Innocent Blood(128)

She had lured them to Siwa.

He stood, thanking her, a conviction firming inside him. He knew this message had been left in the sand for him as much as them.

She was calling him, too.

But why?





PART V





. . . Behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” And he rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed to Egypt and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet, “Out of Egypt I called my son.”



—Matthew 2:13–15





48





December 20, 1:49 P.M. EET

Airborne over Egypt



Jordan leaned his forehead against the window of yet another helicopter. The constant drone of the engine and the endless expanse of featureless sand lulled him into a drowse. The persistent burn that etched his left shoulder, tracing fire along his tattoo, kept him from sleeping. It wasn’t so much painful as an annoyance, an itch that couldn’t be scratched away.

Still, he rubbed it even now, barely aware he was doing it.

But someone else was.

“Is something wrong with your shoulder?” Erin asked.

“ . . . mm . . .” he said noncommittally, not wanting to bother her with such minor complaints when they had greater worries.

Like the boy draped across the seats next to Erin.

She cradled Tommy’s head, one hand holding a folded gauze pad to his neck. During the five-plus hours of travel, her efforts had seemed to slow the bleeding, but she still had to regularly swap out gauze pads for fresh ones.

But at least they were almost to their destination.

After leaving the beach, Christian had returned to Naples and secured their same jet, freshly refueled, and lifted off immediately for the small city of Mersa Matruh along the Egyptian coast, where they transferred to their current helicopter, a former military craft turned civilian charter. From there, Christian piloted them south over the sands.

Jordan had seen a lot of desert in his tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, but nothing the size of this one. It was as if he had traded the battleship gray of the Mediterranean Sea for this tan Saharan Ocean. No matter how long the helicopter flew, the ground below never changed.

But worst of all, the ash cloud continued to pursue them, chasing them across the sea and out into the desert. According to reports on the radio, it was spreading in a wide swath, moving faster than weather patterns predicted. They had escaped European airspace just in time, before most of the area was locked down due to the foul air.

By now, he had little trouble believing the ash blew straight out of Hell.

But at least the boy still lived—though barely. His breathing was shallow, his heartbeat so faint Jordan could not discern a pulse, but Rhun assured him it was there.

Finally, something caught Jordan’s attention out the window, near the horizon, a stripe of green.

He rubbed his gritty eyes and looked again.

Still there.

At least my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

He stared at Rhun, at the woman sprawled next to him, covered with a navy-blue blanket. Like Tommy, she never stirred. It was upon her unspoken word that they were all out there.

Let it not be for nothing.

If the kid died, Erin would be crushed, knowing it had been upon her urging that they made this long detour to nowhere with a dying boy.

Jordan turned back to the window and watched the green stripe grow larger.

According to Erin, Siwa was an oasis, not far from the Libyan border. It had flowing water, palm trees, and a small village surrounding it. Ancient sites also dotted this emerald of the desert, including the ruins of the famous oracle’s temple, and a cluster of tombs, called Gebel al Mawta, or the Mountain of the Dead.

Hopefully, they would not be burying their two passengers at that last site.

Not knowing what they might face in Siwa, Jordan turned to the one person who had those answers. He stared at the blanketed body of the sibyl across from him—only to discover her gazing back at him, her eyes open.

He stiffened in surprise and touched Erin’s arm.

She glanced over and had the same startled reaction as him. “Arella . . . ?”

Erin looked down at Tommy, but he was still out.

Rhun freed the harness that held the woman secure and helped her to sit up.

She kept the blanket draped around her shoulders despite the warmth of the cabin, plainly still chilled, still recovering. She weaved a bit shakily as she sat.

“How do you feel?” Jordan asked, speaking loudly to be heard over the noise of the helicopter.

She turned to the window, staring at the stretch of trees sweeping toward them. “Siwa . . .”