31- Plan Of Attack
Luddick slowed down, and pulled into the car park on the side of the road. He stopped the SUV, and they got out of the car one after the other. The fifty year old walked a few steps and pretended to stretch, as if they had just arrived from a long trip. Roman slammed the door behind him and looked around. He then unfolded a large paper map on which they had taken care to put strokes of highlighter and had written some notes here and there. A coffee stain improvised that very morning made it look as if the document had already been well used, as if it bore the traces of the previous stages of their road trip.
As planned, they had not left the hotel too early, taking the time to prepare their approach in more detail. The grey clouds of the day before had been replaced by the bright cold sun, which was already high in the sky above their heads. The Russian put on his sunglasses, and wrapped himself in his scarf. Not far away, he saw Matēj taking a look around, hands on his hips. The dark stone baroque church was standing a little way ahead of them, its colours contrasted rather strikingly with the magnificent renaissance-style building with its immaculate white facade that stood next to it. All around, a large green park stretched as far as the eye could see, between dense forest and sophisticated terraced gardens.
The two men left the car and set off at a leisurely pace along the path that wound its way to the historic centre of the village. Roman followed the fifty-year-old who led the way without a word, visibly concentrated but surprisingly relaxed.
"You're definitely used to this kind of mission, right?", asked the young man.
"I guess I am, yes. It's a bit of a special context, of course, but I know a few tricks that might be useful."
"No offence here, but I hope not," replied the Russian without any amusement in his voice.
The path went up slowly and they took a staircase cut into the rock, which led them directly to the centre of the village. They arrived at a group of colourful houses surrounding a large square with trees. Just beyond, they could see the three imposing iron spikes of the church roof. He and Matēj exchanged a glance. They crossed the large square, which was strangely quiet and empty of any human presence. The atmosphere was heavy, despite the magnificent sunshine and the undeniable charm of this small village.
Very quickly, they found themselves at the foot of the great gothic building, and Roman felt the stress rise, even if for the moment, no enemy was in sight. The Russian pretended to look at the map in his hands, Matēj took out his phone to take some pictures. They pretended to have a chat, to observe the surroundings, before approaching the building, which they carefully walked around. But when they got to the other side, they still hadn't noticed anything strange or suspicious. They exchanged a surprised look. Matēj approached the large wooden side entrance door, turned the handle, but nothing happened. When he turned around, he met the petrified gaze of the young Russian.
"Don't you want to knock on the door and ask permission to come in while you're at it? You'll draw attention to us!", the young man hissed through clenched teeth as the Czech joined him back.
"Calm down, Roman. Any tourist would have done that."
"We must not be the same kind of tourists then," he replied, giving him a reproachful look.
The young man followed him as the Czech turned around and retraced his steps. They walked along the imposing building again, going backwards, and scrutinising every detail of its wall and façade, but the place seemed strangely quiet... and normal. They followed the passage to a new set of stairs, which led them above the great white commandery building. They discovered gardens, but also several beautifully decorated courtyards. They took the time to observe the façade, but did not notice anything unusual here either. They turned around and walked back to the large square with its lush trees, and naturally headed for the ramparts a few yards away, which overlooked the countryside and marked the highest point of the hill on which the village and the church stood.
They leaned on the stone railings, staring into the distance.
"Did you see anything?", asked the Russian, who seemed completely disillusioned.
The Czech stood up and took out his phone again. He pretended to take a few photos, looking up. He intercepted the young man's inquisitive look.
"My contact said he saw a dozen armed men hanging around the building two nights ago. They must be somewhere around."
Roman glanced quickly at the church behind them.
"Do you think they're watching us?"
"Just because we don't see them doesn't mean they're not there, and doesn't mean we're not being watched," he muttered without moving his lips. "Didn't they teach you anything in the army?"
