Damoren (31 page)

Matt snorted.
“That was generous.”

Zita gave a small smile.
“Grand Duke Fernando the First died the following year.”

“
So the crest?” Matt asked. “That was Marco’s crest, or the family crest from before his title?”

Zita flipped
through several pages, finally stopping at one, and offering it to Matt. The foreign words meant nothing to him, though the grainy photocopy of a shield blazoned with a styled fleur-de-lis was understandable.

“
That crest was the family’s. Marco added the basilisk,” Zita said.

“
So what happened to Marco?” Matt asked, sliding the page to Luiza.

“
He ruled San Pettiro for several years, but eventually rumors came out that Marco was a devil worshiper and had kidnapped several local girls. Tales of his wickedness reached Rome and Inquisitors were sent.”

“
They tried him?” Matt asked.

Zita shook her head.
“No. When they arrived at his castle, they found Marco Barugnani and his household had all been gruesomely murdered.”

“
Murdered? By whom?”

The old woman gave a small shrug.
“No one knows. Maybe the families of the missing girls. Political rivals, perhaps.”

Matt rubbed his chin. Something about Zita’s story seemed familiar. He looked at Luiza, sitting quietly beside him. She watched him, her expression blank. Her understanding of Italian was rudimentary at best. She’d be lucky if she understood a third of the conversation. “What year did that happen?”

Zita checked her notes.
“July of 1628.”

Matt typed the date and a few notes into the computer.
Maybe Allan or Malcolm might make more of it. He stared at the screen, trying to think of any more questions. “Could I make a copy of your notes on the Barugnani Family? I promise I will give you credit in my book.”

The old woman
’s eyes widened, excited. “Oh! Of course you may. It’s just...I don’t have another copy to give out.”

“
That’s all right.” Matt spread the pages out and using Luiza’s tablet, photographed them one at a time.
Allan’s going to love this
. “Thank you, Zita . I promise I’ll give you credit for all your work.” Matt took her name and information. Once finished, he handed Luiza back her computer and gave the signal it was time to leave.

They stood.
Gianni swooped in from across the kitchen to help clean. Matt hadn’t paid the other hundred yet. Now Gianni was hovering about, making sure he was noticed.

“
It was good to meet you,” Zita said. “Maybe next time you are in Tuscany you can visit Marco’s castle.”

Matt blinked, his mouth open.
“Marco’s castle?”

“
In San Pettiro. Someone bought it a few years ago and has been restoring it. I think it will be a bed and breakfast once it’s complete.”

“
I’ll be sure to visit it,” Matt said, smiling broadly. Shouldering his satchel, he and Luiza made their way toward the door. He offered Gianni a folded hundred euro bill. “Thank you for your time.”

The balding man snatched it with his index and middle fingers, curling it into his hand like a street magician performing a trick.
“Be sure you credit my mother what she’s due.”

“
I will.” Matt stepped out into the street, quickly spotting Luc at the corner, phone still pressed to his ear. He and Luiza started toward the black knight as Gianni’s door closed behind them.

“
What was that about?” Luc asked, pocketing the phone.

“
Just a hunch,” Matt said. “Did you hear us?”

Luc frowned.
“Not very well.”

“
What did she say, Matt?” Luiza asked. “I heard Medici, murders, something about devil worship. I can’t believe you drank that coffee. What if that was poisoned?”

“
Then you or Luc would have been there to save me.”

She shot him a cold stare.
“That’s not funny. You walked into a house with that symbol on it and
drank
something a stranger gave you.”

“
I’m sorry,” Matt said. “It was a risk.”

Luiza shook her head and turned away.

“So what did you find?” Luc asked.

“
I think I found our cult.”

Luc and Luiza both looked at him.

“
Where?” Luiza asked.

“
San Pettiro. Find out where that is.” Matt drew the phone from his pocket and speed dialed a number.

Malcolm answered on the second ring.
“Yes?”

