“She is innocent,” he muttered. “Nothing but an innocent child . . .”
“Beg your pardon?” Agrippa gave him an irritated look. “What did you say?” Then his expression brightened. “Of course, you’re right! Josette Corbin was baptized as a child, and so she can’t carry evil inside her even if her mother was accused of witchcraft. Otherwise baptism—the holy sacrament of the church—would be ineffective. Any child that is baptized is innocent. Ha!” He patted Johann on the shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you, old friend? Together we can—”
The door crashed open. Little Satan growled but calmed down as soon as he saw who was entering. Karl and Greta were standing in the hallway, the young woman’s eyes flashing angrily. Both of them were breathing heavily as if they’d been running.
“We have to talk,” said Greta between breaths. “I am sick and tired of this game.”
“What do you mean?” asked Johann with surprise. Despite the raucous entrance, he suddenly felt very glad to see his daughter.
“I want to know what’s really at the bottom of this accursed disease and our escape,” said Greta, entering the study, followed by Karl. With a trembling hand, she pointed at Johann. “Children are getting murdered out there by some kind of monster that you most likely lured to Metz. A monster that I saw back in Nuremberg and that followed us here. And you two sit here on your backsides poring over dusty old files!”
“What are you talking about, girl?” asked Agrippa. “What murdered children?”
“Children have been going missing,” explained Karl.
Agrippa raised his hands. “But we already know that. Like I said—”
“Listen to me, damn it!” said Greta, cutting him off. “While you two sit here congratulating each other on your cleverness, more and more children are vanishing out there. My guess is they’re all dead. As dead as the child we just found—and we saw her murderer.”
As quickly as she could, Greta told the two scholars what she and Karl had witnessed. Johann listened in silence, his hands and feet turning cold as ice.
“What exactly did the man look like?” he asked with trepidation.
“Pale, almost like a woman with makeup,” said Karl. “He was skinny and wore a red cap with a rooster’s feather. His whole appearance was somewhat . . .” He searched for the right words. “Like a spider.”
Johann groaned. “It’s Tonio. He followed us. When is this horror going to end?”
“Enough of the secrecy!” Greta abruptly sat down on a stool next to Johann. With one sweeping movement she cleared the table of books and files and gave the doctor a serious look. “You’ve always been my teacher and my role model, Uncle. But if I am to trust you from here on in, then we must tell each other the truth. I haven’t been entirely honest with you, either. I . . .” She took his hand in hers and gave him a sad look. “I read your palm—you know I’m good at it. And I saw something terrible in it. It was in the Wasgau.”
Johann had had a hunch but had never asked. He didn’t want to know.
She inherited it from me. I should have known.
“That is why I stayed with you—to protect you,” continued Greta. “And I will keep on doing so, but only if you’re honest with me. Can you do that for me? No more lies. Promise?”
Johann nodded, still shaken by what Greta had just told him.
She has foreseen my death. The pact is coming full circle, just like it did for Peter, the red-haired fiddler.
“Tonio is at my heels,” he said quietly, more to himself. “Somehow I’ve always known.”
“But how can that be?” asked Greta. “The man we saw under the bridge wasn’t that old. Tonio would have to be much, much older by now!”
“Oh, he is,” said Johann with a sad smile. “Trust me, I know. He doesn’t look it. But I suspect Tonio is even older than you can begin to imagine.” He looked at her intently. “I believe that in truth he is the godforsaken Gilles de Rais, the most cruel and insane murderer there ever was—a man who lived during the first half of the last century. The devil on earth!”
In the distance, the bells of the cathedral rang out, and then the dull thudding of a drum set in. The crowd was now moving from the cathedral toward the other side of the river, toward the quarter where Agrippa’s house stood.
Johann turned to Agrippa. “I believe the time has come when you must tell me what you know about Gilles de Rais.”
Agrippa set down his pipe, which had gone out. Johann noticed that his friend looked rather pale and thought that it probably wasn’t sleep deprivation.
“The children, the dead girl,” muttered Agrippa. “Dear God, Faustus! If that is true, then you really did lure the monster to Metz.”
“What monster?” asked Karl skeptically. “What exactly do you mean? Are we talking about a man or a ghost?”
By now they were all sitting around the fire. The books lay scattered on the ground, tossed aside as if all the knowledge in the world couldn’t help them now. The huge dog slumbered among them.
“When I advised you in my letters to steer clear of the subject of Gilles de Rais, I did it with the best of intentions. I was hoping to save your life—your soul, even,” started Agrippa. “But now it would seem we have wakened the beast. It has picked up your scent.” He hesitated before continuing. “I’ve been preoccupied with Gilles de Rais and his horrible deeds for a long time, for years. As you all know, the popular French marshal tried to invoke the devil in order to gain power and wealth. The great war that raged between