The young Russian pouted and refocused on his role. He took a few steps away and observed the huge rectangular building that stood just behind them, not far from the church. Its almost unreal whiteness and golden details, which reminded him strangely of those in his country, stood out in the countryside. At this point, the raised ramparts formed a sort of large alley bordered by a stone railing. He looked for a moment at the imposing statues of angels that stood at regular intervals, as if they had been the guardians of this place, and which overlooked the terraced gardens below.
He was startled when he felt Matēj's presence behind him.
"According to the plans, the two buildings are connected by underground galleries. One of them leads directly to the basement of the ossuary. But that one is only accessible from the church itself, or from a tiny vestibule in the palace," he explained, pointing to the white building with his chin.
The two men walked slowly back towards the church.
"The church has only one main entrance, plus two side entrances," Matēj added quietly, keeping his eyes on the building.
"It seems risky to use one of those entrances," Roman replied. "They will shoot us down as soon as we step inside."
"That would be completely stupid of us, yes. We can be sure that all the exits are guarded."
Roman glanced around. He noticed with astonishment that the square and the village were still empty of people. They hadn't seen a single person so far, which began to worry the young man seriously.
Looks like a ghost town
Suddenly, Matēj turned around and resumed his walk. This time he walked briskly towards the back of the church. The Russian watched him go away, afraid of what had gone through his mind. The ex-policeman seemed to be thinking of something, and quite surprisingly, pretty sure of what he was doing, but it was better to stay careful anyway.
He saw Matēj cross the lawn and walk towards one of the stone arches of the building. A little distraught, Roman watched him disappear behind it. Then, after a few moments, seeing that the fifty-year-old did not return, he too headed towards the back of the church. He crossed the perfectly mown lawn and found himself facing a stone wall. It was only after further inspection that he discovered a small door between the doors. Intrigued, the young man approached suspiciously, and first poked his head inside. He discovered a large, spacious nave, intersected by imposing pillars of decorated marble, which helped to support three tall, arched vaults. He also noticed the black and white mosaic on the floor, and above all, the large gilded metal gate that stood in the middle of the building, which framed a large rough marble staircase that seemed to descend into the basement. He found Luddick a few feet away, moving cautiously between the columns, his eyes alert and turned in all directions. Roman felt his blood run cold.
But as he pushed the door open and stepped forward to catch up with his comrade, he was taken by surprise by footsteps that echoed around them and suddenly came closer. Before they could react, they both found themselves face to face with two men.
"What are you doing here? Who gave you permission to enter?"
The Russian and the Czech jumped, caught in the act.
"Excuse us, we...", stammered Matēj, raising his hands in apology.
"This is a forbidden area."
The taller of the two men, the one with the dark hair and piercing green eyes, or at least the one not hidden under a blindfold, was standing in front of them, his jaw visibly set. Neither of them looked armed, but the relatively similar dark outfits they both wore and their thick military boots betrayed that they belonged to some kind of armed forces or security group.
"Sorry, we're visiting the region and-"
"Tourists are not allowed to enter this building," he simply told them, staring at Roman with his still-valid eye."I'll ask you to leave."
Matēj then took a step towards them in a rather relaxed and nonchalant attitude.
"Excuse me gentlemen, we didn't know, we're just passing through. We didn't see anything that indicated we couldn't come in," he said in a voice as calm as possible.
The man stared at him for a moment, obviously trying to understand who he was dealing with. He glanced at the phone the Czech was holding in his hand. The blindfold he wore to hide part of the ugly scar on his face, and no doubt the eye he no longer had, made him look like a second class pirate. The man who accompanied him also took a step forward, focused on Roman.
"Is it not possible to visit the church?", tried the young Russian.
"As I told you, the site is closed to the public, sir. Unauthorised persons are not allowed to enter the security zone."
"The security zone? Is there a special event?"
Roman felt the stress rise another notch as he realised that Matēj was becoming a little insistent, and that the man accompanying the one with the headband was not taking his eyes off him. He did not let himself be intimidated, however.
"A seminar, yes," replied the first man. "Now I will ask you to leave."
