The Nameless Ones by John Connolly

Chapter LXXXVII

It was late spring when Angel and Louis finally flew into Belgrade. As the only black passenger on the flight, Louis had to endure a thorough baggage search, even though he was also the best-dressed person on board. Their driver was waiting for them in the arrival hall. His name was Željko, and he came highly recommended by Most’s Serbian contacts, which was as close to a guarantee of quality as one could get in an uncertain world. He spoke perfect English, and drove a black Lexus hybrid.

They had booked a suite for one night at the Townhouse 27 Hotel in the center of the city, and ate dinner that evening at Ambar, accompanied by Željko. There they consumed Balkan food, drank Serbian wine, and spoke of the Vlach.

Early the following morning, Željko drove them east to the Bor District, which bordered the Danube and Romania at its eastern extremes. At the Bukovo Monastery, they sheltered from icy fog as a monk fed them red wine from the monastery’s vineyards and said that, yes, he had heard stories of a creature that had taken the form of a young girl, but there were many such legends in these lands. Some said she was one of the rusalki, female entities that stayed eternally youthful, formed from the souls of young women who had drowned. The Romanians of his acquaintance claimed she was the restless spirit of a witch.

But what did he think, Louis asked, and waited for Željko to translate. The monk took his time before answering.

‘He thinks,’ said Željko, ‘that she’s the reason the monastery has a lock on its gate.’

The monk provided them with the name of Johain, a man in the village of Kobišnica, and offered to make a telephone call to let him know they were coming. Johain met them by the village’s two war memorials, where the local dogs emerged to sniff the newcomers curiously. Johain’s English was almost as good as Željko’s, and he admitted that only the intervention of the monk had caused him to agree to meet with them.

The village had just a few stores, and the streets were empty of cars and people. Like so many other such communities, it had been decimated by emigration. But Kobišnica, Johain explained, was also a Vlach settlement and had, for two centuries, been locked in a state of feud with the neighboring hamlet of Bukovče.

‘Because you’re Vlach?’ said Louis.

‘No,’ Johain replied, ‘because one day someone decided that he didn’t want to live in Bukovče anymore.’

Which sounded to Louis like as good a reason as any to leave a place.

‘The monk said you were looking for a certain girl,’ said Johain.

‘That’s right.’

‘Why?’

‘She killed a friend of ours.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

Louis did, leaving out only his own involvement in any subsequent deaths. ‘There was a rumor she might be Vlach,’ he finished.

‘She is not,’ said Johain.

‘Then what is she?’

‘She is strigoi, maybe, come from below the ground. The French were mining in Bor, digging for copper and gold. They dug too deep. The strigoi was sleeping, and they woke her. If she has returned here, she is sleeping again.’

‘Where?’

‘A dark place where she won’t be disturbed, probably close to where she was first woken.’

‘What if we were to go to Bor and ask there?’

‘You can ask,’ said Johain, ‘but no one will tell you, even if they know.’

‘Why?’

‘In case she hears.’

Louis looked at Željko, who shrugged. ‘I just drive,’ he said.

‘What will you do if you find her?’ said Johain.

‘Kill her,’ said Louis.

‘You can’t kill her.’

‘Well,’ said Angel, ‘that’s just fucking great.’

‘But,’ said Johain, ‘you can destroy her.’

They spent the night at a hotel in Negotin, where they waited for Johain to call. He contacted them shortly after 7 a.m., as the sky filled with light. He asked if they had brought good boots and they told him they had. When they picked him up in Kobišnica, he was holding a hand-drawn map.

‘I think I know where she is,’ he said, as he got into the car and gave Željko directions in Serbian.

‘I thought you told us people were afraid she’d hear,’ said Angel.

‘They whispered.’

‘I hate this place,’ said Angel.

‘Also, if you fail, they believe she’ll probably come after you, not them,’ said Johain. ‘And if you succeed, you’ll have done them a service.’

‘What about you?’

‘Oh, she’ll come after me, too, which is why I’m going with you to make sure you don’t fail.’

Angel supposed there was a kind of logic to this, but trying to figure out what it might be made his head hurt, so he stopped.

‘I must make an observation,’ said Johain. ‘You are very accepting of all this strangeness.’

Angel and Louis exchanged a glance, and thought of Parker.

‘Man,’ said Angel, ‘you don’t even know from strange.’

They drove to Lazar’s Canyon, six miles from Bor. Lazar’s Canyon, Johain explained, was the deepest, most inhospitable chasm in the country, more than three miles long and carved by the Lazar River from limestone reefs dating from the Jurassic period. It descended to nearly a quarter of a mile at its deepest point, and was twelve feet across at its narrowest, the floor strewn with boulders and sown with rock towers, the steep slopes drenched by waterfalls, marred by rockslides, and pitted with caves and caverns.

