“Tenzin?” Ben looked over his shoulder, then turned to scan the room.
She was gone.
18
Tenzin waited a few minutes in the sacred silence of the private chapel. She turned in the center of the room, enjoying the scent of incense and wax. She spotted a familiar face in the far corner and walked over to greet her.
“Hello, Kali Ma.” Tenzin put her right hand over her heart and bowed. “It has been too long, mother.”
The painting hanging on the wall was a relatively modern depiction of the goddess, her skin the color of charcoal ash and her four arms round and fat with bounty. One of her right hands was up in a position of blessing and the other held a handful of pink flowers. In the left hands, she carried a curved sword and a bloody severed head.
Her long black hair fell down her naked body in a wild, untamed waterfall. Delicate fangs peeked from behind her lips, and a golden crown adorned her head. The painting was framed in gold and an altar had been built beneath it.
Mother and devourer. It wasn’t the first time Tenzin had encountered the goddess, and it wouldn’t be the last. Kali was beyond time. Some vampires believed she was time.
Tenzin looked at the Christian sister whose picture they had come for, resting patiently in her golden frame, her eyes only hinting at the sacred and ferocious feminine she represented to her devotees. As Tenzin surveyed the chapel, she recognized other familiar faces.
Parvati and Durga.
Dana.
Kybele.
Pele.
Ala and Ishtar.
Tenzin glanced back at Kali Ma before she went to fetch Benjamin. “I haven’t forgotten you, Kali Ma. But you haven’t caught me yet.”
She pushed on the panel leading out to the chapel and invited Ben inside.
“Hey.” His eyes widened when he poked his head inside the chapel. “Oh wow.”
“This is the place he truly worships.” Even as she said it, Tenzin knew it wasn’t true. This place wasn’t for Gergo Farkas. There was a profoundly feminine energy in the space, and it came from both the worshippers and the worshipped.
She gestured to the small icon hanging near Kali’s right hands. “I believe we’ve found your icon.”
Ben stepped inside the room, and his vibrant, masculine energy filled the space.
Tenzin glanced at Kali Ma, pleased that she felt no imbalance. Ben was the best kind of male, utterly confident in who he was while humble enough to respect the feminine.
Ben stood in front of Sara-la-Kali. The icon was modest next to the gilt-edged painting of Kali. The woman was depicted in the flat perspective common in Eastern European art. Her skin was medium brown and her eyes large, dark, and round. She wore a soft pink scarf around her hair, the base knotted at her nape, and her right hand was raised in a gentle blessing.
“There she is.” Ben’s voice was soft. “Damn.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It probably sounds strange, but I really hate to move her. She seems happy here.”
Tenzin smiled. It was good to see his reluctance. “She won’t mind.”
He glanced over his shoulder, amused. “I don’t think she’ll care one way or the other, but it’s obvious that Farkas holds this icon in enormous esteem.” He turned in a circle. “This is a very… deliberate collection.”
“It is.” Depictions of the sacred feminine from all parts of the world were everywhere. Creation and destruction. Life and death. Hindu, Christian, druidic, pagan, and more. Her eyes locked on a small triptych on the altar to the right of Kali. “Yes, it’s quite obvious that this isn’t simply… art.”
Could it be?
Oh, you clever vampire.
Tenzin smiled at the Renaissance painting. “Take the icon. Sara-la-Kali belongs to Radu and his people.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. You will not offend her.” She stepped forward to examine the triptych. The patroness who had commissioned it was pictured to the left of Mary, raising the same hand of blessing that Sara and the Kali offered.
Yes, she was a very clever girl.
How had she concealed their relationship so well? Tenzin had studied Gergo Farkas, and not a hint of immortal connection had come to light.
Where was this leading?
Was that why her brother…?
“Oh!” Pieces of Radu’s plan started to fall into place, but there were still a number of holes. What an odd, roundabout way of—
“Tenzin?”
Oops. She’d forgotten about Ben.
Tenzin turned. “Hmm?”
“What’s going on?”
Would he see? Probably not. She gestured to the triptych. “I was just admiring this one.” If he noticed it, she’d fill him in. If not… he’d figure it out soon enough.
Ben shook his head. “We’re not taking any other pieces from this place. I feel bad enough taking the icon.”
“Oh no, it’s fine.” She waved a hand. “I’m not going to take anything else. Well, maybe…” She picked up a small pink posy that had been laid on the Kali’s altar. Kali Ma wouldn’t mind. Tenzin wanted to press an offering in Nima’s journal.
“A flower?” Ben asked. “I doubt Farkas is going to notice.”
He gently lifted the icon from the wall and placed it in the case he’d brought with them. It was only about a foot and a half long by a foot wide. He secured the icon, placed the protective layers over it, then strapped the case onto his back.
“Okay, we better go.”
He was focused now. All he was thinking about was securing the prize and returning it to the client. He wasn’t seeing the larger puzzle, but he would. Soon.
“Right.” Tenzin turned, pressed her hands together, and bowed toward Kali Ma. Then she reached into her pocket and took out the only offering she’d brought, a lime-flavored candy she’d grabbed from Gavin’s club the night before. She placed the candy on the altar, murmured a mantra, and bowed once more.
Ben was frowning. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll explain later.” She pushed the panel open and walked into the baroque chapel. “Come on. Radu is waiting.”
Ben sat in his room in Budapest, drinking a glass of blood-wine and staring at the icon he’d stolen from a human thief to give to a vampire one.
All’s fair in love and war.
And art theft. Ben was fine with that. Farkas was a well-known thief, and he’d left his house unprotected. He couldn’t be surprised that decades of privacy, layers of aliases, and dense Hungarian bureaucracy had not been enough to protect him.
Nope.
Something else was bugging him. It wasn’t only Tenzin’s odd reaction in Farkas’s chapel. It wasn’t the eclectic mix of deities in the worship space. It was the house itself.
Which vampire designed it? Was it a coincidence? Had Gergo Farkas happened to buy a house that had once belonged to a vampire? It was possible. He could have found the passages after he bought the property and decided the house had belonged to a criminal or a kinky aristocrat. It might even have been why he liked the mansion in the first place.
But that didn’t explain the mirrors.
The carefully placed mirrors were the thing that was bugging him. Paranoid human or cautious vampire?