Luddick seemed to hesitate for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again at the firm attitude of the two men. Then, sensing the tension that had built up, he preferred to let it go and not draw too much attention to them. It was better not to take too many risks.
"I understand. Excuse us, gentlemen, we didn't mean to disturb you," he said simply, waving his hand.
The man with the blindfold stared straight at him. Neither of them moved from their positions, but the Russian and the Czech understood it was better not to take any risks and to insist.
Matēj nodded, and turned around, grabbing Roman by the arm to pull him along. They retraced their steps to the small door at a brisk pace, followed closely by the two mercenaries. They kept their gaze down, as a precaution, until they were out in the open again. Without looking back, they took long strides and quickened their pace, walking up the long esplanade that ran alongside the white building, under the empty but strangely present gaze of the angel statues. Before disappearing completely around the corner of the building and catching the path that would lead them back to the car, Roman turned around one last time. A hundred feet away, the two men were still there, waiting. Feeling the weight of their gaze on him, he hurried to the SUV.
The two companions got into the vehicle and exchanged a deep and implied look.
"That was close."
Luddick took out his phone and held it up to Roman.
"Yes, but we have what we need."
The young Russian couldn't hold back a smile of satisfaction. The ex-policeman started the engine.
—
Her eyes stayed focused on the image on Matēj's phone screen. It was rather badly framed, completely crooked and out of focus. It had obviously been taken in a hurry, no doubt in the heat of the moment - the two men might not even have realised Matēj had taken a picture of them - but two faces and dark outfits could be clearly distinguished. One of the men was wearing a thick eye blindfold. Lara recognised him at once.
"I've seen him before. It's the Argentinian, one of Miranda's henchmen," she murmured. "It's them, they're here."
"We were right, then," added Roman.
He and the aventuress exchanged a knowing glance. The excitement the Englishwoman felt at that moment was hard to describe, she felt her heartbeat quicken.
"Did you see anyone else?"
The ex-policeman shook his head in denial.
"The place was completely empty. I didn't see much of what was going on inside the church, but I didn't see any men other than them..."
Lara turned around and picked up one of the maps lying on the desk behind her. She laid it flat on the bed, and took a red marker. She drew four large circles to mark the entrances to the church, one on each side of the building.
"Okay. So it means we can forget the main entrances anyway," said the Englishwoman, pointing to the main façade of the church.
"The two galleries I was telling you about Roman are located here, and here," Matēj stated as he stepped forward to take a look at the plan too.
He pointed to a spot on the map, obviously at the foot of the ramparts on which the church stood, and then moved his finger to another spot, this time in an inner courtyard of the renaissance palace.
"Okay. So ideally we go through one of these, if I understand correctly," Roman said.
"Well this might be more complicated than I thought if we try to go through the commandery," interrupted the aventuress. "We have to find a way to get inside the building, locate the gallery... It'll take us a long time and it might not go unnoticed."
Roman suddenly became nervous.
"Yes, but if we go through the other gallery, which is just under the church, it will be the same thing," he said, worried. "Stop me if I'm wrong, but if we had access to this information, or to the detailed plans of the site, Svendsen and her men must know about these galleries too."
"It's all under surveillance, most likely," confirmed Matēj. "It would be foolish of them not to."
Roman gave him a desperate look, before turning to Lara. The young woman suddenly straightened up, and stepped away from the desk to pace the small room, a finger resting on her forehead.
"And so this is all you could find out about access?"
The two men exchanged incredulous glances at the aventuress, who concentrated on her steps, her arms tightly folded against her.
"This is all we found, yes. And it was risky enough as it was. We came very close to being found out," added Matēj in a bitter voice.
Lara seemed to ignore this remark and turned abruptly back to the desk and the plans that were spread out on it, a bit all over the place. She picked up her laptop and began to type on it, visibly annoyed.
"Trust me, we couldn't have done more, Lara. The place is under close surveillance," Roman snapped.
