“We need to time this right,” said Lucian, stopping O'Rourke's rowing and pointing to a place several hundred meters east of the dock. “We can put in there, but we have to make a dash for it when the patrol boat is on the far side of the island.” He removed his watch and stared at the radium dial as the boat continued its counterclockwise patrol.

“Three minutes ten seconds,” said Lucian as the speedboat growled its way around the southwest point again. “Are you fresh enough to row that fast?” he asked O'Rourke.

The priest nodded. When the speedboat disappeared around the east point again, he put his back into it. The rowboat's progress seemed slow, the current pushing them west stronger than ever. Kate could hear O'Rourke's grunts and wheezing breath.

“Two minutes,” whispered Lucian, studying his watch.

Kate could just hear the speedboat's engine on the other side of the small island, could see dark shapes on the dock. What if they see us? What if the boat speeds up? O'Rourke rowed steadily, the clumsy oars biting deep. The island seemed no closer than it had before.

“One minute,” whispered Lucian.

Kate could hear the speedboat now, purring its way around the northwest comer of the island. They were closerthe island seemed taller, the dark trees distinct, but O'Rourke seemed to be putting most of his energy into not letting the current sweep them west into the dock. The oars sounded very loud as they bit at the water. If the patrol boat came around now, they would be directly in its path.

“Thirty seconds,” hissed Lucian.

O'Rourke put his head down and pulled. The heavy rowboatall the heavier with its passengers and increasing load of waterplowed through rough waves. The current here was very strong. There was enough starlight now for Kate to see the sweat on the priest's neck.

“Fifteen seconds,” said Lucian.

They were ten meters from shore.

“There,” whispered Lucian, pointing to what may have been an inlet under the trees.

The patrol boat roared around the point a hundred and fifty meters to their left. Its searchlight was on, probing toward the shore. When it passed the dock, Kate caught a glimpse of men with automatic weapons squinting into the searchlight. The beam swept off the shore, ahead of the boat, straight toward them.

Chapter Twenty-seven

O’Rourke grunted as they glided under branches that grasped at Kate like bony hands. Then the bow was scraping rock with a noise that Kate was sure could be heard all the way across the island. Lucian ducked forward, O'Rourke tried to mute his gasps, and Kate grabbed on to roots and kept them from sliding back out into the current as the speedboat pounded its way past not ten yards from them.

Her heartbeat drowned even O'Rourke's panting until the patrol boat passed around the east point again. There was a soggy rope in the space under the bow. Water lapped halfway up Kate's calves.

Lucian went over the side, scrambled up the bank, tied the bowline around a stump, and motioned them up. Kate could hear O'Rourke sliding on dead leaves behind her as he grabbed for roots and rocks.

Fifteen feet up the bank and they were in a line of trees bounding a wide, grassy area. There was a snick near Kate's ear and she could just make out a knife in Lucian's hand as he gouged bark from an evergreen tree. Marking where the boat is, she thought. She was glad that someone was thinking.

They huddled at the edge of the tree line. “The chapel,” whispered Lucian, and Kate squinted west. Three spires rose above bare limbs. A line of torches flickered as more dark shapes followed an unseen path from the dock to the half hidden church. Kate could hear voices nowmale voices chanting something which was not quite Gregorian. The wind rose around them, rustling pine branches and setting Kate to shivering.

Lucian leaned closer. Kate thought she could see the pistol in his hand again. “It's the beginning of the Investiture Ceremony,” came his whisper. “I should have known it would be at the chapel at ~Snagov Monastery.”

The chanting seemed louder now.

“It's the chapel where Vlad Dracula's headless body was buried in fourteen seventysix,” whispered Lucian. “They excavated his tomb in nineteen thirty-two, but the grave was empty. Empty except for chewed animal bones.” Lucian turned and moved toward the chapel and torches in a silent, crouching run.

Kate hesitated only a second, touching O'Rourke's shoulder to make sure the priest was there, and then she followed.

The chapel was lit by torchlight, with more torches lining the walkway from the dock. A second large boat had arrived and a steady stream of darkrobed figures filed from the tiny pier to the church. Lucian led the way along the edge of a grassy area the size of a football field. Once he paused for breath and whispered to Kate and O'Rourke, “This was all inner courtyard and fortifications in Vlad Tepes' day.” Kate felt bricks or stones underfoot, set flush with the sod.

They almost walked into the guard. Lucian was leading the way under dripping trees, Kate had one hand on the back of his shirt and her other hand on O'Rourke's shoulder in the darkness, when suddenly a match flared twenty feet in front of them. Kate had the briefest of glimpses of a man's face in the match glowa face under a black skimask hood. Torn. Julie.

Lucian froze in place while Kate and O'Rourke stopped in midstep. Kate breathed through her mouth and watched the ember glow of the cigarette. After a long minute her heartbeat slowed; evidently the shuffle of feet and low chanting from the line of cowled figures on the other side of the chapel had masked any noise.

“This way,” whispered Lucian and led them to the right, past an ancient well with its steeproofed shelter, between what felt like rosebushes, and into a row of low trees. Kate could see another sentry near the corner of the chapel fifteen yards away. Torchlight made little impression on his black hood, black sweater, and the matteblack of the automatic weapon cradled in his arm.

They continued right, away from the chapel, crossed a low wire fence, and then Lucian led them to their left through an orchard. Dark buildingstwo peasantstyle farmhouses and a low brick barnloomed to their right. “The current monastery,” whispered Lucian. “They will not show a light or come out when the strigoi are here.”

They circled the chapel, keeping the torches in sight, moving around to the southwest end of the island. “Stay here while I look around. “ Lucian moved away through the thick brush.

Kate heard O'Rourke shift his bad leg as they crouched there; she just caught the small intake of pained breath. She touched the priest's shoulder. Lucian suddenly was a presence next to her. “We can get closer on this side.” His whisper was the softest breath in the silence. Kate realized that the chanting had ceased.

Torches illuminated the open doors of Snagov Chapel. The crosses carved there similar to the doublecruciform of Lucian's Order of the Dragon pendant. Near the chapel was a whitewashed cottage and, ten yards closer to where the three of them hid in a vineyard, an ancient square tower. Lucian slid out of the vineyard and moved across the open space to the tower. Kate heard the soft rasp of a knife on hinges, and the old door became a black portal. Lucian gestured them closer.

Kate hugged her knees. “I don't know if I can do this,” she whispered to the priest. The idea of crossing the open space so near the strigoi guards terrified her.

O'Rourke leaned so close she could feel the scratch of his beard against her cheek. “We'll go together,” he whispered and took her hand.

They moved in a crouch, trying to set their feet only on grass. When they reached the open door, Kate hesitated two beats before stepping into the darkness. O'Rourke closed the door behind them. Lucian was crouched on the lowest step of a steep stairway. “There's a window,” he whispered, his voice almost inaudible. “But there are guards just below it.” They moved up the stairs slowly, testing for any creaks. The steps were centuries old but massive and sound; there were no creaks.