contained two skulls.
One was unremarkable, but the other was topped with a bronze crown. Unable to breathe, he lifted it out of the case and held it up so he could take a look at the head of one of the legendary Magi of the Christmas story.
The crown was fused to the skull so perfectly that it looked to be one with the bone. Aware that he should get out while the getting was good, he opened Jade ’ s backpack and made to put the skull inside when a faint glimmer of light caught his eye.
An opaque, white gem was set in the front of the crown and, though it defied logic, a band of light seemed to glow from within the stone itself. He frowned, turning the skull in his hands. The light flickered, but did not go away. He was intrigued, but instinct told him he was fortunate to have gotten this far without being caught. He slipped the skull into the backpack, replaced the reliquary lid, and locked the case. At the front door, the flashing lights of the security system gave him pause, but there was nothing for it but to hurry. He chose what he thought was the front door key, let himself out, locked the door behind him, and tossed the keys beneath a shrub a few feet away. Maybe the owner would find them in the morning.
By the time he reached the street, the tightness in his chest had eased and his heart had stopped racing. Even if he had set off an alarm, what would the police find? The museum locked up tight and everything in order. Even if they found the keys and concluded someone had been inside, nothing was missing , as far as they knew. If a security camera showed a shadowy figure messing with the reliquary display, St. Oswald ’ s head was still in its resting place. He wondered if this was what a thief felt like when he committed the perfect crime.
He told himself it wasn ’ t really a crime. The skull belonged to the cathedral at Cologne, and he would see to it that it was returned. But not until they solved the mystery.
Chapter 9- Lazarus
The knock came again, louder and more insistent. Andre sighed and closed his eyes, inhaling a deep, calming breath. This was his time for prayer and contemplation and the church was closed. Whoever was at the door would have to come back in the morning.
He counted to ten in his head, waiting to see if the knock would come again, but it did not. Satisfied that he would not be interrupted he returned to his prayer.
A crash shattered the momentary silence and seemed to rattle Andre ’ s very bones. He sprang to his feet and hurried from his study.
The front door stood open an d a veritable bear of a man loome d in the doorway. Silhouetted against the moon, he was scarcely more than a shadow blotting out the light but , as he closed the d oor behind him, the sight of the intruder turn ed from frightening to horrifying.
Though it was evening, he wore wraparound sunglasses that did not conceal his badly scarred face. He looked like a man who almost lost a battle with leeches. What had done this to him? Some sort of plague?
The man must have seen the horror in Andre ’ s eyes, because his pockmarked face split into something between a sneer and a grin.
“ This is the church of Saint Victor. ” The words, spoken in heavily accented French, formed a statement, not a question. His voice was a cold, low rumble from deep within his chest and sounded to Andre like boulders crashing down a hill.
“ It is. ” Andre swallowed hard. “ What can I do for you? ” He supposed it was possible the man had no ill intentions, and was merely here to see the church. Andre was wrong to judge him by his appearance. He was a child of God, the same as any other. And yes, it was rude of the man to intrude, but entering a church during prayer time was far from the most grievous of sins.
“ Take me to the head of Lazarus. ”
“ You can see all of him right here. ” Andre nodded to the statue of Lazarus of Bethany. The venerate d saint stood with his face lift ed toward heaven. In his left
One was unremarkable, but the other was topped with a bronze crown. Unable to breathe, he lifted it out of the case and held it up so he could take a look at the head of one of the legendary Magi of the Christmas story.
The crown was fused to the skull so perfectly that it looked to be one with the bone. Aware that he should get out while the getting was good, he opened Jade ’ s backpack and made to put the skull inside when a faint glimmer of light caught his eye.
An opaque, white gem was set in the front of the crown and, though it defied logic, a band of light seemed to glow from within the stone itself. He frowned, turning the skull in his hands. The light flickered, but did not go away. He was intrigued, but instinct told him he was fortunate to have gotten this far without being caught. He slipped the skull into the backpack, replaced the reliquary lid, and locked the case. At the front door, the flashing lights of the security system gave him pause, but there was nothing for it but to hurry. He chose what he thought was the front door key, let himself out, locked the door behind him, and tossed the keys beneath a shrub a few feet away. Maybe the owner would find them in the morning.
By the time he reached the street, the tightness in his chest had eased and his heart had stopped racing. Even if he had set off an alarm, what would the police find? The museum locked up tight and everything in order. Even if they found the keys and concluded someone had been inside, nothing was missing , as far as they knew. If a security camera showed a shadowy figure messing with the reliquary display, St. Oswald ’ s head was still in its resting place. He wondered if this was what a thief felt like when he committed the perfect crime.
He told himself it wasn ’ t really a crime. The skull belonged to the cathedral at Cologne, and he would see to it that it was returned. But not until they solved the mystery.
Chapter 9- Lazarus
The knock came again, louder and more insistent. Andre sighed and closed his eyes, inhaling a deep, calming breath. This was his time for prayer and contemplation and the church was closed. Whoever was at the door would have to come back in the morning.
He counted to ten in his head, waiting to see if the knock would come again, but it did not. Satisfied that he would not be interrupted he returned to his prayer.
A crash shattered the momentary silence and seemed to rattle Andre ’ s very bones. He sprang to his feet and hurried from his study.
The front door stood open an d a veritable bear of a man loome d in the doorway. Silhouetted against the moon, he was scarcely more than a shadow blotting out the light but , as he closed the d oor behind him, the sight of the intruder turn ed from frightening to horrifying.
Though it was evening, he wore wraparound sunglasses that did not conceal his badly scarred face. He looked like a man who almost lost a battle with leeches. What had done this to him? Some sort of plague?
The man must have seen the horror in Andre ’ s eyes, because his pockmarked face split into something between a sneer and a grin.
“ This is the church of Saint Victor. ” The words, spoken in heavily accented French, formed a statement, not a question. His voice was a cold, low rumble from deep within his chest and sounded to Andre like boulders crashing down a hill.
“ It is. ” Andre swallowed hard. “ What can I do for you? ” He supposed it was possible the man had no ill intentions, and was merely here to see the church. Andre was wrong to judge him by his appearance. He was a child of God, the same as any other. And yes, it was rude of the man to intrude, but entering a church during prayer time was far from the most grievous of sins.
“ Take me to the head of Lazarus. ”
“ You can see all of him right here. ” Andre nodded to the statue of Lazarus of Bethany. The venerate d saint stood with his face lift ed toward heaven. In his left
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