gotten rid of it, at least temporarily. Kneeling on the tiles, he was freezing. He was hurt. But he was alive. He put both his hands on the roof and let out a sigh that was almost a sob.
Then he got up, trying to catch his breath.
That’s when he saw Leroy leaning against the chimney on the other roof.
Arms extended straight ahead, he was aiming his gun into the storm.
And Vauvert understood why.
There was another beast.
It was perched on the parapet, a slim and black shadow silhouetted by the lightning. Claude. It had to be Claude Salaville. If the one he had just tossed over the roof was Roman, the other animal could only be his brother.
Leroy shot at the creature.
It retreated, with amazing speed, easily navigating the tiles and gutters. In a single bound, it perched itself atop a gable. Its red eyes burned in the dark.
The wolf thrust its head back and began howling.
And from all sides, other howls answered, drowning out the thunder and the clamor of the rain.
Vauvert scanned the other roofs.
He saw another wolf advancing in the rain and then another. Close to a dozen beasts appeared. They climbed the tin slopes with tremendous speed. Their ink-like figures leaped on the chimneys. Their eyes made red swarms in the heart of the storm.
He looked around, trying to pick up any trace of Saint-Clair and the Lombard girl. They were nowhere to be seen.
All the while, the wolves were multiplying.
97
Eloise was still ahead of her pursuer.
She climbed over a parapet to a flat concrete roof that was cluttered with pipes and cables. But at least she could stand straight up without the fear of falling off the roof, even if she was staggering. Tarpaulin-sheeted scaffolding covered the building’s facade and reached to the roof on the other side of the street. But she didn’t pay any attention. The glass rectangles of the skylights glistening ahead of her were what she cared about. She rushed to the nearest one and banged on it with her fist, to no avail.
“Come on. Come on!”
She hit the skylight harder, with her elbow this time, until the glass broke.
“Yes!”
The sense of jubilation was fleeting. Eloise turned and realized that the woman was still in close pursuit. All she wanted to do now was live.
She struck the skylight’s glass again, trying to clear a way inside.
The shards of broken glass tore into her skin.
She pulled them out and prepared to drop to the floor below. If she did, there was a chance she could make it.
Suddenly, something landed on her back, sending her sprawling against the wet concrete.
She barely had time to comprehend what was happening. Pain shot up her legs, as though they’d been punctured by knives.
She felt herself being dragged, brutally and effortlessly, to the middle of the roof.
There was a terrible stabbing pain in her calves. Then the invisible things attacked her wrists. Her arms were yanked to the sides of her body. It felt as if blades were being driven into her forearms.
Which was, she finally realized, almost the case.
Four black beasts with red eyes were holding her limbs in their frothing jaws. Their teeth were stuck in her calves and wrists, nearly piercing her bones, and now the creatures were pulling her legs and arms apart.
The masked woman appeared above her. Eloise saw that the monster was euphoric behind her mask.
“Oh, it looks like the gods are impatient. It’s time to quench their thirst, as they wish.”
98
No matter how the girl arches her back and thrashes, the wolves keep her pinned down, powerless, offered. Finally.
Judith Saint-Clair leans over her, taking joy in her screams of terror.
“That’s good. Oh, that’s very good,” she says, her voice drowned by the storm.
She clutches the girl’s sweater and pulls it toward her. The scalpel slowly rips through the wool, stripping the girl inch by inch. “Let me. You’ll see.”
The girl is sobbing as the woman tears away her blouse and then her T-shirt. With one hand firmly planted on the girl’s chest, Judith Saint-Clair slices away what remains of her clothing, exposing her breasts. The girl’s ribcage lifts and collapses faster and faster.
“Now,” she whispers. “Oh, now.”
The triumph of all that she was looking for, yes.
The count is reached, the sacrifice honored.
At last. Under the furious dance of lightning, in the driving rain, the ultimate offering is fulfilled. She feels the vibration in the air. The gods are waiting, invisible and yet so close.
“For you!” she cries at the swirling elements. “For you, oh lords of death and resurrection, who bring disorder across the universe! Come, come, for this sacrifice is for you!”
As if in response, lightning blazes across the sky. With her eyes rolled back and her hips glued to her victim, Judith Saint-Clair begins to sing, to exult. The sound is more like animal shrieking than a song. It is vibrant with the raging power of the sky. The gods are hurling a rushing energy between the worlds just for her. She lets it course through every fiber of her being.
“Dark gods who live beyond death! I entreat you! May the blood flow to you and quench you! Come, come to the scarlet feast!”
And with a sharp movement, a swift and clean sweeping motion, she drives the scalpel between the girl’s ribs.
Eloise opens her mouth in a red and hopeless cry.
The woman pulls out the blade, and immediately a burning crimson fountain splashes her. Blood sprays her face and seeps between her lips. Its deliciously salty flavor reaches her tongue and fills her entire being.
“Feed on her life, oh my sisters! And you, Zalmoxis, god of life and death who brings terror to mortals, may my blood be yours and your blood be mine!”
In the sky, bolts of lightning intertwine.
She continues, screaming in a voice full of bliss and metamorphosis, “May the feast be scarlet! May my blood be hers, and hers be mine.”
Suddenly, she freezes.
A cracking noise has torn through the night. Sharper than the thunder and much closer.
A sharp pain shoots through her shoulder.
A bullet has just ripped her flesh open before losing itself in the storm.
Judith Saint-Clair turns to the person who has fired the gun.
She recognizes the albino cop shakily perched on the tarpaulin.
The four wolves let go of their victim and bare their bloody fangs.
Then they dash toward the intruder.
