The Blood Gospel (28 page)

But the nocturnal predator did not hold her gaze. The boy did. He looked like her brother Istvan, piquing the vague sense of loss into something more substantial.

First she’d lost Istvan.

And now Hunor.

She could not lose Magor.

The wolf rested his massive muzzle on her shoulder. She crooned him a lullaby and tried to make plans. Perhaps she should flee into the desert, disappear with Magor. She had enough money and jewels in her closet to keep them comfortable for years. Maybe she could escape at last from the silver cage that had held her for so long.

As if someone had read her thoughts, a heavy hand rapped on her door.

Magor growled, his hackles rising like a ridge along his back.

Without waiting for an answer, the thick metal door of her room swung open. Dark boots entered.

Tarek stopped just past the threshold, shadowed by his brother, Rafik. It was a daring move on his part.

She stood, lifting her chin, baring her throat and His mark.

Magor crossed in front of her, another line of defense.

“How dare you enter without my permission?” she said.

Tarek smiled, his lips stretched wide to reveal his extended fangs. “I dare because He knows of your failure.”

Rafik hovered at his brother’s shoulder, malicious madness dancing in his eyes.

Tarek made clear the reason for his bold intrusion, smelling a possible shift in power, declaring his intent by crossing her threshold, like a dog marking a tree. “I have received instructions from Him on how to kill you the next time that you fail.”

From the glee in Rafik’s eyes, she imagined such a death would be neither quick nor painless.

She kept her face impassive and met Tarek’s gaze. The monsters at her door might be stronger than she was, but she was far more cunning. She let this confidence show and stared Tarek’s gaze down—until she finally drove him back out the door.

Rather than making her fearful, such threats only fortified her, steeled her resolve.

As He knew they would.

She touched Magor’s shoulder.

“Time we hunt again.”

October 26, 10:57
P.M
., IST

Jerusalem, Israel

From the rooftop garden, Jordan stared down at the Wailing Wall, at those praying in front of it. A young mother held up her baby, the girl’s frilly pink dress shifting when her tiny hand stroked down the stone. She looked like his niece Abigail had at that age. For three years his youngest sister had dressed her little tomboy in nothing but pink. After that, Abigail picked out her own clothes—brown ones. The mother below brought the little girl back to her chest and kissed the top of her head.

The pair had no idea about
strigoi
.

They lived in a world with no monsters.

But monsters were out there, and now Jordan knew it. If this mission failed, everyone else would have to face them, too. He remembered the short work they had made of his own highly trained men.

As he watched the pair step away from the wall and head home, he fought against thoughts of his own family. Especially his mother. She had survived surgery for a brain tumor last month and was still frail, finishing off chemotherapy.

Forget the Belial, the grief of his death might do her in.

Still, he knew what she would want him to do. He was his mother’s child; his belief in right and wrong had been instilled in him by her—by her words, by her actions, even by her suffering. He had signed up to serve his country, his fellow man, partly because of her. He believed in the army motto
This We’ll Defend
.

Keeping
strigoi
from ruling the earth was worth a terrible price; he would not flinch from paying it. His family would expect nothing less. His team had given nothing less.

Resolved, he walked back to the table.

His reasons all sounded noble, but he knew part of his decision came from the way Erin had smiled at him when she woke up in the chopper, how she had melted in his arms downstairs. He couldn’t abandon her to Rhun and the others.

He stepped to the table and dropped his dog tags. “I’m in.”

“Jordan …” Erin stared at him, the internal war between relief and fear visible on her face.

He studied his dog tags and looked away. When his parents received them, they would think him dead.

The Cardinal nodded soberly, but his eyes shone with determination. Jordan had seen many a general wear that same expression. Usually it was after you volunteered for something. Something likely to kill you.

Korza stood so abruptly that his chair toppled backward and crashed to the tiles—then he stormed off.

“You must forgive Rhun,” the Cardinal said. “In the past, he paid a terrible price in service of the prophecy.”

“What price?” Jordan picked up Rhun’s chair, flipped it around, and straddled it.

“It was almost four hundred years ago.” Lamplit eyes stared past him toward the modern city lights. “I am certain that, should he wish you to know, he will tell you.”

Jordan had half expected that kind of response. He leaned his arms on top of his chair back. “Now that we are on board, how about telling us about the prophecy and why the three of us are so special?”

Erin folded her hands in her lap like a schoolgirl and leaned forward, wanting answers, too.

“When the book was sealed away, prophecy decreed that—” The Cardinal stopped and shook his head. “Better I simply show you.”

He opened a drawer in the table and pulled out a soft leather case. It didn’t look like a prophecy. But when he opened it, Erin sat forward. Jordan scooted closer, shoulder to shoulder with her.

“This is it?” she asked.

The Cardinal pulled out a document sheathed in plastic. Jordan was no judge, but the parchment looked as old as the city around them. Letters written in dark ink marched along the single page. He couldn’t read it but it looked familiar.

“Greek?” he asked.

Erin nodded, leaning closer to read it aloud. “
The day shall come when the Alpha and the Omega shall pour His wisdom into a Gospel of Precious Blood that the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve may use it on the day of their need.
”

“The Alpha and Omega?” he asked.

