And then a blow against his head sent him down, spiraling into darkness, an endless bloodred night.
He opened his eyes. There was darkness, there was shadow.
There was sensation.
He hadnt expected this. Had God spurned him?
Warmth surrounded him. He heard the crackling of a fire. He blinked and realized he was not dead after all.
A massive shadow loomed on the wall, then resolved itself into Father Gregore. The man came to his side, bringing water. The knight swallowed, his head cradled by the powerful hand of the strange priest.
The battle? he asked.
It is over. Long over, the priest said. Sip slowly.
The knight looked around. They were in a cave. He couldnt tell if it was morning or evening, early or late. He knew only that the red mist was gone. Gone, too, was the scent of scorched flesh, the awful smell of blood and death.
Gone, too, was the woman he had loved.
How long have I been here? the knight asked.
A very long time.
My ladyI took her from the fire. And then she was gone. Ive got to find her.
The priest looked at him, studying him for a long time. Yes, you do, he said softly.
I must hurry, the knight muttered.
The priest stopped him. You must heal.
ButI have to find her.
A little more time wont matter, the priest said, and sat back. The glow of the fire touched his features. You have to help me heal you. I am not entirely a miracle worker. There will be time.
But she is in danger.
Yes. She is your quest. Her immortal soul cries out.
Then
There is time, my son. Much has happened. Theres much I must tell you. Much you must learn.
The fire snapped and crackled and the knight looked into the priests eyes.
It was only then that he began to understand.
1
Jessica Fraser listened to the music, the cool jazz tones. She had closed her eyes, and despite the voices, the scraping of chairs and clinking of glasses, she could filter everything else out and hear the music. She wished she could just give way to it, forget the night, forget work and her upcoming flighteven the very good friends surrounding her. From the moment she had first come to New Orleans, years ago now, she had been in love not just with the citys sense of history and pulsing life, but with the sounds, especially the music. Tonight, for a few minutes, closing her eyes, she was alone. All she could feel was the music, as if it had entered her body and soul, and soothed her.
Of course, few people actually considered Bourbon Street to be soothing.
Yet even as she listened to the music, savoring the feeling of calm, a sense that all was not well startled her. She opened her eyes and looked around, plagued by a sudden and yet very disturbing feeling that she was being watched.
Hey, did you hear me? Maggie Canady asked, nudging Jessica.
Im sorry. What?
What you need to design, Maggie said, is a bathing suit for people with a little more body than they want to show.
Oh, Maggie, just get one of those tankini things, put in Stacey LeCroix, who helped Jessica with both her B and B and the designing she did, both sidelines, since Jessicas real livelihood came as a practicing psychologist. Stacey was young, cute and thin as a reed.
Maggie sighed. Honey, a tankini doesnt do a thing in the world for too much rear and thunder thighs.
Jessica couldnt help but laugh as she looked across the table at Sean Canady, Maggies husband, a tall, well-built man who combined a look of complete authority with a handsome, strikingly rugged face, an asset in his job as a cop. Please tell your wife she doesnt have thunder thighs.
Sean pushed back a thatch of thick blond hair and looked at his wife. Maggie, you dont have thunder thighs.
It was a curious complaint, coming from Maggie, who tended to be far more serious and spent her time worrying about the fate of the world. She had been much occupied in the past months dealing with problems in the parish, the coming back, as they called it, of New Orleans. On top of that, she was a stunning woman with burnished auburn hair and hazel eyes that seemed to flash with gold. She was usually last person to feel insecure about her appearance. Maggie knew there were real evils in the world, but she tried not to worry about the possibilitiesnatural and otherwiseunless she had to.
Maggie sighed deeply. Who knows? Maybe I just gained a bit more thigh with each of our three children. But I dream of a comfortable, good-looking bathing suit. Jessica, cant you come up with something? Hey, Jessicaare you with us?
Jessica started; she had been looking around, certain she would find someone watching her. But no one seemed the least bit interested in her or her table.
Maybe it was just the odd restlessness that had settled over her before she had even reached the club tonight, a restlessness she hadnt been able to understand.