‘She sleeps in there,’ said Johain, pointing into the shadows of the canyon, the sunlight seeming almost to shirk from exploring its reaches.

‘Did I say I hate this place?’ said Angel.

‘You did,’ said Johain.

‘Did I also mention that I’m recovering from cancer?’

‘You can stay with the car, if you prefer.’

Angel turned to Željko. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I also would prefer to stay with the car,’ he said, ‘but he’ – Željko pointed at Louis – ‘told me I wasn’t being paid to sit on my fucking ass. Excuse me, but those were his exact words. Also, someone has to carry the hammer.’

‘The hammer?’ said Angel.

‘The hammer,’ said Johain.

‘Why do we need a hammer?’ said Angel. ‘Actually, don’t tell me.’

His gaze moved between the Audi and the canyon.

‘And I thought Jersey was wild,’ he said. ‘Okay, fine. I’m coming too.’

They headed into the canyon. The day was already cold, but the canyon’s depths were colder still. They tried their best to stay in what little sun there was, yet even that was sparse. Angel walked more slowly than the others, but not by much: the boulders on the canyon floor forced frequent detours, and sometimes they were obliged to clamber over rockslides that had blocked the way entirely. They would break a sweat only for it to cool upon them once the obstacle was cleared. It was misery for Angel, although he did not complain. He had not tested his body in this way since the surgery, and it was standing up to the ordeal. This was why he had endured the pain of the operation and the subsequent misery of chemotherapy: to feel pain and know that he could beat it.

At last they came to a small waterfall that fed into a stream. To the right of the waterfall were three holes in the rock, one larger than the rest. The cliff face looked unscalable at first, but from an angle it was possible to spot depressions that might serve as handholds and footholds.

‘There,’ said Johain.

‘You’re sure?’ said Louis.

‘Would I have brought you here otherwise?’

‘I sure hope not.’

Angel sat on a boulder. ‘There’s no way I can get up there.’

‘I can make it,’ said Željko.

‘Yeah, I reckon I can too,’ said Louis. He turned to Johain. ‘What about you?’

‘I will stay here, with Angel.’

‘Afraid?’ said Louis.

‘Very,’ said Johain.

The climb was easier than it looked, but the largest of the caves, when Louis and Željko entered it, narrowed significantly beyond its mouth. The two men had flashlights, but were forced to crouch as they ventured deeper, until finally Louis was convinced that they might have to crawl if they were to progress farther. This he had no desire to do. He did not suffer particularly from claustrophobia, but something primal in him rebelled against the prospect of enclosure.

Then, just as it seemed crawling would indeed be forced upon them, the cave widened again, and they found themselves in a small chamber in which they could almost stand upright. In an alcove lay the exsiccated remains of a small human being, like a skeleton wrapped in old paper. The body was curled into the fetal position, the hands folded beneath the head as though to cushion it in sleep.

‘Is it her?’ said Željko.

The chin was pointed, and the skull slightly rounded, which suggested the remains were female. Louis focused his attention on the spine. The scoliosis of which Frend had spoken was plain to see.

‘It’s her,’ said Louis. ‘Hand me the sack.’

Željko produced a woven sack from his pack and held it open while Louis shifted the cadaver into it, the skin tearing and the bones separating in the process. They then retraced their steps, Željko leading, until they reemerged into the canyon. Louis tied off the top of the sack and dropped it to where Angel and Johain waited. He and Željko climbed back down without incident, and the four men stood around the body, the bones poking against the material, the hemisphere of the skull rising from the heart of them.

‘Give me the hammer,’ said Louis.

Željko handed it over, and Louis broke the bones, striking at them over and over until they were reduced to fragments. Angel then took a turn, followed by Željko, until the fragments became little more than shards and dust. Johain did not offer to help. When they were done, Louis opened the sack and tipped the contents into the stream. He turned to Johain.

‘Are you sure that’ll do it?’

‘Can’t you feel it?’ said Johain. ‘She’s gone.’

Zorya opened her eyes. Jennifer Parker was standing before her. Behind Jennifer, the dead immersed themselves in still waters.

‘You were right,’ said Zorya. ‘I wanted to hurt them, just as they once hurt me. Men, women, all of them.’ Zorya’s voice sounded clearer to her than before. She was of this place now. ‘Are you going to hurt me as well?’

‘We’re beyond that,’ said Jennifer.

‘Are we?’

‘It would serve no purpose. And I understand you. You see, I also want to inflict punishment. A man tore me apart. He cut off my face and punctured my eyes.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Zorya.

‘I know you are. I want revenge for what was done to me.’

Zorya looked beyond Jennifer to where the dead lost themselves.

‘Must I go with them?’ said Zorya.

‘Not if you don’t want to.’

‘What else can I do?’

‘You can be like me,’ said Jennifer, as worlds burned in her eyes. ‘You can wait.’

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