Magic Bleeds (Kate Daniels 4)

I shook their hands and handed them my Order ID. They looked at it for a while and gave it back to me.

Peter folded his long frame back behind the desk. “Sorry about the dungeon atmosphere.”

“No problem. As dungeons go, I’ve seen worse.”

The two of them chewed on that remark for a bit. I looked past them. Hebrew script decorated the walls of the office, lines and lines of text inked on the wall in thick black lines. It drew the eye. I tried not to stare.

“I understand you wish to access the circle.” Peter folded his long fingers in front of him.

“Yes.”

“We would like to know why.”

I explained about the Steel Mary and produced the bag with the piece of paper.

The two rabbis looked at each other. I looked at the wall. There was something about the Hebrew text. My eyes almost itched when I looked at it. If I squinted just right . . .

“You must understand, of course, we do wish to cooperate with the Order,” Peter said. “However, we don’t advertise the existence of the circle. You might even say we strive to keep it a secret. We’re most curious as to how you learned about it.”

Mentioning Saiman would get me thrown out. “The Order has its sources.”

“Of course, of course,” Peter said.

The rabbis exchanged another look.

The black lines blended, like the old stereograms that hid a 3-D image in an ordinary picture. The impact punched my brain and I saw a word, written in a language of power. Amehe. Obey.

The word sizzled in my brain. I already owned this one, but seeing it written still set my mind buzzing.

It made sense that it would be written on a wall full of names of God. Rabbis specialized in written magic and Yahweh was all about obedience, if the Torah was anything to go by.

“People study for years and years to access the circle,” Weiss said. “Some Johnny-come-lately can’t just waltz in and demand to see it.”

“I’m not some Johnny. I’m the Johnny with an Order’s ID and a sharp sword, who’s trying to save the city from an epidemic.” If they thought their mezuzot would protect them from the Steel Mary, they would be deeply disappointed.

The corners of Peter’s mouth sagged. “What Rabbi Weiss means is that we’re dreadfully sorry, but your lack of qualifications prevents us from granting you access. It’s unfortunate.”

On that we were in agreement. “Would you like me to read what’s written on the wall behind you to prove that I’m qualified?”

Peter gave me a sad smile.

Weiss sighed. “These are the many names of God. Knowing how to read Hebrew won’t get you in, but go ahead if it makes you feel better.”

“It says: ‘Obey.’ ”

A long moment passed and then Peter closed his mouth with a click.

Weiss’s eyes turned cold. “Who told you about that?”

“Would you like me to pronounce the word in the original language?” There was no telling what the word would do to them. I mostly used it to control magic, but it could be used to control people. I’d done it once—to Derek—and I would never do it again. But they didn’t know that.

The rabbis paled. I’d managed to terrify holy men. Maybe I could beat up a nun for an encore.

“No!” Peter raised his hands. “No, that’s not necessary. We’ll take you to the circle.”

THE GOLEM WAS SEVEN FEET TALL AND SIX FEET wide. Unlike the golems outside, who had been shaped with finesse like Greek statues, this brute was pure power. Broad, crude, and hewn together with thick slabs of clay muscle, it stood at the end of a narrow hallway before a door shaped like an open scroll. It wore a steel helmet, an armet with visor removed. The metal guard covered its mouth and a layer of steel shielded its forehead. No scratching off letters here. I wondered what they would do if they ever had to deactivate it. Shoot it with a tank maybe.

Next to me, Peter pointed to the floor, where a small stone fire pit with the fire already laid out waited before the golem. To the side sat a box of matches. “There is a price for using the circle.”

“What is it?”

His voice was soft. “Knowledge. That is the keeper of the circle. You must light the fire and tell it a secret. If your knowledge is worthy, the golem will open the door for you.”

“And if the golem doesn’t like the knowledge?” Was it too much to hope it would chide me and send me to bed without my supper?

“It may kill you,” Weiss said.

“If you lie, it will know,” Peter said. “The flame will turn blue.”

Lovely. The golem’s fists were bigger than my head. All it had to do was grab me and squeeze and my skull would crack like an egg. The hallway was too narrow to maneuver. My speed wouldn’t do me any good.

“We will wait here.” Weiss pointed to a small stone bench a few yards away. It faced the golem so they would have front row seats if it decided to use me as a punching bag.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Peter murmured.

And stare into Ori’s dead eyes every time I closed mine? No, thank you.

I crossed the floor, picked up the matches, and struck one. A tiny flame flared. Carefully I brought it to the fire and let it chew on the piece of paper in the center of wooden kindling.

A low rumble started in the center of the golem, a rough grating sound of rock grinding against rock. Two pinpoints of sharp light flared in its cavernous sockets.

I sat on the floor.

The golem shuddered. One huge columnar leg lifted and stepped forward, shaking the floor.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The golem stopped before the fire and bent down. Tiny flecks of stone or dry clay broke from its shoulders and fell into the fire, igniting into brilliant white sparks. Slowly, ponderously, it crouched, its steel mouth guard only three feet from me.

I looked into its eyes. “Let me into the circle, and I will tell you the story of the first vampire.”

Behind me, clothes rustled as the two rabbis sat on the bench.

I picked up a stick and poked the fire with it. “Long ago there lived a man. He was a great man, a thinker, philosopher, and magician. We’ll call him Roland. Roland once had a kingdom, the most powerful kingdom in the world, a realm of magic and wonders. His ancestors brought people out of savagery into an age of prosperity and enlightenment and he was very proud of what his family had achieved.

“Roland had many children, for he had lived a very long time, but his favorite was his youngest son, let’s call him Abe. He was Roland’s only child at the time. You see, Roland had a habit of killing children when they rose against him, so Abe was the only one left.