Alex Van Helsing The Triumph of Death - By Jason Henderson Page 0,19
her pigtails and rebanding it. As she held a rubber band in her mouth she went on. “Are you going to stand there and tell me that Lord Byron himself did not just three months ago attempt to resurrect Claire to be the Queen of the Vampires?”
Alex turned to Sangster with his hands open, as if to say, So she knows everything. “But that didn’t work,” Alex said. “Byron failed and he’s locked away. And then Byron’s disciple, Elle, tried her damnedest to get my blood to finish resurrecting her, and she failed.”
“Wait, she needed your blood, why?” Astrid asked.
Alex glanced at Sangster—was this secret? Did it matter? Sangster nodded and Alex continued. “Byron used some of my blood to start bringing Claire back from a pile of bones he’d summoned. But he didn’t get enough, so Elle came for more.”
“And that wasn’t enough, either?” Astrid kept her eyes on the glass jar, then took another pigtail apart and twisted it, splaying the rubber bands in her fingers. Her accent was so…odd and yet normal, just a hint of non-English, causing enough to come out ee-nahff.
“Well, I mean, I didn’t let her actually have any of it. It’s not free.”
Astrid chuckled, a high, cheery laugh that snorted out quickly as she finished rebanding the last stray pigtail. She tilted her head, surveying all of them in the curvature of the giant jug. “So it looks like they managed anyway—maybe they took a sample of your blood while you were sleeping?”
Sangster rubbed the back of his neck and turned to Alex, considering it. “Wouldn’t have to be blood. They have labs at the Scholomance; they might have used your DNA. All it would take is a strand of hair.”
“Not a strand of hair,” Alex said, sighing. “I lost a contact case with my lenses in town a few weeks ago. There could have been stuff on the lenses.”
“Right.” Astrid smiled awkwardly. “So however they got it, they got your DNA and used it to finish raising Claire. And now she’s back. And let me tell you, the moment she hit this realm, we heard about it. And I was sent to look into it.”
“We?” Alex asked. “Who’s we?”
Armstrong stuck her head through the front door of the restaurant. “Sangster? Come look at this.”
They followed her to the Polidorium van that still sat in the center of the road. Inside, a technician was attaching long cables to a computer panel he’d opened in the side door. Over his head, on the screen, two lines shimmered. Alex did not recognize the language.
Sangster looked around, then at Astrid. “Can you read that?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You spoke a language to Claire. Was it this one?”
“I spoke the language of Dulle Grit,” she said.
“What’s Dulle Grit?” Alex asked.
“Dulle Grit is fascinating.” Astrid’s shoulders bobbed with excitement, and she momentarily returned to the girl he had met a few hours before. “You’re going to love—”
Sangster held up a hand. “Save that for study hall, okay? So you spoke a language shared by your organization.”
“Doesn’t your organization have a language?”
“English.”
“Ours is a little older.” Astrid looked at the words. “But this isn’t Hexen verbiage. This is…coded.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Alex said. “Who’s the we you said, who’s your organization?” This was very strange.
“Hexen,” Sangster answered before Astrid could open her mouth again. “She works for an organization called Hexen.”
“See? Aren’t you glad we met?” Astrid said, touching him on the shoulder. “You’re going to need my help.”
“I’ve never heard of Hexen.” Alex eyed her warily.
“That surprises me.”
“Why?”
“He’s new,” Sangster explained. “But I don’t understand. We haven’t heard from Hexen in years. And as I recall you want it that way.”
“We protect the world in very different ways.”
“And they sent you to beat back an invasion from the Skull-Headed Lady? What are you, fourteen?”
Alex and Astrid both stared.
Armstrong talked more to the engineer than to them. “We can get these lines analyzed. We’ll figure out what it says. The Queen showed up and sent us a message. She won’t make it impossible to read.”
“Oh, hold on.” Astrid held out her hands excitedly. “Maybe I can do this.” She reached into a pocket and drew out a small bead, very light and waxy looking, like a soft jelly bean.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a spell. We prepare our tools with spells beforehand because sometimes they can get complicated and it’s useful to…how would you say it?—concentrate them in the field. But I might be able to use it.”