James Rollins - Blood Infernal

The strigoi spun away, vanishing again into a blur. Jordan searched, swinging his weapon, but then, from out of nowhere, cold hands snatched Jordan off his feet and hurled him toward the wall. Still in midair, he drew the dagger from his ankle sheath, preparing to fight.

Unfortunately, the beast had armed itself, too — not only grabbing Jordan, but also Baako’s sword. As they hit the wall together, his attacker shoved the stolen blade through Jordan’s stomach.

He gasped, falling to his knees.

Baako and Sophia came instantly to his aid. With an arcing blow, Sophia severed the strigoi ’s sword arm. She drove her second blade into its stomach and ripped the monster from groin to neck.

Cold black blood spurted across Jordan’s face.

He stared down at the blade still impaled through him.

Little late, guys .

Pain shredded the darkness around Leopold, casting him back into the world, back in to that blood-soaked room. He clutched his belly, expecting to feel rent flesh and spilling guts. Instead, his fingers discovered smooth skin and a round intact belly, still full of blood from the demon’s last feeding.

Leopold rubbed his naked abdomen, still feeling a ghost of that pain.

He saw the same blood-soaked abattoir as before — but he also saw into another chamber overlapping this one: a dark cavern with an altar in the middle.

I know that place .

It was the sibyl’s temple, hidden at the heart of a volcanic mountain in Cumae, the same place where Leopold had loosed the demon Legion into this world.

But how am I seeing this vision?

It was as if he were viewing the scene through another’s eyes. As he watched, clawed hands rose up and clutched a belly pouring forth with oily black blood, while loops of viscera tumbled forth.

But it wasn’t just sight he shared with this other — he also felt that pain.

Then that distant form collapsed on its side. It had to be a strigoi , likely a member of Legion’s army, perhaps one that the demon had enslaved. Leopold pictured the black brand on the chest of the strigoi here.

Did that mark serve as some sort of psychic link? Would it end as this beast died?

Black smoke billowed around him, preparing to drag him away. Yet, he still saw into that cavern temple, the link still intact as the strigoi faded. Even while dying, the beast searched the cavern, as if looking for some way to save itself.

Instead, its gaze fell upon the altar, focusing upon two pieces of an emerald stone.

The green diamond.

Is that what you were sent to fetch?

Somewhere deep inside Leopold’s possessed soul, he sensed that longing from Legion. Leopold vaguely remembered tunneling out of that temple, his limbs impossibly strengthened by the demon that possessed him, but the monster had also been frantic to escape that mountain, to be free of that prison of volcanic rock. After centuries of being locked away inside that gemstone, it plainly could not stand to be trapped a moment longer, and in its haste, it forgot to take the stone with it.

But why does it need that stone?

The diamond shone brightly atop the altar, as if to mock Legion’s failure. But the strigoi ’s eyes had begun to glaze, fogging the view. There was little life left. That gaze shifted to movement nearby, a scuffling of legs. Those limbs parted enough to reveal a man kneeling on the rock, a blade through his belly.

Through that link, Leopold looked into the man’s blue eyes.

Recognition rang through him.

Jordan…

With that thought, Legion stirred to life again, rising from the ashes of the strigoi who was dying in that cavern. Darkness swelled up inside Leopold. Within that tide, he felt the demon’s attention swing toward him. He could feel it picking through his memories. He tried his best to bottle up his knowledge.

About Jordan, about the others.

But he failed.

As he fell into nothingness, he felt his own lips move, heard his own voice, but it was not Leopold, but Legion, who spoke Jordan’s other name, his truer name.

“The Warrior of Man…”

Dear Lord, what have I done?

Leopold fled away, down the only path still open to him for a few breaths more, down that fading link.

Sprawled in a pool of his own blood, Jordan stared up at the cavern roof. Baako kept his large hands pressed onto Jordan’s wound, while Sophia tossed aside the long blade. Jordan had barely felt the impaled sword being yanked free. A strange numbness kept his belly cold, making the bloody pool under him feel hot.

Baako knelt over him, offering a reassuring smile. “We’ll get you stabilized and back to Rome in no time.”

“You’re… a bad liar,” Jordan grunted.

He would never survive being dragged up that tunnel with his stomach sliced open. He doubted if he’d even make it across the room.

Knowing this, a vision of Erin’s face shimmered in his head, her brown eyes laughing, a smile on her lips. Other memories overlapped: a lock of wet blond hair falling across her cheek, her bathrobe falling open, revealing her warm body.

I don’t want to die in a hole, away from you .

For that matter, he didn’t want to die at all.

He wished Erin were here right now, holding his hand, telling him it would be all right, even if it wouldn’t. He wanted to see her one more time, tell her that he loved her, and make her feel it. He knew she was afraid of love, believing it would melt away like snow, that it couldn’t last.

And now I’m proving it to her .

He clutched Baako’s iron-strong arm. “Tell Erin… I’ll always love her.”

Baako kept pressure on his wound. “You can tell her yourself.”

“And my family…”

They would need to know, too. His mother would be devastated, his sisters and brothers would mourn him, and his nieces and nephews would barely remember him in a few years.

Should’ve called my mother more often .

Because whatever malaise of emotions that had afflicted him of late extended beyond Erin to his family, too. He’d cut himself off from them all.

He clenched his teeth, not wanting to die, if only to make amends to everyone. But the spreading pool of warm blood told him that his wounded body didn’t care about his future plans of babies and kids and sitting in rocking chairs on a porch, watching the corn grow.

He turned his head, as Sophia checked on his attacker.

At least, I don’t look as bad as that guy .

The strigoi didn’t have long to live, either. Strangely, the creature’s eyes stared directly at him. Those cold bloodless lips moved, as if speaking.

Sophia leaned closer, one eyebrow arching high. “What was that?”

The strigoi drew in a deeper, shuddering breath and, in an accent that Jordan knew well, it spoke. “Jordan, mein Freund … I’m sorry.”

Sophia pulled her hand back from the creature’s body. Jordan was equally shocked.

Leopold .

But how?

The strigoi shuddered and went still.

Sophia sat back and shook her head. The beast was dead, taking with it any further explanation.

Jordan struggled to understand, but the world faded as he bled away the last of his life. He felt himself falling away, the room receding, but instead of into darkness, it was into brilliance that he plummeted. He wanted to raise his hand against it, especially as it grew brighter, burning into him. He screwed his eyelids closed, but it didn’t help.