“For now, just Bernard.” He glanced around, then swung the suitcase to Rhun and pointed to a bathroom. “Change. Keep the armor under your civilian clothing.”
After they left, he shook Jordan’s hand, noticing the fierce warmth of his palm, almost feverish, as if he were burning up. “Are you well?” he asked.
“Considering I just came back from the dead, I’m doing fantastic.”
Bernard noted a slight hesitation in the man’s manner. He was clearly holding something back, but Bernard let it go. “I am grateful you’re safe . . . and equally grateful for your work in helping us understand this unique threat posed by Iscariot’s moths.”
Bernard still had trouble coming to terms with Judas Iscariot walking the earth, that Christ had cursed His betrayer with endless years. But the threat the man posed could not be denied or ignored.
“With time and better facilities,” Jordan said, “I could learn more about his creations.”
“It will have to do. Time runs short. We must find the First Angel and unite him with the book.”
The words of the Gospel’s prophecy shone in his mind’s eye in lines of flaming gold: The trio of prophecy must bring the book to the First Angel for his blessing. Only thus may they secure salvation for the world.
Nothing else mattered.
Erin looked grim. “For that to happen, we must discover where Iscariot has hidden him and discern what he wants with the boy.”
“And why the bastard came here with the kid,” Jordan added.
Erin nodded. “It must be important.”
Rhun and Christian returned, their robes tighter than before, hiding their new armor, a stab-resistant material suggested by Jordan as a defense against the sting of those moths.
Bernard motioned to the door. “I have hired us a helicopter to take us to the coordinates where Christian last detected the countess. We will head west over the water along that same path and search for any clues.”
Leading the way, Bernard piled them into a taxi van and drove them to a neighboring airfield, where the helicopter waited. It was a blue-and-orange craft, with a curiously long nose and swept-back windows, defining a large cabin.
Christian exited the van and whistled his appreciation. “Nice. An AW-193.”
“You can fly a chopper?” Jordan asked.
“Been flying them since you were still in short pants.” He waved to the aircraft. “Hop in.”
Erin was aboard first. She stopped short when she spotted a long black box strapped between their seats.
“I readied a coffin for Countess Bathory,” Bernard explained. “In case we come upon her during this sojourn.”
“We’re bringing her back?” Jordan asked.
“She may still be the Woman of Learning,” Bernard answered.
He was not about to take any chances.
Rhun touched the box with one hand, an aggrieved look on his face. Bernard had heard reports from Christian about Nadia slashing the woman’s throat, a woman for whom Rhun still clearly had deep affection.
Bernard needed to remain wary of that bond.
4:44 A.M.
Rhun strapped in next to Erin as Christian took the pilot’s seat. The engine roared to life and the blades began turning faster and faster. Moments later they were airborne and sweeping for the dark waters of the Mediterranean.
As they reached the coastline, Christian called back. “Here is where they took to the sea! I lost her signal a few miles due west from here!”
Rhun stared down at the black waves. Moonlight glinted silver off the whitecaps.
They traveled in silence for several minutes, but the waters remained empty, showing no trace of the others. He pictured Iscariot dumping Elisabeta into the dark sea, ridding himself of her.
Christian yelled. “This is the spot where the signal cut out.”
He brought the craft into a slow circle over the water. All eyes searched below for any wreckage, any evidence as to where Iscariot’s group had gone.
Jordan called forward. “We should consult maps of the local currents. If a boat sank or a helicopter or small plane crashed out here, we might have to follow the coastal currents—but for now I suggest that we continue along their original trajectory.”
“Roger that.” Christian tipped the craft to its side and flew west.
Rhun continued his vigil, his keen eyes searching every wave.
He prayed for hope.
He prayed for her.
36
December 20, 5:06 A.M. CET
Mediterranean Sea
Judas stood in his bedchamber, dressed again after a short hour’s nap.
He felt refreshed, full of hope.
As he secured his tie, he kept his back to the room’s massive four-poster bed. To assist him while dressing, he used the reflection in the giant clock that covered one wall. The crystal face stretched eight feet across. With his own hands, he had built and rebuilt it in twenty different homes. The dial of the clock was also glass, revealing its inner gears and cogs, all of brass, copper, and steel. He liked to watch the mechanisms tick away the endless passage of his life.