“She’s going,” I whispered to Michael as Chastity slipped away into the crypt.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “I hate this.”
“None of us are thrilled, believe me.”
“I wish I could hear them or see them or something. All I get is mumbling and flashes of light in the corners of my eyes. This is. I don’t know. It’s crazy. I mean, maybe they aren’t there at all and you and Marsden are just—”
“We’re not. I swear there are ghosts and vampires and we are doing what we can with one to stop the other and get Will back. I know you don’t have a good reason to trust me, but try. I do care what happens to your brother and I’m not messing with you.”
His shoulders slumped. “It’s just so crazy. ”
“I know.” I’d have said more, but a misty figure pushed its way out of the crypt through the red doors so it stood on the grass with us.
He was a tall man who stooped horribly and had a small potbelly, so he looked like a numeral six. His hair had thinned into a monk’s tonsure and the bags under his eyes were heavier than those in an industrial laundry. Even pale in death, his nose, cheeks, and ears were reddened by the spiderweb veins of alcohol abuse. He shifted back and forth, as if constantly shuffling his feet.
He addressed himself to Marsden. “I am. I am Barnaby Smith. Of. umm. St. James’s in Clerkenwell. Miss Chastity said you wished to. talk to me?” His voice rose to a squeak at the end.
No wonder he’d been a drunk: The world scared him senseless.
Marsden pointed at me. “She’ll ask the questions.”
“Oh. I. well. All right. I’m at your service Miss. umm. Miss.?”
“Blaine,” I said.
“Blaine? Are you by chance related to Anselm Blaine of Peartree Court?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I replied.
“Oh. Pity. I always thought him a fine fellow. I. you must pardon me; I find it rather hard to hear you.”
I shifted a little closer to the Grey, watching the colors of the grid and the shapes of ghostly things grow brighter and more solid. Smith looked a bit more like a person in the mist-world, but not so much that I could forget he was long dead. “Is that better?”
“Oh, yes! Quite improved. Thank you.”
This was going to take forever at this rate. I kept my impatience under control and turned my gaze full on Barnaby Smith.
“Mr. Smith, Chastity said you’d seen some Greek amphorae under St. John’s priory. Can you tell me more about them and when you saw them last?”
“Oh. Those. Umm. well. Nasty business. They contained blood and body parts—gruesome, to say the least. I did see them in the old catacomb. That’s under the current crypt—very old, quite probably part of the original foundations from the twelfth century. Terrible condition. Terrible.”
I gave him a stern glance.
“Oh! I am sorry. I—Oh. Ha-ha,” he laughed nervously. “Yes, not to the point. I am sorry. Umm. I’m not sure what they were up to, but the Red Guard who brought them left them for a. ah. a sorcerer,” he whispered. “And some of the Red Brothers—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Smith. I don’t know who you mean. Could you fill me in?”
He blinked at me. “Oh! I just assumed. You’re with. him. I thought you knew.”
“I don’t. I’m not from the area. I don’t know all the players.”
“ ‘ Players.’ Ah, that is a fine description. But, oh my. if you don’t know—”
“I assume they’re vampires, but what else?”
“Oh! Yes, you do know! What a relief. I found my life a nightmare when I realized—Oh, but that’s not what you want to know.”
“Yes. I need to know about the amphorae, who had them, what happened to them, and if you know anything about a man called William Novak. Or John Purcell.”
“Purcell!” He raised a silvery hand and pressed it to his chest. “My—my stars. Mr. Purcell. I believe he’s a prisoner! I can’t say I have much pity for them, but it’s cruel to see what they do to one another. They don’t die easily, you know. Would that I had been a stronger man in life—but no. I suppose it wouldn’t have changed anything.”
He noticed me crinkling my brow.
“Oh. I do apologize. Here, let me explain.”
“Go right ahead,” I invited. I knew he’d dither less if allowed to tell his tale his own way and I sat on my impatience as he did.