8- Where There's No Light
The door opens with a squeak on the small flat. She moves forward with a felt step. It's dark, thunder rumbles outside. Suddenly a flash of lightning illuminates the whole room: everything is a mess. The furniture seems to have been swept away by a tornado, papers and debris are strewn all over the floor. A little further on, a jackal's head with a large golden headdress is watching her from the floor. It is a cane.
Something is crunching under her foot. When she bends down, she discovers, under shards of glass, a black and white photo stuck in a small distorted frame. For a moment, she remembers this scene and the pride they both had in sharing this moment. She contemplates with sadness the man who looks at her kindly behind his glasses. Her face darkens, however, when she tries to remember what happened here a few days ago with all her strength, but unsuccessfully. She turns away to take a look at the room she is in. Everything has been cordoned off by the police, but the scene is such that she has left it behind: many blood stains are strewn all over the carpet on the floor, and strange signs appear on the walls. When she looks more closely, she realises that these too are traces of blood, perhaps letters, but their shape is unknown to her.
She moves towards the back of the room. The evening wind sweeps across the window curtains, which are waving like creatures. She puts the photo on the sideboard with frowning eyebrows. She senses something. She doesn't recognise herself any more. She doubts. She doesn't know what she's doing there. She knows that something terrible has happened, but her mind refuses to admit it. When she turns her head, she falls on her image, which is reflected in a small mirror.
A new lightning bolt illuminates the room. At that moment she can clearly see her face in the mirror. Her drawn features, her grave expression. But above all, something is standing behind her.
She suddenly turns around, panicking. But it is already too late. The shock propels her against the piece of furniture, which shakes in a resounding crash. A sharp pain, first in her back, which has just hit the sideboard, and then somewhere in her lower abdomen, tells her that she has been hit. Very quickly, a strong heat spreads throughout her body. She receives another blow to the neck. Dizzy, she falls on her knees.
That's when she sees the wound: a gaping hole has replaced one of her flanks. Blood is flowing in great quantity and at a speed she could never have imagined. She sees a piece of rib, and the viscera coming out of her abdomen.
She feels a warm liquid dripping down her chest and arm. She doesn't dare to move, she doesn't have the strength to do so anymore anyway. She moans and falls forward. The man she saw in the mirror approaches her with a slow step. She can hardly breathe, she starts coughing. He kicks her back to the ground. She can't hold back a cry of pain. She finds herself lying on her back, at the mercy of this enemy she didn't see coming.
Around her, the scenery seems to melt. Everything is trembling. The flat she used to be in is disappearing. The walls and the ceiling are fading, giving way to a small room, like a dungeon or a cell, would have been. The parquet floor and carpeting are replaced by irregular scrap metal tiles. The place, dark and metallic, is oppressive. It makes her dizzy. She feels like a trapped prey, without any escape route.
The cold gradually takes hold of her. As she tries to get up, her hand slips on the blood that is spilling beneath her. She tries to find a point of reference, but nothing helps. No matter how much she blinks, all she sees is darkness. Somewhere in the distance she hears a kind of sizzling sound,like a wave of insects approaching.
The man walks towards her, his eyes shining in the dark night. His long coat seems to float behind him. He stops a few centimetres from her face.
She is mad with rage. Crazy with rage at being fooled so stupidly. That she didn't see it coming. She is soaked with her own blood. Her head hurts like hell, just like a metal vice that would have gradually tightened around her skull. With difficulty, she raises her eyes to the mass overhanging her. With fright, she discovers the face she was contemplating in the photo a few minutes before. Her unhealthy grin stares at her without any emotion. Then suddenly, this face becomes blurred in turn, replaced by another familiar face. Underneath his black hair, the piercing blue of his eyes is contemptuously landing on her. His mouth twists into a sadistic smile. He crouches at her level and grabs her by the throat, or at least, what's left of it. The face disappears again, replaced this time by thick black smoke, among which she distinguishes blond hair and a large scar that slashes his face in two. His blood shot eyes, as red as her own blood, don't let go of her. The pain in her head is now unbearable. She has the impression thousands of needles are now piercing her bones, digging deeper and deeper into her eyes and to her brain. At any moment, she knows her body is going to explode in thousands of pieces.
'You won't be able to stop me this time.'
