The panthers went mad with fury, confusion, and pain.
The idea had come to Johann when Leo had raved about his pets earlier.
Sadly, my darlings can’t cope with noise.
Beside themselves, the two big cats tore at their ropes, which were wrapped around the throne. The chair crashed to the side, and Leo rolled onto his back like a fat beetle. All around them were thunder, hissing, and cracking as if Judgment Day had arrived. Finally free, the panthers were behaving like a pair of snarling demons. One of them pounced onto the pope while the other prepared to leap in the direction of Johann and Hagen, who was still screaming as he held his leg.
Right between Johann and the panther lay Sebastian.
Once again Johann noticed how much the boy resembled him.
My grandson.
Then the panther pounced.
27
WE HAVE TO GO ALL THE WAY UP TO THE ROOFTOP TERRACE!” shouted Karl to Greta as the first rockets exploded above them. “The ritual must take place under the open sky—that’s how it’s written in TheSworn Book of Honorius.”
They ran upstairs, crossed numerous deserted chambers, racing on as Greta’s heart felt like it was going to burst. Fear for her son almost drove her insane. Until then she had been convinced that the tale about the ritual to summon the devil was nothing but balderdash—just more lies by her father to lead her astray. But now dear Martha had been murdered and her son was missing. What in God’s name was going on here?
Greta had never been to the castle’s upper levels, as they belonged exclusively to the pope. But she instinctively found the right way, as if she sensed where Sebastian was. Outside, they could hear thundering, howling, cracking, and the shouts of delight of the crowd who’d gathered to admire the fireworks. To her ears, all the screaming sounded as if the apocalypse had commenced.
The noise led them in the right direction. She and Karl came to the staircase to the upper terrace, and Greta screamed when she saw Lahnstein lying at the bottom of the steps in a pool of blood, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes, his final expression showing shock and also wonder, as if he couldn’t believe his own death. From outside the door, in addition to the noise of the fireworks, they could hear someone screaming in agony and a growling.
And the crying of a child.
“Sebastian!” shouted Greta. “Sebastian, are you there?”
She had never particularly liked Lahnstein, but he had been a steady companion over the last two years and the person who had smoothed the way for her here in Rome. The death of the papal representative came as a shock, but she had no time to dwell on it. Her son was up there, and he was in danger. Greta leaped across Lahnstein’s corpse and followed Karl up the stairs. The piece of night sky they could see through the rectangular opening was shining in all colors, and still more rockets exploded and traveled across the firmament as bright, flaming arrows. Greta ran out onto the platform.
And stopped as if she’d turned to stone.
What in heaven’s name?
A smudged pentagram was on the floor in the center of the terrace, and inside the pentagram lay a throne on its side beneath a baldachin. Groaning and tossing about in a mess of fallen and broken wooden poles was Hagen, the giant mercenary who had always been at Lahnstein’s side. Farther back, Greta saw a black panther pinning a man to the ground with its paws, and the man was screaming as if out of his mind.
It was the pope.
The beast had torn the Holy Father’s robe, and his fat, pale body was exposed. Leo was bleeding from several wounds. He was shielding his face with his hands as the panther sank its teeth into his shoulder. Greta couldn’t help but think of all those poor Christians who, a long time ago, died in this manner at the Roman Colosseum.
“For heaven’s sake, get the monster off me!” screeched Leo. “Hagen, do something! Jesus Christ . . . it . . . it is eating me alive!”
The panther took another bite, and the pope screamed like a berserker. Greta remembered a few lines from the Book of Revelation that she’d read just a few days ago.
And the beast which I saw was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion.
Only now did she notice the second big cat on the terrace. It was prowling toward the balustrade, which was only hip high, forcing a man closer and closer to the abyss. When Greta recognized the man, anger and hatred welled up in her.
It was her father.
In his arms he was holding little Sebastian, who was screaming and squirming and calling for his mother.
“Give me my child, you devil!” yelled Greta.
She was about to rush at Johann, but Karl held her back.
“Don’t you see that he’s trying to protect your son?” he hissed at her. “One wrong movement and the panther will jump!”
Karl was right; Greta saw now that her father was trying to shield Sebastian from the beast. Without taking his eyes off the cat, Johann gently set Sebastian down and took a step forward, positioning himself between the panther and the boy. Sebastian stood as if rooted to the spot, staring at the animal in fear. The pope’s screams had stopped, but the rockets still howled.
“Whatever brought you here, you come just in time,” said Johann, panting. He looked terrible—his face was raw with some kind of rash, and his voice sounded hoarse. He didn’t take his eyes off the panther, who was snarling and obviously waiting for the right moment to pounce. “I am going to distract this black devil here while you fetch the boy.”
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