Blood Infernal: The Order of the Sanguines Series (52 page)

Elizabeth stood there, dark blood dripping from her blade.

Again, she had saved his life, probably the cat’s, too, but he had no time to thank her.

During the heated skirmish, he had seen Jordan dispatch the monk alongside him, his pistol blazing. He also saw the gem fall, causing the lake to shatter on that side, allowing hell to break loose into this world. Even now beasts were clambering along the banks, spreading wider. Others bounded across the ice, gibbering around the foot of their master. Several spotted Christian and Sophia with the chest and went in pursuit, either enraged by the holiness of the chains or perhaps commanded by that dark angel himself.

“Defend the stone,” Rhun commanded Elizabeth.

He had to reach Erin. A moment ago, he had watched her get attacked as she tried to warn Jordan, and even now she still struggled in the iron grip of Xao. The monk’s fingers were wrapped around her throat, lifting her high, until only her toes brushed the snow.

Rhun raced along the shoreline toward her. A reptilian creature lunged off the ice at him, but Rhun smoothly stepped aside, striking out and decapitating its scaly head with a single stroke. Yellow smoke boiled out of the stump, while a splatter of blood dissolved through his parka and burned his skin like acid.

Still, he kept going, trailed by the lion.

A few other creatures threatened, but they seemed more interested in escaping the lake into the larger world, than truly attacking him. The same was not true for Christian and Sophia deeper out on the ice. The pair had set down the chest and battled a growing horde. Their robes were slick with blood.

Across the lake, a fresh spat of gunfire revealed Jordan had reloaded and was shooting at some beast within his emerald glow, still holding his own for now.

Rhun charged the last of the distance toward that ruby sphere.

Erin still lived, her heart hammering in her chest, her breath ragged in that chokehold.

Xao saw Rhun coming and smiled. Rhun knew the monk could have snapped Erin’s neck like a twig at any time, but Xao had refrained—perhaps only to better savor this moment.

The monk freed one hand and lifted a dagger to Erin’s throat.

No . . .

The blade sliced deep and wide, carving open that tender neck. Blood burst forth like a fountain as the monk let her go.

Erin dropped like a sack, falling to her side, her life steaming into the snow.

Rhun’s legs stumbled with the truth, knowing it was too much to stop, too much to heal. Still, he fought to close the last of the distance. He would not lose her. He had sworn to protect her—not only as a Knight of Christ, but as one who loved her, one who could not imagine the world without her in it.

Xao met his fury with a larger smile, his eyes shining dark with malice.

Here was not the work of Lucifer.

Rhun knew who stared out those eyes at him.

12:07
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From across the lake, Legion savored the look of horror and defeat in the Knight’s face. He witnessed it both through the gaze of the possessed monk and through the eyes of this vessel now.

Legion still remained hidden among the rocks on the southern side of the lake, where he had been manipulating events from afar, lying in wait for the right moment to show himself.

Deep inside him, the small flame of Leopold quavered, shaken by the sudden death of the Woman at the hands of the monk. Legion imagined that feeble flame weeping smoky tears.

How easy it had been to make the trio dance to his wishes!

Using the stolen knowledge of Hugh de Payens, Legion had sped here ahead of the others, coming upon the monks unprepared.

With a touch, they were mine
.

Legion had thought to take advantage of a secret, one that Hugh had not shared with the others. The hermit had known that the broken stone could no longer open the gate in this valley. Hugh had trusted that the monks would know how to repair it, so Legion came to believe it, too. Unfortunately, once he took in the monks’ long memories, he found no such knowledge.

Frustrated, Legion made new plans. Leopold and Hugh de Payens both trusted the Woman of Learning, held her in the highest esteem. If anyone could figure out how to repair the stone, it would be her. So he hid himself away and carefully manipulated the three monks, using them to wheedle the truth out of the trio, to make them do the work for him.

And how perfectly that had worked.

The Woman did indeed provide the answer, and the Warrior gave his blood to make it so. Together, the trio had opened the gate—which left Legion the simple task of shattering the stones, to ensure this portal was never closed again. This world would be claimed for the dark one. Once that black angel was freed, the garden would be purged of mankind, leaving this paradise for Legion alone.

A promise sworn to Legion by Lucifer.

Legion stepped from the small cave in the rocks and lifted his arms to the eclipse-darkened sky. He only had a handful of moments to complete his task. The sun was already being born again in the sky, rising fiery from the ashes of the eclipse. Knowing time would be short, he had chosen this spot to hide earlier, a shelter closest to the green stone, the closest to the Warrior who still guarded it. Though mended, that stone was still the weakest. Legion would shatter it first—then he would destroy the others one by one.

To ensure his success, he had lured the Knight astray by threatening the Woman. Legion had waited until the Sanguinist priest was drawn close before slaying the first of the trio. Next, Legion would destroy the Warrior, who remained trapped by the emerald light, a bird in a cage. Only then would he dispatch the Knight, after breaking his will by killing all those he held most dear.

But Legion wouldn’t do so alone.

As he stepped under that blasted sky, the denizens of the dark land came to him, gathering to him like shadows. They licked his tattered boots, bowed and scraped before him, bit each other in wild joy in his wake. Of course, they loved him.

He had freed them.

And now he would free this world of the plague of man.

Legion eyed the Warrior.

Starting with this one
.

