Page 193 of The Secret of Secrets

The Hebrew word for dead.

The Golěm felt no different outwardly, and yet he could feel that his inner self, his soul, his consciousness…was beginning to shift. He was preparing to detach from this borrowed body once and for all.

The Golěm had died many times, and he knew his essence would linger, but he also knew that this time was different. This time, it was his choice.

I came to this realm…so she could live.

And soon I must depart…so she can live.

Today had seen the death of many things.

The death of Threshold.

The death of Sasha’s tormenters.

And soon, the death of The Golěm himself.

Turning from the mirror, The Golěm began removing his remaining clothes. Once he was naked, he stepped into the lab’s emergency shower and turned it on.

The lukewarm water felt restorative on his weary head and shoulders.

Accepting his transformation, he lowered his eyes and watched the streaks of wet clay running down his pale flesh…long gray rivulets spiraling down the drain for the final time.

Chapter 122

Robert Langdon stepped warily into the luminescent flat, trying to make sense of the scene before him. The upstairs apartment appeared to be lit entirely by black lights, its desolate interior infused by a ghostly purple haze. The walls, floors, and ceilings were painted solid black. In the corner was a cheap chair and table on which sat a glass that appeared to be half-full of water.

Does someone actually live here?

Langdon needed only a moment to conclude that the mysterious occupant must be Dmitri Sysevich. The realization brought a host of unanswered questions, but Langdon was fairly certain, at least, that the man would not be returning.

He is most likely buried under Threshold.

Sasha probably had no idea her apartment shared a key with the abandoned space upstairs. Dmitri, however, almost certainly knew. Sasha’s self-proclaimed protector…had direct access to Sasha’s locked apartment. The thought made Langdon’s skin crawl.

“Sasha?” he called out, moving deeper. “It’s Robert Langdon! Are you here?”

Silence. The air tasted stale, and the floors creaked as he and Katherine moved.

“Sasha?!” Katherine shouted.

The layout of this flat was different from Sasha’s, although it was equally meager. Methodically, Langdon and Katherine searched the space. The kitchen was barren, the refrigerator empty except for two large bottles of Poděbradka mineral water. The small walk-in closet outside the bedroom contained only a rod with three empty hangers.

Langdon was starting to think this flat was less of a residence than some kind of bizarre occasional refuge.

“The bedroom has no lights,” Katherine said, flipping the switch up and down.

Langdon joined her at the bedroom door. “Sasha?”

Getting no reply, he moved past Katherine into the blackness, inching blindly across the room with outstretched arms, hoping to feel a window and perhaps a way to open the shutters. Halfway into the room, he felt himself step on something soft on the floor—a cushion or mat of some sort.

The hiss of a sulfur match sizzled behind him, and Langdon turned to see Katherine crouching before a low table and lighting a series of candles. As the light grew brighter, Langdon could see the table was some kind of shrine that consisted of three candles and an arrangement of dried flowers. Above them on the wall hung a woman’s photo.

Langdon recognized the blond woman instantly. “My God…that’s Sasha,” he said to Katherine, walking toward the eerie display, realizing that Dmitri’s affection for Sasha had bordered on…obsession. Her protector, he thought, still trying to put the pieces together.

“Look,” Katherine said, pointing to a large mat on the center of the floor.

“I guess he slept here sometimes.”