Nightbringer Read Online Free Page B

as well."
    As the others began up the steps, Josh held his place. His utter stillness attracted Father Stephen's gentle attention. "Do you not wish to join us, Joshua? We've prepared an excellent meal for you and you must be hungry from your trip."
    Josh didn't move. "It looks scary."
    Stephen laughed. "Oh, young man, rest assured. There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of in Saint Gregory's. Neither tempest nor storm can enter these walls."
    After a long, uneasy stare, Josh tightly grasped Gina's hand and tentatively mounted the first step.
    ***
    Melanchthon, bent upon a single knee, turned his head to gaze at the feet of the man who had arrived behind him. Nothing was said, for the other monk could not speak. Yet he was one of the few who dared approach Melanchthon so deep within the catacombs of Saint Gregory's where hundreds of thousands of skeletons hung in mute anticipation of what they alone knew.
    Melanchthon nodded slowly and rose.
    "So, Brother Basil," he rumbled, “they have come."
    Melanchthon sighed, and then looked at Basil. "How is Brother Dominic doing today? Resting now, I assume, since you are here and not tending to his needs?"
    Basil faintly nodded and then stared pensively at Melanchthon.
    "The guests, yes – they have come," Melanchthon said with another sigh. "Very well, advise Father Stephen that Melanchthon will be up as soon as he can wash and change."
    With a single solid bow Basil turned solemnly and walked in almost complete silence up the tunnel, surrounded by a halo of yellow light thrown from his lamp. Unlike Jaqual, he did not seem to fear the darkness.
    ***
    In the Great Hall—actually a stupendous cathedral-museum of relics that gleamed silver and gold in the light of a hundred oil-fed candelabra—they moved among remarkable displays of the weapons, uniforms, and armor of ancient Rome.
    There were also holy relics, each presented in intricately carved display cases that, alone, were works of art. And Gina found it remarkable that this eighth wonder of the world had not been open to the public for almost sixty years. It was certainly a boon for the world.
    Then she wondered vaguely about security and observed that the glass of the cases was over two inches thick and, for all practical purposes, unbreakable. Sure, it could be shattered, but it would take something like a bomb. It was certainly a modest measure of security but she did not see cameras or guards or even monks who watched closely enough to be called ‘guards.’
    She was staring upon the marble statue of a heavily armored Roman centurion when the oldest man of the tour group turned to her.
    At least eighty, as his face reflected, the man's body was slightly bent and withered. And as Gina shook his hand she realized that it was soft and without calluses—the hand of a man who turned little more than pages. But his eyes were a scintillating blue and his hair a breathtaking white.
    "Forgive me," he said with a humble, deferential bow, "I am afraid that I did not formally introduce myself. I am Professor Benjamin Haider, and this young lady behind me is my daughter, Rebecca."
    Handshakes all around and Gina re-crossed her arms. "Yeah, I thought you were a professor – especially with the way you entertained the children on the bus ride. You kept them fascinated with all those stories about wars and soldiers and legends." She laughed. "I have to admit, you kept me fascinated! Are you a history professor?"
    "Well," he said, "actually, I'm a sawbones, as they used to call us. But I no longer pract ice medicine. My greatest fascination in these past few years has been history—languages, mostly."
    "That's wonderful!" Gina said instantly. "I hope you can teach Josh a thing or two while you're here!"
    The professor laughed. "Latin?"
    "English!"
    He laughed as Rebecca placed a hand on his shoulder. Appearing to be no older than her mid-thirties—no older than Gina—she must have been conceived when the professor was at least