12:08
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Sprawled on her side, Erin clamped both hands to her throat. Hot blood slicked between her fingers, as cold snow cushioned her cheek.

She could only watch as Xao stepped over her body and met Rhun’s charge with a bloody dagger in one hand and a curved sword in the other. Beyond the fiery sphere, steel and silver clashed in a flurry of blows, counterstrikes, and parries. The cub helped, flying in to snag the edge of the monk’s robe to throw Xao off balance or bowling into the man’s legs.

Even now, she understood the source of this betrayal, knowing how artfully they had been played in this sacred valley, used like puppets by Legion, as surely as if they had been possessed by the demon themselves. Legion had needed them to bring the two stones, repair the broken one, and open the gate so that Lucifer could rise from the darkness of the lake.

And we did all of that
.

Anger kept her warm as the blood continued to seep through her fingers.

Xao backed toward her, passing through fire to reenter the sphere. The demon inside seemed oblivious of her, perhaps believing she was already dead, or at least, too weak to fight.

But I am more than the Woman of Learning
.

She lashed out with a leg and tripped Xao, catching the demon by surprise. As he fell and lost his guard, Rhun struck fast with his
karambit
, jamming it deep into the monk’s eye. Rhun used that new handle to swing Xao’s skull and crack it hard against a neighboring granite pillar. He smashed it over and over again, until the monk stopped moving.

Only then did Rhun swing around and fall to his knees next to her.

At least I won’t die alone
.

But ultimately she did not matter.

“Jordan . . .” she croaked out.

Rhun took her hand, refusing to leave her side.

She let her other hand drop from her throat and pushed at his knee, urging him to help Jordan. Instead, he placed his own hand to her wound. His stronger fingers applied firmer pressure, as if knowing where to push to close the largest arteries.

She wanted to fight him, but she did not have the strength.

The cub paced outside that fiery veil, anxious, plainly wanting to help.

Erin gritted her teeth, hating to fail them both. She was the Woman of Learning, and she still had a job to do. She would fight in the only way left to her.

She shifted to better expose the pack on her back.

“The Gospel,” she whispered.

Surely there had to be some answer in that book. She had carried the volume this far, not just because she didn’t trust Bernard, but also because she knew that the book must still have a role to play. She had been bound to the book. That had to be important.

But if I die, the potential of the Gospel dies with me
.

She could not let that happen without trying everything.

Perhaps believing he was granting her dying wish, Rhun released her neck, taking her hand and showing her where best to apply pressure. Only then did he pull the gospel out of her backpack and free it from its case. He laid the book open in front of her in the snow, then quickly reapplied pressure to her neck, whispering a prayer over her.

Erin turned her head until the edge of the cover touched her cheek. Most of the pages were empty, still waiting to be filled with the words that Christ had written long ago. Bernard had once told her that the Blood Gospel might contain the key to unleashing the divinity within each person, knowledge locked in those blank pages. If so, because of her, the world would never know it.

Rhun had opened the book to the page that held the last lines of prophecies, perhaps hoping she would find extra meaning there. But those words glowed golden and bright, as if mocking her for her failure.

With one trembling fingertip, she turned that page of prophecy and laid her bloody hand on the next blank page. She felt that paper grow warmer under her palm, its surface strangely smoother.

Rhun gasped as golden words appeared under her fingers, inscribing across the paper as if being freshly written, line by line, flowing down the page.

Rhun turned that page for her, then another.

More words, more lines.

Rhun flipped through rapidly. “The entire book is full,” he said with awe.

Erin studied the page that was still open, realizing she could not read the words. The letters looked Enochian—the language developed by John Dee to talk to the angels.

Erin closed her eyes, struggling to understand why Christ chose to write the rest of the gospel in Enochian, when the previous prophecies had been written in Greek, the language of man. Why write the rest in the language of angels? Only one answer made sense. Perhaps these new words—perhaps the entire gospel—were not meant for mankind, but for the angels.

No, not
angels
, she realized opening her eyes.
Angel . . . one angel
.

No wonder the pages only appeared now, in this valley.

She turned her face toward the only angel present.

Lucifer sat upon his dark throne, staring straight at her.

Erin clutched Rhun’s knee with her fingers. He leaned closer.

“I . . . I know,” she croaked softly. “I know what I must do.”

March 20, 12:09
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NPT

Tsum Valley, Nepal

Jordan reseated the emerald stone in its proper place. As the gem touched the granite chalice, the column of fire on this side of the pyramid flared brighter. The ice reformed over the lake, sealing the portal between worlds. Several creatures were caught halfway between this plane and the other, their bodies frozen and contorted in the ice.

But his efforts did nothing for the hundreds that had already escaped.

Christian and Sophia were still under siege by a mass of them, unable to make headway across the lake to reach Lucifer. Elizabeth held her position by the blue stone, bloodied but still defending her post. Across the lake, Rhun knelt beside Erin, who still lived, although the lake of red blood that surrounded her told him that she did not have much longer. Jordan ached to rush to her side, to take her in his arms one last time.

But even if he could have broken free of his emerald prison, another adversary seemed determined to stop him.

As Jordan turned his back to the granite pillar, Legion stalked down from the cliffs toward him. He was surrounded by a shadow of abominations, a cloak of living flesh. Jordan used his last rounds to fire at the demon, but each time he shot, one of those shadows leaped up and threw itself in the way, blocking his slug with its twisted body.