CHAPTER 37

“I really had no idea,” Smith began, “when I came to St. James’s of what a horror was below the surface of our fine parish. It’s a very old parish, you know. The well and the baths I had been there a very long time and it had been quite the pastoral spa once—where the gentry would go to escape the city. There was always some friction between priory and parish. But I didn’t know that. among our parishioners there were so many. of them.”

“Them?” I asked.

“The. vampires,” Smith whispered, and it came out on a cold breath that chilled the warm summer morning. Even Michael shivered, though he plainly hadn’t heard a word. “Once I realized what they were, I was shocked! I was outraged. I–I told the vicar, the rector, the prior. They all laughed at me. Well, in our modern age, who wouldn’t? But the word got out. They knew that I knew and they took delight in tormenting me with the powerlessness of my position. I was just a lay clerk; not a priest or even an assistant curate who could go to the bishop. Oh, my. ”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh. I. I find it distressing still. I’m afraid. I took to drink. Weakness. Terrible weakness.” He shook his head for such a long time I thought he’d given up until he said, “I suppose, in its way, the drink saved me. I lost my position and was asked to leave the parish. I could have stayed in Clerkenwell—even a bishop can’t really force you to leave your home—but I ran from it. Oh, not far. This pleasant green here is not too far removed in miles, but a world away to me.

“I made a pleasant life for myself. I married a widow who had a small bit of money and we were not unhappy. But I could not forget what I saw. It haunted me. And. I suppose, that is why. I still feel drawn there.”

I looked expectantly at him, waiting for the rest of the story.

“The. uh. Red Brothers—that is what they termed themselves—had come from the priory originally. I don’t know how they came into being, they were just. there, but there was a falling-out among them. A bloody thing, played out beneath the streets in secret places carved out by the old rivers and the Romans long before the priory was raised there. The slaughter was immense among the servants of the Brothers. The Brothers themselves were too hard to kill, and most escaped unscathed. When they had done with their battle, they broke into two parties and mockingly named themselves after the houses of God below which they had rampaged. They still call themselves St. James and St. John—the Red Brotherhood of St. James or St. John, as they please. The others, the white creatures from the docks, they had no part of it—or none I could see.”

Marsden leaned close to my ear and murmured, “He means the asetem. The docks and south of the river is their haunt.”

“Then what happened recently?” I asked Smith.

“Oh. I. I didn’t see it all. It began a month ago or so. I think. Time. is so hard to tell now. The white ones started showing up and the strife between the Jameses and Johns increased—I feared there might be bloodletting again. But they quieted. Until the Greek jars arrived. I hadn’t paid them much attention at first—I didn’t want to know what they might contain. But I had to investigate when Miss Chastity asked it of me. I can hardly say no to a charming lady.”

He gave me a quick, nervous smile before lowering his head to watch his invisible feet a moment.

“So, you went to see what had happened. ” I prompted.

“Oh, yes. I went back to where I’d first seen the amphorae. It was very hard as it was the same place beneath the priory where so much carnage had been wreaked during my time. But the jars had been broken already and it seemed something must have happened of which I could not guess. And then Mr. Purcell appeared in that place. The Red Brothers were very cruel to him and they taunted him horribly. About what I couldn’t understand. I never have figured it out. But from what they said, this I believe to be true: The creature that was in the amphorae was taken out and reassembled into. whatever it was, and it is still there, somewhere.”

That was startling. Sekhmet hadn’t mentioned anything in the jars except blood, magic, and corruption. “A creature?” I questioned. Maybe that had been the corruption. “What sort?”

“I have no idea, nor do I want one! Please, don’t ask it of me. It was chopped into pieces and reassembled from those horrible jars. When I saw what they were doing, their sorcerer making it whole again. I–I am not a brave man and I could not bear to look. ”

I nodded. “I understand.” But I didn’t understand it all. A sorcerer? What had it made from the parts? Did the vampires have a spellbinder working with them? Or was it one of the asetem? Of the vampires I knew, only Carlos had any magical powers. Edward had told me most of them didn’t, but maybe that wasn’t true for the Egyptians. Or maybe there was another player in the mix.

By his quivering and translucence, I knew I couldn’t press Smith any further on that. It was frustrating, but it would do me no good to let it show, so I changed tack and hoped I wouldn’t regret my noble ignorance later. “Which of the factions has Purcell?” I asked. “St. James or St. John?”

“St. James. I don’t know why they chose to store the jars beneath the priory of St. John—perhaps to work some magic against their enemies? I don’t know. I feel for Mr. Purcell—I knew him in my time. He. was like a. go-between. He did business for both parties and they agreed to let him alone. But now the Jameses do him great harm. He is. not a good man—he is not a man, indeed—but none deserve the tortures to which they put him, poor soulless thing.”

“What about William Novak? Do you know anything about him?”

“Who? I don’t know the name. ”

“He’s the missing man, this young man’s brother,” I clarified, waving my hand toward Michael, who was holding back with an anxious frown on his face. “He’s a young man, too, but he has white hair, like an old man. He’s very tall and thin. Have you seen—”

“Oh! That one! Oh. no.” His voice was freighted with dread.

I restrained an urge to lean forward, to grab for the dithering ghost and shake information out of him, but with Michael looking on, I didn’t dare make a move that might upset the boy. I didn’t know how much he was picking up but he was observant and smart, and if I acted distressed just after using Will’s name, he’d know something bad was in the works.

“Go on.”

“I have seen him. I have. But they move him about. And. they. they torment him most horribly. He cries—Oh, my soul. It’s too much to bear,” the ghost said, covering his face with his hand.

“Please,” I asked. “Could you tell me where he is right now?”

“I don’t know that. As I said, they move him.”

“Could you go look?”

“No! No. I. I couldn’t. I can’t. I—No. No, no, no,” Smith whispered, aghast.

Barnaby Smith stepped back from us, staring at each of us in turn as if we would leap on him and rend him to bits in a moment. He gasped, clasping his hands over his heart as he backed away. “I’m sorry. I cannot. I cannot. ” And he vanished back through the red crypt doors.

“What appalling manners,” Temperance muttered from above.

“I think he’s distraught,” said Prudence. “Poor fellow. He must have seen something truly nasty down there.”

“But don’t you think he’ll reconsider and come back?” Hope asked. “Really, it would be the right thing to do. ”

“Which is why he won’t,” Tempe said.

“Oh, Tempe. ”

“Do use what little brain Inwood gave you, my girl.”

“Tempe!” Prudence gasped.

“Oh, you’re just horrid!” Hope shouted, and vanished with the sound of a lightbulb exploding, leaving her statue blank and cold.

“Whatever is the matter with the chit?” Tempe grumbled. “It’s true. Mr. Inwood wasn’t overly generous in what he gave us. He even cut us short in the middle!”