James Rollins - Blood Infernal

Rhun lifted his hands, staring at his flesh, thinking of that Satanic energy inside, restrained only by the grace of Christ’s holy blood. To the side, Christian looked equally aghast, both of them for the first time perhaps understanding their truest natures.

Thankfully, Erin directed the line of inquiry in a more practical direction. “Elizabeth, you said before that it was free , that it had escaped its prison . What do you think was released from that diamond?”

“I cannot say for sure, but Dee had collected a specific number of strigoi spirits. Six hundred and sixty-six, to be precise.”

“The Biblical number of the beast,” Erin said.

“Dee believed, when he reached that number, that those essences would coalesce, come together to give birth or perhaps bind a demon.”

“The Biblical beast,” Rhun said, beginning to fathom Elisabeta’s earlier terror.

“Dee believed he could coerce that demon to open that angelic portal, but he failed.”

“And now it’s loosed upon this world,” Rhun said.

Elisabeta squeezed her hands together at her waist. “For any hope of stopping it, we must find Dee’s old papers. Only he might have understood what he created.”

“Where do we begin to look?” Erin asked.

“His old labs in Prague. That is, if they still exist. Dee knew how to keep secrets. He had hidden compartments throughout his rooms. In the fireplace, false walls, even the caverns underneath his laboratory. We must go to his workshop in Prague and seek out those answers.”

Rhun looked to Erin and Jordan. It was a tenuous lead, but it was more solid than anything else. “What do you two think?”

Jordan glanced over to Erin.

She nodded. “I think it’s worth a shot. And with everything that’s happening, we should head out immediately.”

“I can get the helicopter warmed up,” Christian said. “But who all’s going?”

Erin waved to Rhun and Jordan. “The trio, of course.”

Elisabeta stirred, straightening her shoulders. “I should accompany you, too. I have visited Dee’s workshop and know many of its secrets.”

Christian raised an eyebrow. “You have just joined our order, Sister Elizabeth. It is common for those new to the cloth to spend months in seclusion, to learn to govern the animal forces within. It is a dangerous time.”

Elisabeta bowed her head, but Rhun saw a familiar flash of anger in her silver eyes. “If that is the will of the Church, I must obey it. Yet, I do not see how you can succeed on this mission without my aid.”

A voice rose behind them, revealing someone who had been eavesdropping on their conversation from the shadows.

“Sister Elizabeth should assist the trio on their quest,” Sophia said, as she stepped out the darkness. “No one else in the Church has her knowledge. Risks must be taken if we hope to succeed.”

Elisabeta bowed her head. “Thank you, Sister Sophia.”

“You have taken the wine. If God trusts you, we can do no less.” Sophia nodded to Christian. “But the concerns raised a moment ago are real ones, so I will travel with you. To help you to be alert to temptation.”

“I would welcome your expertise in such matters,” Elisabeta said.

Rhun suspected Sophia was joining them, not as a tutor, but as a bodyguard — to keep an eye on Elisabeta. And maybe that was wise. Either way, the matter was settled.

Christian turned away. “I’ll prepare a flight schedule. Barring any problems, we should be in Prague by noon.”

As they prepared to follow, Rhun watched Jordan pocket the two halves of the green stone, reminding him what had been released into this world. If Elisabeta’s fears were true, a demon had been set free.

But what manner of beast was it?

How much longer must I wait…?

Legion remained hidden under the shadow of an archway. From the darkness, he studied the columned façade of the great church on the far side of the sunlit square. Bright midday sun reflected off its golden surfaces and burned his eyes, but he stayed in place.

I have waited long, and I can wait longer still .

As he kept vigil, rooted inside Leopold, he searched out other eyes, those whom he had enslaved with the touch of his hand. Through those distant branches, those other eyes, he saw a hundred other views, from places that were yet in darkness:

… a torn throat of a young girl, pouring crimson over black tar streets…

… the wet terrified eyes of a man in a metal box anticipating his death at the sharp teeth of a beast of the night…

… another stalks a dark wood, circling a couple entangled together and oblivious to all but their own lusts…

At any moment, he could do more than just see. He could pull his awareness fully into one of those slaves, taking possession of its limbs and body. But he remained where he was, planted firmly in this vessel, his foothold in his world. He searched yet again through the memories cast out by that small flame flickering in the enormity of his darkness.

Leopold had recognized the sanctified stronghold across the square.

And now I know it, too .

St. Mark’s Basilica.

Legion had come here from Rome, brought by a trembling Sanguinist priest who listened behind the door of one called Cardinal Bernard. From those ears, he had learned that the trio of prophecy would gather here. Though he wanted to know what transpired within those holy walls, he dared not trespass himself.

Not only was that ground sacred, but the day’s fierce sun threatened to burn him to ash. He had brought nothing with which to cloak himself. Even in the shadows, the sunlight tingled against his skin. The sun would soon chase him into a nearby house or perhaps deep below the sea that fed the canals.

I can rest under the cool green water during the heat of the day .

The temptation called to him, to experience that beauty: the sparkle of flitting fish, the dance of emerald veils of seaweed. He wanted to revel within it, to be part of it.

But not yet.

Instead, he must linger in this city of foul canals, a patchwork of human depravity and holiness. The trio he hunted had sought sanctuary here. And despite Leopold’s attempts to hide knowledge of them, Legion had slowly gleaned more.

Two of the trio were, of course, mortal.

The Warrior and the Woman .

But the third — the Knight named Rhun Korza — had arrived later than the others. He was a Sanguinist, like Leopold, which meant he was corruptible. Legion was capable of touching that darkness inside the Knight with his own shadows.

Marking him, binding him to my will.

Sadly, it was something he could not do with the Warrior or the Woman, who held no such darkness inside, but Legion only needed the Knight.

Korza would be his way into the trio, his way to destroy the prophecy from within.

A heavy door slammed across the square, drawing his attention.

A troop of silent-hearted Sanguinists poured out of that holiness and into the open square. Legion searched their faces, breathing deeply of the smoke cast out by Leopold’s flame. Leopold knew many of them by name and habit.

But his gaze fixed to one in the center, standing with the Warrior and the Woman.

Rhun Korza.

Once he bows to me, we will purge his world, returning it to a paradise .

But his prey stayed ever in the light, frustratingly so. With no other recourse, Legion followed them along the narrow streets of Venice, keeping to the shadows. Through passing doors, he heard the heartbeats of those going about their dreary human lives — but one heart drew his attention more fully.