The Blood Gospel

With Nadia’s help, Rhun could have easily overpowered them all, but he had no wish to escape. He wanted to make Bernard understand what had happened and to enlist his aid in recovering Erin and the book. He prayed that there was still time.

Bernard unlocked the door to a receiving room and led them in.

The Cardinal crossed and dropped heavily at a round mahogany table, then gestured for Rhun to sit at his right, his usual place. Perhaps he was not so angry, after all, Rhun thought as he pulled out a spindly antique chair, its cushion covered in amber fabric, and sat.

“Rhun.” Bernard’s stern tone dispelled that momentary hope. “You lied to me. To me.”

“I lied to you,” Nadia corrected. “The blame rests on my shoulders.”

Bernard waved a hand at her dismissively. “He allowed it to happen.”

“I did.” Rhun bowed his head. “I take full responsibility.”

Nadia folded her arms. “Very well. If I bear no responsibility, may I leave?”

“No one leaves until this situation is explained to my satisfaction.”

“Do you want a confession?” Rhun asked. “None of that matters now. The Belial have the book.”

Bernard sat back in his chair. “I see.”

“The Belial are in Rome.” Rhun placed his palms on the gleaming table as if to stand. “We must search for them.”

“Stay,” Bernard ordered, as if Rhun were a dog. “First, tell me how this came to be.”

Rhun bristled. He fingered his rosary, seeking to calm himself before he recounted the events in Russia. He spoke quickly, but Bernard slowed him down with question after question, picking at the story for flaws. His theologian’s mind sought inconsistencies, tried to uncover lies.

And all the while minutes ticked away.

No longer able to sit as he told the story, Rhun began to pace, stopping to stare out the window at the darkening square below. Out on the plaza, people were reaching for jackets, gathering up belongings. Sunset was close, another half hour or so away; then the strigoi would be free. Every second decreased the chances that Rhun and Jordan would find Erin alive or recover the book. Still, the Cardinal pressed him.

“If you’re going to interrogate us all day,” Jordan broke in, “how about you send out a team to look for Erin and the book, just in case we haven’t come all this way simply to spin you a tale?”

“You do not speak to the Cardinal that way!” Ambrose glared at him.

“Don’t I?” Jordan pushed back from the table, clearly ready to make short work of Ambrose. Nadia shifted in her seat. If Rhun gave the word, both she and Jordan were ready to fight.

Rhun held up a restraining hand. “Calm yourselves. We—”

A light knock sounded on the door.

Rhun listened. Five men and a woman. He smiled as he recognized one of the heartbeats. He had to resist falling to his knees and giving thanks to the Lord. That would come later.

Nadia heard it, too, catching his eye.

Jordan looked from one to the other, his handsome face contorted with confusion.

Ambrose put on his most supercilious expression and opened the door.

In walked Erin.

Bathory’s collar had left wounds and trails of dried blood on her throat. Dirt smudged her face and hands, and she looked exhausted. The young man following her looked worse.

But she was alive.

4:40 P.M.

Jordan swept Erin into the best hug she’d had in a very long time. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. She wished that she could rest there for a very, very long time.

“How did you get here?” Rhun spoke. “And who is your companion?”

Erin disentangled herself from a grinning Jordan. “This is Nate Highsmith. He was part of my team in Caesarea. Bathory captured him and brought him to Rome.”

Nate shook hands all around, casting a suspicious, jealous glare at Jordan after that unmistakably warm hug.

Jordan didn’t seem to notice, remaining all smiles. He kept looking at Erin, and she couldn’t help but smile back. When Bathory had dragged her away and left Jordan and Rhun in Rasputin’s clutches, she had feared she might never see either of them again.

Jordan quickly caught her up on what had happened in the past few hours.

In turn, she explained how she and Nate had escaped by following the tunnels out of Nero’s Circus and into Vatican City. Once here, she had demanded to see Cardinal Bernard, whereupon the Swiss Guard took them into immediate custody.

“The ruins of the Circus!” Rhun said. “Of course. That cursed warren of tunnels would offer the perfect shelter for the Belial.”

“Why?” Jordan asked.

“It’s underground, and protected from the light, so Bathory’s strigoi can roam freely during the day,” Rhun said. “But more important, the circus is the most unholy place in Rome, its sands forever tainted by the blood of the Christians who were martyred there. That unholiness would strengthen her forces and weaken ours.”

Cardinal Bernard gestured to one of the guardsmen and Ambrose. “Send troops to the circus. Sanguinists and humans. They must sweep the tunnels and retrieve the book. And inform His Holiness.”

The soldier and the priest nodded and left.