"Then why are they mentioned at all?"

A shrug. "Why are vampires mentioned? Why werewolves? Something inspired those myths, yes, but though the inspiration—say, the burial of a catatonic person in the former case, a severe manic-depressive disorder in the latter—might have been real, the folk tales that grew out of them are not."

That wasn't a folk tale floating in Vicky's bedroom.

"If I had to guess," Buhmann continued, "based on the escape fantasy offered by the Lilitongue of Gefreda, I'd say the myth was the result of wishful thinking by a persecuted culture." He frowned. "But then again…"

"What?"

"The Church seems to play an important part in the story."

The Jesuit Mendes… the map maker…

"The Catholic Church? The pope?"

"The Lilitongue was rumored to have been hidden away in the Vatican since the sixth century."

"Doesn't that tell you something?"

He laughed—a dry cackle. "So many strange and 'forbidden' things are rumored to be hidden in the Vatican vaults that the Church would need half of Rome to store them all!"

"Any rumor of it leaving the Vatican?"

Dr. Buhmann's eyes widened. "As a matter of fact…" He turned back to his notebook. "Yes. Here. It was rumored to have been stolen during the papacy of Innocent IX—who died in 1591 after only two months as pope." Another cackle. "Now, if I were a conspiracy theorist, I suppose I could make something of that."

"No mention of it after that?"

He checked his book again. "Not that I ever saw."

It all fit. The Lilitongue of Gefreda disappears from the Vatican in 1591… seven years later a Jesuit—at the request of the pope, if the inscription Tom had withheld could be believed—guided it to a watery grave. And it was never heard from since because it was buried in a Bermuda sand hole.

So what? He knew no more about the thing now than when he'd stepped into Dr. Buhmann's office.

Shit.

"May I ask you a question?"

Jack was tempted to say, You just did, but held back.

"Shoot."

"Why this interest in such an arcane legend? And believe me, the Lilitongue of Gefreda is very arcane."

How to answer that without telling too much…

"Someone I know thinks he's found it."

Buhmann's eyes twinkled. "Oh, I doubt that. But if your friend wishes to bring it here to the museum, I can have the objects curator take a look at it. No one knows what the Lilitongue looks like, so it will be impossible for him to identify it, but he should be able to carbon date it for you."

Nothing Jack would like better, but…

"It… it can't be moved right now."

And Jack wasn't about to self-destruct his life by becoming publicly involved with a thing that defied the laws of gravity. At least not yet.

But if everything led to dead ends, then that was what he'd do: bring the Lilitongue to the attention of the world and let the scientific community figure it out.

"Besides, what would carbon dating tell me?"

"Well, the Lilitongue is said to be ancient, fashioned in ancient Babylon or even earlier. If you brought in an object that was, say, five or six thousand years old, you might really have something."

Jack already knew he had something. He pushed himself out of the chair.

"Well, thank you for your time, Professor. Any suggestion as to where else I can look?"

He smiled. "To learn about a mythical object, you might want to consult a mythical book. According to lore there once existed a book, a 'forbidden' tome, that supposedly catalogued the histories and workings of all seven of the Infernals, along with much other 'forbidden' knowledge. But the book is most likely as fanciful as the objects it discusses."

"When and where was this nonexistent book last heard of?"

"The fifteenth century. Supposedly it fell into the hands of the Grand Inquisitor, Tomas de Torquemada, during the initial phase of the Spanish Inquisition. He tried to destroy it—burn it, tear it apart, slash its pages—but legend says it's indestructible."

Jack felt a chill. He'd heard about this book not long ago. From a lady with a dog.

But he couldn't remember its name.

"So Torquemada buried it. But more than that, he designed and built a monastery over the spot—the Monastery of St. Thomas in Avila—where he spent his final years."

The professor's words were like a head butt: Tom had claimed the Sombra map had been found in a Spanish monastery.

One more piece of the puzzle.

But he still couldn't remember the book's goddamn name. He'd had a lot of distractions at the time, but now he wished he'd paid closer attention.

"Let's just say I come across this book. Would you be able to translate it for me?"

Dr. Buhmann's eyes got a faraway look. "If I could see such a thing, hold it in my hands just once before I die…" He shook himself. "What am I saying? Forgive an old man. I'm sure there once existed a forbidden book that was so well made that it was difficult to destroy, and thence came the legend. But should the book truly exist, and if the whispers about it are true, you won't need me to translate it."

"Why not?"

"Because the story goes that anyone who opens it sees the text in his native tongue."

"I don't get it."

"If you open it, you will see modern English. I, on the other hand, born and raised in Vienna as I was, will see German." He laughed. "Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?"

Yeah. He had. And he'd seen worse. A book in everybody's native tongue was a walk in the park compared to his experiences in the past year or so.

But he forced a laugh of his own. "Now that's pushing things a little too far."

Dr. Buhmann shrugged. "Nothing is 'too far' when talking about a book that doesn't exist. The sky's the limit."

"I suppose so."

He adjusted his glasses and looked at Jack. "But tell me, are you a scholar? Researcher? Student?"

"Just a repairman."

Dr. Buhmann shook his head in wonder. "I must confess I'm amazed that anyone outside the academic community has heard of the Lilitongue of Gefreda."

"I'm much more interested in this book that'll tell me about it."

The old man's expression turned grave. "I sense this means a lot to you. I won't ask why, but I must tell you: If this book exists, I doubt anyone alive has ever seen it or even knows where it is."

… anyone alive…

That gave Jack an idea. If he couldn't ask a living person, maybe he could ask a dead one.

He was willing to try anything.

3

-68:42

Jack called ahead to see if Lyle and Charlie Kenton were entertaining any clients at the moment. Nope. Didn't he remember that Monday was their day of rest? No seances scheduled until midafternoon Tuesday.

So he grabbed the empty sea chest from his apartment and drove out to Menelaus Manor in Astoria. He wished he could have brought the Lilitongue along too, but since that was fixed in its spot, and since Charlie couldn't leave his house, the chest would have to do.

He parked in front of the attached garage. Hadn't been back since the summer. With its dark stone walls and vaguely colonial design, the house could look menacing at night. But in the wan light from an overcast sky, it looked merely old.

Lyle met him at the door and, after making nice-nice with the handshake and small talk and why-don't-you-ever-come-to-visit preliminaries, they settled in the high-ceilinged channeling room on the first floor.

The array of spiritualist and New Age junk displayed around the room among the statues of everything from Christian saints to Hindu gods brought back memories, not all of them pleasant. The heavy drapes, usually drawn tight, had been pulled back to let in some light.

Lyle, tall, lean, black, maybe thirty, wore his hair in long, tight dreads. He was dressed in jeans and a V-neck sweater. He led Jack to the large round oak table at the far end. Lyle seated himself at the twelve-o'clock spot, directly in front of a chalk-smeared blackboard; Jack took the three-o'clock position.