Staked (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #8)(66)
“We’ll see if we can arrange it. We have to be vampire hunters first.”
We crossed the river by way of the Charles Bridge, a wonderful structure graced on both sides by baroque sculptures and handy lights for night walks, and I paused at the statue of St. John of Nepomuk to point out something to Oberon.
“See these plaques at the base?” I said, where there were bronze bas-reliefs of St. John’s death. “Notice how parts of them are shiny?”
<Yeah! Why are those parts so clean?>
“Because people keep touching them, and all those hands have polished those parts to a golden glow. The legend is that if you touch the image on the right side—the one depicting the priest being thrown into the river—you’ll have good luck and return to Prague soon.”
<Oh! So what’s going on with the left—hey! That shiny part on the left is a hound!>
“Yep! People touch the image on the right for luck, but then they also pet the hound on the left, because hounds are so awesome. That hound has been petted by millions of people over the centuries. That’s why he’s so shiny.”
<Wow! That’s a pretty lucky hound. This is now my favorite statue.>
I leaned forward and gave the hound on the statue a quick scratch behind the ears. Then I touched the priest on the right. I’m not a Catholic, but I could use all the luck I could get, and in theory, at least, the Big Guy in the Sky was rooting for me, along with the gods of several other pantheons, thanks to Rebecca Dane. The least he deserved from me was a courtesy greeting.
“All right, let’s move on. But keep your nose open for dead guys instead of goulash. I’m counting on you to give me a heads-up before they attack.”
Once we got to the eastern shore we plowed down the cobbled Karlova Ulice, past innumerable shops hawking expensive crystal, amber necklaces, or cheap souvenirs, and barkers trying to get us to eat at one of the many restaurants or take in a theatre show. I admired the astronomical clock in the Old Town Square, lit up at night, and people either admired or shied away from Oberon as we passed. Tourists enjoyed beers or dinner at one of the many outdoor seating areas there, and the locals enjoyed the money the tourists spent.
After crossing the square we continued down Celetná Ulice, and once we reached the Grand Café Orient we took a left up Králodvorská Ulice, which would bring us to the Grand Hotel Bohemia from behind. It loomed above us on the narrow street, six stories of a yellow cream, its fa?ade curved around the corner it occupied.
We stopped before rounding the corner to the entrance.
“All right, Oberon, Star Wars pop quiz: Which phrase is used most often in the movies?”
<Oh! I know! “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” or some variation of that.>
“Correct! And that’s my feeling right now. I don’t trust Leif. Or any vampire, really. So I’d like you to be my ace in the hole here in case something goes sideways.”
<Well, you should have a bad feeling. I smell dead people now.>
“That’s somewhat encouraging. If the vampires are here, maybe one of them is Theophilus. I can pull a Julie d’Aubigny and end it.”
<Heck yes! Be like Julie!>
“But in case something goes wrong, I’m going to camouflage you and leave you here. If I have to retreat I will come back this way, and I want you to knock down the first person who’s following me. Don’t bite or engage them, just knock them over, and then catch up with me.”
<Got it. I can do that! And then you can goulash me.>
With Oberon kept safe—which was truly my intention in leaving him there, not that he protect my retreat—I proceeded to the double doors of the Grand Bohemia and cast camouflage to give me some time to scope out the place, unobserved.
The outer doors opened into an unusual glass-enclosed foyer, with five angled panels, two of which were doors leading to the left and right of the center panel. The reception desk and staircase waited straight ahead across a tiled floor, and flush with the front of the building to either side were carpeted sitting areas with little cocktail tables. The furniture was upholstered in rich red and gold frilly patterns, with matching heavy drapes framing the large arched windows. A huge portrait of Karl IV, the 14th-century Holy Roman Emperor who ruled from Bohemia, gazed benevolently upon the hotel guests and reminded them that Prague had once been the capital of the Western world. In the back of the room, to the left of reception and the staircase, a doorway with CAFé/BAR emblazoned above it announced that potables could be had, and I glimpsed a bored bartender behind the taps.
The seating areas on either side of the lobby were occupied by six individuals each, and once I switched my vision to the magical spectrum, I saw that every single one of them was a vampire. I pulled out the stake and wondered where to begin. Which, if any of them, was Theophilus?
I didn’t get a chance to find out. One of the vampires on the right was wearing slightly odd glasses that I first dismissed as pretentious fashion, but they were modern infrared goggles. He couldn’t see through my camouflage binding, but he could sure see my heat signature standing there and not actually entering the lobby. He could no doubt smell me too. I caught this as he pulled out a phone, thumbed a speed-dial number, and then said in German, “Er ist am Eingang. Ja. Machen wir.” He rang off, nodded at the others on his right, and they rose together. A quick glance at the left side of the lobby confirmed that the vampires there were doing the same, and my bad feeling got infinitely worse. German Goggle Vamp shouted, “Schie?t auf die Tür!” and the guns came out from under jackets and I ducked just in time to avoid the worst of the fire. They wound up shooting each other more than me, but I still took a bullet in the left hamstring as I threw myself at the door and crawled out to the sidewalk. Once there, I realized I couldn’t stand up—not only because of the bullet in my leg but because if I did, the goggles guy would see me in infrared and have a clear shot as I ran by the front windows to where Oberon was. My scent would help them find me too, so the best option was to stop being human for a bit until I could ditch them. I triggered the charm that changed my shape to a sea otter and wriggled out of my clothes on three limbs instead of four, leaving them on the sidewalk for the vampires to smell, then I scampered as quickly as I could manage, hobbled as I was, along the base of the building so that my heat signature could not be seen through the windows, carrying the stake in my mouth. I hoped no one but vampires had been hurt. Just as I reached the corner, vampires burst out of the hotel entrance accompanied by a human—one whose voice I knew too well.