The darkness is getting closer. She still hears the sizzling sound, which becomes louder and clearer. But not as she thought at first, she realises it's in fact a voice, who recites words, maybe psalms, in a language she cannot identify. The words resonate all around her. She literally feels the ground drowning her. Like the flames of a blazing fire, the black smoke grows bigger and bigger and spreads all around her. The man, or the monster, whoever he is, leans a little more towards her. His mouth reveals a bottomless blackness. His eyes shine brighter and brighter, like the blinding light of headlights. There is nothing around her anymore. Her body abandons her in the darkness that closes in on her in a sinister scream.
—
Luceat eais in materia virentis, volare incipit ab initio ad scopus, maxima vires ad incrementum. Luceat eais in materia virentis, volare incipit ab initio ad scopus, maxima vires ad incrementum...
A sharp pain pierced her head, like a needle that would have pierced her forehead and plunged directly into his brain. She dropped a cry of pain. As she struggled in bed, she felt someone grabbing her by the shoulders.
'LARA!'
The voice sounded far away, almost muffled. Yet she tried to hold on to it with all her strength, unable to open her eyes for the moment.
...Luceat eais in materia virentis, volare incipit ab initio ad scopus, maxima vires ad incrementum...
The pain was unbearable. She escaped another cry of pain. Tears came to her eyes. She rolled herself into a ball, as if it could have protected her. She felt the grip tighten a little more on her.
'Lara! Look at me!'
...LUCEAT EAIS IN MATERIA VIRENTIS, VOLARE INCIPIT AB INITIO AD SCOPUS, MAXIMA VIRES AD INCREMENTUM...
The world came to a sudden halt. After yet another peak of pain, her body became lighter, her head emptied. She felt like she was rising, as if her body was floating. She forgot the contact of her skin against the sheets, as if her body was dissociating itself from reality. The pain subsided. She slowly opened her eyes. She discovered Kurtis' face, standing a few centimetres away, leaning over her, panting. He helped her to sit back down in bed. Roman was there too, standing at the foot of the bed in his pants. He ran a nervous hand through her curly hair. Lara also saw Sasha and Mikhaïl at the neck of the door, both stuck in big dressing gowns, standing back, frightened.
She closed her eyes for a short moment to try to centre herself. She felt as if everything around her was being sucked into an endless whirlpool. She was furiously tempted to vomit, she swallowed her saliva with difficulty. Her blood was pulsing against her temples and her heart was pounding furiously against her ribs. She was drenched in sweat. After a few deep breaths, she started to feel a little better.
She massaged her temple with a distracted hand, her eyebrows frowning, as if she was coming out of a bad night. Kurtis scrutinized her insistently, looking for her gaze. With a gentle gesture, he forced her to look up at him. She appreciated the warm and reassuring hand he placed on her cheek. Her breathing finally settled to that of the mercenary. She watched him with her big round eyes, panic-stricken.
'Are you with me?' he asked softly.
She was unable to move or utter a single word. She just sat there, not sure about what had happened to her. As an answer, she just stared at the mercenary.
'It was a vision, wasn't it?'
She wasn't sure what he meant by that.
'I think...'
Her mouth was dreadfully pasty, with a metallic taste.
'In fact it was a souvenir... in Paris...'
Kurtis watched her attentively. He sat carefully beside her, letting her take the time to give him more details.
'But he was there... I mean, he was with me, although it was impossible... he entered my memory, at last he changed it... it was very strange... we were in Paris, without being here somehow... it was as if he had taken me somewhere else.'
'What did you see, Miss Croft?' Roman asked, hands on his hips.
'It doesn't matter' Kurtis cut him off.
'He was killing me.'
Silence fell again in the small room. Everyone watched the young woman, pensively.
'Bastard,' the young Russian whispered.
'Do you think he's figured out where you are?' Kurtis asked softly.
'No, I don't think so,' replied the young woman, lowering her gaze. 'At no time could he see where I was, we were in one of my memories in Paris, as I told you. I think his purpose was only to frighten me. And to threaten us.'
'Unfortunately I think it was much worse than that...' Mikhaïl said in a serious tone.
They all turned to the old man. Kurtis looked at him in dismay.
'...fortunately Kurtis was there.'
'I don't think if this was necessary, Mikhaïl' he replied bitterly.
Lara's gaze shifted from the mercenary to the Russian.
'I'm just saying that you were right to be wary,' the Russian added, before leaving the room.
