The Secret of Secrets: A Novel (Robert Langdon Book 6) - 9

In flickering candlelight, The Golěm glanced once more at her photo on the wall. Then he blew out the candles and exited his sacred space.

I am reborn.

Bathed in the ephemeral glow of his flat, he entered his dressing room. His hooded cloak and platform boots lay crumpled on the floor, hastily jettisoned so he could receive the Ether—a journey he always took unclothed, unadorned, and in total darkness.

The Golěm carefully rehung his costume, brushing off the loose bits of dried clay that clung to the collar. Tourists were often startled by his appearance, but the locals barely even glanced. Prague was a city of drama and fantasy, and revelers regularly walked the streets masquerading as storied characters from her history—famous ghosts, witches, star-crossed lovers, martyred saints…and this hulking monster made of clay.

Prague’s oldest legend.

A mystical guardian…just like me.

The Golěm knew the clay monster’s tale by heart because it was his own—a protective spirit…thrust into physical form…tasked with sacrificing his own comfort to carry another’s pain.

According to sixteenth-century legend, a powerful rabbi named Judah Loew dug wet clay from the banks of the Vltava River and used it to build a monster that he hoped would protect his people. Using Kabbalistic magic, the rabbi inscribed the Hebrew word into the forehead of the lifeless guardian, and the clay monster immediately sprang to life, infused with a soul from another realm.

The word on his forehead was אמת — emet . Truth.

The rabbi called his creation a golem —meaning “raw material” in Hebrew—a reference to the earthen clay from which the monster had been forged. Thereafter, the golem patrolled the streets of the Jewish Ghetto, protecting those in danger, killing evildoers, and ensuring the safety of the community.

But here, the legend took a dark turn.

The monster became lonely and confused by its own violence, eventually turning on its creator. The rabbi barely managed to survive the monster’s attack by desperately reaching up and smearing away one of the Hebrew letters on the creature’s forehead.

By erasing the letter aleph, א , the Hebrew word for truth — emet —was transformed into something far darker— met —the Hebrew word for dead.

אמת became מת .

Truth became… Death.

The monster collapsed in a heap, lifeless.

Standing over his fallen creation, the rabbi took no chances. He quickly dismantled the clay body and hid the pieces in the attic of Prague’s Old-New Synagogue, where the earthen shards were said to remain to this day, overlooking the ancient cemetery where Rabbi Loew was now buried.

That cemetery is where my journey began, The Golěm thought, regarding his own dark costume hanging inanimately. I am The Golěm. Another incarnation…in the cycle of souls.

He too had been summoned as a protector—a guardian of the woman whose photo hung on the wall in his svatyně. She could never know he existed or what he had done for her. Nor, especially, what I soon will do.

He had already killed one of her most devious betrayers, Brigita Gessner. He could still hear the echoes of her voice as she desperately divulged everything she and her coconspirators had done.

Some of her fellow betrayers were here in Prague, well within The Golěm’s reach. Others were thousands of miles away—power brokers who moved in the shadows.

I will not rest until all are punished.

The Golěm knew of only one way to accomplish that.

I will destroy everything they have created.