Innocent Blood(149)

“Nothing new is there,” Bernard said, sounding forlorn and distraught.

“Maybe that means everything is over,” Jordan said. “We don’t have to do anything else.”

If only . . .

Erin knew better. “Turn the page.”

Tommy licked his upper lip and obeyed, lifting the first page and exposing the next.

It, too, was blank—then darkly crimson words appeared, marching across it in finely scribbled lines. She pictured Christ writing those Greek letters, his quill dipped in His own blood to enact this miraculous gospel.

Line after line quickly filled the page, far more than the first time the book had revealed its message. Three short cantos formed, accompanied by a final message.

Tommy held the book up to Erin. “You can read it, right?”

Jordan placed a hand on her good shoulder. “Of course she can. She’s the Woman of Learning.”

For once, Erin didn’t feel the urge to correct him.

I am.

As she took the book, a strange strength surged from the cover through her palms. The words shone brighter before her eyes, as if she were always destined to read what was written here. She felt suddenly possessive of the book, of its words.

She translated the ancient Greek and read aloud the first canto. “The Woman of Learning is now bound to the book and none may part it from her.”

“What does that mean?” Bernard asked.

She shrugged lightly, as clueless as he was.

Jordan slipped the book from her hands. As soon as the Gospel was lifted from her fingers, the words vanished.

Bernard gasped.

Erin quickly took the book back, and words blew back to life.

Jordan flashed a grin at Bernard. “Still doubt who she is?”

Bernard simply stared at the book, looking anguished, as if the love of his life had been torn from him. And maybe it had been. Erin remembered how she had felt when sent back to California, deemed unworthy to be involved with this miraculous book.

“What else does it say?” Tommy asked.

She drew in another breath and moved to the second canto. “The Warrior of Man . . .” She glanced at Jordan, hoping it was something good. “The Warrior of Man is likewise bound to the angels to whom he owes his mortal life.”

With the uttering of the last word, Jordan suddenly flinched, ripping away the rest of the torn sleeve from his left arm. He gasped. The tattoo traced there had turned to fire, glowing golden. Then in another breath it blew out, leaving only the blue-black lines of ink on his skin.

He rubbed his arm and shook his fingers. “I can still feel that burn down deep. Like after Tommy revived me.”

“What does that mean?” Erin asked, looking to the others.

From their expressions, no one knew.

Christian offered the only counsel. “Jordan’s blood still smells the same, so he’s not immortal or anything.”

Jordan frowned at him. “Quit smelling me.”

Leaving that mystery for now, Erin turned to the third and final canto and read it aloud. “But the Knight of Christ must make a choice. By his spoken word, he may undo his greatest sin and return what was thought forever lost.”

She faced Rhun.

His gaze met hers, his dark eyes as hard as obsidian. She read some understanding in that dark glint, but he remained silent.

Tommy pointed to the bottom of the page. “And what’s that written at the bottom?”

She read that, too. It was separate from the three cantos, clearly some final message or warning.

“Together, the trio must face their final quest. The shackles of Lucifer have been loosened, and his Chalice remains lost. It will take the light of all three to forge the Chalice anew and banish him again to his eternal darkness.”

Jordan sighed heavily. “So our work isn’t done yet.”

Erin held the warm book in her hands and reread that last passage several times. What was this Chalice? She knew that she would spend many long hours trying to pick meaning out of those few lines, to wring some sense out of them.

But that could wait for now.

Jordan stared over at Rhun. “What’s all that about your greatest sin?”

Rhun remained silent and turned to the empty desert.

Bernard answered, “His greatest sin was when he became a strigoi.” He took firm hold of Rhun’s shoulder. “My son, I believe that the Book is offering you mortal life, to restore your soul to you.”

But would he take it?

Erin read that final canto again.

The Knight of Christ must make a choice . . .





54





December 20, 5:33 P.M. EET

Siwa, Egypt



Rhun felt Bernard’s urgent fingers on his shoulders. The cardinal’s breath brushed his neck when he spoke. He heard the shift of cloth and the creak of leather armor as his mentor shifted his stance. But what he didn’t hear was a heartbeat.