James Rollins - Blood Infernal

Sophia joined him, warming her hands with that glow. Of all the Sanguinists, only Elizabeth hung back, her arms crossed, showing little interest.

Even the lion trotted over. The cub had kept close to Hugh, mostly eyeing the bird on the man’s shoulder with a natural feline curiosity. The cat licked its chops a few times. Still once near, the cub pawed at the cupped indentation, batting at whatever it felt.

The motion drew Erin’s attention back to that small feature. She ran a finger along the scalloped rim, reminded that blood was likely the key here, too.

“This is a Sanguinist gate, isn’t it?” Erin stated. “The only way it can be opened is with the blood of a Sanguinist.”

“You are truly a remarkable woman,” Hugh admitted. “With a mindfulness that is impressive.”

She stared at him, sensing there was still more. “Something tells me opening this particular gate isn’t that simple.”

“Indeed, such gates can be locked in many unique ways.”

Erin remembered Bernard shutting them out with the pro me command.

“Even I can no longer open it,” Hugh admitted. “I’ve secured it with a command few Sanguinists still remember. Not even my dear friend Bernard.”

Erin nodded. At least that made sense. It was locked in such a way that no one could force Hugh to open it under duress.

“I am too tainted to open it now,” Hugh said. “It will take purity to unlock the holy stone.”

“Purity?” Erin asked.

“It will only open for a Sanguinist who has never supped of blood before drinking the wine and accepting Christ’s offer.” Hugh stared at them. “It will take the blood of the Chosen One.”

Erin turned to Rhun.

Rhun backed from the gazes of the others.

I am no Chosen One… at least, no longer .

It was true that he had not tasted human blood before becoming a Sanguinist. He remembered being attacked at his sister’s gravesite by a strigoi , only to be saved by a trio of Sanguinists who brought him before Bernard. There, on his knees, Rhun had taken his vows, drank the wine, and accepted his mantle to join the order.

But I am far from pure now .

“It can only be you,” Erin pressed him.

“It cannot be. I have sinned. I have tasted blood.”

“But you were forgiven your sins in the desert,” she said quietly, touching his bare shoulder. “It is you .”

Elizabeth frowned at him. “You are the purest of us all, Rhun. What is the harm of trying? Does the fear of failure, of being found wanting, frighten you so? I thought you were of stronger mettle than that.”

Rhun felt shame rise in him. Elizabeth was correct. He was scared, but he also recognized that he could not shirk from this task if there was even a chance it might do good.

He reluctantly knelt on the cold stone and bowed his head. He gripped his silver pectoral cross. The searing in his palm reminded him of his unholy nature and how it ruled him. But he must try anyway. He held his palm above the indentation in the stone, and realized that he did not have another hand to hold the knife to slice his own palm.

How far I have fallen… a Knight with only one arm .

Sophia came to his aid, accepting a small knife from Hugh. She pricked the center of Rhun’s palm. Dark blood welled up from of the wound. Rhun turned his wrist, squeezing a fist, and spattered his cursed blood into the hollow of the stone.

Once done, he crossed himself and went through the ritual, ending with mysterium fidei .

Everyone stared.

Still, the stone did not move.

I have failed .

Despair drove him down, crushing him with certain truth.

My sins have doomed us all .

Elizabeth stared down at Rhun, his back bowed, his head hanging. He was the very sigil of defeat. She sighed at the fragility of these Sanguinists, leaning upon their faith like a beggar’s crutch. Knock it away by casting doubt, and they fall so easily.

Sophia played the Greek chorus in this drama. “Rhun was our only hope. He was the only member of our order — going back millennia — who never drank blood before accepting Christ’s gift.”

That is not true .

At least, the archaeologist fought. “There must be another way. If we took chisel and hammer to the floor…”

“I will not allow the church to be desecrated in such a manner,” Hugh said. “And in any such attempt, the gem will be dumped into a river that flows through the heart of this mountain, where it will be lost forever.”

“So you booby-trapped your secret vault,” Jordan said. “Gotta say, you covered your bases well.”

As Elizabeth watched Rhun’s lips move in futile prayer, she pitied him. He had given everything for his God, and his sacrifice had been wasted. In the eyes of the Lord, he was judged as impure as any feral strigoi . This failure was his reward for centuries of service to Christ.

So Rhun would certainly find it particularly galling at who would save them now, who could open this vault when he could not.

“Step aside,” Elizabeth said, slipping the knife from Sophia’s fingers.

Elizabeth knelt beside Rhun and used a fistful of straw to scrub his blood from the receptacle in the stone.

Rhun watched her. “What are—?”

“Quiet,” she scolded.

Still on her knees, she cut her palm and studied the blood as it pooled. In its glossy surface, the reflection of her own face shone back at her.

Sorry, Rhun, I know how this will pain you .

She chanted the proper Latin words. “ ‘For this is the Chalice of My Blood, of the new and everlasting Testament.’ ”

She then turned her hand and let her blood drip into the indentation on the floor. It quickly filled the shallow reservoir. Once it was full, she chanted the final words of the incantation. “Mysterium fidei.”

With a soft scrape, the stone sank into the floor, then moved to the side.

She heard the gasps of disbelief.

Only Erin laughed.

The others turned to her.

“I get it,” Erin said. “Elizabeth was made whole when Rhun returned her soul in the desert. Then back at St. Mark’s, when Bernard stripped her of that new soul by making her a strigoi again, she wasn’t allowed to drink any blood. Instead, she was forced to drink the wine that very night.”

“And I’ve not touched a drop of blood since then,” Elizabeth added, as she turned to Rhun. “By the dictates of the Church, my being remains pure. I am the Chosen One. And here is your proof.”

She shifted aside to allow a beam of sunlight from the church’s windows to fall inside the hollow. Fiery light reflected back from the surface of a dark red gemstone hidden inside, setting its facets ablaze. The brilliance seemed to pour forth from the stone’s heart.

Though her eyes were dazzled, Elizabeth gazed deep into the crimson stone, stunned by its beauty. She had beheld many gems in her lifetime. In her mortal life, she had been one of the richest women in the world. But none of those gems had held the same fascination as this one.

She was not the only one so captured.

Jordan crashed to his knees, the light dappling his face, looking like fresh blood.

“It sings,” he moaned.

Jordan’s heart sang to the fiery stone, and it answered in a holy symphony, drawing him ever deeper into its melody, into its light. Around him, the world faded to shadows before such brilliance.

How could it not?

Distantly he heard the others chattering, but their words were mere undertones before the glory of that singing.