The 13 th tribe

[39]

Following their plan, Phin had scrambled through the smoldering hole where the monastery’s gates stood thirty seconds before and hooked right into the compound. He’d seen Nevaeh’s invisible body float through the plumes of dust and smoke, like a bubble in champagne, beelining into the heart of the monastery. Ben would be moving left, all three of them pushing back toward the rear of the mini-city in search of their prey.

Phin ran on light feet, his right hand at his hip, ready to whip his sword from the suit’s thigh pocket. He felt for the MP3 player in his pocket and cranked up the volume. A symphony of percussion instruments-chief among them kettle drums and an insistent, rhythmic gong-slammed his eardrums at a rate of 200 beats per minute. His heart raced to catch up, feeling as though it possibly could. As often as he’d done this-hunted, killed-it never lost its high. The smell of blood helped. True, what he’d told the others, that its odor instilled fear and panic in those whose nostrils it reached, but more so it excited him as it did any wild beast: an olfactory cue to become stealthy, agile, ruthless.

He took a big whiff, disappointed that the mask caused his breath to dilute the fragrance, and sprinted past the Well of Moses toward the northwest wall. That would take him past the guest quarters, into a tunnel, and right to the big structure along the rear wall that the monks called the Southwest Range Building. Toby had reported that Creed had entered the structure through an emergency door, and it was there that he expected to find his prey. The building was large, with numerous rooms, and housed many of the monks, who were now in protection mode.

Phin had turned between the wall and the corner of a building when a light washed over him from behind. A monk wielding a heavy walking stick was standing in the doorway of a small homey structure. He pulled the door shut and rushed toward Phin, who had his sword half out before remembering that the monk could not see him. He released the blade and pushed back against the wall.

As the monk approached, Phin saw that the “walking stick” was in fact a shotgun. Of course they would be armed; protecting the likes of Creed was their sworn duty, and that aside, the brotherhood here hadn’t survived sixteen centuries by merely throwing prayers at their attackers. Over the years, they’d been known to pour boiling oil over enemies at the gate, conduct sophisticated bow-and-arrow defenses, and even sneak outside to kidnap the kings of besieging armies. They adhered to a doctrine in which God expected ferocity of body as well as gentleness of spirit. The time for beating swords into ploughshares had not yet arrived; these monks-and Phin too-believed the era would be ushered in by the godly, and without the occasional use of the sword, the godly would be Abel to the rest of the world’s Cain.

Bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet, he pushed a button through the suit, stopping the music, and prepared to spring. He’d shove the monk face-first into the wall and find out where they were keeping Creed. Didn’t matter that the man would surely resist divulging the location; Phin knew techniques involving eye sockets, genitals, and the brittle joints of fingers that coud pry information from the tightest lips.

Someone yelled, snapping his attention away from the monk. A woman was standing on the third-floor terrace of the guest quarters, leaning over the railing.

Phin let the monk hurry past him.

“Tyler!” the woman yelled again. She was closer than Phin to the Southwest Range Building. If she came down to ground level, he’d have to pass her.

Someone responded in a loud whisper: “No… Beth, shhh!”

Phin followed the woman’s gaze and saw a man on the roof of a building across from her. He was patting the air with one hand, signaling her to be quiet. Other voices sprang up around the compound, queries and commands, but they didn’t seem to bother the guy. He said, “Tyler’s safe. Don’t call him. Go back inside until I come.”

“But-” the woman started.

“Beth! Please!”

Listen to him, Beth, Phin thought. You don’t want to be out here.

She looked around and slowly moved into the building behind her. The light from her room disappeared with the click of a door. The man waited a few seconds, then turned and vanished.

Phin ran to catch up to the monk.