James Rollins - Blood Infernal

Christian exchanged a hopeful look with Sophia.

“No,” Sophia said, her voice firm. “Blood sin is blood sin.”

Christian looked less sure.

Erin shrugged. “I’m doing it.”

Elizabeth felt a surge of affection for the woman’s pluck.

“I won’t allow it,” Sophia said, moving to stop her.

Christian blocked Sophia with an arm. “We have nothing to lose for trying.”

“Except his eternal soul.” Sophia tried to shove him aside, but Elizabeth joined him, bodily keeping the nun from Erin.

Elizabeth met Erin’s eyes. “Do it.”

With a nod, Erin drew the blade across her palm. The archaeologist winced at the pain, but remained steady. The smell of fresh blood — pushed forth by a strongly beating heart full of life — filled the small chapel.

Elizabeth felt the two Sanguinists stir, gasping at the scent. Their still-wounded bodies called for them to drink the life offered in that crimson pool in Erin’s palm. Elizabeth smelled it, too, drawing its sweetness inside, but she had not denied herself for as long as these others had. She could withstand it.

And this blood is not meant for me .

Erin leaned over Rhun’s naked form. She dipped her fingers into the darkness pooled in her palm and reached down to gently paint her hot blood over Rhun’s cold skin. Again Rhun’s flesh twitched with each touch, but it was not pain that shivered through him.

It was pleasure.

His lips parted, letting out the softest moan.

Elizabeth remembered hearing that same note in her ear, long ago, remembering him atop her, clasping to her.

Erin continued her labors, working meticulously, missing no wound. Finally, she stared down at the ragged stump of bone, muscle, and slowly weeping black blood. Erin turned toward Elizabeth, as if asking permission.

She gave the archaeologist the smallest nod.

Do it .

Erin massaged her forearm with her good hand, milking more blood into her palm. Only after trickles of crimson spilled from her overfilled fingers did she grasp the end of Rhun’s arm, pouring her life over that savage wound.

Rhun convulsed, his back arching high, while Erin kept her grip on his arm.

A cry escaped him, a gasp of ecstasy so raw that Sophia turned away from it.

Or maybe the nun shied away from the harder evidence of Rhun’s pleasure. The loincloth did little to hide his rising ardor, revealing the man inside the beast, the lust that the white collar of his station could never fully restrain.

Elizabeth remembered that, too, falling instantly into the past, feeling him deep inside her, swelling there, the two of them becoming one.

As Rhun crashed back down to the stone floor, Erin finally let go. Rhun lay there, his entire body quaking softly, spent but clearly stronger for it.

The many small cuts had closed.

Even the ruins of his arm had stopped bleeding, the flesh already hiding bone.

Christian let out a long sigh. “I think he’ll make it… with more rest.”

Even Sophia acknowledged this. “The wine should help him the rest of the way to healing.”

Erin stayed kneeling. Jordan came to her and tended to her life-giving wound, bandaging it up. Erin leaned into his tender ministrations.

“His arm,” Erin asked, her gaze still on Rhun. “Will it… will it…?”

Jordan finished for her, his voice firm. “Will it grow back?”

“In time… many months, if not years,” Christian said. “For that miracle, he will still need much more rest.”

“What does that mean for our quest?” Jordan said.

No one had an answer, only more questions.

“We don’t even know where to go,” Sophia said, defeat in her voice. “We learned nothing from all this bloodshed.”

Erin shook her head. “That’s not true.”

Eyes turned to her.

She spoke with certainty. “I know what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” Christian asked.

“Give me a moment.” Erin stood up, helped by Jordan, but she pushed free of his arms. She needed some distance from him, from everyone. She shuddered, remembering what she had felt when she had held Rhun’s arm. For a few breaths, she had felt his aching passion, the strain of his lust, the wracking pleasure of her blood suffusing through him, dissolving her into him, the two becoming one.

She closed a fist over her bandaged palm, cutting off that memory.

Jordan touched her shoulder. “Erin?”

His blue eyes looked at her with concern. She paced away, needing to keep moving.

I did what I had to… nothing more .

Still, a pang of guilt shot through her. She and Rhun had shared another intimacy in this church in front of everyone.

She crossed to her pack and opened it with trembling fingers. She reached inside and let her palm rest on the case holding the Blood Gospel. She took strength from its presence, then pulled out the sheaves of papers she had recovered from inside the bell. She stacked them on the pew.

“I believe these are Dee’s old notes,” she said. “But I can’t say for sure as they look to be written in Enochian.”

Elizabeth rose and joined her. “Let me see.” She gave them a cursory look, flipping through. “These are indeed Dee’s. I recognize the handwriting.”

“Can you translate the Enochian?” Erin asked.

“Of course.” Elizabeth settled into the pew. “But it will take time.”

“For now, can you skim through for any reference to the green diamond?”

“Yes, but why?”

Christian echoed her question. “Erin, what do you know?”

She faced him, letting the grief center her. “Very little. But before Leopold died, he broke free of the demon that possessed him.”

“What demon?” Sophia asked.

Erin took a deeper breath, remembering that only she had heard Leopold’s final words. “He called it Legion .”

Christian glanced to Sophia. “There was such a demon mentioned in the Bible.”

Sophia nodded. “Christ cast it out, but not before confronting it, demanding its name. ‘ And he answered, saying, My name is Legion: for we are many .’ ”

“ For we are many ,” Erin repeated, considering those words. “Could that be this demon’s nature? To possess many.”

“It certainly seemed capable of enslaving others to its will,” Elizabeth said, as she began to peruse the stack of old papers. “Even Sister Abigail.”

“But not us,” Jordan said, waving to Erin. “I grappled with him, but he couldn’t possess me.”

“It could be that he can only control those who are already tainted,” Sophia said with a worried expression. “A weed needs soil to grow in. Perhaps he needs that darkness to be already there before he can root into someone.”

“If this demon is like a weed,” Christian asked, “could he have survived the death of Leopold?”

“I don’t know,” Erin admitted. “But Leopold said that Legion was seeking three stones.” She looked pointedly at Jordan. “He sent one of his enslaved down into that temple in Cumae. Maybe he wanted the remains of that green diamond.”

“Maybe,” Jordan agreed. “Or maybe he just wanted to kill me. Heck, he came pretty damned close.”

“No, I think he wanted the stone.”

“Why do you sound so sure?” Christian asked, then added with a soft smile. “Not that I’m doubting the Woman of Learning.”

“Leopold’s last words, just before he died. He mentioned something about a garden defiled … one sewn in blood, and bathed in water . It sounded like that was where Lucifer would rise.”

“But what garden?” Christian asked. “What does that mean?”

“Perhaps the Garden of Eden?” Sophia offered.