“
It’s Matt. Where are you?

“
A few minutes outside Pontedera,” Malcolm said, his voice confused.

“
Okay,” Matt said. “Stop there and come back.”

“
Why?”

“
I think I found them.”

“
What? Where?”

“
San Pettiro.” Matt leaned to see the map screen in Luiza’s hand. “Hold that. You and Allan go back to Empoli. We’ll pick you up there and drive to San Pettiro.”

“
All right,” Malcolm said. “How do you know they’re there?”

“
I don’t.” Matt noticed San Gimignano, where the missing tour bus was last seen, was only a few miles away. “But I’ve got enough that we need to check it.

Chapter
Eighteen

They found Allan and Malcolm outside the Empoli train station. Malcolm wore a straw fedora and a tan long-sleeve shirt that covered his tattoos. He said it helped him blend in as a tourist. Matt thought the sleeves in the summer just made him stand out.

Luc pulled into the drive.
Malcolm nodded and tapped Allan, engrossed in his laptop, on the shoulder.

Luc slowed to a stop as the two knights picked up their gear and hurried across the lot to the car.
Clutching their instrument cases, Allan’s black and Malcolm’s worn and brown, they could have been in a band or maybe old-time mobsters with Malcolm’s hat and all.

“
Good timing,” Malcolm said, sliding into the back seat beside Matt. “We just got here.”

Allan squeezed in after Malcolm.

“You find anything on that info I got?” Matt asked.

“
Oddly, yeah,” Allan said, beaming. “Enough that I think you’re right.”

“
Well.” Luiza checked her map screen in the front seat. “We should be in San Pettiro in half an hour. What do you have?”

Allan clicked his seatbelt as Luc pulled the car out and started back onto the road.
“To start, there’s no record of a Marco Barugnani in any of the records.”

“
Not surprising,” Matt said. “Anya would have deleted it.”

“
Precisely,” Allan said, opening his laptop. “So I searched for other things that might link to him. Things she either couldn’t delete or wouldn’t have thought to look for. Specific years, other names, and that type of thing. One passage came up that I found particularly interesting.” He clicked the keyboard. “Sir Isidore Vidal wrote a note about a known cambion named Marco
Barugnano
who was an Italian lord, but also...” He grinned. “Tried to summon a
black demonic goddess
before the Order killed him and his
demonic cult
1628.”

Matt slapped his thigh,
an important piece of the puzzle clicking into place. “I remember reading that. I thought Zita’s story sounded familiar.”

“
So why didn’t Anya delete it?” Luiza asked.

“
Because the name is misspelled,” Allan said. “Either Sir Vidal wrote it wrong, or the Librarian who translated it, or even whoever then transcribed it into the database. Whichever it was, Anya didn’t find it. I searched the rest of the records and found no other mention of a Barugnano. No knight’s journal reports, nothing. Just this one note. But that was enough to get me digging deeper. There was a lunar eclipse over Tuscany in July of that year.”

“
Same month the Inquisitors found Marco murdered,” Matt said.

Allan nodded.
“Additionally, two knights were killed about that time. No record how it happened, but one sacred weapon was catalogued in the Valducan orphan inventory the following month, and another was inherited by Sir Ignacio Perdomo, after his master’s funeral. No mention how he died. Bit odd.”

“
What about weapons?” Malcolm asked. “Any vanish or destroyed in the preceding months?”

Allan made a face and clicked his keyboard.
“Let me check.”

Malcolm turned to the others.
“Did you see the news on the missing bus?”

“
Yeah,” Matt said, a slight pang that Malcolm had mentioned it first. “Twenty-eight people vanish the night before a demonic ceremony?”

Malcolm nodded.
“San Pettiro wasn’t exactly on its route, but close enough.”

Luc steered the car around a tight bend.
“If they did kidnap them, we can stop the ceremony if we find them first. Take away their sacrifice.”

