The Blood Gospel

Erin’s brow crinkled—then her eyes widened. “Herod’s massacre,” she said. “My dig site. It wasn’t about Herod destroying a future King of the Jews, was it?”

“Most perceptive. Herod did not kill those babies. The strigoi killed them.”

“But they weren’t just feeding on the blood of those children. I found gnaw marks on the bones. It was a savage attack, as if done purposefully.”

The Cardinal put his gloved hand atop Erin’s. “I am sorry to say that is the truth. Strigoi sought to kill the Christ child because they knew that He would help to destroy them. As indeed it came to pass: for it was the miracle of His blood that led to the founding of the Sanguinists and started their battle against the strigoi.”

“Sounds like the Sanguinists got a bum deal out of it all.” Jordan ate a handful of grapes.

“Not at all. While it is not an easy path that we tread, our work serves humanity and opens our only path to salvation.” Cardinal Bernard rolled the grape between his fingers. “For centuries, we kept the number of strigoi in balance, but in the last few decades, strigoi and some humans have formed an alliance called the Belial.”

Erin pulled her arms in close, clearly recognizing that name. “Belial. The leader of the Sons of Darkness. An old legend.”

Jordan stopped eating. “Great.”

“We have never known why they formed.” The Cardinal looked over their heads at the night sky. “But perhaps after today, we do.”

Korza’s eyebrows drew down. “We don’t know that for certain. Even now. Don’t let Bernard’s love of the dramatic influence you.”

“Influence us how?” Jordan asked.

“Why were the Belial formed?” Erin talked over him.

“As I believe Rhun told you, the tomb of Masada contained the most holy book ever written. It is Christ’s own story of how He unleashed His divinity, written in His own blood. It is called the Blood Gospel.”

“What do you mean by ‘unleashed his divinity’?” Jordan asked, pushing aside his plate, the last of his appetite dying away.

The Cardinal nodded to him. “A fascinating question. As you may know, in the Bible, Christ performs no miracles early in his life. Only later does he begin to perform a whole series of wondrous acts. His first divine miracle was recorded in the Book of John, the turning of water into wine.”

Erin shifted and quoted scripture. “The first of his miraculous signs, Jesus performed at Cana in Galilee. He thus revealed his glory, and his disciples put their faith in him.”

Bernard nodded. “Thereafter, a slew of other wonders: the multiplication of the fishes, the healing of the sick, the raising of the dead.”

“But what does all of that have to do with the Blood Gospel?” Erin asked.

The Cardinal explained. “This mystery of Christ’s miracles has confounded many biblical scholars. Why this sudden manifestation of the miraculous? What caused His divinity to shine forth so suddenly from His earthly flesh?” Bernard stared around the table. “Those questions are answered in Christ’s Gospel.”

Erin stared at him, rapt.

“Sounds like good stuff,” Jordan said. “But why do the Belial care about any of this?”

“Because the book may give anyone the ability to touch and manifest their own divinity. Can you imagine if the strigoi learned this? It might help them free themselves of their weaknesses. Perhaps they could walk in daylight, like we do, multiplying their strengths. Imagine the consequences for mankind.”

Korza cut him off. “But we know none of this for certain. It is merely Bernard’s speculation.” He stared hard at Erin, then Jordan. “You must remember that.”

“Why?” Erin’s eyes narrowed.

The Cardinal’s face had gone stone-hard, stern. He plainly did not appreciate Korza’s interruption. His next words were equally firm.

“Because you have a role to play—both of you—in what comes next. If you refuse, the world will sink into darkness. So it has been foretold.”

22

October 26, 10:32 P.M., IST

Jerusalem, Israel

Erin tried not to scoff but failed. “The fate of the world depends on us? On Jordan? On me?”

Jordan muttered next to her: “You don’t have to sound so surprised when saying my name.”

Erin ignored him, hearing the sarcasm in his voice. He wasn’t buying any of it either. She summarized all her questions with one word. “Why?”

The Cardinal returned the dusky grape to the empty bowl. “I cannot reveal that to you, Doctor, not at this time, not until you make your choice. After that, I will tell you all, and you may again refuse with no consequences.”

“You were the one who sent the helicopter for me in Caesarea, weren’t you?” she asked, picturing the whirling blades and the frightened stallion, flashing to poor Heinrich sprawled and bloody in the dig site’s trench.

“I did,” the Cardinal said. “I used my contacts in Israeli intelligence to have you taken to Masada, in case the Gospel was there.”