Innocent Blood(74)
No one moved, captured by its beauty.
It fluttered closer to the Sanguinists, as if picking a side in the battle to come. It landed on Nadia’s black coat, on her shoulder, displaying swallowtails at the ends of its wings, the emerald scales dusted with a hint of silver.
Before anyone could react, to speak out at the strangeness, more of its brethren blew into the space, some from the various passageways all around, some drifting down with the snowflakes from above.
Soon, the entire room stirred with these tiny shreds of brilliance, dancing about the air, alighting here and there, wings beating.
The whirring Rhun had noted before grew more evident.
Rhun studied the moth perched on Nadia, noted the metallic hue to its body.
Despite the real wings, these trespassers were not living creatures, but artificial constructs, built by some unknown hand.
But whose?
As if answering this question, a tall man entered the ice tower from the same entrance used by Erin. Rhun heard his heartbeat now, having failed to note it earlier amid all the strangeness. He was human.
The man wore a light green scarf and a gray cashmere coat that reached to his knees. The colors set off his gray hair and his silver-blue eyes.
Rhun noted Bathory stir at the sight of him, stiffening slightly, as if she knew this man. But how could she? He was plainly human, of this time. Had she met this stranger during the months that she roamed free in the streets of Rome? Had she called him here to free her? If so, this stranger could hardly hope to win against Rasputin’s strigoi and the Sanguinists.
Yet he did not seem the least nervous.
Rasputin also reacted to the man’s arrival with an expression more worrisome than Bathory’s. The monk fled away, toward the farthest wall, his normal darkly amused expression turned to horror.
Rhun went cold.
Nothing of this world ever unnerved Rasputin.
Knowing this, Rhun turned a wary eye on the stranger. He shifted to stand over Erin and the boy, ready to protect them against this new threat.
The man spoke, in English with a slight British accent, formal and studied. “I have come for the angel,” he said with a deadly calm.
The other Sanguinists closed ranks to either side of Rhun.
Jordan pulled Erin to her feet, clearly readying them to run or fight. The boy sat on the snow at their knees, dazed by debilitation and drugs, wrapped in Jordan’s leather coat. Rhun knew Erin would not leave the boy.
In turn, the strigoi flocked their small forms in front of Rasputin, forming a shield between him and the mysterious man, their guns pointed toward the stranger.
The man remained unperturbed, his eyes on Rasputin. “Grigori, you are sometimes too clever for your own good.” The man gestured to the boy. “You found another immortal such as I, months ago, and you did not tell me until hours ago?”
Rhun struggled to understand.
Another immortal such as I . . .
He stared at the man. How could that be?
The man scowled sadly. “I thought we had an arrangement when it came to such matters, tovarishch.”
Rasputin’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Another rarity for the clever-tongued monk.
Christian and Nadia exchanged a quick glance with Rhun, confirming their mutual confusion. None of them knew anything about this man, this supposed immortal.
Bathory simply watched, a small calculating crinkle between her brows. She knew something but remained silent, clearly wanting to see how this would play out before reacting.
The man’s eyes found hers, and a welcoming smile softened his cold countenance. “Ah, Countess Elizabeth Bathory de Ecsed,” he said formally. “You remain as beautiful as first I set eyes upon you.”
“You, too, are unchanged, sir,” she said. “Yet I hear your heartbeat and cannot fathom how such a thing could be so, since we met so long ago.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, looking relaxed. He answered her, but his words were for them all. “Like you, I am immortal. Unlike you, I am not strigoi. My immortality is a gift given to me by Christ to mark my service to Him.”
Behind him, Erin sucked in a quick breath.
Rhun also could not keep the shock from his face.
Why would Jesus grant this man immortality?
Nadia spoke up, asking another question. “What service did you perform?” she pressed. “What did you do that our Lord blessed you with eternity?”
“Blessing?” he scoffed. “You know better than anyone that immortality is no blessing. It is a curse.”
Rhun could not argue against that. “Then why were you cursed?”
A smile formed on his lips. “That is two questions buried in one. First, you are asking, what did I do to become cursed? Second, why was I given this particular punishment?”
Rhun wanted the answers to both.