The man disappeared, and a door slamming in the distance indicated that he had got back to his room. Sasha approached with a light step, her arms folded against her chest.
'Don't pay attention to him, he's nervous about all this... you know him,' she said in a detached tone.
'He's not wrong, it's a good thing Kurtis was there,' interrupted Roman, coming closer too. 'Without his powers I don't dare imagine what would have happened... That bastard won't give us a chance'.
'It was just a nightmare...' insisted the British woman.
The mercenary turned towards the adventurer. His worried, yet reassuring gaze fell on her.
'It's not just a nightmare. You were screaming for death...'
Suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue, her head buzzing, the adventuress leaned forward, her head in her hands. She took a deep breath.
'I had to use my powers to get you back.'
He paused.
'How do you feel?'
'Not so good, actually...'
'I'm going to spend the rest of the night here, just in case.'
'No, don't bother,' she cut him off abruptly.
She let her hand slide down her sore neck. Her belly was burning, as if the wound she had seen in the vision had really penetrated her.
'Lara...'
'It was just a nightmare, nothing to worry about.'
Sasha shivered and wrapped herself up in her thick robe.
'Maybe we'll leave you alone and hope you can get some rest, Miss Croft,' concluded the blonde young woman.
Feeling the insistent gaze of his sister staring at him, Roman decided to move, and followed the young Russian girl out the door. When the door closed behind them, Lara sat in bed, staring into the void. For a moment, she saw again with precision in the darkness facing her, the red eyes of the nephilim pointed at her. She couldn't hold back a shiver.
'You sure you'll be all right?'
She almost jumped when she remembered that Kurtis was still there, sitting next to her. A smile came across the young woman's face as she looked up at him. She tried to hold back as best she could the tremors she was experiencing. The nausea returned, but she tried not to show it.
'Don't worry about me.'
The mercenary pouted. He got up without a sound.
'I always have good reasons to be worried.'
After one last look at the adventurer, he finally turned around and disappeared into his own room.
—
The sun rays that filtered through the tiny window caressed her face. She slowly came out of her drowsiness, and passed a hand over her tired face. Her body protested as she stretched. The feeling of nausea hadn't left her, she felt drained of all energy. The end of the night had been complicated, as she feared.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and made her head slowly rotate to try to relieve the tension that was building up in her back and upper shoulders.
After a few minutes she found the courage to get up and get dressed quickly. She put on her grey trousers and denim shirt. She tied her hair back into a low ponytail. In the living room, she heard the clattering of plates and dishes, she heard voices. The smell of fresh pastries filled her nostrils.
When she appeared in the living room, she discovered Kurtis, Mikhaïl and Roman all three sitting around the living room table. Between various cups of coffee and a few plates of pastries, the young woman saw countless sheets and notebooks scattered here and there. Roman was the first to see her arrive towards them.
'How are you feeling Lara?' he asked anxiously.
The two other men, cut off from their discussion, turned around.
'At the top of my form,' she replied ironically.
The young man got up and rushed to the kitchen to bring her some lunch. In a gallant gesture, he invited her to take the seat he had just freed.
'Sasha isn't there?' she asked, falsely interested in the answer.
'She's gone for the day. She must be on a mission around here, I imagine,' Roman explained.
Lara didn't insist. She took a quick look at the clock hanging a little further in the kitchen.
'You should have woken me up,' she said to Kurtis, who was sitting next to her.
'You needed to rest,' he replied in the same tone.
She shook her head.
'I'll rest later. I am more effective being here with you. Have you started looking at the manuscripts yet?'
'Lara, what happened last night has to be taken seriously,' Kurtis insisted.
'I know, Trent, but there is more urgent and important things than a little sleep deprivation right now.'
'This isn't just a trick,' he replied, scathingly.
'I think I already knew that, thank you.'
Mikhaïl took a big sip of coffee while Roman had gone away to smoke a cigarette on the balcony outside. A slight malaise set in.
'Ok,' intervened the old Russian to ease the tension. 'Getting back to the scrolls, have you been able to go through them then?'
'You have already started the translation?' the adventuress asked, surprised.
'Yes, last night.'
'After what happened?'
'Yes. I was too preoccupied...'
'You should have rested,' Lara said ironically.