“
Not a bad idea,” Luiza added. “Buy us enough time to the next eclipse if nothing else.”

“
We’d have to find them first,” Malcolm said. “I’d rather take care of Anya and this cult of hers and put an end to it.”

Luc eyed him
through the rearview. “But if we don’t get that option...”

“
I agree,” Malcolm said. “If we get the chance to free them, we will, but delaying these bastards means they’ll only do it again. We need to end this, not prolong it.”

Luc
’s eyes remained on Malcolm until the road drew them away.

Matt guessed the question in the enormous hunter
’s gaze. Would Malcolm sacrifice twenty-eight innocent people if it meant killing Marco Barugnani‘s cult? Matt could guess the answer, too. Yes.

He
’d watched the way Malcolm had killed those people back at the mine. No remorse. Matt understood the idea. It was Clay’s only lesson that Matt had never accepted. Kill some to save many. How many innocent people would die if the demons summoned whatever dark mother they served? Hundreds? Thousands? Cold and honest math, but seeing the worlds as simple numbers wasn’t human.

Clay
’s humanity once led him to save two people from a house fire while a vampire escaped. By the time he’d tracked it down, it had killed nine victims, two of which were children. Something in him broke that night. Died. Matt wondered what horror had killed Malcolm’s humanity.

“
Interesting,” Allan said.

“
What?” Matt asked, hoping for uplifting news.

“
The Order’s log of holy weapons shows no changes between 1628 and 1629.”

Malcolm frowned.
“Anya could have deleted the records. Hidden the discrepancy.”

“
Possible,” Allan said. “But I checked them ten years each way. No weapons were lost in that period. I doubt she could have hidden it so well over such a spread. You have to remember, the Order only had twenty weapons at the time, twenty-one at the end. Losing any would have been difficult to hide.”

Malcolm ran a hand across his stubbled chin and upper lip, his gaze set on some distant thing only he could see.
“Theories?”

Allan shrugged weakly.
“Either they sacrificed weapons that were not under the Order’s care or they didn’t sacrifice any at all.”

Malcolm nodded, still staring at the invisible thing.
“The Order’s knights stopped the ceremony. Four hundred years later they try it again, this time set on destroying us first. Retaliation.” He turned to Allan, then Matt. “Preemptive. They did it to draw us out. Kill us before we could stop them.”

“
Then if sacrificing the weapons isn’t necessary for a summoning,” Matt said. “What’s to prevent them from breaking them now?”

“
Let’s just hope they haven’t,” Luc said.

#

It was after 2:00 when they reached San Pettiro. The bright sun beat down on the tiny village, bleaching the stucco and stone walls in shades of yellow and white. The town consisted of no more than fifty buildings, most two-story, nestled at the foot of a steep hill. Atop it, an enormous orange-roofed villa stood, looking out over the valley of vineyards and farmland.

Matt checked the blood compass in his lap as Luc guided the car down the narrow road into the village.
A disappointed weight settled in his chest at seeing the still-pink water.
No. They have to be here.

A few locals walked the streets, or sat at one of two outside cafes.
No one seemed particularly interested as the hunters’ car rolled past. A good sign. Matt searched their faces for Anya or any of the others from the old photograph. Unsuccessful, he scanned the old buildings for more signs of Marco Barugnani‘s demon cult, finding none.

Malcolm leaned over Luc
’s shoulder. “Try to get us closer to the castle. Maybe we’ll get a hit on Matt’s compass.” He pointed to a cobbled street snaking behind the shops toward the hill. “There.”

Luc steered the sedan around the bend, working up the hill.
Matt watched the bottle, praying for a bead.

After passing a few tiny buildings precariously perched along the slope, they came to a metal gate blocking a manicured road leading further up to the villa.
A blue sign with white writing stood beside the closed entrance.

“
Castello di Pettiro,” Allan read aloud. “Opening next spring.”

