Gaslamp Gothic Box Set by Kat Ross

Author:Kat Ross [Ross, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780997236255
Publisher: Acorn
Published: 2020-03-03T22:00:00+00:00

6

Vivienne slipped out of the room, locking the door behind her. The church steeple cast a long shadow across the cloister. In the moonlight, the fresco depicting the Ladder of John Climacus was a dark blur. She stood in the darkness at the edge of the guest house as the monks filed out of the refectory and into the church.

When the doors closed again she followed the wall around to the opposite side. Perhaps it was foolish, but Vivienne felt if she could just watch the midnight service unseen, her instinct might point her in the right direction. On the surface, the pricolici would look like the others. But she had long centuries of experience with the supernatural. Surely this man would be marked somehow by his curse.

From the low sound inside, the service was being conducted in the nave, which lay at the front of the church. She found a small door in the rear and slowly cracked it open. Hundreds of candles illuminated the interior. The inside was as richly adorned as the outside, with life-sized paintings of archangels standing watch beneath the high clerestory windows, surrounded by rows of other saints, martyrs and apostles.

The black-robed brothers all faced the pulpit at the far end, where Father Gavra stood with his head bowed to an open book as he led them in prayer. Vivienne took a deep breath and eased the door open, stepping quickly to the shadows of a rear transept. She could see no way to go further without being seen.

Then the monks began to sing a hymn. She listened as their voices harmonized, rising and falling. For a moment, she understood why they endured such a hard, cold existence. The flickering candles and gilded icons of the soaring nave made the monastery seem a holy place for the first time since she’d arrived there. And the singing…. It had such reverence and beauty.

The chanting faded and she turned to slip out again when she heard a single voice, muttering softly but fervently. It was coming through a narrow wooden door to her left that sat slightly ajar.

At the front of the church, Father Gavra began to speak the Latin liturgy.

Vivienne pushed the door open on silent hinges and entered a small side chapel. An old man with sallow, sunken cheeks and a long white beard knelt before the altar. He was praying with closed eyes, a crucifix clutched in one gnarled hand. His voice was hoarse, some old Magyar dialect. A first it seemed unintelligible, but as he repeated the same words over and over, she caught the gist.

“God preserve us from evil…. Saint George preserve us…. Christ have mercy on us….”

A sudden footfall made her turn. Brother Constantin stood behind her, his face dark with anger.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

Vivienne forced a smile. “I heard the singing. It woke me.” She pointed to the old man. “Who is that?”

“Brother Nicolae,” he growled. “He is old and confused. He often wanders off.”

The name was familiar.

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