Those at the table sat silent, apparently having little to say, each probably pondering the journey ahead.
She decided to do the same and turned to Nadia. “Tell me of this Russian connected to the royal Romanovs . . . this Rasputin? Why does the Church have no love for him?”
Perhaps she could make an ally out of him.
Nadia sat silent as stone, but her face betrayed how she loved withholding secrets.
“Your cardinal wishes me to be part of this endeavor,” Elizabeth reminded her, pressing her. “As such, I must know everything.”
“Then let the cardinal tell you.” Nadia folded her arms.
Realizing that no quarter would be given, Elizabeth turned her attention to eavesdropping, but she lost interest as the rattling of the train grew louder as it climbed some long hill, blotting out most sounds.
Minutes later, the steel door to her prison opened, bringing in the sharper smells of food, the blaze of sunlight, and the louder heartbeats of the humans.
Cardinal Bernard entered with the younger Sanguinist, Christian. They were followed by another priest, this one human, likely the cardinal’s retainer. She recognized his sluggish heartbeat from the first car, where the food was being prepared. She was growing hungry herself—and this one had a round belly, fat cheeks, all plump with blood, a pig waiting to be slaughtered.
“We will arrive soon,” Bernard informed Nadia. “Once we leave the train, I am placing you and Christian in charge of Countess Bathory.”
“Do you not mean in charge of the prisoner?” Elizabeth corrected. “Even though I have joined your quest, do you trust me so little?”
“Trust is earned,” Christian said. “And you currently have a massive trust deficit.”
She held out her bound hands. “Can you not at least release me to move freely about this prison? With daylight outside, I cannot escape here. I do not see what harm—”
An explosion blasted away her words. As if struck by the hand of God, the entire coach lifted under them, riding atop a thunderous roar, accompanied by the fires of Hell.
16
December 19, 12:34 P.M. CET
South of Rome, Italy
Rhun moved upon the first shift of air, the first note of the explosion. He rode the blast wave as time slowed to the thickness of liquid glass.
He lunged across the table, wrapped both his arms around Erin, and hit the closed window with his shoulder. The thick curtain wrapped around his body as he crashed through. Glass raked his arms and back. Flames and roaring chased him out into the world.
At his heels as he leaped from it, the train car expanded, growing impossibly bigger until its skin split—and smoke and soot and wood burst outward in a great explosion.
Tossed high, Rhun turned his body to the side and hit the ground rolling, one arm around Erin’s back, the other pulling her head close to his chest. He and Erin rolled across the stubble of a harvested field that bordered the tracks.
The brief smell of dry grass was quickly scorched away by the bitter, chalky smell of explosives, the scratch of charcoal, and the unmistakable odor of burnt human flesh.
The train had exploded.
Someone, maybe everyone, had died.
In his arms, Erin gasped and coughed.
She yet lived—and that made him far happier than it should.
He ran his hands across her body, feeling for broken bones, for blood. He found scrapes, a few cuts, and bruises. Nothing more. His fingers entwined with hers, seeking to reassure her, feeling the shock draining the heat of her body.
He pulled her tighter to him, sheltering her.
Only then did he turn back to face the disaster spread out across the fields.
Chunks of soot-streaked metal pierced the yellow grass, littered the railroad tracks, and scattered across the smoldering fields. Pieces of the black steam engine had been blown from the track. The boiler lay a hundred yards ahead, a hole torn in its metal belly gaping at the sky.
Patches of fire ate the fields, as broken glass rained from the sky, like so much crystalline hail, all mixed with blood. He remembered the biblical quote from Revelation: There followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were cast upon the earth.
Was he witnessing that now?
Dust and smoke roiled up from the tracks. A chunk of steel had landed mere feet away, steam hissing where its hot surface touched wet grass.
A high-pitched bell rang without pause in his ears. With one hand, he brushed glass from his robes and pulled pieces from his other arm. Still cradling Erin, he searched around him, but nothing moved.
What had become of the others?
He touched his rosary and prayed for their safety.
He finally untangled himself from Erin. She sat in the grass, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her limbs were streaked with mud and blood. She pushed hair back from her forehead. Her face was clean, protected as it was while he held her against his body.