But the young woman raised her hand to keep him quiet.
"That's not what I meant," she replied in a low voice.
She turned her attention back to the screen and her research, which caught the young man's eye. He took a step forward and glanced at the computer. However, he did not understand what was going on in the adventuress' head.
"Something's wrong," she simply said, sensing her friend's growing incomprehension.
She stopped moving, and stared at the screen in front of her. Then she slowly turned her head towards the ex-policeman standing a little way back.
"Luddick, you were telling me this morning before you left that the galleries were added during the Renaissance, just after the construction of the commandery?"
"That's right."
"However, when I look at some of the plans, nothing matches. The tracings and lines don't match up with where the galleries are supposed to be, just as if there was a kind of discrepancy," the aventuress explained.
"So the plans we have are not the right ones?", Roman asked, not sure he understood what she was getting at.
"While you were away, I took the liberty of contacting some of your friends. I hope you don't mind," she added with a smile for her Russian friend. "Quite charming people, by the way."
"Why, did you think there were only crooks on the dark web?", he asked in an amused voice.
"Far be it from me," she replied politely.
The Englishwoman grabbed one of the cards stuck under the computer.
"From what I've found, and from the documents your friends were able to find for me, the church has a basement, which appears on several plans. A cavity dug directly under the building, and accessible from its interior, no doubt a sort of crypt, or perhaps a large vault."
She supported her words by pointing to the rectangular shape on the map that was supposed to correspond to the area described.
"It's not my habit to do this, I'm more of a field woman... but I did it with the means at hand, or at least, I managed with modern technology. And it turns out that I managed to find photos of the place in question on the internet."
With one hand, she grabbed the nearby laptop and turned it around. The two men quickly looked at the pictures on it. The young Russian man suddenly frowned.
"It looks like what we saw earlier, yes... But there are no bones in these pictures," he noted.
Matēj leaned forward a little more, and saw that all the photos showed a vaulted basement of light marble, but without any macabre decoration. It was a simple crypt.
"It's not the right church?"
Lara merely shook her head sharply in response. She sat up straight.
"Sedlec Ossuary was built in 1320, and was destroyed during the Hussite invasion, in 1421 exactly. It was then rebuilt in the years that followed..."
She took out another map, much more recent than the previous ones, and put it on top of the others.
"...with a brand new crypt."
She saw Luddick concentrate on the plans for several seconds, before the expression on his face suddenly changed. He pointed to something.
"They're not in the same place...," he muttered.
He looked up and Lara smiled at him. Roman didn't seem to understand at first.
"What do you mean?"
"The old crypt wasn't rebuilt. They built a brand new one."
Roman suddenly looked at the plans and saw that the location of the new crypt did not match that of the old one.
"There's a discrepancy... it's as if the newest one was built next to the old one..."
He looked up at the young woman.
"The dates of the church's and crypt's reconstruction correspond exactly to the dates when Eckhardt arrived in the country, and when he began his first experiments..."
"...and therefore the dates when he potentially built his lab here, right? He took advantage of the construction of the new crypt to set up shop into the old one," Matēj concluded.
"Do you think that's where they took Kurtis?", asked the Russian.
"Quite a coincidence again, don't you think?", Lara replied with a sustained smirk.
But she saw the young man's face darken.
"Excuse me Lara, but I don't understand what this has to do with the galleries? Don't they lead directly to the ossuary?", asked Roman, who was also thinking fast.
"The plans we have are from the Renaissance, so we have to go back a little further."
She turned to pick up some of the maps and show them to the young man. She laid them flat in front of her on the bed.
"The galleries you're talking about, Matēj, are galleries that were designed during the Renaissance, at the same time as the commandery. I imagine they were used as a secret passage and an escape route in case of an attack."
Lara pointed to them on the map.
"But it turns out they were built from already existing tunnels."
She pushed the paper maps and showed them a document on the computer this time.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Luddick, but apparently Kutna Hora is known throughout the country for having been an important mining region, especially in the Middle Ages."
