“Have a good night, and do let me know when you have
acquired the statue, won’t you?” he said.
I stepped back allowing him to leave. “Of course I will. I
should know something within the week. Goodnight Matthias, and
do give Elizabeth my best.”
“I will,” he said, stepping out into a cold Philadelphia
night. “Goodnight.” And with that he turned and walked down the
cobblestone path leading to the carriage that awaited him on the
street. As he clambered in, he turned and waved to me. It was the
last time I saw or spoke to Matthias Ardivan. Sometimes, it is hard
to imagine that more than 200 years has passed since that fateful
night.
His angered laugh echoed all around me,
rebounding off the cold shadowy walls, assaulting my
sensitive ears. It was as if there was more than just this one
lone coward in the room with me, hiding; the din of his
evil cutting through the vastness like a death scythe
through the soul. But, it was enough; I knew precisely
where the bastard was hiding.
“I would never fear such as you, but I see no
reason to waste my time either.” Damascus said in his lazy
‘I-couldn’t-care-less’ drawl. I wasn’t buying it in the least.
Sensing the opportunity rushing toward me, I
pulled my silver dagger from its black leather sheath on my
left leg, and the onyx handled sword from its place on my
back; both making the faintest hiss as they were released
from their coverings. Moving quietly closer toward the
panel I knew must be hidden in the wall, my senses began
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