Blood Infernal

by James Rollins

  Erin remembered the reversed symbol she had shown Jordan and Elizabeth.

  Here it is, brought to life.

  Then from that pool above, a column of light shot down to the lake below, striking the black ice. The ice broke with the impact, cracks shooting across the lake. The ground bucked underfoot.

  In its wake, the world went quiet.

  Erin heard no breath of wind, no creak of tree limbs, no sound of any life.

  Except for the pounding of her own heart in her throat.

  She watched as the white column of light expanded outward across the ice, forming a cone shining down from above, creating a pyramid inside a pyramid. Within that conical blaze of brilliance, the black ice rippled like water under a stiff breeze.

  Erin remembered the mural at the Faust House, showing all manner of monsters heaving into this world. She steeled herself against what was to come—but even then, she knew she would be unprepared.

  12:01 P.M.

  With his skin prickling with warning, Jordan’s hand went to the Colt 1911 holstered under the edge of his parka. He knew the weapon would likely do squat against what he felt rising from the dark depths of that lake, but he wanted to feel its solidity in his hand, a counterpoint to that hole in the world wavering before him.

  To his left, Erin looked scared, locked within her fiery sphere. She must have felt his eyes on her, because she turned her head to look at him. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and she mustered up a small smile in return.

  To his right, Rhun stood with one of the monks in a sphere running with blue flames. Behind him, Elizabeth had drawn her sword. The lion paced beyond the sphere, apparently caught outside it when the gem ignited, the only one of them wise enough not to get trapped.

  And Jordan knew he was trapped, sensing he dared not pass out of this barrier of emerald light, that he would be burned to ash if he tried. So all he could do was grip his weapon harder in his hand.

  Out in the center of the lake, that rippling darkness began to steam forth with shadows and smoke, slowly filling the confines of that white cone of brilliance. Eventually he could no longer see through it to the lake’s north side, where Christian and Sophia waited with the chest of silver chains.

  As he watched, that darkness began to coalesce at the core, shadow and smoke becoming substance. A dark figure formed there, rising two stories tall, seated on a throne of obsidian. It features were blackened, its naked skin running with shadows as dark as pitch. From behind strong shoulders, a set of massive wings unfurled, feathered with black flames. Where those fiery tips brushed the light, black bolts of lightning chased across the inner surface of the cone—but the barrier held.

  The winged creature shifted up from his throne, straining against the coils of silver chain, its body weighted from the waist down.

  Jordan knew whom he faced.

  The king of that bottomless pit.

  Lucifer himself.

  And Jordan could not help but find this dark angel—

  12:03 P.M.

  —so beautiful.

  Erin marveled at the perfection of the figure on the throne. Every muscle in his arms and chest was flawlessly defined, his wings blazed with black fire. But it was his face that drew her full attention. Cheekbones rose high, sculpted into graceful arches, flanking a straight narrow nose. Higher still, long lashes fringed eyes that shone with a dark majesty, seeing everything and nothing.

  She found it impossible to look away.

  One of their group was not so afflicted and awed.

  “Why do you wait?” Elizabeth yelled from across the lake, breaking the spell.

  Erin watched Rhun shake free of the trance and shout to the north side of the lake. “Christian, Sophia! Go!”

  The pair set off from the rocky bank, hauling the heavy chest between them. As Xao had promised, the pair of Sanguinists passed through that outer plane of the fiery pyramid with no trouble, though once out on the ice, the malevolence clearly weakened them, setting their legs to stumbling. The new cracks in the ice also made the trek more treacherous, forcing the pair to take a circuitous route through the damage, slowing them even more.

  As fear rang through her, Erin turned to Jordan, wishing he was beside her.

  Jordan noted her attention and cupped his mouth to shout something to her—but a length of silver flashed into view behind his shoulders.

  Erin screamed a warning. “Jordan! Watch—”

  Then cold hard fingers clamped around her neck, strangling away her words.

  March 20, 12:04 P.M. NPT

  Tsum Valley, Nepal

  Jordan was moving as soon as he heard Erin’s shout, responding with years of instinct as a soldier. He ducked low—as a long curved blade swept over his head.

  While the sword missed its intended target, the steel still struck the emerald stone a glancing blow, knocking the gem loose, causing it to roll drunkenly along the rim of the granite chalice. Jordan hit the ground at the base of the pillar and twisted to one hip, bringing up the Colt and firing into the chest of the monk who wielded the sword.

  Knowing his adversary was a strigoi, Jordan unloaded his entire magazine. The monk went flying backward, falling out of the emerald bubble. The monk landed on his back in the snow, his chest smoking from the silver rounds, black blood pouring from beneath his body.

  Jordan spun around, his body thrumming with warning, still attuned to the stone.

  He lunged with his arm outstretched as the rolling gem rocked free of its perch and plummeted downward. Unfortunately only his fingers brushed its facets before it landed into a bank of snow at the foot of the plinth.

  As it struck, a resounding boom shook the ground. He crawled toward the gem as it continued to blaze from the snowbank. But the damage had been done. While the emerald bubble around him remained intact, still blazing with fire, one of the columns of the pyramid had been dislodged from its foundation.

  Must get it back up there, before it’s too—

  A series of sharp pops exploded near at hand, ringing out as loud as rifle fire, echoing from the lake’s surface.

  Jordan looked up and watched the ice shatter, breaking apart like a dropped mirror. But what that mirror was intended to reflect was something much darker, something not meant for this world.

  And it burst free.

  Creatures boiled to the surface of the lake: lumbering, slithering, and shoving through the ice. The horde clambered toward shore, mostly toward him and the broken foot of the pyramid, sensing a way to escape.

