Innocent Blood(106)

Rhun struggled to understand.

Father Bernard was good. He brought comfort to the sick and dying. He brought hope to the living. Without him, most of the priests in this very monastery would never have found their way to God.

“There is a path for us,” Bernard said. “It is the most difficult road that any priest can walk, but we can do good, we can serve the Church in ways that no others can. God has not forsaken us. We, too, can live in His grace.”

With those words, Rhun slipped toward a deep well of sleep, letting this lasting hope tame his bloodlust and offer him salvation.

Rhun came out of his penance, to find the cardinal leaning over him, those deep brown eyes shining with that same love and concern.

Bernard had saved him back then.

Still, Rhun now knew the misery that had followed that one act of mercy, picturing Elisabeta’s eyes, her cunning smile, the deaths and suffering that followed in her wake.

Perhaps the world would have been better served if Bernard had let him die.





40





December 20, 6:07 A.M. CET

Near Naples, Italy



Elizabeth clutched Tommy to her side, feeling him tremble every now and then, likely still picturing the fire and explosions. She had never seen such a battle: two adversaries flying about like hawks, smoke screaming from impossible cannons in their bow, booms that shook even the air. The fighting exhilarated her, awed her—but it had terrified the boy.

He leaned against her shoulder, seeking comfort.

She remembered the other vessel exploding and rolling into the sea, sinking like a scuttled ship. She pictured Rhun torn to pieces—but oddly she found no satisfaction in the vision, only disappointment.

He should have died at my hands.

She also could not discount a sense of hollowness at his loss. She explored that emptiness now, knowing it was not grief, at least not entirely. It was more like the world was barren without him. Rhun had always filled her life, even back at the castle, before she was turned—with his frequent visits, their long conversations, their long pregnant silences. After that bloody night, he continued to define her, having given birth to her new existence. And ever since then he had plagued her shadow—even into this modern world.

Now he was simply gone.

“We’re almost there,” Iscariot said, waving a hand to the screen before them.

She drew her attention forward. The screen showed a dark coastline, littered with a blaze of lights. Farther to the east, she noted the skies had begun to pale with the approach of dawn. She felt its approach in the lassitude that weighed her down, making her feel sluggish.

Their craft suddenly veered away from the mass of lights that marked the city of Naples. It swung toward a shadowy stretch of coastline, overlooked by a tall hill, with a thin sandy beach at its base. The crown of the hill was scooped out, marking it as one of the many old volcanoes that dotted this region of southern Italy, but its slopes had long turned to thick forests, sheltering deep lakes.

“Where are we?” Tommy asked, stirring from her side.

“Cumae,” Elizabeth answered, staring across the top of the boy’s head to Iscariot.

“We’re going to visit an old friend,” Iscariot added cryptically.

Elizabeth had little interest in anyone whom Iscariot considered a friend.

As their craft reached the shore, it swept low over the sandy beach, stirring dust into a cloud. They lowered back to the land as sand rose around them in a cloud.

She felt Tommy stiffen in her arms. He must know his destiny was close at hand and rightly feared it. She remembered Iscariot’s instructions to her, that she was supposed to keep the boy calm, to play nursemaid to him.

She tightened her arm around his thin shoulders—not because it was her duty, but because the boy needed such comfort.

At last, the craft bumped to the ground. The sand sifted and settled, opening a view to the ocean on one side and the steep slope of cliffs on the other.

Iscariot cracked open his door, washing in the smell of salt and burning oil.

They all climbed out.

Once Elizabeth’s feet felt the sand, another note struck her keen senses.

A whiff of sulfurous brimstone.

She faced the seaside cliffs of that ancient volcano, knowing what lay far beneath it, protected by an ancient sibyl.

The entrance to Hades.

Standing beside her, Tommy stared dully out across the dark seas, likely picturing the deaths far out there, wondering about his own fate. She took his hand and gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. She would play her role as ordered, biding her time until she could make her escape.

As Elizabeth turned her own eyes out across those empty waters, she was again struck by the hollowness of her loss. And not just Rhun. She pictured her estates, her children, her family. All gone.