The Blood Gospel (Page 62)

“Mein Gott in Himmel,” Leopold swore, reverting to his native tongue in shock.

They all moved closer to the screen. They all saw it.

In the lower right checkerboard, one of the outlines of the subterranean bunkers was in the exact shape of the Odal rune.

And this particular one wasn’t just next to a lake.

It lay sunken underwater.

Just like Atlantis.

31

October 27, 3:55 A.M., CET

Ettal, Germany

In front of the computer screen, Rhun stood near enough to Erin to smell the simple soap Bernard stocked at his Jerusalem apartments. Her long hair left a trace of warmth in the air when she swung it away from her face.

Jordan stepped between them, blocking his view of her again. Rhun knew it was done on purpose. The soldier kept his hands out at his sides, ready for anything, including a fight.

Irritation flashed through Rhun, but he forced it away. Jordan was correct to enforce a space between him and this young woman. Erin Granger, with her sharp mind and compassionate heart, was a very dangerous woman indeed. And Rhun needed all the distance he could muster.

Rhun turned his attention to Brother Leopold and to the task at hand. “Is there a triad in residence?”

“Natürlich.” The monk’s rosary clacked against the desk when he rose. “Nadia, Emmanuel, and Christian are here. Shall I fetch them?”

“Nadia and Emmanuel only,” Rhun said. “I will be the third.”

“What’s a triad?” Jordan asked, eavesdropping on their conversation.

Leopold lifted the receiver of a black telephone and explained. “Sanguinist warriors often work in groups of three. It is a holy number.”

And a perfect fighting unit, Rhun added silently.

Aloud, he said, “I will go with two others to this bunker and search it.”

Erin crossed her arms. “I’m going, too.”

“We’re a package deal,” Jordan added. “Isn’t that what the Cardinal said?”

Rhun drew himself up straight. “Your orders were to aid me in the search, which you have done. If we are successful, we will return here with the artifact.”

Jordan gave an unconvincing smile. “I believe the Cardinal said that we were the trio. Woman, warrior, and knight. I’m all for getting reinforcements, but not replacements.”

Brother Leopold dialed four numbers and spoke into the receiver—but his eyes had locked on to the soldier. He had heard what was spoken, knew what it meant, understood now what they sought.

“Rhun,” Erin said. “If the … artifact is in this bunker, my help led you there, and maybe you’ll need my help once you’re inside, too.”

“I have survived for centuries without your help, Dr. Granger.”

She didn’t back down. “If the Cardinal is correct about the prophecy, this is no time for pride. From any of us.”

Rhun blinked. She had blithely named his greatest fault.

Pride.

Such a fault had once brought him low—he would not let it happen again. She was right. He might very well need their help, and he could not be too proud to accept it.

“We must all do what we were called to do,” Erin said, echoing something the Cardinal had told him.

We must each humbly bow to our own destinies.

Erin added, “The book demands no less.”

Rhun cast his eyes down. If the fulfillment of the prophecy had begun, the three of them together must seek the book. As much as he wanted to, he could not leave Erin behind.

Not even for her own safety.

Or for his.

4:02 A.M.

A new map covered the large computer screen, a modern road map of the mountainous terrain of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. The lake and its hidden bunker lay about forty miles into that rough terrain. On the glowing monitor, Erin traced the thin white line that threaded between dark green hills and ended at the small alpine tarn.

“Is that a road?” she asked.

“An old dirt track,” Brother Leopold said. “The vehicle you arrived in cannot navigate it. But—”

The office door clicked open behind them.

Jordan’s hand went to the butt of his submachine gun.

Rhun flowed back into a ready stance.

Erin simply turned. Were the others right to be so on edge, even here, where she had felt safe? At that moment she sensed her inadequacy to deal with the dangers ahead.

Two black-cloaked figures swept into the room like an icy wind: swift, relentless, and cold. Only when they stopped moving did Erin recognize them as Sanguinists.

The first, surprisingly, was a woman, outfitted in tailored leather armor, similar to Rhun’s—except she wore a thin silver belt that looked like it was made of chain. She had braided her shiny black hair and pinned it up in a bun. Her severe face was darker-complected than Rhun’s, but equally implacable. She rested a gloved hand on the hilt of a dagger that was strapped to her thigh.

Her eyes swept the room, then she offered the slightest bow of her head to Erin and Jordan. “I am Nadia.”

The other, a man, stood two steps behind the woman.

“And I am Emmanuel,” he said, his accent Spanish.

He wore a black cassock, unbuttoned down the front, revealing leather armor beneath and a silvery hint of hidden weapons. Blond hair hung loose past his shoulders, far too long for a priest, and a pink scar ran down one chiseled cheekbone.

Rhun spoke hurriedly to the two in Latin. Erin listened, not showing that she understood. Jordan maintained his usual guard, his palm resting on the stock of his shouldered submachine gun. He plainly didn’t trust any of them.

Erin followed his example and feigned interest in the map on the screen as she eavesdropped.

Rhun quickly related everything in terse Latin: about the prophecy, about Erin and Jordan, about the book they sought and the enemy they faced. As he mentioned the word Belial, both Nadia and Emmanuel tensed.

Once finished, Rhun turned to Leopold. “You’ve readied what I asked?”

Leopold nodded. “Three bikes. They’re already gassed and waiting for you.”

Erin glanced back to the map, to a thin white track that wound through the mountains. It seemed they weren’t going to be traversing that torturous route via car or truck.

“If you are ready,” Rhun asked, taking Erin and Jordan in with a single glance.

Erin could only nod—but even that gesture was false. She hated to leave the familiar territory of dusty books, leather chairs, and the cold certainty of the computer screen. But she was committed.

As Leopold led them back up the stairs, Jordan hung back with her, touching her wrist, allowing his hand to linger.