Umof course. Jessica said, forcing her attention back to the conversation. If you want a bathing suit that covers more of you, I can certainly design one for you.
Its going to make for a really weird tan line, Stacey warned.
Jessica looked at her assistant. Stacey was wonderful. She was a fireball of energy, just over five feet tall, but confident and even fiercely assertive at timesassertive, not aggressive, Stacey had once told her.
This whole conversation is Jessica began, but caught herself before saying inane. She winced, wondering at the impatience she was feeling. It was as if she needed to be somewhere, doing something, but she had no idea where or what. Maybe she was just on edge about heading out to the conference.
Jessica turned to see a man heading toward them. Bobby Munro, Staceys latest boyfriend, was one of Seans fellow cops, tall, dark-haired and good looking.
He nodded at Sean. Lieutenant.
Bobby, I thought you had to work, Stacey said.
I do, private party, around the corner, Bobby said. I just came to wish Jessica a good trip. And say hello to you, of course. He stood behind Stacey, bent down and kissed the top of her head, then looked at Jessica. You be careful, huh?
Jessica groaned.
Its just a conference, she said. She considered asking the others if they had been seized by any strange feelings, if they felt that eyes were secretively scrutinizing their every move, but forced herself not to. Sean was a cop, for Gods sake. If he saw or even felt anything, he would certainly say so. She was just on edge because going to a conference in Romania wasnt exactly her usual thing.
Bobby waved and left, and once he was gone, Sean leaned forward again.
Youre awfully tense for someone heading off to a simple professional conference, he said. Hell, Jessicaits a foreign country.
Its not a trip into the deepest jungle, Sean. Romania is very much a part of the modern world, she said.
We should be going with you.
Jessica waved a dismissive hand in the air. Dont be ridiculous.
I Stacey began.
I need you here to take care of things. Im just going to a conference.
Still, Sean observed, youre awfully tense. Do you want a drink?
Still, Sean observed, youre awfully tense. Do you want a drink?
Im not tense, Jessica informed him quickly. Yes, she realized, she was. She had practically snapped at Sean. She was tenseand she had no idea why. Im sorry. Its just that She stared at her friends. She just couldnt sit still any longer. She stood suddenly, feigning a yawn. Guys, excuse me, will you? I leave tomorrow, and I guess Im a little on edge.
I knew it. Sean said. You are worried about your trip.
No, just antsy, I guess. But I think Ill head home, Jessica said.
I think Ill leave, too, Stacey said, rising. Its too bad youre not going on a real vacation. You need one. You arent yourself tonight. Maybe psychologists need psychologists more than anyone else. Maybe you should be taking a trip to a mountain cabin. This is just more pressure, and very strange. I mean, seriously, who ever heard of a psychologists convention in Romania?
Im an experienced traveler, so dont worry about me. This will be almost like a vacation, Ill do all kinds of wonderful touristy things, Jessica assured her.
Will you go to Draculas castle, walk in the mist-shrouded woods and listen for werewolves? Maggie asked.
Exactly, Jessica said, smiling. Ill be back in a week.
Sean laughed. I hardly think Jessica needs to worry about vampires and werewolves. For Gods sake, shes from New Orleans, land of voodooand all the crazies who think theyre zombies and vampires.
He has a point, Jessica assured Maggie.
I know, its just thatI dont know. I just dont like it.
Im going, and its going to be a great experience. Im grateful you all care. I love you, and good night. Jessica hugged them all, then left, walking past the stage on her way out. She lifted a hand and waved to Big Jim, the trumpet player.
He was a huge man, his skin was like ebony, yet he played his instrument with a delicacy that belied his size. There was an angels touch in his music. He also had great instincts about people and situations, perhaps handed down by his family, many of whom were known in the local voodoo community.
Like Sean and Maggie, hed befriended her when shed first moved to the parish. He looked at her now, shaking his head with a sigh. Then he quietly mouthed the words to her, Be careful.
She mouthed in reply, Always.
He still didnt look happy. But then, Big Jims mother had been a voodoo priestess, and he was a definite believer that things werent always what they seemed. She lowered her head, hiding the secret grin that teased her lips. Bless him. He was such a good guy. Just like a big brother.
