Whoever had come to fetch the scroll-holder would appear through the massive archway on Del’s left. He ducked down, peered through a narrow gap he’d found in the front paneling of the stall.
Held his breath.
A man-large, heavy, close-cropped dark hair-Larkins!-strode into the octagon.
Del looked at Sangay. The boy’s eyes had widened, locking on Larkins. To his credit, Sangay didn’t do the one thing that might give their game away-he didn’t glance at any of his bodyguards.
Instead, even though he was visibly trembling, he gamely stood and slipped out of the pew. And halted, waited. There, at the top of the long nave, in the middle of the central aisle, the scroll-holder clutched in one thin hand.
As they’d hoped, Larkins saw no reason not to go to Sangay. The boy was the epitome of unthreatening. Larkins slowed, but didn’t break stride, almost swaggering as he crossed to halt before the boy, towering over him.
Watching Larkins from behind the man’s back, Del couldn’t see his face, but he saw no evidence of a glance to either side, no indication Larkins had even noticed the monks. None of them had been, or were, in his immediate line of vision.
Larkins looked down at Sangay. “Well?” His voice was rough, dark with suppressed menace.
Sangay ducked his head respectfully. “I have brought the scroll-holder as you wanted, sahib.” Sangay offered it up, balanced across both his palms.
Unseen by Larkins, Tony slid silently from the stall in which he’d been sitting and, sword in hand, glided to the altar. Gyles appeared, hovering just behind the column to Larkins’s right. Gervase held his position, apparently as yet unseen, but he was closest to Sangay-he would be the last to move.
“Good.” Reaching out, Larkins took the scroll-holder. He turned it in his hands, examining it. Then his fingers flicked and tugged, releasing the six levers. Opening the unlocked holder, Larkins slid the single sheet of parchment from within.
Ignoring Sangay, still standing before him, Larkins unrolled the letter. The decoy copy. Half turning so the light from the tower windows above fell on the sheet, Larkins quickly perused it. Then he smiled.
Del caught the satisfaction in that smile-also saw the evil anticipation infusing Larkins’s features. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, felt his body tense.
Still turned away from Sangay, Larkins slid the letter back into the scroll-holder, closed and locked it, then put it into the pocket of the heavy coat he wore.
Focused on securing the letter and holder, Larkins missed seeing the three monks draw closer.
Focused on Larkins, Del didn’t miss the glint of light along the blade the bastard drew from the pocket into which he’d dropped the holder.
The order rang out from multiple points around the octagon as Larkins turned and lunged for the boy, but Sangay had already yelped and danced sideways, avoiding Larkins’s grasping hand and his deadly knife.
Leaving Larkins momentarily off-balance.
Before the heavy man could recover, Sangay shrieked,
Larkins whirled with a roar-then gaped. Froze at the sight of Tony, monk’s robe thrown back over his shoulder, sword raised, his other arm clamped protectively around Sangay’s shivering shoulders.
Larkins’s eyes widened. He looked to the left, toward the north transept, and saw Gyles move out from behind the column.
Larkins whirled to face down the nave.
Only to find Gervase waiting, sword in hand, in the middle of the aisle, with Vane coming up behind him.
Larkins took a step back, then swung to the south-to the corridor through which he’d entered. He’d already taken a step before he registered that Del stood there, blocking that route of escape. Demon hovered in the shadows behind him.
Meeting Larkins’s eyes, Del saw recognition flare-felt grim retribution curve his lips as Larkins stared.
Then Larkins glanced around, and bolted.
Tony had grasped the moments of Larkins’s distraction to draw Sangay back to safety beyond the choir screen. Larkins thought that meant the east corridor was unguarded-mistakenly.
He ran into Gabriel and Lucifer, avenging angels with swords in their hands. Larkins saw them a few steps before it would have been too late. He slid to a halt, then reversed direction and came pelting back toward the altar.
One glance down the north transept revealed Devil and Richard, coming up fast to corner him.
With a scrape and a hiss, Larkins drew a long cutlass from beneath his coat, then swung to put his back to the altar, facing them all, menacing them all, a snarl distorting his features.
None of them were impressed.
“No need for any heroics.” Del stepped forward. They had Larkins exactly where they wanted him, trapped in the octagon. Their plan was to take him alive so he could talk about his master. And none of them were all that keen to even wound him literally on the altar.
However, Del doubted Larkins possessed any such reciprocal sensibility.
Larkins had one hand on the altar as, head slightly lowered, he stood watching Del. Larkins could possibly vault onto the altar. Standing atop it, he’d have something of an advantage, but, regardless, he couldn’t-wouldn’t-escape them.
Rather than prolong the standoff until Larkins sensed their reluctance, Del switched his sword to his left hand, intending to make use of his pistol to capture Larkins.
Larkins saw the move. Desperate, he thought to capitalize. Raising his sword high, he uttered a bellow-
“Good
All of them jolted. All of them swung to look.
At the two middle-aged ladies who had appeared behind Devil and Richard. Both ladies had huge flower-filled urns in their arms.
Between them, a pace behind them, stood a cleric, the vicar. He’d halted, blinking myopically toward the altar. “Great heavens! Is that a sword?”
Behind the vicar, the door through which the trio had come stood open.
The next actions happened in the blink of an eye, but to Del, viewing them, time slowed.
Like all of them, Larkins had swung to face the intruders. As Del saw the open door, so did he.
Del saw Larkins’s body shift, knew what he was going to do. With a muttered curse, he stopped reaching for the pistol in his pocket, grasped his sword in his right hand and started forward.
Just as Larkins’s sword arm started to rise again.
Larkins raised his sword above his head, with a roar swung it wildly-and charged.
Devil and Richard had no choice. They turned. Ducking one shoulder, each grabbed one of the women, and in a shower of water, flowers and urns, to ear-splitting screams they hoisted them and rushed them back down the corridor, beyond the door through which they’d come, to safety.
His way cleared, Gyles leapt in and hauled the vicar to him, sword raised, sparks flashing down its length as he used it to ward off Larkins’s roundhouse slash.
Then Larkins was through, past, and racing for the open door.
Del raced after him, but wasn’t close enough. Larkins barreled through the door, then whirled and slammed it shut.
Just before his shoulder hit the panel, Del heard a key grate in the lock.
The door was like the cathedral-solid. The heavy iron hinges were even more so.
Together with Gabriel, Del rammed his shoulder to the panel, but it didn’t so much as shake.
“Wait-wait! I have a key.” The vicar, visibly shaking, came shuffling up, hauling a massive key ring from his robe. There were at least twenty keys on it. “Now…which one is it?”
The keys jingled as he sorted through them.
Del shifted his weight, glanced at the others. “Go out and around.” Because of the risk of being seen, they hadn’t dared post anyone outside.
Gervase, Vane, Lucifer, and Demon rapidly headed out, through the octagon and down the nave-the fastest
