sisters escorted Barbara out of the
room.

They raved on about boys and some party that
she had to go to, but Barbara couldn’t take in a word. She was
grateful they were there to save her life.

Together the three sisters disappeared into
the hallway and merged with the student body. Barbara glanced back
and saw Beowulf vanish in the opposite direction.

94

Barbara walked with the sorority sisters as
far as she could and then broke free from them.

“Barbara, where are you going?” they
asked.

“I’m sorry. I'll meet you girls at that
party. I’ve got to go and get Lucy. She’d want to come too,” she
said. She ran off toward Evan’s flat.

She crossed through the buildings, running
as fast as she could. She stopped at the corner of one in order to
catch her breath.

Suddenly she thought she heard something.
She looked back, but there was nothing there. She continued to walk
quickly to his flat. A few moments later she heard it again. It
sounded like footsteps. She turned around. “Is there anyone there?
Evan?” She shouted into the darkness.

Barbara saw a shadow on the building across
from her. There was someone standing just beyond a streetlight. She
focused her eyes on the figure. She saw him: Beowulf. He wore a
shroud. It was black with eyeholes cut out. It was a balaclava.

“Shit,” Barbara said and then started to run
toward Evan’s flat, but as she turned another corner, she saw him
exit from an alley. Now he stood between her and Evan’s place.
Without any other options, she retreated and ran toward her dorm.
She could hear his footsteps gaining on her. She ran through the
courtyard and up to the building’s entrance. She stopped and turned
to look back.

Beowulf was gone. She hoped she had lost
him. She panted; her chest heaved up and down. She could feel it
expanding. She gazed out over the courtyard, looking for any sign
of Blake.

It appeared to be safe. There was no sign of
him. She thought about Evan. She had to protect him. She wanted to
pack her things as quickly as she could and find him.

She went upstairs to her dorm. She
double-checked the halls and the stairwell, but she was alone. The
building appeared deserted.

Everyone must be at that party,
she
thought.

She double-checked that the door to her room
was locked.

Time passed by and she felt relaxed. She
felt silly for being so paranoid, but after the story that Evan had
told her, it was a natural reaction.

Barbara found herself wanting to take a
shower. She looked over at Lucy’s bed. She was fast asleep. She
snored loudly.

Barbara took off her clothes and entered the
shower. She stepped out fifteen minutes later. She leaned against
the sink and brushed her wet hair. It kept curling up.

Steam from the shower condensed on the
ceiling. She dropped the brush into the sink and wrapped a towel
around her body. She opened the bathroom door. The steam followed
her out into the bedroom. The room was quiet and still. She went to
her dresser and pulled out an old, blue dress.

The towel fell to the floor around her feet.
She slipped into the blue dress. She liked to sleep in it from time
to time.

After she got comfortable, she began the
process of trying to pack.

Barbara sat on her bed and stared at her
dresser. She needed her knapsack. She glanced around the room and
then realized it was probably in the spot where Lucy always hid
it.

She stood up and walked to her roommate’s
bed and looked underneath it. She saw her knapsack there. Her
roommate was always borrowing stuff from it––pencils and other
supplies.

Barbara reached under the bed and grabbed
the bag. She felt something drip on her hand. She sat back up and
studied her wrist. The room was still dark and it was hard to tell
what it was. Another drop fell on the floor in front of her. She
looked at the side of Lucy's bed. There was something covering it.
In the dark, it resembled wet paint. As Barbara got up on her
knees, she could see there was a large puddle of liquid on the
covers next to Lucy’s head.

Suddenly, Barbara realized the snoring had
stopped.

She stared at the covers in complete shock.
She reached out and pulled the blankets back, revealing her
roommate’s head. A small portion of Lucy’s skull was exposed. Smoke
still rose from a black bullet hole in her forehead. The smoke
emerged and filled Barbara’s nostrils. Some of it floated up into
the air and merged with the steam from the bathroom.

“Oh, God,” Barbara said, leaping back. She
stared quivering. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. All she
could make her body do was stand there, frozen. Then she felt him
standing behind her. She felt him breathing. She saw his shadow in
front of her on the wall. More smoke rose from behind her.

“Evan?” she asked.

“No,” a dark voice replied.

Barbara’s shoulders started to shake
violently. She could feel her wet hair starting to dry. Each strand
began to tingle. Her calf muscles throbbed. She thought of the day
her mother had died.

“Charles?” she asked.

“Yes,” the voice said.

“Beowulf?” she asked, swallowing hard.

“Yes,” the voice replied.

Barbara heard his gun’s hammer click back.
It sounded like she was inside a giant clock. The sound of the
hammer pulling back was the same as the sound from one of the
clock’s giant cogs clicking into place.

Barbara heard a few muffled gunshots. The
bedroom window shattered as the silent bullets crashed through it.
Three bullets entered the room. The first bullet pierced Beowulf’s
shoulder. The second hit the wall behind her, and the third cut
into Beowulf’s stomach.

Barbara was still frozen.

Beowulf stumbled backward. He returned fire
blindly as he fell. Four shots fired from his gun and ripped
through the air. Each headed toward a figure on the scaffold
outside the window. The first two bullets hit the walls around the
window. The second two cut through the glass but went past the
figure.

“Barbara, RUN!” A voice yelled from the
scaffold. It sounded like Willem.

Barbara didn’t wait to see if it was him.
She darted toward the window. She jumped out toward the scaffold.
The remaining glass shattered around her. She covered her face, but
she still felt some glass cut through her arms and legs. She hit
the figure standing on the scaffold.

It was Willem. He caught her, and they fell
back on the scaffold. The impact forced it to suddenly drop one
story. The scaffold swung away from the building and back toward
it.

“Hold on, Barbara!” Willem said.

The scaffold slammed into the building. They
felt their bones crash one into another. Barbara’s nose started to
bleed. Willem held her tight. He wiped the blood away.

“Are you okay? Anything broken?” he
asked.

“I’m fine, I think,” Barbara answered.

Barbara’s window was above them. Evan stared
up at it from under Barbara’s body. He saw a shadow move beyond the
window. He pointed his gun up toward it. He held it there for a
moment.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing, just stay still,” Willem said. He
fired his gun up at the window three times. He was almost sure he’d
hit Beowulf, but not completely certain.

Quickly, he opened the window in front of
them on the second floor. It was an empty dorm room.

“Listen to me, Barbara. I want you to go to
the Unknown Soldier’s grave and wait for me there,” Willem
said.

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” she
said, clutching him tightly.

“Barbara, listen to me. I have to make sure
he’s dead. If I don’t, he’ll just find me again. I have to stop
running someday. Now go to the grave and wait for me. If I am not
there by sunrise, then look under the tombstone. You will have to
dig a little. There is a box. I want you to take everything in it
and disappear. If I don’t show up, then I am dead, and Beowulf will
try to find you. You have to get away. Do you understand me?”

Barbara could feel her eyes watering up.

“Yes,” she said. “I understand.”

“Promise me,” Willem said.

She did not reply.

“Promise me!” he yelled, jerking her
once.

“I promise.”

Willem walked out into the hall. He checked
it carefully before he let her leave.

She stopped at the end of the hall and
looked back at him. He was already gone. She whispered, “I love
you.”