Innocent Blood(36)
Jordan took her hand atop the table, making his claim on her clear. He glared at Rhun, showing no sympathy. Instead, he turned to Bernard, who stood beside the table.
“Cardinal, if you knew Rhun was missing for so many weeks, why did you wait so long before reaching out to us? You could have called before he got into this sorry state.”
The cardinal folded his gloved fingers together. “Until a few hours ago, I did not know of the dark act committed against Dr. Granger in the tunnels below St. Peter’s. I could not know of any bond between him and Erin. But Rhun’s actions have offered hope for the world.”
Rhun dropped his gaze to the table, looking mortified.
What was the cardinal talking about?
Bernard lifted his arms to encompass the train. “With all who are gathered here—the prophesied trio—we can now seek the First Angel.”
Jordan glanced around the table. “In other words, the band’s back together again. The Knight of Christ, the Warrior of Man, and the Woman of Learning.”
At the mention of the last of that trio, he squeezed Erin’s fingers.
She slipped her hand free. “Not necessarily,” she reminded everyone.
She heard that pistol blast again in her head, pictured Bathory Darabont collapsing in that tunnel. I murdered the last of the Bathory line.
Rhun stared at her. “The three of us have accomplished much.”
In this, Jordan seemed to agree. “Damned straight.”
They might be right, but it was the damned part that worried her.
11:15 A.M.
The train slowed and changed tracks, continuing its journey south.
Jordan glanced out the window, trying to guess their destination. Bernard had still not told them. Instead, the cardinal had vanished again into the rear car, leaving them to their own thoughts, to digest all that had happened.
It was a big meal.
A clink of metal drew his attention back to that dark doorway. Bernard emerged again, with two women in tow.
The first was tall, a dark-haired and dark-eyed Sanguinist. He immediately recognized Nadia. He eyeballed her leather armor and the length of silver belted at her waist. The latter was a chain whip, a weapon the woman was extremely skilled at wielding. She also had a long blade strapped to her side.
The phrase dressed to kill came to mind.
Nadia’s attention stayed focused on the second woman.
Not a good sign.
The stranger was shorter than Erin, with short curly ebony hair. She wore jeans and boots, the right one torn, exposing a splint on that leg, plainly a recent injury. Over her clothes, she shouldered an old-fashioned heavy cloak that seemed to weigh her down. Her tiny hands were folded demurely in front of her, and it took Jordan a second more to see that she wore handcuffs.
In one gloved hand, Nadia held a thick chain tethered to those handcuffs.
They weren’t taking any chances with this one.
Why was this woman so dangerous?
As the prisoner limped closer, Jordan saw her face. His jaw clenched to keep from gasping in surprise.
Silvery eyes met his. He studied the shape of those perfectly formed lips, the high cheekbones, the curly fall of her locks. If he changed the hue of her hair to a fiery red, she would be the spitting image of Bathory Darabont, the woman Erin had killed in the tunnel below Rome.
Erin had stiffened next to him, also recognizing the obvious family resemblance.
“You found another from the line of Bathory,” Erin said.
“Yes,” the cardinal said.
Jordan inwardly groaned. Like the last one hadn’t been trouble enough.
“And she is strigoi,” Erin added.
Jordan flinched in surprise, suddenly understanding the need for the heavy guard, the drawn shades. He should have recognized this fact himself.
The woman fixed Erin with a cold, dismissive stare, then turned to the cardinal. She spoke to him in Latin, but her accent sounded Slavic, very much like Rhun’s when he got angry.
Jordan looked at the prisoner with new eyes, appraising the threat level, calculating contingencies if this monster broke free from her handlers.
Once the woman had finished, Bernard said, “It’s better if you speak English. Matters will go much more smoothly.”
She shrugged, turned to Rhun, and spoke in English. “You already look much refreshed, my love.”
My love? What did that mean?
As a priest, Rhun wasn’t supposed to take lovers.
She sniffed curtly at Erin and Jordan, as if they had both crawled out of some gutter. “It seems such low company suits you well.”
Rhun gave no indication that he had heard her.
Cardinal Bernard stepped forward and made a formal introduction. “This is Countess Elizabeth Bathory de Ecsed, widow of the Count Ferenc Nádasdy Bathory de Nádasd et Fogarasföld.”
Erin gasped, drawing Jordan’s eye, but she simply kept staring at the woman.