Read Online Blood Infernal: The Order of the Sanguines Series by James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell
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You must fulfill the covenant.”
“How am I supposed to find him?” Erin asked. “And what covenant are you talking about? The prophecy in the Blood Gospel?”
“You know all that you can know,” he said, his voice drifting farther away. “The way will be revealed, and you will follow it.”
Erin wanted to shake better answers from him, even took a step back in his direction. Questions chased through her head, but she voiced the most important one aloud.
“Will we succeed?” she asked.
Lazarus closed his eyes and did not answer.
March 17, 5:21 P.M. CET
Rome, Italy
I must break free . . .
Leopold’s consciousness drowned in a sea of dark smoke. As a Sanguinist, he’d grown used to pain—the ever-present burning of his silver cross against his chest, the searing of sacramental wine down his throat—but those pains were trivial compared to his current agony.
Bound within a dark well of smoke, he was lost, senseless to the world around him. Even the awareness of his own limbs had been stripped from him by this black pall.
Who knew the lack of pain, of any sensation, could be the worst torture of all?
But even more monstrous were those moments when the darkness would recede, and he would find himself looking out his own eyes again. Too often, they revealed horror and bloodshed, but even those brief respites from eternal darkness were welcome. In those moments, he tried to draw as much life back into himself as he could before he was drowned again by the demon that possessed his body. But as much as he struggled to hold on, it never lasted. In the end, such hopes proved crueler than any torment.
Better to simply let go, to allow the flame of myself to be extinguished into this nothingness, to add my smoke to the multitude that have come before me.
And he knew there were others before him. Occasionally wisps of smoke would brush through him, carrying with them snatches of another’s life: a flash of a lover’s face, the sting of a lash, the laughter of a child running through clover.
Is that all my life will become? Scraps in the wind?
As he pictured that wind, the darkness shredded around him, as if torn apart by a gale. He found a naked woman pressed under him on a bed. A streak of scarlet ran down her neck and between her breasts, coating a golden locket that hung there. Her eyes, as green as oak leaves, met his. They were wide with fear and pain, and they begged him to let her go.
Gasping, he forced his gaze away, to the sumptuous room. Heavy silver curtains had been drawn across the windows to keep out the sunlight, but he sensed that they would soon be opened. With the eternal clock of a Sanguinist, he knew sunset was less than an hour away.
Other bodies lay broken on the cold marble floor to either side of the bed, naked and unmoving.
He counted nine.
The demon inside me must be hungry .
But it wasn’t just the demon.
A half dozen strigoi shared the chamber, some slumbering and slated, others still feasting on the dead. The intoxicating scent of blood lingered in the air, enticing Leopold to partake in this slaughter. But he also sensed his belly was full.
Perhaps that is why I have broken free, even for this brief moment .
He intended to take advantage of it.
He pushed higher off the woman, though one hand still clutched her arm. She shrank away, her heart fluttering like a wounded bird. The demon had fed too deeply upon her. He could not save her, but perhaps he could release her to die in peace. Summoning all his concentration, he forced one finger, then another to let go, willing his hand to obey.
Sweat sprang up on his brow from the effort, but he succeeded, freeing her arm. Unable to speak, he nodded to tell her that she should go.
Trembling, she looked down at her arm, then back at him.
Candlelight flickered against green eyes, and reminded him of another flash of emerald. The green diamond . Impotent hate flashed through him. Just to think of that stone numbed his body,
“How am I supposed to find him?” Erin asked. “And what covenant are you talking about? The prophecy in the Blood Gospel?”
“You know all that you can know,” he said, his voice drifting farther away. “The way will be revealed, and you will follow it.”
Erin wanted to shake better answers from him, even took a step back in his direction. Questions chased through her head, but she voiced the most important one aloud.
“Will we succeed?” she asked.
Lazarus closed his eyes and did not answer.
March 17, 5:21 P.M. CET
Rome, Italy
I must break free . . .
Leopold’s consciousness drowned in a sea of dark smoke. As a Sanguinist, he’d grown used to pain—the ever-present burning of his silver cross against his chest, the searing of sacramental wine down his throat—but those pains were trivial compared to his current agony.
Bound within a dark well of smoke, he was lost, senseless to the world around him. Even the awareness of his own limbs had been stripped from him by this black pall.
Who knew the lack of pain, of any sensation, could be the worst torture of all?
But even more monstrous were those moments when the darkness would recede, and he would find himself looking out his own eyes again. Too often, they revealed horror and bloodshed, but even those brief respites from eternal darkness were welcome. In those moments, he tried to draw as much life back into himself as he could before he was drowned again by the demon that possessed his body. But as much as he struggled to hold on, it never lasted. In the end, such hopes proved crueler than any torment.
Better to simply let go, to allow the flame of myself to be extinguished into this nothingness, to add my smoke to the multitude that have come before me.
And he knew there were others before him. Occasionally wisps of smoke would brush through him, carrying with them snatches of another’s life: a flash of a lover’s face, the sting of a lash, the laughter of a child running through clover.
Is that all my life will become? Scraps in the wind?
As he pictured that wind, the darkness shredded around him, as if torn apart by a gale. He found a naked woman pressed under him on a bed. A streak of scarlet ran down her neck and between her breasts, coating a golden locket that hung there. Her eyes, as green as oak leaves, met his. They were wide with fear and pain, and they begged him to let her go.
Gasping, he forced his gaze away, to the sumptuous room. Heavy silver curtains had been drawn across the windows to keep out the sunlight, but he sensed that they would soon be opened. With the eternal clock of a Sanguinist, he knew sunset was less than an hour away.
Other bodies lay broken on the cold marble floor to either side of the bed, naked and unmoving.
He counted nine.
The demon inside me must be hungry .
But it wasn’t just the demon.
A half dozen strigoi shared the chamber, some slumbering and slated, others still feasting on the dead. The intoxicating scent of blood lingered in the air, enticing Leopold to partake in this slaughter. But he also sensed his belly was full.
Perhaps that is why I have broken free, even for this brief moment .
He intended to take advantage of it.
He pushed higher off the woman, though one hand still clutched her arm. She shrank away, her heart fluttering like a wounded bird. The demon had fed too deeply upon her. He could not save her, but perhaps he could release her to die in peace. Summoning all his concentration, he forced one finger, then another to let go, willing his hand to obey.
Sweat sprang up on his brow from the effort, but he succeeded, freeing her arm. Unable to speak, he nodded to tell her that she should go.
Trembling, she looked down at her arm, then back at him.
Candlelight flickered against green eyes, and reminded him of another flash of emerald. The green diamond . Impotent hate flashed through him. Just to think of that stone numbed his body,
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