“Others have come here before you. I can see those that are of no use to me. I need one rare human. One who can give me all their blood so that I can survive.”
“Who told you this? The Russian priest?” John’s low ghostly growl made Joseph take a half-step back and then he stilled. “It was him. He did not know what he was talking about.”
“And you do?”
“I might be able to give you peace,” said Joseph. “Although you surely do not deserve it. You were cruel and evil long before your illness.”
“That is not true!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the tower room. “I was a good master before…”
“Before? Before you knew you were dying?”
“Leave me, Indian. Leave me now or I will harm your friends downstairs.”
“Let me help you.”
“How? How can you possibly help a dead man? If I am truly dead and beyond returning to life, how could you possibly help me?”
“I need but one tiny bone. A finger or toe will do. We can test it and find what it was you died from.”
“I died from not having the blood I needed!” he bellowed. He stood with great effort and then stilled. “No! You brought many. No!”
His image disappeared but his bones remained as they were on the giant chair. Joseph reached over, snapping off a finger and tucked it beneath his stealth suit. He raced down the steps of the tower and saw his team racing to and from differentlocations, creating a disturbance that John O’Shan could not see or find.
He signed that he had what they needed and headed to the gates of the outer bailey. When the last man was through and safely on the other side, they removed their cloaks and then heard a sound they wished they had never heard.
The howl of pain and defeat released by John O’Shan made them all cover their ears, Liffey actually kneeling on one knee, crouched low to the ground. The women heard it as well.
Standing near the car, Rose and Julia covered their ears and winced in pain.
“It’s like a banshee cry,” said Rose. “It’s horrible. Filled with pain.”
When the cry stopped, the men returned to the cars, gasping for breath, exhausted from the event.
“He was everywhere,” said Rory. “I could feel him everywhere.”
“And yet he was standing before me, talking as if we were old friends,” said Joseph. “I exposed myself and spoke to him. He claims he was a good master before he knew he was dying. He reacted violently when I mentioned the Russian priest.”
“Interesting,” frowned Rose. “I’d say we need to find out who that priest was.”
“Did you get what we needed?” asked Julia staring at Joseph, the sweat on his brow dripping down his fast in spite of the cool wind and rain. He held up the finger bone and nodded.
“Now we get this back home. Once we know what he had maybe we can help him to move on.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After showering and returning to the library, everyone began scouring the books to see if they’d missed anything at all that might help them. Joseph seemed fine, happy that the finger bone was on it’s way home to their own laboratories.
“You’ve got an interesting family history,” smirked JT. “A cattle rustling ancestor, a pirate, a musician, three priests, a nun, and a few other sordid characters.”
“I do,” nodded Conor with a grin. “Some were legitimate business men and women, others had more imagination.”
“Hey, what were the dates of O’Shan’s death again?” asked Fitz.
“He died in September 1691, or thereabouts. Why?” asked Rose.
“Because this book is describing a traveling minstrel and circus show during the county’s fair days several years before that. It speaks of jugglers, men walking on sticks, tight-rope walkers, and healers. It even mentions several countries, Spanish Empire, Kingdoms of Bohemia and Poland, and …”
“Let me guess, the Czardom of Russia?” asked Julia.
