Bathed In Blood. Alex Archer

slope. If her arm hadn’t gotten stuck, her body would have been hidden from view and wild animals would’ve likely gotten to her remains long before anyone chanced upon them.

      Someone would have gotten away with murder.

      Getting the body out of there wasn’t going to be easy, especially on her own, but Annja had to try. She could take the time to go back to Čachtice and look for some help, but the woman’s weight might finally pull her arm free from the rocks while Annja was gone.

      If that happened, the effort to recover the body would be considerably more difficult, never mind expensive.

      No, if she was going to do something, now was the time to do it.

      The question was, how?

      The depression in which the woman’s body rested was filled with loose rocks and debris. The footing was going to be treacherous, and it would be all too easy to step on the wrong piece of loose rock and send the body sliding free.

      What she needed to do was get to a point below the body and work her way up toward it. That way, if the body slipped, she’d be in a position to do something about it.

      Annja climbed back up the slope a few feet and then moved a couple of yards to her right, far enough that her actions wouldn’t have any impact on the body’s position. She rappelled downslope about ten feet and then began searching for a suitable place to put an anchor. When she found it, a narrow cleft in the rock, she used a spring-loaded cam device attached to a sling to anchor the rope. She gave the anchor a tug to test it and then clipped the rope into it with another carabiner.

      The wind had picked up since the sun had set, and the temperature was starting to drop. Annja could feel her hands tingle from the cold.

      Get moving, she told herself. You don’t have all night.

      With the anchor in place, she moved confidently to her left, picking her way across the rock face until she was directly below the body. She could see it on the slope above her, just a few feet overhead.

      Annja climbed upward.

      She moved as carefully as possible until she could kneel next to the woman’s body. She glanced around, hoping to find a spot where she could place another anchor, but all the debris made it difficult. Annja reached out and put her hand on the woman’s forehead. Her skin was deathly pale and icy cold to the touch, but to Annja’s astonishment she thought she felt some movement. The woman’s arm was stretched out by her side, and when Annja glanced at it, she saw one of the fingers twitch.

      The woman was still alive!

       4

      Annja’s heart leaped. She reached out and felt for a pulse.

      It was weak and erratic, but it was there.

      In that instant, everything changed.

      Time became the enemy, a crushing weight on Annja’s shoulders. The woman probably had internal injuries, and exposure to the wind and rapidly falling temperatures wouldn’t help. Every minute counted now. Annja needed to get the woman covered up, back to the top of the ledge, then off to a medical facility as fast as possible.

      “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m going to try to get you out of here. Don’t struggle—just lie still and let me do all the work. Understand?”

      She leaned in close but didn’t hear anything. The woman’s fingers might have twitched again in response.

      “All right. Hang on. I’m going to free your arm, then roll you over.”

      Moving slowly and carefully, Annja put one hand beneath the woman’s left armpit—the arm that wasn’t trapped—and used her other to grasp the woman’s wrist just above the spot where it had become wedged between the rocks. She braced her feet as best she could and then, before she had time to worry about it a second longer, hefted the woman upward just enough so she could free her arm from the rocks.

      No sooner had the arm come free than the woman’s body began to slide downward. Annja had already worked out what to do. She didn’t hesitate, grabbing the woman about the torso while pushing against the rock beneath her to stop their slide.

      For one heart-stopping moment Annja felt the two of them sliding toward the drop below as the debris shifted in response to the added weight. Annja held the woman tightly against her chest. The anchor she’d placed would stop their fall, but Annja might drop the woman when the device jerked them to a halt. Thankfully the rocks were only settling into a new position, and they stopped moving just a second or two later. Annja sat with her back to the rock face and the injured woman held securely in her arms.

      Annja looked down at the woman she’d come to rescue. Her face was as pale as the rest of her, but even in her present state Annja could see she was beautiful. Her slim face, high cheekbones and full lips were framed by long dark hair that was almost, but not quite, black. It didn’t take much to imagine what that face would be like animated by even the slightest bit of personality. Annja had no doubt the woman had been targeted for that very reason.

      Beauty, true beauty, always brings the predators out of the shadows.

      One of the woman’s eyes was swollen shut but the other slipped open, and Annja found herself staring into her brilliant blue iris. It seemed to focus on her.

      “Don’t worry. I’ve got you. You’re going to be all right,” she told her. “I’m going to get you to the hospital.”

      The woman blinked—which Annja hoped was a sign she understood—then moved her mouth slightly.

      Was she saying something?

      Annja bent closer until her ear rested less than an inch above the woman’s lips.

      The woman tried again, her breath tickling Annja’s face.

       “Krv...Grófka.”

      Startled, Annja pulled back and stared down at the woman.

      That was one Slovakian phrase she did understand. Krv Grófka—Blood Countess.

      “What did you say?” Annja asked, not believing she’d heard correctly, but whatever it was would have to wait; the woman had slipped into unconsciousness.

      If she didn’t have hypothermia yet, she would soon unless Annja did something about it. Bracing the woman with her knees, Annja stripped off her coat, then gently lifted the woman and wrapped the jacket around her torso.

      Now all she had to do was climb out of here while carrying the injured woman.

      Get a move on, she told herself. Time’s a’wasting.

      It only took her a few seconds to figure out how she was going to manage the woman’s weight while climbing. Taking a few slings from her belt, she fashioned a rudimentary harness and secured it around the woman’s body. Keeping her cradled against her chest, like a mother carrying a child, Annja clipped the rigging into her harness.

      If she slipped, at least they’d fall together.

      Try not to slip.

      Right. Gotcha.

      Holding the woman against her chest with one arm, Annja got to her feet and began carefully moving back to the spot where she’d anchored the rope.

      Csilla must have been watching what she was doing, for the light moved with Annja, lighting the way. It was full dark now so Annja was glad for its presence; it kept her from feeling alone. Once she reached the anchor, she swiftly unclipped it and stowed it back on her belt. With the rope now free she immediately began climbing upward.

      Annja pulled on the rope while powering herself up the slope with her legs. Step by step, she made her way up the slope to where Csilla waited.

      At the top, Csilla stepped forward and took the injured woman out of Annja’s arms, allowing Annja to