Band member Barry Larson, lanky, in his thirties, a transplant from somewhere in the Midwest, covered his mike with his free hand. Hey, gorgeous. You have a good trip and come home safe, okay?
Of course.
He smiled deeply. He was nice, a little bit geeky. Shed been afraid when she first met him that hed had something of a crush on her, but hed never said anything and over time had become a good friend.
She left the club, glad that the French Quarter was back to its busy, even a little bit crazy, self. It was just around eleven, a time when the streets were at their busiest. She quickly walked the three blocks to her house, then, at her gates, paused for a minute. There was a stirring in the air. Rain tomorrow, she thought, and looked up at the sky.
She didnt like what she saw. As she hurried toward the front door, she reminded herself that Gareth Miller was in the cottage at the rear, once the old smokehouse. Gareth was great. In return for a place to live, he kept an eye on the place, and on her and Stacey. He was a quiet man, kind of like a reticent hippie, with his slight slouch and longish, clean but unkempt hair.
He was another of the good friends shed made here, and her home was safe in his keeping.
Even so, she paused again halfway up the walkway, staring heavenward. Again the sense of urgency assailed her, a feeling that she needed to be moving quickly.
Maybe theyre right. Maybe I do need a real vacation, she thought. Or maybe Im just losing my mind.
She almost laughed aloud at the idea of a vacation when she was feeling this terrible need to hurry, to get ahead of something.
Of someone?
Too bad. There was nothing she could do about it now. The plane would leave the next day, and she would be on it.
Jessica couldnt sleep. She lay on her bed, strangely aware of time passing.
In the middle of the night, she walked outside to her balcony, which faced the street. She loved her house, and it was sheer luck that shed been able to buy it. Amazingly, the winds and flooding from hurricane Katrina that had devastated so much of the parish had done very little damage to the Quarter or her house. The house was quite large, and she was able to keep it because, with Staceys help, she ran it as a very selective bed-and-breakfast. Her practice, which she ran out of the house, was a good one; in psychology, she had found the perfect vocation. And, on the side, she designed one-of-a-kind costumes for various Mardi Gras krewes.
From a distance, she could very faintly hear the sounds of music and laughter, carried on the breeze from the French Quarter.
She looked at the sky again. Absurdly, it appeared as if there was a hint of red in the night air. A hint of red that seemed to grow stronger as she watched and the darkness seemed to take almost physical form around her.
Ridiculous, she told herself.
She imagined herself with a shrink. I dont actually see the darkI feel it.
For a moment, a chill seized her as the darkness seemed to loom, like a hint, a warning. A deep red darkness
It made her feel as if she was being hunted. Stalked.
She stepped back into her room, locking the balcony doors, trying to fight the feeling.
But she was oddly afraid. As she hadnt been in ages.
She stayed awake, staring at the sky, certain the darkness was turning a still deeper red as she watched.
Her friends had felt it, too, she thought. That was why theyve been so nervous about her trip.
This was ridiculous, she told herself. When the conference had been announced, it had immediately intrigued her. And now she was committed to speak. She had to go, and that was that, even though her initial excitement was gone.
What the hell had changed? she wondered. Or was it all in her mind?
Suddenly, she felt dizzy. The world before her seemed to shift and change. She was no longer in her bedroom but outside, staring up at a high ridge, and atop the ridge stood a man. He was exceptionally tall, a cape billowing around him in the breeze.
And he was the epitome of evil.
Evil that was stalking her. An ancient evil that lurked somewhere in a strange and distant memory that couldnt be.
The Master.
The name flashed unbidden to her mind. She banished it immediately.
The vision faded. She was home again, in her own room, the peace and beauty barely disturbed by distant sounds from the street, the scent of magnolia blossoms heavy on the air.
She was losing her mind, she told herself impatiently. She needed some sleep.
The next day, alighting in Romania, she felt a chill the minute her feet touched the ground.
A disembodied voice announced arrivals and departures in a multitude of languages. The bright lights of the airport were all around her.