The Tenth Order Read Online Free PDF Page B

stone corridor. A few quick turns down the hallway and he reached the door exiting to the alley. Pausing a minute to give the attackers ample time to flee, Valdis opened the spy hole and peered outside.
    The muggers had fled, but Valdis hesitated. Looks could be deceiving, after all, and no one was really safe in this neighborhood after dark. A priest was no exception. Even now, he could see at least two other shapes lying in the shadows, a distance away from the man they’d beaten. But after a quiet minute, when neither figure had moved, Valdis convinced himself they must have been too drunk to notice the fight.
    Finally, he opened the heavy iron door and stepped outside, making his way first to the two huddled masses he hoped were just bums. They were skinny men, with familiar pockmarked skin Valdis remembered from several Saint Catherine’s Tuesday Night dinners. He swallowed nervously, and bent to take a closer look. The men were unconscious—thankfully—and judging by the bruises covering their necks, not innocent bystanders after all.
    Well, at least this guy gave as good as he got .
    Valdis surveyed the alley with quick, furtive glances. Then, certain the men wouldn’t awake anytime soon, scurried to the figure that had provoked the attack. The shape proved to be a large man curled in the fetal position. He was partly obscured by garbage, and at first Valdis thought he was dead. But, after gingerly pulling aside a shirt soaked with trash juice, Valdis saw the man’s chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He leaned down to touch the stranger’s shoulder, and started back when the figure turned over; the man’s face was a mass of puffy, darkening bruises. Amazingly, he was still conscious.
    “Hold on, I’ll get help,” Valdis said. He turned back to the church, but stopped as the man grabbed his leg. He looked over his shoulder and saw the stranger moving his lips in slow, awkward jerks. Valdis dropped to his knees, ignoring the wet, stinking garbage.
    “Come again?” Valdis asked, leaning closer.
The man’s swollen lips parted. “Legion.”
    Valdis froze. “What?”
    “We…are many,” the man gasped, then his eyes closed and Valdis felt his hand go slack. No! The priest fumbled for a pulse, then relaxed when he saw the stranger’s chest doing its slow up-and-down. Straightening his shoulders, Valdis grabbed the man’s two legs and dragged him inside.
     
    Lord, this guy weighs more than my old Chevy. Valdis mopped his forehead with a limp swipe of his forearm, then went back to dragging the stranger into his chamber.
    The priest had thought about moving him to one of the spare rooms dotting the rectory, but changed his mind once he got the giant through the doorway. First, the stranger was too large for Valdis to drag anywhere but the priest’s own room. Thankfully, it was only a few feet down the hall. Second, Valdis didn’t want to share his mystery with anyone else. Especially a fellow clergyman .
    The priest continued dragging the man down the hall, wincing every time the stranger bumped against a corner. He couldn’t be sure, but the angle of the stranger’s wrist and knee cap suggested at least a couple of broken bones. Stopping again to wipe his brow, Father Valdis finally got the massive figure rolled into his small cell. The man would never make it to the bed, so Valdis settled for arranging him on the rug covering the bare, stone floor.
    Valdis flopped into his only chair and studied the unconscious man. He was going to have a hard time positioning himself around the massive figure to remove his soaking clothes. Strike that , Valdis thought as he looked closer. Not clothes. Scrubs.
    He should have called an ambulance. The stranger’s injuries had grown frighteningly clear once Valdis had dragged him inside, and now, with candlelight playing over the purpling bruises and dried blood, the priest wondered if he’d made the wrong choice. In the alley it had been easy to convince