her with me on Walpurgis Night in a couple of years, and we can share her. We will make a child with her—your grandchild. And he will also bear the sign inside him. Who knows—maybe he would make a better coat than you? The stars will be favorable again in seventeen years’ time. Seventeen years, more or less . . . We’ve been waiting for so long. Centuries. Millennia. Seventeen years don’t matter. Even though I’d really like to choose you. I’ve grown very fond of you, Johann. Whether you believe it or not.” Tonio’s voice suddenly became icy and cutting, like hardened steel. His fingers had arrived at Greta’s small breasts.
“You have the choice, Johann. Your daughter or you.”
A piercing scream cut through the tense atmosphere. It came from Valentin, who had surprised his keepers and was heading for Tonio. “You monster!” screamed Valentin. “I should never have agreed to this deal. You . . . you devil!”
Tonio watched the small hunchbacked man with amusement. When Valentin reached him, Tonio made a small turn and kicked Valentin’s feet out from under him. The crippled man fell to the ground with a whimper, but he started to crawl toward the altar on his elbows, trying to reach for Greta. Tonio kicked him again, this time with the heel of his boot and all his might, as if trying to squash a giant bug. There was a loud crack, and the little man lay still.
“Take him away,” ordered Tonio. “I don’t want his blood to soil the ceremony.”
They carried off Valentin like a dirty bundle, and Tonio stepped toward Johann.
“Your daughter or you,” he repeated.
Johann closed his eyes and opened them again in the hope of waking from a nightmare. But this was no nightmare—it was reality. He wanted to cry, but no tears came. What was happening here was beyond grief, beyond pain . . .
It was hell on earth.
What did these lunatics want from him? If he understood correctly, he was supposed to be sacrificed to something unfathomably evil. Something so unimaginable that men had given it a name so they might grasp it better. Just like they had done with God. But the name of this unimaginable creature wasn’t God or Christ; nor was it Jahveh or Jehovah.
It was Satan. Lucifer. Light bringer.
In the old stories, Lucifer was the archangel who rose against God and was banished from heaven. Since then he’d been roasting in the depths of hell, hoping for the day he would rise again. He was the night before the day, chaos before order, the spirit that denies.
Only now did Johann fully comprehend what was going on here: these people, all of them respected citizens of Nuremberg, were awaiting Lucifer’s return. They had murdered those poor children for some terrible ritual whose culmination was himself.
Johann had known for a long time that such people existed. But just as he had always taken God to be a principle of order, the devil, too, had been nothing but an abstract concept to him. His devil had no horns, no goat’s foot, and he didn’t stink of sulfur, even if that was what the church taught to frighten its flock. And that was why Satanists couldn’t be anything other than misled fools who belonged in the madhouse or on a pyre.
That was the one side.
But if Johann was entirely honest, he had seen the devil in his dreams many, many times. Satan had seemed very real.
And now he stood in front of Johann.
“Your daughter or you,” said Tonio for the third time. “You have my word that I won’t touch her if you decide to join me.”
Johann didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to believe. His entire conception of the world had been shaken. All he knew was that he had to save Greta. It was the only clear thought he could form.
The silence was broken by the cawing of a raven who was circling around the columns.
“You can have me,” replied Johann quietly.
“Good choice. For you and for the world.” Tonio smiled and nodded, then he snapped his fingers. “Bring me the black potion!” he commanded. His smile was certain of victory. “And believe me, Johann. This time, I’m going to make sure you drink every last drop of it.”
The drink arrived in a chalice that had been cut from perfectly black obsidian and that sparkled in the light of the torches. Johann guessed it had probably been standing in the darkness between the columns the whole