James Rollins - Innocent Blood

Lazarus stopped in front of the ancient stone altar and raised his pale hand to form the sign of the cross. “ In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti .”

“Amen,” answered the congregation.

The familiar routine carried Rhun away. He neither thought nor prayed. He simply existed in each moment, letting the chain of them draw him ever forward. He belonged here with his brothers and sisters of the cloth. This was the pious life that he had wanted when he was a mortal man, and the life that he had chosen as an immortal one.

And so they came to the Eucharist.

Lazarus spoke the words in Latin. “The Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life. Drink this in remembrance that Christ’s Blood was shed for thee, and be thankful.”

He held the ancient chalice high that they might all look upon the source of their salvation.

Rhun answered with the others and lined up to receive Holy Communion.

When he stood in front of the Risen One, Lazarus met his eyes, and a faint smile chased across his face. “For you, my brother.”

Rhun tilted his head back, and Lazarus poured in the wine.

Rhun savored the silkiness as it flowed down his throat, spreading through his limbs. Tonight it did not burn. On this holiest of nights, even for one such as he, there was no penance.

Only His love.

Tommy flipped through the channels on Elizabeth’s tiny television. Every single one showed a Christmas celebration in Italian. It had been like that all day — nothing to watch. He sighed and clicked it off.

Elizabeth sat stiff-backed on the sofa next to him. He had never seen her slouch, and she wouldn’t let him lounge either.

Both feet on the floor at all times, he had been sternly lectured.

“Had you expected different programming?” she asked.

“Not expecting. Hoping.”

Besides, he was Jewish and didn’t celebrate this holiday, but he’d missed Hanukkah, too. The only acknowledgment of the season to reach him came from a most unexpected place, a Christmas card sent to him by Grigori Rasputin. Somehow the Russian had discovered that he was staying at this apartment in Vatican City.

Elizabeth had scowled upon finding the card taped to the apartment door.

Written on the front of the envelope was Merry Christmas, my angel!

The card showed an angel, complete with a golden halo.

He didn’t know if it was a threat, a joke, or sincere.

Considering that guy: probably all three .

He handed Elizabeth the remote control, but she set it down on the coffee table. He had instructed her on how to use it, and she was a quick learner. She was curious about everything in the modern world, and he was glad to teach her.

After leaving the deserts of Egypt, Tommy had ended up in Rome, at an apartment supplied by the Church. He’d had his blood tested several times since he got back, but otherwise everyone left him alone. He was just some orphaned kid now. He had been offered other temporary accommodations, a place to himself until he was returned to the States, but he preferred to stay with Elizabeth.

Bored, he asked, “Want to learn how to use the microwave?”

“Is the microwave not a device for cooking meals?” She tightened her lips. “That is servant’s work.”

Tommy lifted an eyebrow toward her. She clearly needed to learn far more about the modern world than just its technology. “Don’t you think you’ll need to cook for yourself?”

Her eyes darkened. “Why should I waste time on such trivialities?”

He waved his arm around the room. “You can’t live here forever. And when you leave, you’ll have to get a job and earn money and cook for yourself.”

“The Church has no intention of letting me go,” she said.

“Why? They’re letting me go.” He was being sent to his aunt and uncle in Santa Barbara, a couple he barely knew.

“You are but a child. They see you as no threat. So they will send you to this California without fear.”

He sighed, trying not to whine. Elizabeth hated when anyone complained. He finally just blurted it out. “I don’t want to go.”

She turned to him. “You will go.”

“I don’t know those people. At all. I think I met them once.”

“They will care for you, as their familial duty requires.”

But they won’t love me, he thought. Not like Mom and Dad .

“When do you depart?” she asked.

“Tomorrow.” He hung his head.

She tapped his chin. “Sit straight. You’ll crook your back.”

Still, he saw she did that to hide her shock. Apparently no one had told her.

“I just found out this morning myself,” he said. “Merry Christmas to the both of us.”

She frowned at him. “Why should I feel anything other than happiness that you are to be reunited with your family?”

“No reason,” he mumbled.

He stood and walked into the kitchen. He had nothing else to do. He didn’t have anything to pack, just a couple of outfits that Christian had brought him and a handful of books that Erin had given him before she and Jordan left for the States themselves.

“Tommy. ” Elizabeth stood and crossed to him. “You might find it difficult to live with these people, but they are your family. It is better than being trapped here… with me.”

He opened and closed a cupboard, not that he needed anything, just to do something. He slammed it a bit too loudly.

She turned him by the shoulders and grabbed his chin. “Why are you so angry? What? You wish me to weep at your farewell? To beg you to remain with me?”

Maybe a little.

“No.”

“Such displays of hysteria did not happen when I was a girl,” she said. “I have seen much such silliness on your television, but I find it crass.”

“It’s fine,” he said.

She touched his arm. “I shall miss your presence. You have taught me much and brought me joy.”

He guessed that her words were like a modern woman falling on the floor weeping.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he said.

She pulled a gray box out of her pocket and placed it in his hand. “For a parting gift, since you do not celebrate Christmas.”

Tommy took off the wrapping carefully. It was a prepaid cell phone.

“If you are ever in need of me,” she promised, “call and I will come.”

“I thought you were a prisoner.”

She scoffed. “Like they can ever keep me caged.”

Tommy felt tears threatening and struggled to hold them back.

She bent to stare him in the face. “There are few in this world who are trustworthy. But I trust you.”

“Same here.”

That was why he had stayed here with her. The others were loyal to their beliefs, but she was loyal to him.

He hugged her, to hide his tears.

“Such foolishness,” she said, but she squeezed him even harder.

Erin sat on the carpeted stairs of Jordan’s parents’ house. She was hiding out from action in the living room below, taking a moment to brace herself from the Christmas morning chaos. She inhaled the sugar of fresh-baked gingerbread and the burnt allure of freshly brewed coffee. Still, she stayed put.

She lingered on the stairs studying the pictures hung on the neighboring wall. They showed Jordan at different ages, along with various brothers and sisters. His entire childhood was immortalized here, from baseball games to fishing trips to prom.

Erin didn’t have a single picture of herself as a child.

A glance below revealed Jordan’s nieces and nephews bouncing around the living room like popcorn, full of sugar from the treats in their Christmas stockings. It was the kind of thing that Erin had only ever seen in movies. When she was a child, Christmas was a day of extra prayers, not presents or stockings or Santa Claus.