Page 11 of Tough Call

Right then, Madars turned my way, and his expression lit up impossibly brighter. “You made it!”

I chuckled, sliding my hands into my pockets. “It was a pretty straight shot from Prague.” I shrugged. “GPS got me right to it.”

“Great! Glad you could join us.” He slung an arm around my shoulders and hauled me closer to the group, unaware of what that physical contact did to my ability to think. Fuck, it really was like I was still a kid when I was around him. One touch, and I was completely stupid.

He said something in German that got everyone’s attention, and they all turned.

“This is my friend Connor,” he announced in English. As I shook hands, I was introduced to Mish, Matteo, Jean-Pierre, Erik, and Louis. Not that I had any hope of remembering their names, though I’d sure try.

The one named Mish peered at my jacket. “So you’re here for the Games, but you’re…”

“An official,” I said, then quickly added, “for the women’s division.”

They all nodded.

“Ah,” Erik said. “So bribing you is pointless, then.”

“I mean you can try.” I shrugged. “Give me a hundred euro, and I guarantee I won’t call a single penalty or offside against your team.”

The men laughed, including Madars, who gave my shoulder a squeeze.

It was cold out here and the wind was starting to pick up, so we all headed inside.

As soon as we’d walked in church’s the front door, the bone skeptic—Jean-Pierre—went slack-jawed. Understandable, since we were greeted by not just bones, but skulls. On multiple walls, there were columns alternating between skulls and horizontal long bones that must’ve been femurs or something. On either side of the stairs leading down into the church, there was a large alcove containing what looked like a giant chalice made from bones.

We showed the tickets we’d bought online, then descended the stairs, and… whoa. Bones. Lots and lots of bones. On every wall, in every imaginable configuration… bones. Skulls, ribs, pelvises, femurs, jawbones, collarbones, bones I couldn’t identify if I tried. At the center of the ceiling was an enormous chandelier that, according to a guide talking to a tour group, contained at least one of every bone from the human body.

“Wow,” I murmured to Madars. “This is…” I didn’t even know what the word was. It was eerie and maybe a bit macabre, but it was also… fascinating? Mesmerizing? I couldn’t really describe it.

He nodded slowly. “It looked interesting in photos, but in person?”

“No kidding.”

Even his teammates were stunned into silence. And, all earlier joking aside, I think they were being respectful, too. For all hockey players could be ridiculous and not always well-behaved in public, there was an air about this place that commanded respect and reverence.

That, and there’d been a sign at the front door reminding visitors this was a sacred place, and I had a feeling they wouldn’t hesitate to boot people out if they acted like assholes. At the very, very least, the men I was with were pro athletes, and they understood how hard it would be to come back from a headline about “hockey player embarrasses his team and home country in Czechia church.”

The group sort of dispersed in the chapel, wandering in different directions to check out the various displays. Mish and Louis were eager to see the famous coat of arms. Jean-Pierre was drawn to glass cases containing skulls with placards beside them. I wasn’t sure where Erik headed off to.

Madars and I made our way over to a caged off corner that housed an enormous collection of bones. It was mostly long bones, stacked to create a dome-shaped piled with an opening in the middle. Skulls were placed around the opening and along one side. Coins were scattered on the floor, between the bones, on top of them, and in the nose and eye sockets of the skulls, as if people had thrown them in like they would a wishing well or a fountain.

Madars leaned closer to me and whispered, “Are we supposed to toss coins in?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea.” I glanced around, trying to gauge what other people were doing. “Is it, like, something just the locals are supposed to do? Or a religious thing?”

“Don’t know. I haven’t heard any coins landing anywhere.”

He made a good point. Though probably twenty or thirty people milled around in here, it was quiet enough that we would’ve heard a coin hitting concrete. Or other coins. Or maybe bones? I hadn’t heard anything like that, though.

“Maybe we shouldn’t until we see what other people are doing,” I whispered.

“Good idea. When in Rome.”

I nodded. “When in Rome.”

We glanced at each other, and… fuck me, that smile was really going to be my undoing, wasn’t it?

Probably.