The Blood Gospel

Ahead, nestled in the piney woods, glowing streetlamps revealed white buildings with brown roofs. Most windows were still dark at this early hour. The place resembled a postcard, a picturesque hamlet with the words Enjoying Bavaria! emblazoned on the front. It was hard to believe the humble village hid a darker secret, that it was a Sanguinist stronghold.

Rhun did not slow and swept past the town.

A few hairpin turns later, a grand Baroque structure appeared, rising high and spreading outward into two towering flanks. In the center, a domed roof thrust into the sky, supporting a massive golden cross that shone in the moonlight. Countless archways decorated the bone-white facade, sheltering statues or hiding ornate windows.

“Ettal Abbey,” Erin said, awed, sitting straighter. “I had hoped to see it someday.”

Jordan liked to hear her talking again.

She continued, excitement returning to her voice. “Ludwig of Bavaria chose this spot for the abbey because his horse bowed three times at this site.”

“How do you get a horse to bow?” Jordan asked.

“Divine intervention apparently,” Erin answered.

He grinned at her before leaning forward to talk to the priest. “Is this the monastery you were talking about, padre? The secret university?”

“It lies behind. And I’d prefer you call me Rhun, not padre.”

The car fishtailed as it rounded the corner, a plume of gravel spewing from the tires. Their headlights caught simpler buildings in the back, white with red tile roofs, more humble and austere. This seemed more like the Sanguinists’ style.

Rhun drew them to a fast stop beside one of the nondescript buildings. The priest was out before the engine had fully died. He remained near the sedan, scanning the surrounding hills, moving only his eyes. His nostrils flared.

Erin reached for her door handle, but Jordan stopped her.

“Let’s wait till he clears us to go. And zip your jacket up, please.”

He wanted her protected as fully as possible.

Outside, Rhun spun in a slow circle, like he expected an attack from any direction.

3:18 A.M.

Rhun cast out his senses, drawing in the heartbeats of the men who were asleep in the neighboring monastery. He smelled pine from the forest and hot metal from the vehicle and heard the soft whoosh of an owl’s wings above the forest, the quick scurry of a vole below his feet.

He found no danger.

He took one breath to relax, to become one with the night. He spent most of his life indoors in prayer or out in the field hunting, too busy with war to enjoy the natural world. When he first took the cloth of his order, the otherness of his senses had frightened him, reminding him always of his nature as one who was damned, but now he treasured these rare moments when he could stop and commune with God’s creation at its fullest, at its most intimate. He never felt nearer to God than in these moments of solitude, far closer than when he was buried on his knees in some subterranean chapel.

He selfishly drew in one more breath.

Then the woman shifted inside the vehicle, recalling him to his duty.

He faced the massive structure of the main building and its two wings. He studied the rear windows, watching for any movement. It appeared no one was spying from inside. A thick door stood closed at the base of one of the smaller towers. He stretched his senses through its stout wood planking, but he heard no heartbeat on the far side—only a whisper meant for his ears alone.

“Rhun, be welcome. All is safe.”

Rhun relaxed at the familiar soft voice, accented in German.

He turned and gave Jordan a quick nod. At least the man had had sense enough to stay inside the car with Erin. The pair clambered out, sounding loud and clumsy to Rhun’s sharp ears.

Once they were safely in his shadow, Rhun strode toward the wood door.

Jordan kept himself between Erin and the dark forest, protecting her from the most likely direction of attack. He had good instincts, Rhun had noticed. Perhaps that would be enough.

The thick door opened before they reached it.

Rhun stepped to the side to let the other two precede him. The sooner they were out of the open, the better.

As Jordan and Erin ducked through the small doorway, he cast one final glance around. He uncovered no menace, but danger still pricked at his senses.

29

October 27, 3:19 A.M., CET

Ettal, Germany

Hidden on a forested hilltop overlooking the abbey, Bathory lay on her stomach in a bower of leaf litter, letting the cold damp soothe the fury smoldering inside her at the sight of Rhun Korza.

Bare linden branches creaked above. Through her high-power binoculars, she had watched the knight leave the sedan behind the monastery. She’d placed her post far from the monastery to stay out of range of the Sanguinist’s senses. The knight’s caution as he stood at a rear doorway indicated his suspicion, but he had not discovered her.

Right now her only enemy was the rising fog.