Page 8 of The Secret of Secrets

Langdon would never forget his first day with Katherine in this mystical place—losing themselves in a labyrinth of cobblestone streets…dashing hand in hand through a misty rain…taking cover beneath an archway of Kinský Palace in Old Town Square…and there, breathless, in the shadows of the Clock Tower…their very first kiss, which felt surprisingly effortless after decades of friendship.

Whether because of Prague, perfect timing, or the guidance of some unseen hand, Langdon had no idea, but it had sparked an unexpected alchemy between them, which was growing stronger with every passing day.

Across town, The Golěm turned a final corner and arrived wearily at his building. He unlocked the outer door and stepped into the meager foyer of his domicile.

The entryway was dark, but he chose not to turn on the light. Instead, he slipped through a narrow passage to a hidden staircase, which he climbed in obscurity, gripping the railing for guidance. His legs ached, protesting as he ascended, and he was grateful when he finally reached his apartment door. After carefully wiping the snow from his boots, The Golěm unlocked the door and stepped inside.

His flat was veiled in complete darkness.

Exactly as I created it.

Its interior walls and ceilings were painted solid black, and the windows were shrouded with heavy drapes. The lacquered floors were already dull and murky and reflected no light, and there were almost no furnishings.

The Golěm threw a master switch, and a dozen black lights illuminated throughout the apartment, radiating a soft purplish glow on those objects that were pale in hue. His home was an otherworldly landscape—ephemeral and luminescent—and it instantly relaxed him. Moving through this space gave him the sensation of drifting through a deep void…floating from one shimmering object to another.

The absence of broad-spectrum light created a “time-neutral” environment—an atemporal world in which his physical form received no circadian cues. The Golěm’s duties required he keep irregular hours, and the lack of light freed his biorhythms from the influences of conventional time. Predictable schedules were a luxury enjoyed by simpler souls…unburdened souls.

My services are required by her at unexpected times—day and night.

He made his way through the ghostly darkness, entering his dressing room and shedding his cloak and boots. Naked now below the neck, his skin glowed pale in the black light, but he avoided looking at it. His sanctuary intentionally had no mirrors, save the tiny handheld with which he applied the clay to his face.

Seeing his physical shell was always unsettling.

This body is not mine.

I have simply manifested within it.

The Golěm padded barefoot to the bathroom, where he turned on the shower and stepped in. After peeling off his clay-caked skullcap, he closed his eyes, raising his face to the warm stream. The water felt purifying as the dried clay dissolved into dark rivulets that ran down his body and spiraled into the drain.

Once The Golěm felt confident that he had shed all traces of his activities last night, he stepped from the shower and dried himself off.

The Ether was pulling harder at him now, but he did not reach for his wand.

It is time.

Still naked, The Golěm made his way through the darkness to his svatyně—the special room he had created to receive this gift.

In total blackness, he walked to the hemp mattress he kept positioned in the middle of the floor. Respectfully, he lay down, positioning himself naked and supine in the exact center of the mat.

Then he secured the perforated chengbaobaby silicone ball in his mouth…and Released.

Chapter 4

First one here too, Langdon thought, arriving at Strahov Swimming Center just as the attendant was unlocking the building. Langdon knew of few experiences more luxurious than having an entire twenty-five-meter pool to himself. He found his rented locker, slid into his Speedo, took a quick shower, grabbed his Vanquisher goggles, and made his way to the pool.

The overhead fluorescent lights were just warming up, and the room was still mostly dark. Langdon stood with his toes over the edge of the pool, gazing out at the smooth expanse of water, which looked like a massive black mirror.

The Temple of Athena, he mused, recalling how ancient Greeks had practiced catoptromancy by gazing into dark pools of water to glimpse their future. He pictured Katherine asleep in their hotel room and wondered if perhaps she was his future. The notion was both unnerving and exciting for the consummate bachelor.

Langdon pulled the goggles over his eyes, took a deep breath, and launched himself out over the water, slicing through the surface. Underwater, he held his glide for two seconds and then did ten meters of dolphin kick before emerging into freestyle.

Focusing on the cadence of his breathing, Langdon drifted into the semi-meditative state that swimming always afforded him. His muscular frame relaxed, and his body became streamlined and lithe, powering forward through the darkness at an impressive pace for a man in his fifties.

Normally, swimming emptied Langdon’s mind completely, but this morning, even after four laps, his mind was full…replaying moments of Katherine’s compelling lecture last night.

“Your consciousness is not created by your brain. In fact, your consciousness is not even located inside your head.”

Those words had piqued the curiosity of everyone present, and yet Langdon knew her lecture had barely scratched the surface of what would be included in her upcoming book.