Burning Twilight Read Online Free PDF Page A

like a contagious disease.
    “What kind of vampire steals his victim’s shoes?” said Kassy.
    The priest took one look at the nobleman’s bloodstained stockings and gasped. “Father Szymon’s shoes were also missing.”
    “And the next day there was another killing,” said Kazimir.
    The victim was Jan Barwicz, who worked in the town’s dyeing mill.
    “Was he also missing his shoes?” said Kassy.
    “Why, yes. I believe he was,” said the priest. “But why would anyone kill a man for his shoes?”
    “Did his wounds look anything like these?” I asked, pointing at the corpse. “Because these were made with a foot-long knife. Those are knife wounds, not claw marks.”
    Kazimir admitted that it was possible.
    “It would help if we could examine Father Szymon’s body with our own eyes,” said Rabbi Loew.
    “That’s impossible,” said Father Stefan. “We buried the good father on Wednesday morning.”
    “Of course,” said Rabbi Loew.
    “What about the other victim?” I said.
    “I doubt that his widow would allow it.”
    “Then may we examine one of the tainted Hosts?” asked Kassy.
    The men drew back with a clattering of rusty iron, amazed at her audacity.
    Rabbi Loew spoke quickly, appealing to the priest: “It is a reasonable request that the proofs against our companion be brought forward to be examined in the presence of a magistrate or an officer of the law.”
    “Fook that,” said the man with the thick eyebrows, and his pals nodded as if he had just delivered the last word on the matter before the highest court in the land.
    Father Stefan cleared his throat and said, “The closest we have to an examining magistrate in this region is Lord Strekov himself.”
    I didn’t like the sound of that, but Rabbi Loew said, “Then let us bring the matter to his attention.”
    The priest mulled it over and granted us an hour’s time to convince Lord Strekov of Kassy’s innocence.
    “How about two hours?” I asked, bargaining for more time like a true son of Abraham.
    We eventually settled on an hour and a half, as the men threw a coarse cloth over the corpse of Sir Tadeusz and prepared to carry him off to his father’s estate. There was nothing else that could be learned from it at the moment anyway.
    “Why are you protecting her?” asked Father Stefan.
    The cross dangling around Kassy’s neck caught the last dusky red rays of the dying sun.
    I said, “Because the Torah says that you must establish a system of justice, no matter where you are.”
    “D oes Lord Strekov have any other sons?” I asked Father Stefan as we followed the solemn procession down the narrow pass and into the village.
    “Why, yes. His younger son, Sir Mateusz.”
    “Were they close?”
    “Yes, yes, it’s going to be so hard to break the news to him. Such a terrible shame.”
    “Yes, such a shame.”
    But the fact is that whenever the eldest son of a nobleman is killed, one must always ask who stands to benefit. And the youngest son sounded like a likely prospect.
    But why kill the priest? I wondered.
    “Had Father Szymon been called upon to rule in any controversial matters recently?”
    “This is a quiet parish,” said Father Stefan. “The only controversial rulings around here are the special dispensations for marriages between first and second cousins, the baptizing of children born out of wedlock, and the denial of legitimacy to children whose parents aren’t properly married under Catholic law. Certainly not the stuff of the sensational murders you get in Prague and Poznan, with all the greed and depravity that goes on in those ghettos—”
    “Who came to his burial?”
    “Why, the whole village. We made a pilgrimage to the place where Father Szymon was found. I burned incense, sprinkled holy water, exorcised the demons, and blessed the spot. But the next day, that dye worker was killed.”
    The wounds were similar, but less savage.
    “Mind if we stop off at the dye mill on the way to Lord