Read Online Blood Infernal: The Order of the Sanguines Series by James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell - Free Book Online
Authors: James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell
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trembling in her hand.
“ ‘And the serpent said unto the woman: Swear a vow that ye shall take the fruit and share it with me.’ ”
Erin read the passage twice more to make sure she hadn’t mistranslated it, then continued on. In the next line, Eve swore a pact that she would give the snake the fruit. After that, the story continued along the same path as the Bible: Eve eats the fruit, shares it with Adam, and they are cursed and banished.
Her father’s words echoed in her head.
The price of knowledge is blood and pain .
Erin read the entire tablet again.
So in the end, it seemed Eve had broken her promise to the serpent, failing to share the fruit.
Erin pondered this altered story. What did the serpent want with such knowledge in the first place? In all the other Biblical stories, animals didn’t care about knowledge. Did this expanded story further support that the serpent in the garden was indeed Lucifer in disguise?
She shook her head, trying to make sense, to discern some significance. She looked over at Lazarus, hoping for some elaboration.
His eyes only stared back at her.
Before she could question him, a sound echoed to her, coming from beyond the library, the heavy grating of stone.
She stared in that direction.
Someone must be opening the nearby Sanguinist gate .
She checked her wristwatch. Christian had warned her that a sect of Sanguinist priests tended to the Cloistered Ones, bringing them wine to sip. But he hadn’t known their schedule or how often they came down here. She had counted on a little luck to get her by.
And that just ran out .
As soon as those priests got closer, they would hear her heartbeat, blowing her cover. She prayed Bernard wouldn’t be too hard on Christian and Sister Margaret.
She returned the tablet to its shelf, but as she turned around, ready to face the consequences of her trespass, Lazarus leaned forward—and blew out her candle. Startled, she stumbled backward. The library sank into darkness, illuminated only by the faraway torches in the main chamber.
Lazarus placed a cold hand on her arm, his fingers tightening as if to urge her to stay quiet. He guided her forward so she could peer into the chamber of the Cloistered Ones.
The ancient Sanguinists stirred. Fabric rustled, and dust fell from their old clothing.
At her side, Lazarus began to sing. It was a hymn in Hebrew. The Cloistered Ones in the chambers outside took up the chant, too. The fear in Erin fell away, caught in the rise and fall of their voices, as steady as waves against a shore. Wonder welled through her.
Figures appeared on the far side. A clutch of black-cloaked Sanguinist priests entered the chamber, carrying flagons of wine and silver cups. They stared at the Cloistered Ones, mouths agape. Apparently such singing wasn’t a common occurrence.
Lazarus’s fingers lifted from her shoulder, but not before a final squeeze of reassurance. She understood. Lazarus and the others were protecting her. Their song would drown out her heartbeat.
Erin stood stock-still, hoping that their ruse worked.
The young priests went about their duty, offering cups to lips, but those same lips only continued singing, ignoring the wine. The Sanguinists exchanged worried glances, clearly puzzled. They tried again, but with no better outcome.
The rich powerful voices only soared louder.
Eventually the small group of priests relented, retreating back down the entry hall and away. Erin listened as that distant doorway ground closed—only then did the singing stop.
Lazarus walked her to the torch-lit chamber as the Cloistered Ones went quiet and still again. He motioned toward the exit.
Erin turned to him. “But I didn’t learn anything,” she protested. “I don’t know how to find Lucifer, let alone how to reforge his shackles.”
Lazarus spoke, his voice deep but distant, as if he were talking to himself rather than to her. “When Lucifer stands before you, your heart will guide you on your path.
“ ‘And the serpent said unto the woman: Swear a vow that ye shall take the fruit and share it with me.’ ”
Erin read the passage twice more to make sure she hadn’t mistranslated it, then continued on. In the next line, Eve swore a pact that she would give the snake the fruit. After that, the story continued along the same path as the Bible: Eve eats the fruit, shares it with Adam, and they are cursed and banished.
Her father’s words echoed in her head.
The price of knowledge is blood and pain .
Erin read the entire tablet again.
So in the end, it seemed Eve had broken her promise to the serpent, failing to share the fruit.
Erin pondered this altered story. What did the serpent want with such knowledge in the first place? In all the other Biblical stories, animals didn’t care about knowledge. Did this expanded story further support that the serpent in the garden was indeed Lucifer in disguise?
She shook her head, trying to make sense, to discern some significance. She looked over at Lazarus, hoping for some elaboration.
His eyes only stared back at her.
Before she could question him, a sound echoed to her, coming from beyond the library, the heavy grating of stone.
She stared in that direction.
Someone must be opening the nearby Sanguinist gate .
She checked her wristwatch. Christian had warned her that a sect of Sanguinist priests tended to the Cloistered Ones, bringing them wine to sip. But he hadn’t known their schedule or how often they came down here. She had counted on a little luck to get her by.
And that just ran out .
As soon as those priests got closer, they would hear her heartbeat, blowing her cover. She prayed Bernard wouldn’t be too hard on Christian and Sister Margaret.
She returned the tablet to its shelf, but as she turned around, ready to face the consequences of her trespass, Lazarus leaned forward—and blew out her candle. Startled, she stumbled backward. The library sank into darkness, illuminated only by the faraway torches in the main chamber.
Lazarus placed a cold hand on her arm, his fingers tightening as if to urge her to stay quiet. He guided her forward so she could peer into the chamber of the Cloistered Ones.
The ancient Sanguinists stirred. Fabric rustled, and dust fell from their old clothing.
At her side, Lazarus began to sing. It was a hymn in Hebrew. The Cloistered Ones in the chambers outside took up the chant, too. The fear in Erin fell away, caught in the rise and fall of their voices, as steady as waves against a shore. Wonder welled through her.
Figures appeared on the far side. A clutch of black-cloaked Sanguinist priests entered the chamber, carrying flagons of wine and silver cups. They stared at the Cloistered Ones, mouths agape. Apparently such singing wasn’t a common occurrence.
Lazarus’s fingers lifted from her shoulder, but not before a final squeeze of reassurance. She understood. Lazarus and the others were protecting her. Their song would drown out her heartbeat.
Erin stood stock-still, hoping that their ruse worked.
The young priests went about their duty, offering cups to lips, but those same lips only continued singing, ignoring the wine. The Sanguinists exchanged worried glances, clearly puzzled. They tried again, but with no better outcome.
The rich powerful voices only soared louder.
Eventually the small group of priests relented, retreating back down the entry hall and away. Erin listened as that distant doorway ground closed—only then did the singing stop.
Lazarus walked her to the torch-lit chamber as the Cloistered Ones went quiet and still again. He motioned toward the exit.
Erin turned to him. “But I didn’t learn anything,” she protested. “I don’t know how to find Lucifer, let alone how to reforge his shackles.”
Lazarus spoke, his voice deep but distant, as if he were talking to himself rather than to her. “When Lucifer stands before you, your heart will guide you on your path.
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