Thick black hair began to sprout from Stevenson’s skin, bursting through his pores and tearing through his uniform. His eyes turned yellow, and his shaking became so frenzied that McBride was thrown loose.

“Somebody help him!” cried Kate, her voice high and anguished.

Morris pulled the Glock from his belt for a second time and knelt down next to Stevenson’s head. The man—if he still was a man—was twitching and shaking on the grass, apparently oblivious to the small crowd gathered around him. Morris cocked the gun, and placed the barrel against Stevenson’s temple.

Larissa turned Kate away from the stricken operator and held the teenage girl’s face tightly against her shoulder, covering her eyes. Jamie watched, unable to tear himself away, as Morris pulled the trigger.

A spray of blood and brain flew in the dark air, and then Stevenson was still. The change, which was less than half complete, reverted quickly, and within thirty seconds, the operator was lying motionless on the grass, the coarse black hair gone, his limbs straight and human again.

They dragged him under the shelter of a tangled bush and left him. There was nothing else they could do for him; time was becoming short, and they needed to keep moving.

After a few minutes, in which time Kate composed herself and McBride said a silent good-bye to his friend, they walked down the slope toward the monastery.

44

IN THE HOUSE OF GOD

Jamie stepped into the monastery’s courtyard and stopped dead, his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t believe in God and, therefore, didn’t believe in hell, but he doubted that even if it were real, it couldn’t be any worse than what he was looking at now.

The team had made their way across the plain and approached the monastery silently, spread in a line across the dark grass, crouching as they moved. They had stopped with their backs against the stone wall beside the tall arch that led into the building, three on either side, their weapons drawn. Screams of pain and high shrieks of pleasure floated on the night air, and thick smoke drifted across their nostrils, alive with the acrid scents of burning wood and meat. Morris motioned silently for McBride to lead them in, but Jamie shook his head vigorously. They were so nearly there; so nearly at the place where Alexandru was waiting for them, where his mother was being held, and he would not stand still while other men led the way. He crouched low and swung around the edge of the stone arch into the courtyard.

The cobblestoned yard was small; it was walled on all sides, and an opening stood in the middle of each. The ones to the left and right led into low buildings that Jamie guessed had been stables, and the one at the rear, opposite the arch through which he had just entered, led into the monastery itself. But between it and him was a scene dragged bloodily from the very worst corners of his imagination.

A large bonfire had been built in the middle of the courtyard. Jamie felt the heat of it on his face as soon he rounded the corner; a thick column of gray smoke climbed into the pale silver sky, and explosions of sparks burst into the air.

The bodies of monks were strewn around the cobblestoned ground. Many were naked, others still wrapped in their brown robes. Appalling violence had been visited on them. Blood was everywhere; dripping into pools at the bases of the walls, splashed in crimson swirls on the pale stone, running freely between the cobblestones beneath their feet.

Kate began to weep, quietly. The rest of the team looked slowly around the courtyard, their faces gray, their eyes wide.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” said McBride.

“Me neither,” said Morris, shaking his head.

They walked slowly around the bonfire, their weapons at their shoulders, and faced the open doorway that would take them inside the monastery’s main building. The opening was dark and uninviting.

“Follow me,” said Jamie, softly, and stepped inside.

In front of Jamie was a solid stone wall on which a single word had been scrawled in thick streaks of red:

WELCOME

Corridors led away to his right and left, lit by oil lamps that hung in ornate metal holders at head height. The watery-yellow lamps illuminated the passages, and Jamie saw dark shapes lying on the ground in both directions.

Get a hold of yourself. It’s only going to get worse.

“Which way?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Kate, her voice trembling. “The monastery is a square, with the chapel hall on the other side. We’ll end up in the same place either way.”

“All right,” said Jamie. “Then we split up.”

He looked at Morris and McBride, who were standing together, their black uniforms rendering them almost invisible in the darkness.

“You two, take Kate and check the right corridor. Me and Larissa will take the left.”

A look of panic rose in Kate’s face, but he ignored it.

Nearly there. You’re nearly there.

He was, and he knew it. Somewhere in this building, probably waiting for him to appear, was Alexandru. And if the old vampire was here, then so was his mother.

I’m sure of it.

He grabbed Larissa’s hand and pulled her along the corridor that led away to the left. She came without protest, curling her fingers around his, as the two operators led Kate to the right. She cast a nervous look over her shoulder but allowed herself to be led away.

Jamie and Larissa stepped around the bodies of dead monks that littered the floor of the narrow passage. They stared blankly, their eyes wide and uncomprehending, blood pooled around them, their mouths twisted in pain. Jamie ignored them; there was nothing that could be done. They passed wooden door after wooden door. He pushed one open and looked in on a bedroom so austere it was closer to a prison cell. The stone walls and floor were unadorned; the only contents of the room were a wooden chair that stood in front of a small desk on which lay a large Bible, and a wooden bed that looked incredibly uncomfortable. He closed the door, and they rounded a corner at the end of the corridor.

Movement flashed in front of them, and Jamie held his T-Bone out in front of him. He pulled his torch from his belt as Larissa’s eyes reddened beside him, and shone it down the passage. Crawling up the wall ten feet in front of them, like an awful overgrown insect, was one of the monks. It turned its head toward them as the light from Jamie’s torch passed over it, and the look on its pale, narrow face was purgatory. Its eyes gleamed red, but the mouth was contorted into a wide silent howl, and tears spilled down its cheeks. It clawed at the pale stone of the wall, tearing its fingers to shreds, and then it slammed its forehead into the wall, splitting the skin, sending blood pouring down its face. It did it again and again and again.

“Stop that!” yelled Jamie, and the monk fell awkwardly off the wall, landing in a heap on the floor.

It looked at them with an expression of pure agony, and Jamie thought he had never seem such misery in the face of a living creature. It crawled a few feet toward them, sobbing and weeping, and Jamie took a step backward, leveling the T-Bone at the approaching figure. It shuffled onto its knees and faced them.

“Damned,” it said in a choked voice that was almost a whisper. “Damned.”

Larissa made a noise in her throat, and Jamie looked at her. She was staring at the vampire, and he realized with horror that she knew exactly what he was going through.

“Tried not to do it,” the monk whispered. “Not strong enough. Damned. Damned for all eternity.”

Jamie shone the torch past the weeping figure, and the beam picked out the body of a second monk, lying slightly further down the corridor. His neck had been ripped out, but there was very little blood on the floor around him.