Innocent Blood(23)

Erin appreciated the Sanguinist’s level of paranoia, especially after the attack.

“Are you truly that worried about a mole in your order?” Jordan asked.

“Someone knew Erin would be alone at that ranch. For now, it’s best we fly under the radar. At least until we reach Rome.”

“That sounds fine to me,” Erin said. “What did you mean when you said I’m the only one who can find Rhun?”

During the ride to the restaurant, Christian had refused to talk. Even now, he glanced once around the room, then leaned forward. “I have heard from Sergeant Stone that Rhun fed on you during the battle below St. Peter’s. Is that true?”

She let go of Jordan’s hand, studying the napkin in her lap so that he couldn’t see her expression when she thought of the intimacy that she had shared with Rhun. She flashed to those sharp teeth sinking into her flesh, balancing between pain and bliss as his lips burned her skin, his tongue probing the wounds wider to drink more deeply.

“He did,” she mumbled. “But he had to. There was no other way to catch the grimwolf and Bathory Darabont. Without our actions, the Blood Gospel would have been lost.”

Jordan slipped his arm around her shoulders, and she shrugged it off. Surprise flashed across his eyes. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she didn’t want anyone touching her right now.

“I am not here to judge Rhun,” Christian said. “The situation was extraordinary. You don’t need to explain it to me. I’m more interested in what’s happened to you after that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you had visions? Feelings that you cannot explain?”

She closed her eyes. Relief flooded through her. So there might be an explanation for her blackouts.

I’m not going crazy after all.

Christian must have noticed her reaction. “You have had visions. Thank God.”

“Someone want to explain this to me?” Jordan asked.

In retrospect, she should have told him about the blackouts. But she hadn’t wanted to think about them, let alone share them.

Christian explained to both of them. “When a strigoi feeds on someone and the victim lives—which is a rare occurrence—the blood forms a bond between them. It lasts until the strigoi feeds again and erases that bond with a wash of new blood.”

Jordan looked sick.

A young server came by at that moment, his hair in blond dreadlocks, with a pad in hand, a pencil behind his ear. He was waved off after a round of black coffee was ordered.

Erin waited until the kid was out of earshot, then pressed on. “But what I’ve been experiencing makes no sense. It’s dark. Totally black. I have an intense claustrophobic feeling of being trapped. It’s as if I’m encased in a sarcophagus or coffin.”

“Like back in Masada?” Jordan asked.

She took his hand again, appreciating the heat of his palm, partially apologizing for snubbing him a moment ago. “That’s what I thought. I thought it was a panic attack. I dismissed the episodes as flashbacks to that moment when we were stuck in that ancient crypt. But certain details of those visions had struck me as odd. The box was cold, but it felt like I was lying in acid. It soaked through my clothes and burned my skin. And even stranger, everything smelled like wine.”

“Wine?” Christian asked, sitting straighter.

She nodded.

“If you were channeling Rhun during those visions, a bath of consecrated wine would burn.” Christian fixed her with his sharp green eyes. “Do you have any idea where this box might be? Could you hear anything?”

She slowly shook her head, trying to think of more details, but failing. “I’m sorry.”

All she remembered was that pain, sensing that what she had felt was only the tiniest fraction of what Rhun must be experiencing. How long had he been trapped there? Christian had said Rhun had gone missing shortly after the battle. That was two months ago. She couldn’t abandon him to that.

Another insight chilled her. “Christian, with each of these visions I feel weaker, more leaden. In the last, I could barely lift my arms.”

Christian’s expression confirmed her worst fear.

It likely meant Rhun was dying.

Christian reached and touched her arm, trying to reassure her. “The best plan is to get to Rome. Cardinal Bernard has more knowledge of this kind of bond than I do. It was more common in the early days of the Church.”

They were scheduled to leave by chartered plane in another two hours.

“And if we do find Rhun,” Erin asked, “what do we do after that?”

She feared she would be tossed aside again, summarily dismissed, like before.

“Then we all go in search of the First Angel,” Christian said.