City of Swords by Alex Archer Read Free Book Online

and desire. If you shed your youthful curiosity. If you follow me honestly.”
    “I do. I—I will.”
    He grabbed her by the shoulders. “If you are to be one of my twelve, you must convince me, Sarah.”
    “Anything,” she said. “I’ll do anything.”
    “Then prepare for another foray. Now, shall we…” He glided past her toward the stairs, inviting her to follow. “Shall we see Roland’s Durendal?”
    The big staircase was a wrought-iron, circular one he’d imported from an ironworks in Scotland. It ended in the center of a massive room filled with crates and forklifts—the trappings of a warehouse. An illusion he found satisfactory.
    Dr. Lawton approached Archard, who was kneeling in front of one of the smaller crates, now draped with a length of velvet. It was as close to an altar as could be arranged here. The lighting was poor, which helped hide the true nature of the building, but the makeshift altar was directly beneath one of the fixtures.
    “Dr. Lawton,” Archard stated solemnly.
    “Durendal,” Lawton said. “Our mission has begun in earnest.”

Chapter 8

    “I thought it was a wrap, that we were done. You sent the rest of the crew home.” Rembert Hayes was Annja’s photographer for the dog-men segment in Avignon. He’d worked diligently with her on the project for the past three and a half days, and now he nudged his wheeled suitcase with his foot, jiggling it just enough to make a soft clacking sound against the marble floor of the Hotel Danieli lobby. He’d been her cameraman in the catacombs under Paris before that, never complaining, happy to get the work, in fact, as he was a hungry freelancer. But he’d just gotten a text from his daughter, who was on her way to the hospital to give birth. He was obviously going to miss the event, but he wanted to get back home to New York as soon as possible, and Annja sympathized. His daughter would be a first-time mom with single-parent responsibilities.
    “I thought it was a wrap, too.”
    “May I call a car to take you—” the bellman began, but Annja’s scowl cut him off.
    “Rem, I’m very sorry, but—”
    “Plenty of footage, Annja. We have some great color work.” He drummed his fingers on the concierge counter and jiggled the suitcase again. “I called. We can catch a flight in two hours at the Caumont Airport, just outside town. It’ll take us to Manchester, and we can connect to New York and—”
    “Be home sometime tomorrow,” Annja finished. She studied him and offered a sad smile. “I thought your daughter wasn’t due for another two weeks.”
    “The baby had other ideas, I guess.”
    “Look, your wife’s with her, right?”
    He nodded.
    “Then she’ll get your daughter through this. We’ve got one more interview.” She waved a sheet of paper at him. She’d had the concierge print out an email off her phone. “Some tipster named Gaston claims to be one of the dog-men.”
    “That’s…what Doug Morrell’s call was about?” Rembert sputtered. “One more interview? We don’t need it.”
    “I might not have liked this whole assignment, Rem. But I’m not going to do a half-assed job when this could add something to an otherwise mediocre piece. And that’s what our dog-men story is right now…nothing special.”
    “Damn, Annja.”
    “I’m not going to argue with Doug about it. We’re doing this.”
    “Doug doesn’t have a pregnant single daughter.”
    “Doug’s twenty-two.”
    “My point.” Rembert made a face. “All your beloved producer cares about are ratings.”
    “Let’s go see this guy and get it over with. Then we’ll take the train back to Paris and get a direct flight. We might still make it home sometime tomorrow.” She told the bellman to store their suitcases.
    “Damn, Annja.” He held the door for her. “A dog-man, eh?”
    “A cynocephalus.”
    “Yeah. Yeah. I know what he’s called. I just hope he’s had his rabies shot.”
    Annja shot him a look. “We’ll walk. It’s