“Jesus. I think.” She returned to the parchment and continued reading, running a finger along the plastic surface. “
Until such day, this blessed book shall be hidden in a well of deepest darkness by a girl.
” She paused. “Or it might be
woman
? It’s not clear. It says here a ‘Girl of Corrupted Innocence.’ But the last word could also mean
knowledge
. Biblical references about knowledge and good and evil often get tangled up.”

Jordan’s head was already beginning to spin. “How about a quick overview? Then work out the particulars?”

“Right.” She continued again. “
Until such day, this blessed book shall be hidden in a well of deepest darkness by a Girl of Corrupted Innocence, a Knight of Christ, and a Warrior of Man.
”

She took another breath. “
Likewise shalt another trio return the book to the light. Only a Woman of Learning, a Knight of Christ, and a Warrior of Man may open Christ’s Gospel and reveal His glory to the world.
”

The Cardinal stared at Erin. “I believe that is you, Dr. Granger, along with Sergeant Stone and our Father Korza.”

Erin looked down at the parchment. “Why do you think that we are the ones?”

“The three of you came together at the original resting place of the book. Each of you played a part in defeating the creatures of darkness and returned alive to view the desert stars.”

Jordan sighed—too loudly, drawing the others’ eyes. It all sounded like religious crap, and he told them why. “But we didn’t
get
the book. It was already gone, taken out into the world. Someone probably already opened the book a long time ago.”

“No, my son, if they had opened the book, the world would have changed. Miracles would be commonplace.”

“Maybe,” Jordan said. “But either way,
someone
else already found it and took it.
They
must be the ones the prophecy was talking about, right?”

The Cardinal shook his head. “The prophecy does not say who will
find
it, only who must
open
it. I believe that whoever has the book cannot open it because they are not part of the prophetic trio. But I believe you three are.”

“Where do we go to find the book?” Erin asked.

Cardinal Bernard shook his head. “I have no answer to that question. Rhun said that he found nothing in the tomb to indicate who had plundered it.”

Erin sought Jordan’s eyes, clearly asking permission. He nodded. He didn’t see much point in keeping secrets now. She reached in her pocket and drew out the Nazi medallion slowly.

“This was found in the dead girl’s grip. She must have snatched it off whoever stole the book, whoever killed her.”

The Cardinal held out his palm. She hesitated before dropping the silver disk into his red glove.

He studied it for a full minute, closely examining the writing on the medal’s edge, reading it aloud. “The
Ahnenerbe
.”

“You’re familiar with them?” Jordan asked.

“Our order often had similar research interests as this group. The
Ahnenerbe
scoured the Holy Lands for lost artifacts and religious items of power. Actually, the priest who once led our search for the Gospel was also tasked with observing the
Ahnenerbe
. Unfortunately, we lost Father Piers during World War Two.” The Cardinal kissed his cross before continuing. “We lost so many back then.”

Jordan knew how that felt.

Bernard straightened slowly, thoughtfully, and passed back the medal. “I know someone who should see this. We have a Pontifical University—one run by the Order of the Sanguines—hidden at the abbey in Ettal, Germany. They have an enormous research library. There you will find our records concerning the
Ahnenerbe
and their activities during and after the war. Perhaps that should be the first stop on your quest?”

Jordan looked at Erin. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“Better than a Sanguinist library?” She looked ready to leave immediately. “I can’t wait to see it.”

He grinned. No surprise there. Her excitement was contagious. “Unless Father Korza has objections, let’s start there.”

“I will see to the preparations. After that, I must return to Rome—to ready the Vatican if you are successful.”

The Cardinal made as if to stand, but Jordan held up his hand. “Before you do that, I have a favor to ask.”

“Yes?”

“I wrote letters for each member of my team.” He kept his voice even, professional, trying not to think. “Letters to be delivered to their families in the event of their deaths, and mine. I left instructions with my CO about where they were and how to deliver them. Could you make sure that they are sent?”

Bernard bowed his head. “I can, my son. We have contacts with many army chaplains.”

Jordan cleared his throat, speaking formally. “One more thing, Your Eminence.”

“Of course.”

He reached into a tiny zippered pocket in his jacket and pulled out his wedding ring. He held the ring between his thumb and finger, remembering the rainy day when Karen had put it on his finger, the moment that had been coming at him like a freight train since his senior year of high school. They’d never thought they’d be apart.

“Please see that this gets to my wife’s family,” he said. “I always told them that if I were to die, they would get it back. They had talked of burying it near her gravestone.”

October 26, 11:14
P.M
., IST

Jerusalem, Israel

Erin had been taking a sip of water when Jordan passed over his wedding ring. She smothered a cough of surprise.

The ring shone gold before the Cardinal’s red glove closed over it. “As you wish, my son. It will be done.”

So Jordan wasn’t married—he was widowed.

She fought to fit this change into her overall view of him, barely hearing Jordan give instructions on where to find his letters and where to send the ring. He was
supposed
to be married. The tan line said so. She hated it when she misinterpreted evidence. He was a widower, one who had clearly loved his wife and hadn’t wanted to let her go.

This changed everything. If he was single, his actions took on a different cast—as did her own. She began reviewing all their past interactions, centering back at last to that kiss in his room.

She found her fingertips touching her lips and had to force her hand down.

“Excuse me, Your Eminence.” A peevish voice carried across the garden, drawing their collective attention. Father Ambrose crossed toward them. “May I clear?”

She stood, not certain of where to go.

“Of course, my son,” the Cardinal said. “We are finished supping.”