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I was still running my hands up and down my thighs, but Auris took them in his. “We will. Are you all right to stay here with me and those men? If not, I can show you the staff breakroom. The people who stayed to keep the place open for us are nice; certainly better company than this lot.”
I raised my chin. “I’m staying.” I glanced at Charlie, who was trembling with the effort of trying to resist Auris. “I want to see this.”
Auris kissed my knuckles. “Then that’s how it will be.”
He stood and went behind the bar counter, where he rummaged around until he found what he’d been looking for—a stack of servers’ notepads and a selection of pens with the National Museum logo on them. I had an odd little moment where I thought he would go around an ask the priests and Charlie what they wanted to drink.
“You told me to leave Auris,” I said to the irate Charlie, who was glaring for all he was worth.
“That may have been a move to divide and conquer rather than an act of concern and kindness,” Auris said as he settled in at my table. He wrote down today’s date, then a list of names, with Charlie’s in quotes. Then he pulled his phone out, did something on there, and placed a call. I could hear it ring, but there was no answer.
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
He hung up. “I told you about the PI I hired to follow Charlie once he got back to the UK. He’s not picking up his phone, and the last communication I received from him is from eight days ago.”
“Oh.”
Auris picked up his pen again. “Ivan,” he said, and one of the priestly group turned toward us, “who is the British man with you?”
“He’s Irish,” the priest, Ivan, said, his eyes glassy. He had a strong accent, reminding me of Jan. “We know him as Brother Christian of the Gladius Brotherhood.”
That made me wonder why Charlie—or Christian—sounded so damn British, why he’d bothered to hide his accent. Also—
“What’s the Gladius Brotherhood?” Auris asked before I could, speaking calmly while Charlie-Christian looked as if he were about to have an aneurysm.
Ivan’s mouth opened and closed once before he spoke. “They study demons. They seek to understand them so that they can fight them. Their existence is a secret we must guard with our lives.”
Auris’s hand flew over the paper. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like he was writing stenography. “Where are they based?”
“We have only had contact with Brother Christian and one other, a man we know as Murmillo,” Ivan said.
Auris raised a brow. “Why was Brother Christian in Kutná Hora, at the ossuary?”
Ivan swallowed. “He was hunting. We heard a group of ours went missing in America. They had been told the same as all hunters, that there was a demon who was killed in Kutná Hora.”
Auris tapped his notepad, black eyes boring into Ivan’s, who didn’t flinch, couldn’t flinch. “Did you really kill a demon at the ossuary, Ivan?”
Ivan’s lip trembled. “Yes, but a long, long time ago. Its bones are to be bait now, Brother Christian said. The one and only good thing they will ever do.”
“Oh.” I exhaled slowly. “Fuck. You lied to your own people. What is this story, bait or failsafe?”
Ivan turned his head toward me, although his eyes were unfocused. He nodded.
Auris stopped writing. “He asked a question. Bait or failsafe, Ivan?”
“B-both.”
My hands balled to fists. “That’s fucked up.”
Ivan’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
Auris tapped his pen on the paper. “Tell me, before Brother Christian pointed you toward me, was there another demon who came to the ossuary, looking for a fallen brother?”
“I have not been stationed here long.” Ivan’s voice trembled. “We do not talk about those things with each other. I was told the posting was important. I was told there would be fighting ahead of me, and that I would help put down such beasts as would kill and harm the meek.”
Auris put down his pen. “The rest of you?”
The other four priests, except for Christian, turned toward us.
