Innocent Blood(93)

Rhun squeezed out a few more drops for him to test. Jordan wet a swab with the priest’s blood and applied it to the gloves.

There was no reaction.

Erin’s brow furrowed in thought.

Jordan sighed. “So it seems the boy’s blood doesn’t hurt anybody. In fact, it might have saved my life.”

“Might have?” Erin said. “Something sure did.”

Jordan ignored the burn blazing across his shoulder and down his back and chest. “Either way, the kid and Judas are very different, despite their shared immortality.”

“So where does that leave us?” Rhun asked.

“From here, Erin and I should take point whenever those moths are around. And not just moths. We should be suspicious of anything that creeps, crawls, or flies. I also suggest you all wear thicker armor, showing less skin. Maybe even something like a beekeeper’s mask to protect your faces.”

Rhun nodded. “I will share this information with the cardinal, to warn any Sanguinists in the field, to ready such gear for any fight to come.”

Jordan returned his attention to the moth’s remains. “Which brings us next to its functional mechanism. This clockwork inside is very intricate. I suspect any foreign contamination could wreak havoc, possibly gumming up the gears. Fine dust, sand, oil.”

“I will have the cardinal look into that, too.”

Jordan looked at Rhun. “And for all our sakes, it would be good to have as much advance notice of this manner of assault as possible. Back in the ice maze, were you able to hear the moths when they flew through the air?”

He imagined the gears made some sort of noise.

“I remember a soft whirring, far quieter than a heartbeat. But I’d recognize it if I heard it again.”

“Then that’s a start,” Jordan said.

But would it be enough?





34





December 20, 3:13 A.M. CET

Mediterranean Sea



Tommy gaped as the massive doors of the elevator cage opened into a huge room.

After the hydrofoil had docked at the foot of one of the oil rig’s massive legs, the group had crossed to an industrial freight elevator. It looked old and well worn, an artifact left from the days when the rig actually sucked oil from beneath the Mediterranean Sea. The nondescript steel cage had whisked them to the towering platform above and into the superstructure built on top.

Iscariot stepped out first, flanked by his two huge men.

Tommy followed with Elizabeth.

He had expected to find the same old, industrial look here. Even from below, the superstructure on top had looked like the steel forecastle to an old sailing ship. But as Tommy entered the room now, it was like stepping onto the bridge of Captain Nemo’s Nautilus. The room was a graceful mix of steel and wood, glass and brass, masculine yet elegant.

Directly across from the elevator rose towering windows, arched to a point like those found in gothic churches. The outermost flanking windows were even stained glass, depicting scenes of fishing, of men hauling nets, of small boats with white sails. The remaining windows opened a commanding view of the sea. Moonlight shone on white-capped black waves and thin silvery clouds.

It took some effort to tear his gaze from that view. Underfoot, a rich red carpet cushioned a floor that showed polished hardwood at its edges. Overhead, steel beams had been painted black, the rivets a rich copper. A skylight shone up there, also stained glass, displaying seabirds in flight: gulls, pelicans, herons. In the center, though, hung a white dove with emerald eyes.

Tommy tripped a step, remembering the injured dove he had sought to rescue in Masada. Iscariot caught his hand before he fell, glancing up to the same skylight, his silver-blue eyes returning to Tommy with a curious glint.

“Your hands are cold,” Iscariot said. “I’ve had a fire stoked for our arrival.”

Tommy nodded, but he had a hard time getting his legs to move. The remainder of the space was decorated with leather chairs and deeply cushioned couches, tacked with copper studs. There were also display cabinets and tables, holding brass sextants, old telescopes, a large steel bell. Standing before the center window was even a ship’s massive wheel, of wood and brass, clearly an authentic antique. Hanging on the wall above that same window was an old anchor, gone green with verdigris.

Guy must like to fish, Tommy thought.

He cast a sidelong glance at Iscariot.

Judas, he reminded himself, despite the impossibility of that. But after all he had experienced of late, why the hell not?

Elizabeth touched his arm. “You are shivering. Let’s get you before the fire.”

He allowed himself to be led to a set of chairs before a massive hearth. Bookcases rose to either side, climbing from floor to ceiling, so tall that you had to scale a rolling ladder to get to them. His mother would have loved this room, a space warm and cozy, full of books to read.