"Yes, in fact, there was an important silver mine right here, where the village was built."
"And where the church was, right?"
Matēj stared at her for a short while without answering. Suddenly his eyes widened at the revelation that had just struck him.
"It was built at the same time, yes."
"...on an ancient network of tunnels used for silver mining," the young woman added.
The three of them looked at each other for a moment.
"Part of the network has been condemned as too dangerous," confirmed Matēj. "There have been several accidents in the last twenty years, I know that the town hall had the tunnels closed and made safe. But technically speaking, there are miles and miles of galleries, even if not all of them have been mapped."
"And so the idea, if I understand correctly, would be to use one of these tunnels to enter the church, and therefore the sanctuary?"
Lara shrugged, as if daring Roman to contradict her.
"I don't want to be pessimistic, but then again, chances are Svendsen knows about those tunnels, they'll be waiting for us," he said quietly.
"The two main galleries are definitely under surveillance, yes. But as for the rest, technically, they won't be able to monitor everything," Matēj retorted.
"You said it yourself, Svendsen is pressed for time," Lara cut them off. "There are not as many of them as before, she has to concentrate her forces on strategic points now. And we mustn't forget that nobody knows they are here. And the only person who could try to find them - me- is supposed to be dead. She must think she is safe from attack. And that's her weak point."
Roman stared at her with his clear eyes, which shone with intensity.
"We have everything we need with us. Plans, weapons, ammunition, food and even first aid kits. You have yourself advanced equipment that will help guide us underground. And you forget that I'm a specialist in labyrinths, dark and gloomy tunnels, and that I'm much more used to this kind of environment and much smarter than them."
The young Russian man looked down again, hesitant and thoughtful. He glanced again at the plans beside him. Even if they didn't know the terrain exactly, they were prepared, they had equipment and weapons, and the adventuress' unwavering determination, so to speak. He knew that she was a one-woman war machine in these situations, and that nothing would stop her anyway.
"If Kurtis could hear you," he murmured softly.
When he looked up at his friend, the young woman was smiling defiantly.
"I hope so," she replied with aplomb.
The Russian let out a light laugh and smiled at her with complicity. After several seconds of silence, the young man finally spoke again.
"How do we proceed then?"
A mischievous glint shone in the young woman's brown eyes. She was unable to conceal her great satisfaction, and turned away to grab something from under the beds. She took out two huge bags visibly filled with ammunition and weapons, ready to be used.
"We have to take them by surprise during the night, that goes without saying," she explained as her two companions looked on in slight surprise.
"Have you already planned everything?"
"As I said, I had to keep myself busy while you were out walking."
She gave him a quick wink.
"We can't take the car we used this morning," said the fifty-year-old.
"Indeed. We'd need a fairly large vehicle, with room to spare, a van for example. Matēj, if you don't mind, I'll let you call for the rental. I figured it would draw less attention to us if the call comes from a local."
The man nodded firmly. He took out his mobile phone, went out into the corridor and made the call immediately.
"What about your leg?", the Russian suddenly worried. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?"
"It has to be," replied the Englishwoman. "In any case, this is not the time to feel sorry for myself. I'll rest when this is over."
Luddick poked his head back through the door and nodded to the adventuress.
"I'll pick up the car at the end of the afternoon, only a few miles from here."
"That's fine. We'll meet here in the evening."
Luddick closed the door and disappeared.
"What are we going to do in the meantime?", Roman asked, hands on his hips.
The aventuress reached into her backpack and pulled out the two periapt shards she and Kurtis had carried with them since the events in Turkey. She gazed at their glittering, menacing black blade for a moment, lost in thought. Then she turned to her Russian friend, looking more determined than ever.
"We rest and gain strength."
—
The long metal needle plunged into her skin in sharp pain. As soon as she squeezed the syringe, she felt the cold liquid penetrate her veins and spread to every inch of her body. She knew from experience with others that some people felt the freezing cold, and others the excruciating burns. In her case, she felt that the liquid was so icy that it burned every living cell in her body, without sparing a single inch of her flesh.
