James Rollins - Blood Infernal

As the helicopter followed the flow of the wide Vltava River, she recognized the brick bridge that forded it, spanning the water in a row of majestic arches. She was happy to see not all had changed. It seemed Prague still retained many of its towers and landmarks.

“That’s the Charles Bridge,” Erin said, noting her attention.

Elizabeth stifled a wry smile. It had once been simply called the Stone Bridge. She watched people strolling along its span. In her days, horses or carriages once thronged the bridge.

So some things have changed .

As the helicopter headed toward the heart of the city, she drank in the sights, searching for streets and buildings that she had known in the past. She recognized the twin spires of Týn Church near the town square. The tower of city hall still bore the majesty of the Orloj, the city’s famous astronomical clock.

Erin had followed her gaze. “It’s a marvel, that medieval clock. It’s said that the clockmaker was blinded by order of the Councilors of Prague, so that he would never build another.”

Elizabeth nodded. “With a hot iron poker.”

“Harsh,” Jordan said. “Not much of a bonus for completing the job.”

“They were harsh times,” Elizabeth said. “But it is also said that the clockmaker took his revenge, that he crawled into the tower and destroyed the delicate mechanism by touch alone — then died in that tower. The clock could not be repaired for another hundred years.”

Elizabeth stared at the clock’s fanciful face. It was good that some of the past was still preserved and revered. Though the clockmaker had died, his masterwork had survived the march of years.

As will I .

Christian radioed back to them. “We’ll be on the ground in a few minutes.”

Elizabeth’s phone vibrated deep in her pocket. She covered it with her palm, hoping Rhun hadn’t heard it past the roar of the engine and the muffle of the headphones. It had to be Tommy. But why was he calling? Fearing the worst, she shifted impatiently in her seat, wishing she could talk to the boy. But to do so, she needed a moment alone.

As the phone’s vibrations ended, she clasped her hands together, squeezing hard, wishing this aircraft would land. Thankfully, it didn’t take long. As Christian had promised, they were soon on the ground. After some moments of wrangling, she found herself outside, following the others across hard pavement toward a long, low building.

The air was colder than in Venice, but she still burned. She held her palm open toward the midafternoon sun. As a strigoi , her skin would be blistering, burning to ash, but it seemed the holy blood protected her. But not completely. There remained enough darkness inside her that the sunlight still stung. She withdrew her hand and tilted her face down, shading her features in the shadows of her wimple.

Rhun noted her reaction. “You’ll grow accustomed with time.”

She frowned. Even the daytime was not wholly open to a Sanguinist. Such a life was one of constant accommodation and pain. She longed to shake loose such restraints and limitations… to be truly free again.

But not yet.

She followed the others into the airport terminal. She scowled at its unsightly utility, impersonal, gray, and white. Men in this modern age seemed frightened of color.

“May I have a moment to wash the dust from my hands and face?” Elizabeth asked Rhun, seeking to find a private moment to return Tommy’s call. “I found the journey most disorienting.”

“I will take her,” Sophia offered. The small woman spoke a touch too quickly, displaying her distrust.

“Thank you, Sister,” Elizabeth said.

Sophia led her down a side hall to a many-stalled bathroom and followed her inside. Elizabeth crossed to the sink and washed her hands in the warm water. Sophia joined her, splashing water on her face.

Elizabeth used the moment to study the dark-skinned woman, wondering what she had been like before becoming a Sanguinist. Did she have a family that she left behind in the passing of years? What atrocities had she committed as a strigoi before taking the holy wine?

But the woman’s face remained a stoic mask, hiding whatever pain haunted her past. And Elizabeth knew there must be something.

We are all haunted in our own ways .

She pictured her son, Paul, remembering his bright laughter.

It seemed the passage through life was but a gathering of ghosts. The longer you lived, the more shadows haunted you. She stared at herself in the mirror, surprised by the single tear coursing down her cheek.

Rather than wipe it away, she used it.

“May I have a moment by myself?” Elizabeth asked, turning to Sophia.

Sophia looked ready to object, but then her face softened, seeing the tear. Still, she glanced around, plainly looking for windows or another exit. Finding none, she touched Elizabeth on the arm, then retreated. “I will wait outside.”

As soon as Sophia was gone, Elizabeth retrieved her phone. She left the water running to mask her voice and quickly dialed Tommy’s number.

It was answered immediately. “Elizabeth, thanks for calling back. You caught me just in time.”

She was relieved that he sounded calm. “Is everything well?”

“Well enough, I guess,” he said. “But I’m so excited that I get to see you soon.”

She frowned, not understanding. The boy could not know that she intended to join him as soon as she could escape these others. “What do you mean?”

“A priest came by. He’s taking me to Rome.”

She went stiff, her voice going hard. “What priest ?” Her mind was on fire, struggling to comprehend this news. It was unexpected and felt wrong, like a trap. “Tommy, do not—”

“Hold on,” Tommy said, cutting her off. She heard him talking to someone in the background, then he was back. “My aunt says I have to get off the phone. My ride is here. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He sounded so eager, but dread filled her.

“Do not go with that priest!” she warned, her voice sharp.

But the line went dead. She dialed his number again, pacing the bathroom. The phone rang and rang, but he did not answer. She clenched a fist around the telephone, imagining reasons why they might have taken him.

Maybe they were whisking Tommy to safety because of all of the strigoi attacks .

She cast this hope aside, knowing the Church had no interest in the boy any longer.

So then why were they taking him? Why was Tommy suddenly important to them again?

Then she knew.

Because of me .

The Church knew Tommy was important to her. Someone was taking control of the boy, intending to use him like a pawn, a way to attach a leash around her neck. Only one priest would use such an innocent boy as leverage. Even imprisoned, that villain must still be exercising his power.

Cardinal Bernard .

She slammed her fist against the mirror. It shattered outward in rings from the point of impact.

Elizabeth glanced at the door, knowing Sophia waited out there. It was a rash act, one born of rage. But if she was to save Tommy, she must be smarter. Before Sophia came in to investigate, she turned off the water and hurried toward the entrance.

As she exited, Sophia eyed her suspiciously.

Elizabeth straightened her wimple and brushed her hand down her rosary. A tingle of pain crossed her fingertips from the silver. She used that sting to steady herself.

“I… I believe I’m ready to continue,” she said.

They returned to the others.

Erin had a map opened on her phone, another wonder of this modern age. “We’re not too far from the old palace. Most of the alchemy labs are in its shadow.”