Innocent Blood(150)

Rhun’s chest was just as silent.

Neither of them was truly human, nor mortal.

His blood still burned from the blast, reminding him of another essential difference between them and all humankind.

We are cursed.

Though blessed and bound to service in the Church, they remained tainted creatures, best left to the dark.

He took in Bernard’s words, wondering if they could be true. Could his heart stir again? Could he have his soul back? Could he rejoin a simpler world, one where he might father children, where he could feel the touch of a woman’s hand without fear?

He seldom allowed himself to entertain such a hope. He had accepted his lot as a Sanguinist. He had served without question for long, long years. His only possible escape from this curse was death.

But then he met Erin, who questioned everything and everyone. She gave him the will not only to challenge his fate—but to hope for something more.

But dare I grasp it?

Elisabeta stepped before him, turning his eyes from the desert to her soft face. He expected rancor, vitriol that he should be offered this gift. Instead, she did something far worse.

She touched his cheek. “You must take this boon. It is what you always wanted.” Her cold hand lingered there. “You have earned it.”

He stared into her eyes, seeing that she truly wished this for him. He gave a small nod, knowing what he must do, what he had truly earned.

He moved her hand from his cheek and kissed her palm in thanks.

He turned to Erin, to the book shining gently in her hands, where it had always belonged.

To each, their place.

He knew all he had to do was touch that book and state his greatest sin, and it would be taken from him, allowing a soul to return to the damned.

Erin smiled at him, happy for him.

Bernard followed him, clearly thrilled to witness this miracle. “I am so proud of you, my son. I always knew that if any of our order were to be restored to grace, it would be you. You will be free.”

Rhun shook his head.

I will never be free.

He lifted his hand over the book, remembering that moment when he writhed in the holy brilliance of an angel restored, where his every sin was exposed—including his greatest, that black blight beyond any forgiveness.

The words of the Gospel echoed through him.

. . . he may undo his greatest sin . . .

He turned his face up to the heavens. His friends were wrong. Rhun knew his greatest sin, as did the one who wrote those words upon that page.

He placed his palm there now. “I take it upon myself to give up my greatest sin,” Rhun prayed. “To let it be undone and give back that which I had stolen.”

Erin looked troubled at his words—as she should be.

Behind him, he heard Elisabeta gasp and then crash to her knees.

Erin whispered to him. “What have you done?”

As answer, he glanced back to Elisabeta. She clapped her hands over her mouth and nose, as if she could hold back the hands of fate. But black smoke seeped between her fingers, expelling from mouth and nose, and formed a dark cloud in front of her startled eyes. Then in a breath it spiraled downward and vanished from this world.

She moved her hands from her mouth to her throat.

And screamed.

She screamed and screamed.

The sound rang across the desert again and again.

Rhun took her in her arms, calming her, holding her.

“It is as it must be,” he said. “As it should always have been.”

He watched her anguished, frightened face grow pinkish. And for the first time in centuries, he heard her heart beat again.

Rhun lost himself in the rhythm of it, wanting to weep.

Elisabeta’s eyes were wide upon him. “This cannot be.”

“It can, my love.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Destroying your soul was my greatest sin. Always.”

Her face grew redder, not with returning life, but anger. Her silver eyes darkened into storm clouds. Sharp nails scratched down his arm. “You made me mortal?”

“You are,” Rhun said, hesitant now.

She shoved him away, her strength the barest fraction of her former might. “I did not wish it!”

“W-what?”

“I did not ask you to turn me into a beast, nor did I ask you to return me to this.” She held out her arms. “A frail and mewling human.”

“But you are forgiven. As am I.”

“I care nothing about forgiveness. Yours or mine!” She retreated from him. “You play with my soul as if it were a trinket that you can give and take at will. Both then and now. Where is my choice in any of this? Or does that not matter?”

Rhun searched for words to explain it to her. “Life is the greatest gift.”

“It is the greatest curse.”

She turned and stalked away, heading for the open desert.