She abruptly pulled the syringe from her neck and dropped it to the floor. For several seconds she stood there beside Miranda's desk, dreading the side effects of the drug. But apart from a slight feeling of nausea, she felt nothing. She met Javier's confused and bewildered gaze, who didn't seem to dare move from where he was standing. Behind him, and all over the laboratory, the henchmen were waiting without moving or saying a word, watching for the young woman's reaction.
Saija felt her pulse gradually calm down, and regain its steadiness. She took a step forward, trying to reach the large library at the back of the room. But no sooner had she taken a step than her knees suddenly buckled under her weight, and she collapsed full-length onto the cold floor. She let out a small cry of surprise as her head hit the mosaic hard, her vision blurring for a moment. She realised she could not feel her legs at all, her joints ached terribly, a terrible pain appeared somewhere deep in her head. But it was nothing compared to the pain that suddenly overwhelmed her.
A wave of intense heat suddenly rose from her feet to her upper body. At first it was just a tingling sensation, as if her whole body was going numb. But soon the simple feeling of heat turned into a sharp burn. Her muscles contracted one after the other quite violently, causing her to stop breathing several times. She gasped for air, writhing on the floor. Her feet and legs hit the furniture around her. She felt the pain creeping up her back, sliding down her shoulders to her neck, like hands sliding over her to grab her and pull her into the darkness or hold her under the dark water. The pain, the burning, finally reached her head, she felt her bones crack, as if they were exploding. She even thought her head would explode. That's when she lost consciousness.
When she opened her eyes again, she found herself facing Javier, who was leaning over her. The man didn't have time to ask any questions when the young assistant pushed him aside and suddenly sat up, her eyes wide. Her confused gaze watched the Argentinean henchman, then all around them, completely distraught.
"What happened?"
She got to her feet without waiting, leaning on the desk to keep from wobbling. Her vision blurred again, but she soon came to her senses. She realised the pain in her body was completely gone.
"You fainted for a few moments," the Argentinian replied in a flat voice.
Saija felt her head spin slightly, she leaned on the desk next to her. It was then that she noticed strange marks on her hand. When she looked down and took a closer look at her skin, she saw large dark spots running down her fingers, but also on the inside of her palm. They ran up her arm, before disappearing under the sleeve of her suit, as if a liquid was diffusing into her blood.
Saija suddenly grabbed a chisel lying nearby on the desk and separated the blades. Without thinking, she slid one across her extremely pale skin, which immediately ripped open and let out a very dark, almost black, hot liquid. Javier, the henchman, watched the scene, petrified. And before his astonished eyes, the wound that the young woman had just created bled less, seemed to reattach itself and close itself, to form only a simple line on her flesh.
Saija let out a small laugh of relief, turning her arm in one direction, then the other. She'd never expected such a result, and it was obvious that Miranda could never have achieved a result like this either. All her life she had wondered where she got all these extraordinary abilities from. As far back as she could remember, she had always been a mind reader. Any person she met, any child she played with as a child, her teachers. She had never had to force herself to get into their minds and read what was there. It was so easy, she never had to try to figure out how to do it, because it was all innate.
It was only much later, as a young teenager, that she developed the ability to sense the emotions and feelings of others, and more than that, she was also able to locate and identify certain objects at a distance, and which were not necessarily visible. She could move certain objects, guess secret codes without even having to think, open doors without even touching them. Compared to her, Miranda and her simple telepathy were mere players.
But beyond her mental faculties, she understood it was above all her body that was a real weapon. She knew that her mother's research had given her a natural ability to heal faster than others. She had often drawn attention to herself because of this. Accidents that had been dramatic for others, but which had left only simple scratches on her. Bones that healed faster and wounds that healed miraculously in a few hours where for others it took days, even weeks. She resisted, she healed every time. She survived.
