“The man is wearing a robe and a beard, suggesting he is wise, or powerful. The peculiar thing is that he isn’t holding the hedgehog; he’s releasing it. That’s why Daniel is afraid. He’s not scared by the lions; he’s scared by the evil about to be released into the world.”

“A good analysis. Too bad you were a minute over your time,” Xandria said, tapping her watch.

“You can’t kill someone just because I’m a minute late.”

“Rules are rules,” Xandria said. “Without them, we’d still be living in huts and trading wheat for bearskins. It doesn’t matter if it’s a minute or an hour, late is late.”

“Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry about the lives of your precious ex-family,” Xandria teased. “I’ve got something far worse in mind.”

She reached over and ripped the illuminated page out of the Gutenberg Bible.

Fourteen

fourteen

April watched the time slip away like dirty bathwater down a drain. “Can you go any faster?” she asked the cabdriver as they crawled under the streetlights. She had hoped to reach Dr. Winter’s house by now.

“Lady, have you ever been to DC? Traffic is murder here.” He paused. “Actually, murder is murder here.”

“What?”

“You know, the crime rate is so high . . . it’s an old Washington joke,” the cabbie said.

Murder. April looked at Dr. Winter’s hand, which she’d stashed in a Styrofoam cup filled with ice, purchased from a vendor outside the metro. Dr. Winter wouldn’t be at his house.

“How far are we from the hospital?”

“Six—seven blocks.”

April held up her watch to catch the beam that passed through her window and checked the time again. “We’ve got to go faster. If I give you an extra twenty, will you honk your horn to move these cars?”

The cabbie honked once. “That do it for you?”

April rolled down the window and strained to look down the street. “Might be construction on the bridge.”

“Maybe.”

“This is taking too long,” she said. “Just let me out here.” She shoved a wad of bills through the window divider.

“Do I still get my extra twenty?”

“Yes,” April said, climbing out. “But only because I saw the picture of your wife and kids on the dashboard.”

“Actually, that’s my—yes, thank you! They will be so happy!”

April slammed the door and dashed to the sidewalk, then started running as best she could with the hand and the bulky old book.

Several minutes later she entered the emergency entrance, becoming hyperaware of her dirty clothes, matted hair, and smeared makeup in the bright neon lights of the lobby. She was about to apologize to the woman behind the check-in counter when the woman spoke, completely unfazed by April’s battered state.

“It’s about a thirty-minute wait,” she said, handing April a clipboard.