Alex Van Helsing The Triumph of Death - By Jason Henderson Page 0,53
one, and Claire had no money. Claire complained about this, though she never visited the grave.”
Alex rubbed his forehead, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know.”
“What?”
“What we’re gonna do. I mean, you’re talking about desecrating a grave here.”
As if reminded by Sangster, Armstrong began unfolding a tripod of sorts that she drew from a bag. Within moments, she was clicking buttons and aiming a camera that hung from the bottom of the tripod at the grass.
Sangster sighed. “We worked all morning, we pulled every string, and we have the permits to exhume this body and take a sample for study purposes.”
“But that’s not what we’re doing,” Alex whispered, suddenly hoping no officials from the nearby church were listening. In the distance he heard singing, Anglican hymns at a late-morning service. “We’re talking about using the body of a woman’s dead child against her. This is just…it’s too much.”
“We followed the clues, Alex. This is where they lead. If you can think of a better way to stop the Triumph I’d love to hear it, but we are absolutely, genuinely running out of time.”
Alex stamped his feet lightly, pulling his coat closer against the biting wind. Allegra Byron, five years old, had been kept from an obsessed mother and left by an uncaring father to die in a convent. And now they were going to use that tragedy, take a scrape of tissue, and build a weapon. He wished he could stop and bring Paul, Sid, and Minhi here. Something told him they wouldn’t like this plan, either. It was darker than they would associate with him. It was darker than he liked to associate with himself.
But the alternative was worse: a world plunged into darkness. They would take a scrape of the dead in order to stave off death. It was necessary, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
“How are we going to do it?” Alex asked.
Armstrong was peering into a small device with what looked like a GPS screen on it. “I see the coffin. We’re looking at a depth of about seven feet, no surprise. The dense shadow inside, I’m assuming that’s the body, which would have been wrapped head to toe in bandages.”
“Okay, let us know when you’re near.” Sangster turned to answer Alex. “We’ll do it the way we always do. We’re bringing in a backhoe and we’re tearing the place up.”
“A backhoe?” Alex was incredulous. “Isn’t that a little…”
“Low tech?” Sangster said.
“Yeah, I mean, everything else we do is on hyperdrive; even our motorcycle rearview mirrors are special.”
“Hm.” Sangster squinted. “You know, a few years ago I had my wisdom teeth extracted? So, the dentist has all kinds of crazy stuff. Lasers for oral surgery, and a million kinds of anesthetic. Music piping into your headset, and a chair that should have been designed by NASA. But you wanna know what it takes to actually take out the tooth?”
Alex shrugged.
“A hammer and a chisel,” Sangster said. “Some things just don’t change very fast. Anyway, it’s not like we can beam the body out.”
Alex nodded and began to wander away, looking up at the church, with its spire threatening to slice through the gray blanket of sky. He couldn’t stay here for this. “Astrid, you want to have a look at the church with me?”
She bobbed her head yes, and they followed a mossy path up to the entrance of the church. A pair of red doors set inside a stone archway flapped open as parishioners began to stream out.
Alex thrust his hands into his coat pockets as he and Astrid stepped into the church itself, taking in the long central nave and transepts, with columns from front to back. The parishioners were chattering all around Alex and Astrid in accents that reminded Alex of Paul, who seemed even farther away than he was.
As they walked along the back of the last pew, Alex slid his hand along the soft, carved wood and whispered, “I wanted to ask you a question.”
“Oh?” Astrid shrugged, following him. She had been curiously quiet lately, since his bite. The chatty front she put up had slid away, or at least seemed to be put away, waiting for a safer, happier time to come out.
“Whose idea was it to not tell me that you were a friend of my mother’s?” Quickly, flatly; he wanted to get the words out.
“Alex…”
“When we met, you said you were here because of Claire. Because Hexen wanted to keep track of one of their fallen witches.”