But that was nothing compared to what she was about to become. And now, with the extra Nephilim blood extract in her system, coupled with her already modified DNA, an infinite number of possibilities opened up for her. She was already stronger than the other humans, but now she was even stronger. She became almost invincible.
And now, let's become completely invincible
Under Javier's lost gaze and in the leaden silence that reigned in the laboratory, the young woman turned around, unable to contain the smile of satisfaction that had taken shape on her lips. She headed for the back of the lab but, passing an old wooden-framed mirror hanging in the back of the room, she couldn't resist looking at herself. The product had not physically deformed her, as she had originally feared. But the black spots had spread all over her body, even her face. Her eyes, too, had taken on a completely different colour. They glowed an unreal, hypnotic green, like those of a snake. She smiled wider.
She started again, and then walked over to one of the pieces of furniture at the back, one of those specially brought here at Miranda's request. Realising what she was trying to do, one of the henchmen foolishly stood in her way, gun pointed at her to prevent her from passing. It only took a split second to make him fold: the young woman, almost amused by the situation, stared him straight in the eye, and the man suddenly collapsed, grabbing his head. He rolled on the floor and struggled as large streams of blood flowed from his eyes, nostrils and mouth. After a few seconds, the soldier suddenly stopped screaming, as if stopped in his tracks. His body suddenly relaxed and fell limply to the ground, his face frozen in a disturbing, unreal grimace. The two other men standing nearby stepped back, not daring to retaliate.
The assistant stepped over the man she had just killed and stood in front of the transparent glass case, in which was a cloth bag. With disconcerting ease, she popped the security box and unlocked the armoured door. Without the slightest hesitation, she opened it, grabbed the bag and pulled out the thick leather and metal glove inside. She felt it heat up as she slipped her hand inside. The object seemed to react to her touch, fitting perfectly on her small arm. She fastened it with the leather straps around her arm, and already she could feel its power and energy flowing through her and nourishing her body as much as it consumed it. The young woman suddenly felt incredibly strong, more determined than ever.
Without paying the slightest attention to the men who were watching her, all perplexed, she then went to retrieve a large book from the library, among other books and documents that Miranda had wanted to bring here for her research. She picked it up and carried it to the nearest desk, which she swept with the back of her arm to clear it of everything that was lying around. She dropped the huge grimoire on the desk and opened it. A strong smell of dust rose to her nose. She flipped through it for a long time without a word, until she found what she was looking for. A new demonic smile lit up her face.
She raised her head proudly, and her eyes fell on the man lying on the altar in the centre of the room. There was only one way to reach the Zenoath, and the key was here, with her. A warrior like him, holder of thousands of years of secrets and battles against the dark forces, and against the Nephili, would inevitably have information to entrust to her. Whether willingly or not. She would undoubtedly have to dig deep into his mind to find the clues she was missing, but it would be child's play for her. And if she could get him to bend and manipulate him so that he would stay by her side in this eternal life that would soon be offered to her, then she would have won everything.
She left Eckhardt's grimoire on the desk and slowly approached Kurtis, whose half-closed eyes were desperately trying to see what was going on around him. When he saw the glove on Saija's arm, despite the exhaustion and the drugs that kept him in a blur, he seemed to react, however, his breathing suddenly quickening.
"You may have understood, but the rules of the game have changed somewhat, handsome," she announced in a unpleasant voice.
She leaned over the young man, making sure to show him the glove, and put her hand on his forehead, as if to comfort him.
"Sorry for all this mess, it was necessary to do some cleaning and sorting."
She gave him an exaggerated smile, which made him uncomfortable. He tried to move, grunted as if trying to say something, but Saija stopped him with a look.
"Don't worry, I don't plan to hurt you. Because it looks like you and I are looking for exactly the same thing after all."
She saw Kurtis frown slightly.
We'll find the Zenoath source, together
The smile on the assistant's youthful face widened a little more.
"So handsome, this is how it's going to be from now on."