'I'll rest later. I'm more effective at getting a head start on translating the manuscripts,' replied the mercenary in the same ironic tone.
They glared at each other.
'So,' Kurtis continued, 'basically: we have the first part of a series of scrolls of the Lux Veritatis, or rather the scrolls of the Sleepers. As I told Lara, they contain the whole past of the Lux Veritatis in its fight against the Nephili. Here are all the information we need to defeat them, and to find the places where last sleepers are hidden. From what I have also seen, there is a lot related to the experiments of Eckhardt...'
'OK,' said Mikhaïl, shaking his head in agreement. 'We have to dig into the details now, although my Latin is not that good anymore.'
'So, you know this language too?' she asked to Mikhaïl.
'Indeed. Konstantin and I were old friends, and I myself was a disciple of the Lux Veritatis and accompanied him on a few missions. He introduced me to the language of the Lux Veritatis. Unfortunately I am not an expert in the subject, but I think my knowledge will help.'
Lara took a look at the scrolls in front of her.
'So to make it short, you and Kurtis know this language. Are there other people? Do you think Karel would know how to read them?'
'Karel no,' replied Kurtis. 'But Morgau Vasiley is probably capable of translating. As I told you, she is not a member of the order but she has had basic training, I think Karel will use her knowledge.'
'Rouzic will be able to translate them for him too, I think,' Mikhaïl added.
Lara frowned.
'Another member of the Cabal?'
'Yes, the archivist of the Cabal, as they call him among themselves,' Mikhaïl continued. 'Originally he was the curator of the archives of the city of Prague. He was the keeper of the Strahov archives, I imagine he still holds his role in the Cabal.'
'I had understood that he was an expert in ancient languages and other such dialects, indeed,' Kurtis added.
'We have work ahead of us, in conclusion.'
There was a meaningful silence in the room. The American, in his black long-sleeved tee shirt and khaki trousers, glanced out the window distractedly before swallowing another sip of hastily-burning coffee.
'I suggest we move to my office, it will be easier.'
Kurtis nodded. Silently, the two men got up and collected all the documents and precious scrolls.
'What about me? What am I supposed to do?' Lara intervened.
Kurtis suddenly turned around and looked at her from the other end of the room. His gaze was staring at her, and she easily guessed the answer that burned his lips.
Don't you dare telling me I have to rest...
A smile full of innuendo appeared on the young man's face, as if he had read her thoughts.
'Nothing more for the moment...' finally answered the American.
Lara pouted.
'I hate being useless...'
'I know,' Kurtis answered with a knowing smile.
'Can I offer you a walk eventually?'
Roman had approached them. She looked at him without really understanding his idea.
'I can give you a tour of the city if you want. It will take your mind off it, you can even make a detour through the library or some monuments if you want to do some further research.'
'I don't know if...' intervened the mercenary.
'Why not,' cut Lara with a smile. 'After all, I'll be just as useful that way rather than locked up in here.'
In any case I'm not going to be able to do anything more by being locked up here...
With a soft step she quickly jumped into her room to get a couple of things before returning to the living room, her jacket already on. She dodged the reproving look that the mercenary was giving her at that very moment.
'I'll keep my phone with me,' she added, turning her back on Kurtis.
'I'd rather like you to keep a low profile.'
With these words, the adventuress followed Roman who had just left the flat, grabbed the handle of the front door and closed it on a sceptical Kurtis.
—
Like the day before, the cold was biting, almost irritating at this time of the year, despite the sun already shining far to the east. They set off on foot, letting themselves be carried away by the life of the different districts of the city. Saint Petersburg was a beautiful and incredibly mysterious city. The Englishwoman was surprised that she had not been there before, when the city was full of museums, palaces and churches, each one more beautiful than the next. She regretted, almost with shame, that she had not taken more interest in this city and its culture. When they stopped on the side of the Stock Exchange Bridge, on the other side of the Neva River, and took the time to admire the huge Ermitage palace that was reflected in the turbulent waters of the river, she thought that she had finally done well to get some fresh air.
Roman was an adorable young man, full of life and resourceful. At first fearful, or at any rate intimidated by the aristocrat, he was content to guide her through the labyrinth and the vastness of the streets. Then, as the day progressed, the young man became more and more relaxed. They had long discussions on various and fascinating subjects. The young man was particularly intrigued by the adventurer, who counted some of her adventures to him. She learned that he himself had served in the army for a few years, before finally returning to settle here to run his father's small business.
