Coldheart Canyon Read Free

the corridor, turning on another light as he did so. “I was hoping I might be able to persuade you to make a purchase,” he said.
    “Of what?” Zeffer said.
    Zeffer wasn’t encouraged by what he’d seen so far. A few of the pieces of furniture he’d spotted yesterday had a measure of rustic charm, but nothing he could imagine buying.
    “I didn’t realize you were selling the contents of the Fortress.”
    Sandru made a little groan. “Ah . . . I’m afraid to say we must sell in order to eat. And that being the case, I would prefer that the finer things went to someone who will take care of them, such as yourself.”
    Sandru walked on ahead a little way, turning on a third light and then a fourth. This level of the Fortress, Zeffer was beginning to think, was bigger than the floor above. Corridors ran off in all directions.
    “But before I begin to show you,” Sandru said, “you must tell me—are you in a buying mood?”
    Zeffer smiled. “Father, I’m an American. I’m always in a buying mood.”
    Sandru had given Katya and Zeffer a history of the Fortress the previous day; though as Zeffer remembered it there was much in the account that had sounded bogus. The Order of Saint Teodor, Zeffer had decided, had something to hide. Sandru had talked about the Fortress as a place steeped CC[001-347] 9/10/01 2:26 PM Page 13
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    in secrets; but nothing particularly bloody. There had been no battles fought there, he claimed, nor had its keep ever held prisoners, nor its courtyard witnessed atrocity or execution. Katya, in her usual forthright manner, had said that she didn’t believe this to be true.
    “When I was a little girl there were all kinds of stories about this place,” she said. “I heard horrible things were done here. That it was human blood in the mortar between the stones. The blood of children.”
    “I’m sure you must have been mistaken,” the Father had said.
    “Absolutely not. The Devil’s wife lived in this fortress. Lilith, they called her. And she sent the Duke away on a hunt. And he never came back.”
    Sandru laughed; and if it was a performance, then it was an exceptionally good one. “Who told you these tales?” he said.
    “My mother.”
    “Ah.” Sandru had shaken his head. “And I’m sure she wanted you in bed, hushed and asleep, before the Devil came to cut off your head.”
    Katya had made no reply to this. “There are still such stories, told to children. Of course. Always stories. People invent tales. But believe me, this is not an unholy place. The brothers would not be here if it was.”
    Despite Sandru’s plausibility, there’d still been something about all of this that had made Zeffer suspicious; and a little curious. Hence his return visit. If what the Father was saying was a lie (a sin, by his own definition), then what purpose was it serving? What was the man protecting?
    Certainly not a few rooms filled with filthy tapestries, or some crudely carved furniture. Was there something here in the Fortress that deserved a closer look? And if so, how did he get the Father to admit to it?
    The best route, he’d already decided, was fiscal. If Sandru was to be persuaded to reveal his true treasures, it would be through the scent of hard cash in his nostrils. The fact that Sandru had raised the subject of buying and selling made the matter easier to broach.
    “I do know Katya would love to have something from her homeland to take back to Hollywood,” he said. “She’s built a huge house, so we have plenty of room.”

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    “Oh, yes?”
    “And of course, she has the money.”
    This was naked, he knew, but in his experience of such things subtlety seldom played well. Which point was instantly proved.
    “How much are we talking about?” the Father asked mildly.
    “Katya Lupi is one of the best-paid actresses in Hollywood. And I am authorized to buy whatever I think might please her.”
    “Then