Code

CHAPTER 42

OUTSIDE THE WOULD-BE castle, the air was still.

Thick. Tepid. As if the night held its breath. A full moon rode high in the sky, illuminating the lawn and sending shadows across the stately old campus.

Faint sounds floated from within the stone hall, worrying crows roosting in a nearby oak. Music. Laughter. Clinking dishes.

The door swept open. Closed with a thump.

A hooded figure emerged, body cloaked by a long brown robe.

The figure paused. Drank deeply of the evening breeze.

The board was set.

Each piece was present.

Everything was unfolding according to plan.

The Game was nearing its climax. Would the players pass?

A rueful grin twisted the moonlit face. No.

Pale hands emerged from the coarse brown sleeves, rubbed together in anticipation. The figure spun in childish delight.

The crows flapped and hopped in agitation.

An eerie, high-pitched giggle leaked from beneath the dark hood. Warbling and off-key, it keened on for long moments before mercifully fading to silence.

The crows took wing and scattered into the night.

The twirling abruptly stopped. The figure bowed as if in prayer, or deep in thought. Seconds ticked by.

The hood slowly nodded. Once. Twice. Then the figure hurried down to street level two steps at a time. Rotating a three-sixty, it wagged a finger at the lively hall.

“Time’s almost up!”

The figure hurried around the building, melted into the gloom, and was gone.