Even sin again.
As if in response to this blasphemous thought, she stirred. Her silver eyes fluttered open, and her lips warmed into a hesitant smile. Her gaze was momentarily lost, displaced in time and place.
Still, in that moment, he knew the truth.
In spite of everything, she loved him.
He touched a palm to her cheek. But how had she survived the burning brilliance in her cursed state? Had his body shielded her? Or was it his love for her?
Either way, joy filled him as he fell into her silver eyes, letting the desert fade around them. For the moment, she was all that mattered. Her hand rose. Soft fingertips touched his cheek.
“My love . . .” she whispered.
5:03 P.M.
Erin looked away from Rhun and the countess. Her gaze was still dazzled by that blast of light, swearing for a moment she saw a sweep of wings sailing upward from the sands. She gazed up at the stars.
Stars.
She straightened and turned in a slow circle, watching the pall clear from the night sky, spreading outward in all directions. She pictured the darkness being swept clean, all the way back to Cumae.
Had they succeeded in closing that opening gate?
Jordan stood up next to her. He flexed and stretched his left arm, shaking the limb a bit, reminding her of a more immediate concern. She remembered him crashing to his knees and clutching his side, like he was having a heart attack.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He looked down at the boy, at the blood.
“When he fell, it felt like something was ripped out of me. I swore I was dying.”
Again.
She examined Tommy’s pale face. His eyes were closed as if he were merely slumbering. Back in Stockholm, the boy’s touch, his blood, had resurrected and healed Jordan. She noted the pool of blood here no longer glowed. It simply seeped coldly into the sand.
She reached over and squeezed Jordan’s hand, feeling the heat there, glad of it. “I think whatever angelic essence Tommy imbued in you was stripped back out during that blast of light.”
“Where’s the sword?” Jordan asked, glancing around at his feet.
It was gone, too.
She again pictured those wings of light. “I think it’s been restored to its original master.”
Bernard joined them, his eyes on the skies. “We have been spared.”
She hoped he was right, but not all of them had been so lucky.
She dropped to a knee and touched Tommy’s blood-soaked shirt. She brought her fingers to his young face, looking even younger in death, his features relaxed, finally at peace. His skin was still warm under her fingertips.
Warm.
She placed her full palm to his throat, remembering doing the same with Jordan. “He’s still warm.” She reached down and tore open his shirt, ripping buttons. “His wound is gone!”
Tommy suddenly jerked, sitting half up, pushing away from her, clearly startled, his gaze sweeping over them. The fear there faded to recognition.
“Hey . . .” he said and stared down at his bare chest.
His fingers probed there, too.
Elizabeth burst away from Rhun and landed on her knees, taking his other hand. “Are you fine, boy?”
He squeezed her fingers, shifting closer to her, still scared.
“I . . . I don’t know. I think so.”
Jordan smiled. “You look fine to me, kiddo.”
Christian joined them with Wingu. The pair had finished a fast canvass of the crater and its rim to make sure all was safe. “I can hear his heartbeat.”
Rhun and Bernard confirmed this with nods.
Relief shattered through Erin. “Thank God.”
“Or in this case, maybe thank Michael.” Jordan slipped an arm around her.
The countess scolded Tommy. “Don’t ever do something like that again!”
Her seriousness drew a shadow of a smile from Tommy. “I promise.” He lifted up a hand. “I’ll never impale myself on another sword.”
Christian moved closer to Erin. “His blood doesn’t smell . . . angelic anymore. He is mortal again.”
“I think it’s because we released the spirit inside him. So it could rejoin its other half.” She glanced over to Iscariot. “Does that mean Judas is healed, too?”
Christian shook his head. “I checked as I made my circuit with Wingu. He lives yet, but only barely. Even now I can feel his heart about to give out.”
Rhun fixed his eyes on Judas. “His reward was not life.”
5:07 P.M.
For the first time in thousands of years, Judas knew his death was near. A tingling sensation spread from the wound in his side and coursed through his veins like icy water.
“I’m cold,” he whispered.
Arella drew him tighter into her warm embrace.
With great effort, he lifted his arm in front of his failing eyes. The back of his hand was covered in brown age spots. His skin hung in loose wrinkles from his bones.