Innocent Blood(91)

She glanced back at him, laughing with the delight of it all.

“For a prisoner, you look much too happy,” Tommy noted.

She reached and tousled his hair. “Compared to my old prison, this one is wonderful.”

He looked little swayed.

“We must savor every moment given us,” she stressed. “We know not where this journey ends, so we must wring each scrap of joy out of it while it lasts.”

He stepped closer to her, and she found her arm slipping around him. Together, they shared the dark waves rising and falling in front of their ship, the cold wind tearing back their hair.

After a short time, she felt him shiver in her arms, heard his teeth chatter, remembering he did not have her impervious nature.

“We must warm you,” she said. “You will catch your death of cold.”

“No, I won’t,” he said, lifting an amused eye toward her. “Believe me.”

He finally grinned.

She matched it. “Still, we should get you inside, out of this wind, where you’ll be more comfortable.”

She led him across the deck, through a hatch, and down into the main cabin. It smelled of men and coffee and engine oil. Iscariot sat on a bench next to a table, sipping from a thick white cup. His hulking servant hovered near a small kitchen.

“Fetch the boy hot tea,” she called over to Henrik.

“I don’t like tea,” Tommy said.

“Then just hold the cup,” she said. “That will warm you as well.”

Henrik obeyed her order, arriving with a steaming mug. Tommy took it in both hands and stepped over to one of the windows, eyeing Iscariot with plain suspicion.

The man seemed oblivious, motioning with an arm, inviting Elizabeth to join his table. She accepted his offer and slid to the seat.

“What is our destination?” she asked.

“One of my many homes,” he said. “Far from prying eyes.”

She gazed out the window at the moonlit sea. Ahead lay nothing but darkness. This home must be far from anything. “Why do we travel there?”

“The boy must recover from his ordeal in the ice.” Judas looked to where Tommy stood. “He lost much blood.”

“Is his blood then of value to you?” A pang of worry for the boy shot through her.

“It is certainly of value to him.”

She noted that he had not answered her question, but she let it go for a more pressing concern. “Will the Sanguinists find us there?”

Iscariot ran his hand through his silver hair. “I doubt that they can.”

“Then what, pray tell, do you wish of me? I understand you coveting the First Angel, but of what use am I to you?”

“Nothing, my lady,” he said. “But I have had a Bathory woman at my side for four hundred years, eighteen women total, and I know what powerful allies they can be. Should you choose to stay, I will protect you from the Sanguinists, and perhaps you will protect me from myself.”

More riddles.

Before she could inquire further, Tommy pointed out the forward window. “Look!”

She stood to see better. Out of the darkness, lit by hundreds of lamps, a monstrous steel structure appeared out of the waves. Four gray pillars jutted up from the sea like the legs of a massive beast. These monstrous pillars supported a flat tabletop larger than St. Peter’s Basilica. Atop this platform rested a nest of painted beams and blocks.

“It’s an oil rig,” Tommy said.

“It was once an oil rig,” Iscariot corrected him. “I’ve turned it into a private residence. It is on no maps. Positioned far from the cares of the world.”

Elizabeth examined the lights shining from the middle of the nest atop the platform, defining the ramparts of a blocky steel castle. She glanced out at the spread of dark water all around, then back to the oil rig.

Is this to be my new cage?



2:38 A.M.

“We have a problem!” Christian called back to the jet’s cabin from the cockpit.

Of course we do, Jordan thought. They were due to land in another forty minutes. Over the past couple of hours, they had been slowly closing the lead on the others. Christian had reported that Iscariot’s group had gone to ground about fifteen minutes ago in Naples.

“What’s wrong?” Erin yelled back.

For once, Jordan was hoping for engine trouble.

“I lost Bathory’s signal!” Christian reported. “I’ve tried recalibrating, but still nothing.”

Jordan unbuckled and hurried forward to the cockpit. He braced his arms atop the tiny doorway and leaned through. “Where’d you see her last?”

“Her group must have transferred to another vehicle. Slower than the jet, but still fast. Speedboat, helicopter, small-engine plane. Can’t say. They headed away from the coast, out over the Mediterranean, moving due west. Then suddenly the signal cut out.”