Then Christian saw the terrorizing features of the man, or creature, he had seen twice before—once in Aix-la-Chapelle and again outside the grotto. It was still cloaked and hooded in black, and its skin was like burnt paper. Zcerneboh now slid the idol which he resembled back in its place, sealing off again the opening into the ritual room where the worshipers still were dancing. A recess in the back of the idol containing glowing embers which provided the reddened eyes and smoke from the mouth.
The inner sanctum of the black God Zcerneboh, from what the bound and prone Christian could see, was but a cavernous recess in the rock. Light from an ill-burning lamp, and ventilation, were poor. The foul odor from the creature called a god, was moist and warm, like the freshly spilled blood of a beast. Zcerneboh made some sounds, but he didn't speak. He couldn't speak; his mouth had no lips.
Despite the turmoil of his mind, Christian gathered his faculties to address him:
"Zcerneboh, you are a great and powerful god; I, a weak and humble mortal. I beseech only that you free this damsel. For that I will serve you in any way—bargain my soul, if I must. Will Zcerneboh hear?"
The god did not answer; only looked at him with his crimson globs and made a disgusting sucking noise through the hole that formed his mouth. His face was like a charred and withered mask.
Suddenly Zcerneboh emitted a muffled welp, threw back his hood revealing the whole of his ugly skull. He tore open the top of his cloak, letting it fall to the waist. His ribbed and inky torso swelled as he inhaled. Then he turned toward Mina. Dropped to his knees. He grabbed the unconscious girl in his arms and held her for a moment as though contemplating her throat. The agonized Christian sensed in a flash what this god was—basically a vampire. The sacrifices to Zcernboh were for him to vampirize; the hideous mouth was to suck blood from the throats of humans!
Holding Mina, Zcerneboh was trembling as though in profound ecstasy. Then with a madlike impulse he buried his face in the girl's throat. Christian, straining at his binding, felt himself on the brink of madness.
As though dulled by a stupor, Zcerneboh stopped. But it was not a stupor. No one had ever dared move the statue of Zcerneboh but himself. However, the rear of the idol had been moved—and someone was entering. Zcerneboh was abashed and enraged. Never before had any one other than the god entered the inner sanctum of his own volition.
It was Enoch.
With a terrible sound, Zcerneboh rose—fumbled under his garment for his sword—and drew it. But Enoch was the quicker. His sword already unsheathed, he lunged forward and drove it through the chest of the awed god, who trembled and fell. Enoch stared for a moment at his deed, then cast off his hood. Christian shouted with joy—for there stood Dr. Planquette! In a moment he had Christian and Mina unbound. The girl was coming to.
"This Enoch was too slow," said the doctor. "He lies dead outside the grotto. What happened else you'll soon see."
Carrying Mina, they returned to the ritual chamber. To Christian's amazement all the Wends were lying flat on their stomachs—all except one who was struggling in his bindings. Hynek Zerotin.
