Innocent Blood(94)

“Sit,” Elizabeth demanded once they reached an overstuffed chair. She tugged it closer to the fire, showing the depths of her strength.

He sank into it, staring into the flames, at the black andirons, shaped like dolphins dancing on their tails. The entire place smelled like woodsmoke, suddenly reminding him of the ski trips he had taken with his parents before he got sick.

Above a mantel rose a triptych of three maps. He leaned closer, rubbing his hands together over the crackling flames. The middle map displayed the modern world but drawn in an old-fashioned style with spidery lettering. To the left was a map that looked ancient, with vast parts of the world missing. The chart to the right was dated 1502. It showed the edge of North America, colored green, and a tiny bit of South America.

Elizabeth peered closely at that map, her voice drawn softer. “That is how the world looked when I was the same age you are now.”

Her remark caught Tommy off guard as he was suddenly reminded that she was more than four hundred years old.

Tommy pointed to the center map. “That’s how the world looks now. We’ve even mapped it from space.”

“Space?” she asked, glancing back, as if to see if he was joking.

“We have giant satellites. Machines. Orbiting way up, like between here and the moon.”

Her gray eyes clouded up. “Man has gone so far?”

“To the moon and back,” Iscariot said, joining them. “Mankind has sent devices crawling across the surface of Mars and traveling out beyond our solar system.”

Elizabeth sank back, placing a hand on the wingback of Tommy’s chair to steady herself. “I have a great deal to learn,” she said, looking overwhelmed.

Tommy reached up and touched her cold hand. “I’ll help you.”

Her fingers turned and gripped his—at first too strongly, threatening to break bones, but then she softened her hold, reining in that strength. “I would welcome that.”

Iscariot sighed, looking like he wanted to roll his eyes. “Before any of that can happen, Thomas should rest, eat, recover his own strength.”

Elizabeth’s hand tightened slightly again on him. “And then?”

“Then at dawn, Thomas will meet his destiny. As we all must do eventually.”

A chill trickled down Tommy’s spine that the fire could not warm.

What destiny?

One of Iscariot’s men arrived with a tray. Tommy stirred at the sight and smells of a hamburger, french fries, and a chocolate shake.

“I thought you might enjoy such fare,” Iscariot said as the tray was placed next to Tommy on a side table. “You should eat heartily. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Tommy touched the tray, remembering Elizabeth’s earlier warning.

Eat to stay strong.

He knew he would need all his strength to escape.



3:32 A.M.

Elizabeth settled into a chair opposite the hearth from the boy as he ate. She held her palms toward the welcoming heat. True flames warmed her like no modern device could. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to drink in that fire, picturing sunlight on a hot summer’s day.

Warm now and freshly fed, she should be content—but she was not.

I am unsafe here—as is the boy.

She was surprised at how much that last bothered her. Iscariot had plans for the both of them, and she began to suspect that he would treat her no more kindly than the Sanguinists had.

She rotated her injured ankle. It had healed enough that it would not slow her if she needed to flee. But what about the boy? She stared over at Tommy. He displayed appalling manners, devouring everything on his plate. The smell of grilled meat and frying oil repulsed her, but she gave no outward sign. She knew much of the boy’s appetite was driven by the same goal as her, to keep his strength up, to ready himself for escape.

But will the opportunity ever present itself?

Iscariot watched them like a hungry hawk, even as he ate his own meal, a blood-red steak and buttery vegetables. He used a silver fork and knife, the utensils emblazoned with an anchor.

Tommy finally sighed with great satisfaction and leaned back in his chair.

She studied his young face. Color had stolen into his cheeks again. It was uncanny, even for her, how quickly he healed. The food had clearly lent him strength.

“I can’t eat any more,” he declared, stifling a belch with a fist.

It turned instead into a long yawn.

“You should get some rest,” Iscariot said. “We must be up again before dawn.”

Tommy’s tired eyes found hers. He clearly didn’t know how to respond.

She gave him the smallest nod.

Now was not the time to confound their new captor.

“Okay,” he said, standing and stretching his back.

Iscariot gestured to Henrik. “Show the boy to the guest room and deliver him clean clothing.”