Matt peered through the iron bars, up the cypress-lined path to the near-hidden villa.
“Too far for the compass to pick anything up. Don’t suppose they’d mind letting us in for a closer look?”

Luiza snorted.
“I doubt it.”

“
Didn’t think so.”

She motioned to a blocky white camera mounted on the gate.
“They’ve got eyes on the door.”

Malcolm grumbled.
“Keep driving. Don’t want to draw attention.”

Luc let off the brake and continued up the winding road along the hillside, eventually leading them back down to the town.

“We need to know if they’re inside that place,” Malcolm said, bending to get a better view of the castle above.

“
We could wait until nightfall,” Luiza offered. “Sneak right up there.”

He shook his head.
“We don’t have time to wait.”

They crossed through a tiny plaza, a small stone obelisk at its heart, capped with a bronze bust of a man.
A pair of dark-haired boys on bicycles rode down the road toward them. They stared at the hunters’ car and Matt met their eyes as they passed.

Nothing to worry about, just kids checking out the tourists.
But the tingle at the back of his neck wasn’t quelled. “Whatever we do.” He turned. The riders continued on at their normal pace. “We need to do it soon. Driving through town over and over looks suspicious.”

“
Good point,” Malcolm said. “Find a good place to stop. Out of the way, but with an exit.”

Luc followed the curving street to the edge of the village, finally pulling the sedan into a tiny lot between an old church and another building.
He steered it around and parked, facing an exit.

Matt peered around, seeing no one.
“Looks good.”

Malcolm nodded.
“All right. Matt, I want you to make a fresh compass. No. Two. You say they’re good for a hundred yards out in the open. What’s the range to see through that castle’s walls?”

Matt pursed his lips.
Back in the States, a thick wall was brick, maybe cinderblock. He’d never dealt with an actual castle before. “Fifty, at most. Thirty to be sure.”

“
Then that’s how close we’ll have to be,” Malcolm said.

“
You want us to go up to that place,” Allan asked. “Right now? In the middle of the day?”

“
No. Matt and I will do it. The rest of you just lay low here.”

Matt opened his laptop bag with Dämoren and the Ingram inside, and removed the plastic pricker from a small, zippered pocket
, and started refreshing the compasses.

“
Seriously, Mal,” Allan said, shaking his head. “Let’s wait until nightfall.”

“
I agree,” Luc echoed.

Malcolm smiled reassuringly.
“We’ll be fine.”

“
We can surveil it for a few hours,” Allan said. “Then send you two in after dark.”

“
Surveil what?” Malcolm asked. “It’s a big house with few exterior windows. We’re not just going to see an ifrit strolling around. Everything they’ve done so far has been too careful for them to make a mistake now. Besides, few windows means less chance of anyone seeing us approach.”

Matt screwed the cap back onto the refreshed blood compass.
“I agree. Clay and I used to do this type of thing all the time.” He reached over and took the compass bottle resting beside Allan and Malcolm.

“
This isn’t just some house,” Luiza said. “You need to be careful.”

“
We will be.” Matt handed the second compass to Malcolm, who then offered it to Luiza.

“
Keep an eye on this,” Malcolm said. “You see anything, call us and get out of here.”

Luiza took the bottle.
Worry tinged her eyes.

Matt opened the car
’s door and stepped out. A warm breeze rustled his hair as he adjusted Dämoren’s bag over his shoulder.

“
Ready?” Malcolm asked, coming out behind him. He carried the case with Hounacier inside. He slipped on a pair of dark aviator glasses.

Matt checked the compass and nodded.
“Let’s do it.”

Together they made their way out of the lot, past a trio of narrow shops crammed inside a building
before following the narrow asphalt road out. Beads of sweat dotted Matt’s brow and he found himself envying Malcolm’s fedora. Keeping the castle in sight, they circled the hill around. Trees lined the road along a fence line, but the slope itself lay mostly exposed.

The sound of tires rumbled from the road ahead.