Map of Bones

Seichan studied it all from the corner of her eye, tracking one man among the throng. Maximum mayhem would be needed. She had already confiscated a set of keys to the last Mercedes SUV. A silver one. Her favorite color.

Behind her, a door opened. Raoul stepped out, along with an old woman.

“We’ll take you as far as the airport. A plane will get you back to Rome.”

“My granddaughter…”

“She’ll be taken care of. I promise.” This last was said with an icy smile.

Raoul noted Seichan. “I don’t believe we’ll be needing the Guild’s services any longer.”

Seichan shrugged. “Then I’ll head out with you and be on my way.” She nodded to the silver SUV.

Raoul helped the old woman down the steps and strode toward the lead vehicle, where Dr. Alberto Menardi waited. Seichan continued to track her target. Motion along one wall of the courtyard drew her eye.

A door opened. She spotted Gray. He had a pistol. Good.

Across the courtyard, Raoul lifted a radio to his mouth. Most likely calling down to the cells. She could wait no longer. The man she’d been tracking wasn’t as close to Raoul as she’d hoped—but he was still in the thick of things.

She fixed her eyes on the soldier who still carried Gray’s pack over one shoulder. It was always easy to count on avarice among the foot soldiers. The fellow was not letting his booty out of his sight. The pack was stuffed with weapons and expensive electronic gear.

Unfortunately for the soldier, the bottom lining of the pack also had a quarter kilo of C4 sewn into it. Seichan pressed the transmitter in her pocket, hopping over the balustrade of the front staircase.

The explosion blew out the center of the caravan.

Men and body parts flew into the dark sky. Gas tanks ignited on two of the cars. A ball of fire rolled upward. Flaming debris scattered to all corners of the courtyard.

Seichan moved quickly. Waving to Gray, she pointed her pistol at the silver SUV. Its windshield was cracked, but it was otherwise intact. Gray and the woman dashed out. The three zeroed in on the vehicle.

A pair of soldiers tried to stop them. Gray took out one, Seichan the other. They reached the SUV.

The rev of an engine drew her eye toward the castle gate. The lead truck jumped forward. Raoul was making his escape. Gunfire pelted toward them as soldiers tumbled into a second truck. Its engine was already running.

Raoul popped up out of the sunroof of the lead truck, facing back toward them. He raised a massive horse pistol in his fist.

“Down!” Seichan barked, dropping flat.

The gun sounded like a cannon. She heard the windshield collapse and the back window blow out. The thick slug passed completely through the vehicle. In plain sight, she rolled toward the rear, keeping the truck between her and Raoul.

Gunfire spat from the other side. Gray, on his belly, in a better position to snipe, shot at Raoul as the lead truck fishtailed toward the exit. The second truck followed.

Raoul continued to shoot, fearless of the hostile fire.

A slug slammed through the front grille of the SUV.

Shit.

The bastard was taking out their truck.

The front headlamp exploded. From her viewpoint on the ground, Seichan watched a stream of oil flow out of the engine compartment and pool on the stones.

The slide of Gray’s pistol popped open. Out of ammo.

Seichan crab-crawled to join him, but it was too late.

One truck, then the other, shot out of the gate. Raoul’s laughter carried back to them. The portcullis gate dropped behind the last vehicle, its teeth slamming into the stone notches, sealed tight.

A trundling noise penetrated the echo in her ears.

She rose to a crouch. Steel shutters dropped over all the windows and doors to the castle. Modern fortification. The Court took their security seriously. They were trapped in the courtyard.

A new sound followed.

The click of a series of heavy latches.

Seichan turned along with Gray and Rachel. She now understood the trailing laughter by the escaping bastard.

The gates to the line of twenty kennels rose up on motorized wheels.

Monsters of muscle, leather, and teeth stalked out, snarling, frothing, driven mad by the thunder and blood. Each pit-dog stood chest-high, massing close to a hundred kilos, twice the weight of most men.

And the dinner bell had just rung.

3:48 A.M.

AVIGNON, FRANCE

KAT REFUSED to concede defeat. Holding despair at bay, she stalked the length of the blue bedroom atop the Tower of Angels. “We’re looking at this the wrong way,” she said.

Unlike her, Vigor remained stock-still in the room’s center. His eyes were somewhere else, calculating. Or was it worry for his niece? How focused was he on the task at hand?

“What do you mean?” he mumbled.

“Maybe there’s not a magnetic marker.” She held up the compass, drawing his eye, attempting to engage him fully.

“Then what?”

“What about all that talk earlier? The Gothic history of the town and this place?”

Vigor nodded. “Something built into the structure of the building. But without a magnetic marker, how are we to find it? The palace is huge. And considering the state of disrepair, the clue might have been destroyed or removed.”

“You don’t believe that,” Kat said more firmly. “This secret society of alchemists would’ve found a way to preserve it.”

“Still, how do we find it?” Vigor asked.

Lightning crackled out the nearby window. It lit up the gardens below the tower and the spread of city below the hill. The dark river snaked past below. The rain had begun to fall harder. Another fork of lightning scintillated across the belly of the black clouds.

Kat watched the display and slowly turned to Vigor, conviction firming with sudden insight. She pocketed her compass, knowing it was no longer needed.

“Magnetism opened Saint Peter’s tomb,” she said, stepping back to him. “And it was magnetism that led us to Alexander’s tomb. But once there, it was electricity that ignited the pyramid. The same might lead us to the treasure here.” She waved a hand at the dazzle of the storm. “Lightning. The palace was built atop the largest hill, the Rocher des Doms, the Rock Dome.”

“Attracting lightning strikes. A flash of light that illuminates darkness.”

“Is there some depiction of lightning that we missed?”

“I don’t recall.” Vigor rubbed his chin. “But I think you’ve struck a significant chord. Light is symbolic of knowledge. Enlightenment. It was the primary goal of Gnostic faith, to seek the primordial light mentioned in Genesis, to reach out for this ancient font of knowledge and power that flows everywhere.”