"Who would make such a thing?” Twenty minutes later I was shivering by the fireplace in our main first-floor room, clutching a beaker of herbal tea. “It’s gruesome.”
Like most manuscripts, Ashmole 782 was made of vellum—specially prepared skin that had been soaked in lime to remove the hair, scraped to take away the subcutaneous layers of flesh and fat, then soaked again before being stretched on a frame and scraped some more.
The difference here was that the creatures used to make the vellum were not sheep, calves, or goats but daemons, vampires, and witches.
“It must have been kept as a record.” Matthew was still trying to come to terms with what we had seen.
“But it has hundreds of pages,” I said in disbelief. The thought of someone flaying so many daemons, vampires, and witches and making vellum from their skins was incomprehensible. I wasn’t sure I would ever sleep through the night again.
“Which means the book contains hundreds of distinct pieces of DNA.” Matthew had run his fingers through his hair so many times he was starting to resemble a porcupine.
“The threads twisting between us and Ashmole 782 looked like double helices,” I said. We’d had to explain modern genetics to Gallowglass, who, without the intervening four and a half centuries of biology and chemistry, was doing his best to follow it.
“So D-N-A is like a family tree, but its branches cover more than just one family?” Gallowglass sounded out “DNA” slowly, with a break between each letter.
“Yes,” Matthew said. “That’s about it.”
“Did you see the tree on the first page?” I asked Matthew. “The trunk was made of bodies, and the tree was flowering, fruiting, and leafing out just like the arbor Dian? we made in Mary’s laboratory.”
“No, but I saw the creature with its tail in its mouth,” Matthew said.
I tried feverishly to recall what I’d seen, but my photographic memory failed me when I needed it most. There was too much new information to absorb.
“The picture showed two creatures fighting—or embracing, I couldn’t tell which. I didn’t have a chance to count their legs. Their falling blood was generating hundreds of creatures. Although if one of them was not a four-legged dragon but a snake . . .”
“And one was a two-legged firedrake, then those alchemical dragons could symbolize you and me.” Matthew swore, briefly but with feeling.
Gallowglass listened patiently until we were through, then went back to his original topic. “And this D-N-A, it lives in our skin?”
“Not just your skin, but your blood, bones, hair, nails—it’s throughout your entire body,” Matthew explained.
“Huh.” Gallowglass rubbed his chin. “And what question is it you have in mind, exactly, when you say this book might have all the answers?”
“Why we’re different from the humans,” Matthew said simply. “And why a witch like Diana might carry a wearh’s child.”
Gallowglass gave us a radiant smile. “You mean your child, Matthew. I knew full well Auntie was capable of that back in London. She never smelled like anyone but herself—and you. Did Philippe know?”
“Few people knew,” I said quickly.
“Hancock did. So did Fran?oise and Pierre. My guess is Philippe was told all about it.” Gallowglass stood. “I’ll just go fetch Auntie’s book, then. If it has to do with de Clermont babes, we must have it.”
“Rudolf will have locked it up tight or tucked it into bed with him,” Matthew predicted. “It’s not going to be easy to get it out of the palace, especially not if they’ve found Pistorius and he’s out casting spells and making mischief.”
“Speaking of Emperor Rudolf, can we get that necklace off Auntie’s shoulders? I hate that bloody insignia.”
“Gladly,” I said, plucking at the chain and tossing the garish object onto the table. “What, exactly, does the Order of the Defeated Dragon have to do with the de Clermonts? I assume that they must not be friends with the Knights of Lazarus, given the fact that the poor ouroboros has been partially skinned and is strangling itself.”
“They hate us and wish us dead,” Matthew said flatly. “The Dr?cule?ti disapprove of my father’s broad-minded views on Islam and the Ottomans and have vowed to bring us all down. That way they can fulfill their political aspirations unchecked.”
“And they want the de Clermont money,” Gallowglass observed.
“The Dr?cule?ti?” My voice was faint. “But Dracula is a human myth— one meant to spread fear about vampires.” It was the human myth about vampires.
“That would come as some surprise to the patriarch of the clan, Vlad the Dragon,” Gallowglass commented, “though he would be pleased to know he will go on terrifying people.”
“The humans’ Dracula—the Dragon’s son known as the Impaler—was only one of Vlad’s brood,” Matthew said.
“The Impaler was a nasty bastard. Happily, he’s dead now, and all we have to worry about are his father, his brothers, and their Báthory allies.” Gallowglass looked somewhat cheered and poured himself a glass of wine.
“According to human accounts, Dracula lived on for centuries—he may still be living. Are you sure he’s really dead?”
“I watched Baldwin rip his head off and bury it thirty miles away from the rest of his body. He was really dead then, and he’s really dead now.” Gallowglass looked at me reprovingly. “You should know better than to believe these human stories, Auntie. They’ve never got more than a speck of truth in them.”
“I think Benjamin had one of these dragon emblems. Herr Maisel gave it to him. I noticed the similarity in colors when the emperor first held it out.”
“You told me Benjamin left Hungary,” Matthew said accusingly to his nephew.
“He did. I swear it. Baldwin ordered him to leave or face the same fate as the Impaler. You should have seen Baldwin’s face. The devil himself wouldn’t have disobeyed your brother.”
“I want us all as far from Prague as possible by the time the sun rises,” Matthew said grimly. “Something is very wrong. I can smell it.”
“That may not be such a good idea. Do you not know what night it is?” Gallowglass asked. Matthew shook his head. “Walpurgisnacht. They are lighting bonfires all around the city and burning effigies of witches— unless they can find a real one, of course.”
“Christ.” Matthew drove his fingers through his hair, giving it a good shake as he did. “At least the fires will provide some distraction. We have to figure out how to circumvent Rudolf’s guards, get into his private chambers, and find the book. Then, fires or no fires, we are getting out of the city.”
“We’re wearhs, Matthew. If anyone can steal it, we can,” Gallowglass said confidently.
“It’s not going to be as easy as you think. We may get in, but will we get out?”
“I can help, Master Roydon.” Jack’s voice sounded like a flute compared to Gallowglass’s rumbling bass and Matthew’s baritone. Matthew turned and scowled at him.
“No, Jack,” he said firmly. “You aren’t to steal anything, remember? Besides, you’ve only been to the palace stables. You wouldn’t have any idea where to look.”
“Er . . . that’s not strictly true.” Gallowglass looked uncomfortable. “I took him to the cathedral. And the Great Hall to see the cartoons you once drew on the walls of the Knights’ Staircase. And he’s been to the kitchens. Oh,” Gallowglass said as an afterthought, “he’s been to the menagerie, too, of course. It would have been cruel not to let him see the animals.”
“He has been there with me as well,” Pierre said from the doorway. “I didn’t want him to go adventuring one day and get lost.”
“And where did you take him, Pierre?” Matthew’s tone was icy. “The throne room, so he could jump up and down on the royal seat?”