The candles in the chamber had been put out, but a faint light came from the fireplace where the logs were burning down. The red glow gave an unearthly charm to the smooth skin and slender body of Douce of Pack, lying beside him among the ruffled bedclothes. The Wallcreeper was resting on one elbow, looking at the girl, at her widely open eyes fixed on him. He recalled other fires, other eyes, other naked bodies, other violent sex heightened by pain. At sabbaths and orgies in the mountains of Harz, in the forest clearings of Pomerania, in the caves of Alpujarras and in the wildernesses of the Estremadura. When the earth trembled from the thudding of drums and when bats and owls flitted in the night air punctuated by the trilling of pipes.

A skull-like moon shone through the window.

He had needlessly begun a liaison with her. He had lured her, drawn her to him. That was a mistake. A mistake that would have to be put right.

Douce of Pack sighed and raised herself up. The Wallcreeper instinctively looked at her neck and quickly envisioned how to seize and twist it.

Two movements would suffice, he thought, and that gleam in her eyes would die…

Son, he suddenly heard in his head. He sat up in bed.

Son, said Kundrie, come at once. I must show you something, something that is linked to the maiden you seek. I am waiting. Come.

Like hell, he thought. She’s simply run out of aurum potabile. Ah well, I’ll have to go. She’s my mother, like it or not.

“Is something the matter?” asked Douce, sitting up and brushing her hair from her forehead. The fire from the hearth flickered on her small breasts. It flashed on her wide-open eyes. “What’s the matter? Are you going?”

“Yes. I’ll be back late.”

“Are you leaving me alone?”

“Yes, but not right this moment.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her down onto the pillows. She yielded to him, forced into subservience. And they made love with wild abandon. In the glow of the fire and the pale light of the skull-like moon.

Stadtluft macht frei, recalled the Wallcreeper, walking from the Sand Bridge down Castle Street.

The fact that numerous creatures of the night dwelt in Wrocław was no surprise to him. Some time had passed, however, since he had last wandered there after dark and during that time, as it turned out, much had changed. Indeed, he observed as he walked, it wasn’t only Kundrie who sensed a whiff of freedom in the breath of the city. It was not just she, as it turned out, who felt good and at ease in Wrocław. It was not just she, as it turned out, whom the city habitat suited.

A dzanteer, surprised by a doorway, raised its long muzzle, clearly not understanding how the Wallcreeper could see it. It finally hid in the darkness, arching its back and raising its hackles.