He took her to the most beautiful and secluded corners, far from the mass tourism that so disgusted the young woman. They walked along the long and endless avenues of the centre, passing through the most beautiful craft markets of the city. They made several stops at the most famous churches, from the church of St. Isaac to that of St. Saviour, with their golden domes and their mosaic depicting battles from Russian history. At her request, they then made a diversion to the Saint Petersburg State Theater Library, from where they almost instantly came out empty-handed.
Roman then took her to the National Library of Russia. The relatively modern building actually hid an old building with typical Russian architecture. Lara marvelled at the large golden arabesques on the white marbling and at the endless alleys where the greatest treasures of Russian literature were hidden.
Roman had the kindness and patience to let her do so, leaving her to wander here and there in search of clues, himself unable to help her and preferring not to interfere with the young woman's very precise ideas. He was, however, delighted to act as interpreter when Lara asked for help from one of the curators of the premises. He helped her as much as he could with the reading of some of the documents, but their search was not as successful as the English woman had hoped.
With an impatient gesture, and after several hours of searching, she closed the book she was holding in her hands. She had to face the facts. She had found traces of the imperial family by virtue of its expansion in Europe over the last few centuries, or because of the various conflicts that had broken out and raged in the country. One thing she did note, however, was that the family had wandered between Germany and Russia during the past century, moving from one region to another without ever staying in one place for long periods of time. She made a quick link with the Kriegler Castle, mentioned briefly in the book, but without going into further detail. But no mention was made of the battle waged by Le Lux Veritatis, or of any extraordinary beings who might have been likened to the Nephili itself.
Not that surprising actually
'Everything all right, Miss Croft?'
She cast a desperate look at Roman. She glanced around and then answered him with a lowered voice.
'It would be all right if I had found what I was looking for.'
The young man shrugged his shoulders in compassion.
'No wonder Miss Croft, the LV has always fought in the shadows. In fact, that's where the name of the war against the nephilim comes from: the Shadow War.'
'Your father said he was a member of the order, but you were never trained yourself, I think?'
'No, indeed.'
The young man cast a suspicious glance around him.
'My father never wanted to,' he ended. 'I was brought up the hard way, my sister too, by the way... a story of culture, and character, surely.'
Lara gave him a gentle smile.
'I took a different path as a result. Finally, my father thought it would be better to send me to the army, he thought it was safer...'
He escaped a cynical laugh.
'What was your speciality?'
'Well, I did a lot of things and so on... but I like everything related to computers and communication, informatics... so I was soon assigned to this kind of jobs... and a lot of special missions too...'
He left the end of his sentence lying around. Lara felt that he would not expand on the subject any further.
'I don't know if it was much better than being trained by the Lux Veritatis in the end. But we had no choice anyway. Our parents were always against it. Our mother gave her own life to protect us from this war, and from Konstantin's fanaticism. The LV's fight is noble, but many things changed when he became a Leading Member.'
He stopped, looking into the distance.
'They were very good friends. But Konstantin's blindness and obstinacy at the time cost the lives of too many people, including my mother. And I think that was a point of no return... '
His eyes returned to the adventurer.
'But don't tell Kurtis.'
Lara just stared at him, and nodded her head very slightly. The young man gave her a smile full of thanks.
'Would you like to get something to eat?' he asked suddenly.
The young woman nodded again. They got up and left the large library. They resumed their wandering through the immense streets of the city, according to their desires. On the way, they stopped at a small cafeteria, an address that Roman knew well and that he was used to frequent. Lara was able to enjoy some local specialities, to her great delight. They then made further hooks to some well-known churches and monuments in the city centre, before finishing their tour in the great square of the Palace with its Alexander column. She remained in admiration of this place, of the grandeur and power that emanated from it. Her eyes carefully observed the white marble columns that surmounted the turquoise blue facades with golden finishes. Above the main entrance, a large banner covered with various works of art and a caption visibly announced a cultural event to come.
'It's the inauguration of a new Art collection,' Roman quickly explained. 'It's a national event here, the whole upper bourgeoisie will no doubt be out and about.'
Lara nodded, her mind elsewhere. They made one last diversion to the banks of the Neva River behind the palace, and after a last breath of fresh air, she finally turned around and followed Roman back to the flat.