Erin clenched her jaw. Again she was being cast aside.
The countess stared at Bernard. “Then explain this role of mine, Cardinal. And let us see if you can buy my help.”
As Bernard explained about the prophecy, about the looming War of the Heavens, Erin reached down and took Jordan’s warm hand. He tilted his head to look at her, and she lost herself for a moment in those clear blue eyes, the eyes of the Warrior of Man. He squeezed her hand, making a silent promise. Whatever happened, she and Jordan were in this together.
The cardinal finished his explanation.
“I see,” Bathory said. “And what manner of payment might I expect if I help you find this First Angel?”
Bernard bowed his head toward the countess. “There are many rewards to be had by serving the Lord, Countess Bathory.”
“My rewards for serving the Church have been scant thus far.” The countess shook her head. “The glory of service does not content me.”
In this one instance, Erin agreed with Bathory. The countess had certainly gotten a raw deal—turned into a strigoi, imprisoned first in her own castle, then in a coffin of wine for hundreds of years.
Everyone the woman knew was long dead. Everything she cared about was gone.
Except Rhun.
“My desires are of utmost simplicity.” The countess held up one imperious finger. “First, the Sanguinists must protect my person for the rest of my unnatural life. Both from other strigoi and meddling humans.”
She held up another finger. “Second, I must be allowed to hunt.”
She unfolded another finger. “Third, my castle shall be restored to me.”
“Elisabeta,” Rhun whispered. “You do your soul a disservice by—”
“I have no soul!” she declared loudly. “Do you not remember the day you destroyed it?”
Rhun let out a quiet sigh.
Erin hated to see him look so defeated. She hated Bathory for causing it.
“We can reach an accommodation,” the cardinal said. “If you choose to live in a Sanguinist enclave, you will be sheltered from all who wish to do you harm.”
“I shall not be locked away in some Sanguinist nunnery.” The countess’s voice rang with anger. “Not for Christ, not for any man.”
“We could give you a suite of apartments in Vatican City itself,” Bernard countered. “And Sanguinists to protect you when you leave the Holy City.”
“And spend eternity in the company of priests?” the countess scoffed. “Surely, you cannot imagine I would succumb to such a dreadful fate?”
A corner of Christian’s mouth twitched toward a smile, but Nadia looked ready to explode.
“The Church has other properties.” Cardinal Bernard seemed unperturbed. “Though none so well defended.”
“And what of my hunting?”
Everyone fell silent. The train rattled against the tracks, carrying everyone south.
Bernard shook his head. “You may not take a human life. If you do, we shall be forced to take you down like any other animal.”
“How then will I survive?”
“We have access to human blood,” Bernard said. “We could supply you with enough to satisfy your needs.”
The countess examined her cuffed hands. “So am I to become a cosseted prisoner, as was my fate in centuries past?”
Erin wondered how long she had spent locked in her own castle before Rhun imprisoned her in a coffin and spirited her to Rome. Certainly long enough to know what it meant to lose your freedom.
The cardinal leaned back. “So long as you do not kill, you may roam the world, live your life as you see fit.”
“Tied to the Church for protection.” She shook the chains that bound her. “Ever dependent upon you for the very blood that sustains my meager existence.”
“Do you have a better deal?” Nadia scoffed. “Cardinal Bernard is offering you a life of ease, when you have earned only death.”
“Yet could not the same be said for each Sanguinist in this room?” Her silver eyes locked on Nadia. “Or have none of you tasted sin?”
“We have turned from our sins,” Nadia said. “As must you.”
“Must I?”
“If you do not agree,” the cardinal said, his tone brooking no argument, “we will throw you from the train into the sunlight and assume that is God’s will.”
The countess’s eyes locked onto Bernard’s face for a full minute.
No one in the car spoke or moved.
“Very well,” the countess said. “I accept your gracious terms.”
“If she gets to name terms,” Jordan spoke up, “then so do I.”
Everyone stared at him, their faces incredulous.