The Blood Gospel (Page 70)

“Now your turn,” the soldier said once she was done. He switched places with her, taking up the first-aid kit. “Let me look at you.”

Jordan’s bandaged hand slid along Erin’s face and scalp, quickening her pulse.

She retreated and lifted her arm between them. “They only bit my hand.”

With a nod, Jordan quickly wrapped her injury.

“If you two are quite finished … ,” Emmanuel said, irritated. “Shall we discuss our next move?”

Behind him, claws continued to dig at the door.

The bats were almost through.

5:54 A.M.

As Jordan watched, a fist-size section of the door splintered and gave way. Through the opening, a scabrous head pushed into view, screeching, ears unfolding, teeth gnashing.

Emmanuel slashed out with his short sword, and the bat’s head rolled to the floor.

Jordan helped Erin to her feet and backed away as another bat stuck its head through the hole.

“Bastard chewed through the door,” he said. “That’s dedication.”

Rhun nodded toward the shadowy rear of their space. “There is an open archway back there. Seek shelter in the next room.”

Jordan pointed his light, noting the dark doorway for the first time. The archway led who knew where, but at least bats weren’t coming through it. And if Rhun sensed nothing of menace back there, that was good enough for him.

“Make haste.” Emmanuel spoke through gritted teeth as more of the door began to disintegrate, torn apart by determined teeth and claws.

Nadia and Rhun went to his aid.

Jordan and Erin crossed and stood at the threshold, fearing to enter alone. Jordan played his light across the space, discovering that Rhun’s keen senses proved true. The archway did lead to another room—a large circular space, empty and cavernous—but as he played his beam along the curved wall, an awful truth became evident.

There was no other exit.

It was a dead end.

5:55 A.M.

“There’s no way out of here!” Erin called back to Rhun.

Her eyes watered from the sharp smell of ammonia in the room.

Bat guano.

She took a few steps inside, trailed by Jordan. Her flashlight illuminated a round chamber with a domed roof. She was immediately struck by two details. The chamber was the same shape and size as the tomb in Masada. But here, fine white marble covered every surface: the floor, walls, and ceiling.

She imagined it must have been a beautiful space once, but now dark guano streaked the walls and piled up in corners.

She also noted a second detail, her heart beating faster, again picturing the schematic of the Odal rune in her head.

“What is wrong?” Rhun shouted back.

Erin glanced back. Had he felt the stirring of her excitement?

She answered him, not bothering to shout this time, knowing he would hear her fine at a normal speaking volume: “I believe this chamber lies in the exact center of the diamond part of the Odal rune.”

Their path here glowed in her mind’s eye.

Rhun understood. “Search for the book. Time runs short! If we cannot defend this door, we may have to flee back to the tunnel and seek a more secure shelter.”

Granted his permission and responding to his urgency, she hurried inside, her attention already drawn to the most dramatic object, the tallest item, in the room: a life-size marble crucifix with a shockingly emaciated Christ nailed to it, sculpted of the whitest marble. Every detail on his body was faultlessly rendered, from his perfectly formed muscles to the deep wound on his side. Unlike Christ, though, this figure was naked, hairless as a newborn, giving the image a stylized beauty, a mix of godlike innocence and human agony.

She moved her light to follow the gaze of his lowered head. The sculpture looked down upon a tall stone pedestal with a splayed top. Erin knew that shape, having just seen it hours ago. It matched the Ahnenerbe pin in Leopold’s office, the one depicting a column supporting on open book.

The monk had said the emblem’s pedestal represented an important Ahnenerbe goal: to document Aryan history and heritage. But he also said it could symbolize “a great mystery, some occult book of great power held by them.”

Breathless, Erin knew she was looking at the source of that Ahnenerbe symbol.

From the way the pedestal’s top was tilted toward the statue and away from her, she could not tell if anything rested there.

“We should stay by the door,” Jordan warned. “In case we have to make a run for it.”

She did not slow, did not hesitate. Nothing would stop her from reaching that pedestal and seeing for herself what lay there—possibly a book written in Christ’s own blood.

Jordan swore under his breath and followed her deeper inside.

The cross and column rested upon a dais, a square marble base six feet across. That both objects should have been placed on a stage demonstrated their importance. But why would the Nazis erect a life-size crucifix? Were they guarding something they considered sacred and holy?

Erin had to find out.

She jumped up onto the stage, wincing when her feet ground into pieces of broken rock. Careful not to step on anything else, she circled the pedestal.

As she came around, holding her breath, her light glowed across the upper surface of the marble lectern.

Then her heart sank.

It was empty.

“What did you find?” Jordan called to her from the base of the dais, but his face remained turned toward the vestibule, where the Sanguinists fought to keep the bats at bay.

Erin stepped forward and ran her fingertips across the empty surface of the lectern. She felt the indentation along the top, as if something was meant to rest there, an object roughly of the dimensions described by Rhun.

“The book was here,” she mumbled.

“What?” Jordan asked.

Defeated, she stepped back, her heel crushing another chunk of debris underfoot. She glanced down, shining her light. Fragments of gray rock lay scattered around the pedestal. Focused now, she saw that they were not natural stone, but something man-made. She knelt and carefully picked up one shard.

Most of the others strewn on the floor were less than an inch thick and ashy in hue. She retrieved a larger piece and rolled it around in her palm, judging the material.

Gray. Concrete. If ancient, probably lime and ash.

Could these pieces date to the time of the Blood Gospel? To know for sure, she would have to do a proper analysis somewhere else, but for now she improvised.

She scratched a thumbnail over one corner and sniffed at the abraded edge.

A familiar spicy scent struck her deeply, almost causing her eyes to tear.