James Rollins - Blood Infernal

He stared at her, speechless, hearing no heartbeat from her, knowing the truth.

God, no…

He glanced over a shoulder, rage building, replacing his grief. Bernard had not only fed on her — he had forced his own blood into her. He had damned her as readily as Rhun had centuries ago, defiling her. She was a soulless abomination again.

Only months ago, Rhun had sacrificed the return of his own soul to save hers — and Bernard had cast such a gift to ruin and ash.

The cardinal stood, surrounded by Christian and the other three Sanguinists. Bernard had committed the greatest sin, and he would be punished, perhaps even with death.

Rhun felt no pity for him.

Elisabeta dropped her head against his chest, too weak even to lift it. She murmured to him, more breath than words. “I am weary, Rhun… weary unto death.”

He held her, matching her soft whisper. “You must feed. We will find someone who will give us blood to restore your strength.”

Sophia spoke behind him, looming over them. “That is impossible. She cannot be allowed to exist. She is a strigoi now and must be destroyed.”

Rhun looked to the others, finding no dissent. They intended to slaughter her like an animal. But he found succor from the most unlikely source.

Bernard spoke as if he still had a voice in such matters. “She must drink the wine, become one of us. I took this sin of her creation upon myself… because the countess swore to face this challenge. To drink the holy wine and join our order.”

Or die in the effort .

Rhun looked down at Elisabeta in shock. She would never have agreed to such a thing. But Elisabeta lay in his arms with her eyes closed again, having faded away in her weakened state.

Sophia touched the silver cross that hung round her neck. “Even if she passes such a test, it will not ameliorate your sin, Cardinal.”

“I will accept my punishment,” he said. “But she must take the holy wine — and accept God’s judgment.”

Rhun protested. “This is not her sin.”

Christian crossed to join Sophia. “Rhun, I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter how she was changed, only that she’s now a strigoi . Such creatures cannot be allowed to live. They must either face this trial, drink the wine — or be killed.”

Rhun considered escaping with her. Even if he could overwhelm those gathered here, what then? A damned existence wandering the earth, fighting to keep her from expressing her true nature, both of them severed from God’s grace?

“It must be done, and it must be done now,” Sophia said.

“Wait.” Jordan held up a hand. “Maybe we all need to step back, talk this through.”

“I agree,” said Erin. “This is an extraordinary set of circumstances. Remember, she has information we need. Should we not at least obtain that before we risk losing her again?”

“Erin’s right,” Jordan said. “It seems the countess was paid in full. She got what she asked for, and now she needs to tell us what she knows.”

Christian frowned, but he looked like he was being slowly swayed to their side. Unfortunately, Sophia looked little moved, and she was backed by the two Sanguinists at her side.

Then support came from a new direction.

“I will tell you what I know,” Elisabeta rasped out, turning her head with what clearly took great effort. “But not if it means my death.”

Sophia slipped free two curved blades, their lengths shining in the candlelight. “We cannot let a strigoi live. The rules are clear. A strigoi is allowed only two choices: to join our order or to be put immediately to death.”

Rhun tightened his arms around her. He could not lose her twice in one night. If necessary, he would fight.

Perhaps sensing the tension was coming to a head, Erin stepped between Rhun and the others. “Can we not make an exception for her? Let her keep her current form. The Church was willing to work with her as a strigoi before, when we sought out the First Angel. She was allowed to live as a strigoi in exchange for her help back then. Are these current circumstances any different?”

Silence hung within the room.

Bernard finally broke it with the truth. “We lied to her before. If she had survived as a strigoi after the First Angel was recovered, she was to be killed.”

Erin gasped. “Is that true?”

“I was to end her cursed life by my own hand,” Bernard said.

Rhun stared at his mentor, the man who had raised him in this new life. He had trusted Bernard for hundreds of years. Now he felt the world shifting beneath him. Nothing was as it seemed. No one was who they said they were.

Except for Elisabeta.

She had never pretended to be anything other than what she was, even when she was a monster.

“So your promises are meaningless, Cardinal,” said Elisabeta. “Then I see no reason to adhere to my oaths. I will tell you nothing.”

“Then you will die now,” Bernard said.

She stared at the cardinal, the two ever at war. “Put the question to me then,” she said. “Offer me what you Sanguinists must offer any strigoi in their custody.”

No one spoke.

She rested her head again, looking up at Rhun, her eyes aglow with sadness but purpose. “Put the question to me, Rhun.”

“I will not. You have nothing to answer for.”

“Oh, but I do, my love. In the end, we all do.” She reached up and touched his cheek with a trembling hand. A ghost of a smile showed on her tired lips. “I am ready.”

Bernard interrupted. “You will be burnt to ash if you touch the wine. Tell us what you know first and perhaps God will forgive you.”

She ignored him, keeping her gaze upon Rhun.

He read her determination. With cold lips, he asked her, “Do you, Bathory de Ecsed, forsake your damned existence and accept Christ’s offer to serve the Church, to drink only His blood, His holy wine… for now and forever?”

Her gaze never faltered, even as his tears fell upon her face.

“I do.”

Erin stared up at the vast cupola in the center of St. Mark’s Basilica, raising her face to that golden shine as if it were the risen sun. It was nearing midnight, but here the darkness of the night held no sway.

Earlier, down in the smaller silver chapel, she had watched the others lead the countess away into the darker recesses of the Sanguinist level. Erin worried what they might do to her, but Sophia had been adamant that this was a sacred rite of their order, one Erin couldn’t observe. All she knew was that Elizabeth would be washed and dressed in a nun’s habit before she underwent the ritual of transformation, which apparently involved prayers, repentance, and drinking transubstantiated wine.

Erin would have liked to witness that event, but she wasn’t the only one shut out.

One Sanguinist had not been permitted to go with the others.

At least not yet.

She turned to find Rhun pacing the length and breadth of the vast basilica, stirring the candles in his wake as he passed from one shadow to another. He clasped his rosary with one hand, never letting go. His lips moved in constant prayer. She had never seen him so agitated.

Jordan, in contrast, sat sprawled on a nearby pew. His machine pistol lay within easy reach. She crossed and scooted in next to him, settling her backpack beside her.

“I think Rhun’s going to wear ruts in the marble,” Jordan said.

“The woman he loves might die tonight,” she said. “He’s earned the right to pace.”

Jordan sighed. “She’s not really that great of a catch. I’ve lost count of the times she’s hammered him.”