  Jordan flinched away, responding with the lizard part of his brain, refusing to accept what he was seeing, but unable to deny it at the same time. His stomach roiled at the sight, at horrors his mind could not fully grasp. But when his fingers reached back and brushed the inside surface of the flaming sphere that surrounded him, agony shot up his arm to his chest. He yanked his hand back. Smoke rising from his blackened fingertips.

  He realized he was trapped in this sphere, unable to escape, remembering the monk’s warning.

  It would be death to those whose heart still beats to pierce that brilliant veil.

  But the abominations that crawled out of the lake had no such hearts, no such limitations.

  Something sloshed out of the lake to the right, lumbering forth like an ordinary person, but with a flat black face, showing no eyes or mouth—yet still it screamed, howling at the world. To his left, a massive creature bounded to the rocks, clinging there, with cloven hoofs and a malformed head, then it leaped away.

  He wanted to cover his eyes, but he feared the unknown even more.

  Directly ahead of him, a black crocodilian shape slithered and clawed its way from the broken ice. But it had no head, only a puckered sucker at the front, showing a ring of teeth. It left a glistening trail of bile-colored slime behind it. Seeming to sense him, it clawed faster in his direction, passing unharmed through the emerald veil of his bubble, bringing with it the stench of sulfur and rotted meat.

 
Jordan’s mind struggled with the impossibility of it, tipping toward insanity. Still, one greater fear kept him grounded, momentarily anchored.

  Erin.

  But trapped here, Jordan could never reach her.

  Only one person could.

  12:06 P.M.

  Rhun lashed out with his karambit, parrying aside the monk’s sword—but the impact staggered him. This enemy was far more powerful and faster than any strigoi that Rhun had ever fought, its strength likely fueled by the malevolence wafting off the lake and the looming presence of its master of darkness, Lucifer.

  To keep his feet after that blow, Rhun stumbled out of the blue veil of light. Beyond that sphere, the air reeked of death and pestilence. Revulsion crawled along his skin like a thousand spiders.

  The monk pursued him, his long sword flashing down in a streak of reflected blue, but that strike never landed. Instead, something struck the monk in the side, knocking him down. The cub rolled away, but twisted back around, hissing loudly. The monk rose with the speed of a striking cobra, thrusting his blade at the cub’s throat—but instead, the monk toppled forward, his head flying off his body, while his sword harmlessly impaled a snowbank next to the cat.

  Elizabeth stood there, dark blood dripping from her blade.

  Again, she had saved his life, probably the cat’s, too, but he had no time to thank her.

  During the heated skirmish, he had seen Jordan dispatch the monk alongside him, his pistol blazing. He also saw the gem fall, causing the lake to shatter on that side, allowing hell to break loose into this world. Even now beasts were clambering along the banks, spreading wider. Others bounded across the ice, gibbering around the foot of their master. Several spotted Christian and Sophia with the chest and went in pursuit, either enraged by the holiness of the chains or perhaps commanded by that dark angel himself.

  “Defend the stone,” Rhun commanded Elizabeth.

  He had to reach Erin. A moment ago, he had watched her get attacked as she tried to warn Jordan, and even now she still struggled in the iron grip of Xao. The monk’s fingers were wrapped around her throat, lifting her high, until only her toes brushed the snow.

  Rhun raced along the shoreline toward her. A reptilian creature lunged off the ice at him, but Rhun smoothly stepped aside, striking out and decapitating its scaly head with a single stroke. Yellow smoke boiled out of the stump, while a splatter of blood dissolved through his parka and burned his skin like acid.

  Still, he kept going, trailed by the lion.

  A few other creatures threatened, but they seemed more interested in escaping the lake into the larger world, than truly attacking him. The same was not true for Christian and Sophia deeper out on the ice. The pair had set down the chest and battled a growing horde. Their robes were slick with blood.

  Across the lake, a fresh spat of gunfire revealed Jordan had reloaded and was shooting at some beast within his emerald glow, still holding his own for now.

  Rhun charged the last of the distance toward that ruby sphere.

  Erin still lived, her heart hammering in her chest, her breath ragged in that chokehold.

  Xao saw Rhun coming and smiled. Rhun knew the monk could have snapped Erin’s neck like a twig at any time, but Xao had refrained—perhaps only to better savor this moment.

  The monk freed one hand and lifted a dagger to Erin’s throat.

  No . . .

  The blade sliced deep and wide, carving open that tender neck. Blood burst forth like a fountain as the monk let her go.

  Erin dropped like a sack, falling to her side, her life steaming into the snow.

  Rhun’s legs stumbled with the truth, knowing it was too much to stop, too much to heal. Still, he fought to close the last of the distance. He would not lose her. He had sworn to protect her—not only as a Knight of Christ, but as one who loved her, one who could not imagine the world without her in it.

  Xao met his fury with a larger smile, his eyes shining dark with malice.

  Here was not the work of Lucifer.

  Rhun knew who stared out those eyes at him.

  12:07 P.M.

  From across the lake, Legion savored the look of horror and defeat in the Knight’s face. He witnessed it both through the gaze of the possessed monk and through the eyes of this vessel now.

  Legion still remained hidden among the rocks on the southern side of the lake, where he had been manipulating events from afar, lying in wait for the right moment to show himself.

  Deep inside him, the small flame of Leopold quavered, shaken by the sudden death of the Woman at the hands of the monk. Legion imagined that feeble flame weeping smoky tears.

  How easy it had been to make the trio dance to his wishes!

  Using the stolen knowledge of Hugh de Payens, Legion had sped here ahead of the others, coming upon the monks unprepared.

  With a touch, they were mine.

  Legion had thought to take advantage of a secret, one that Hugh had not shared with the others. The hermit had known that the broken stone could no longer open the gate in this valley. Hugh had trusted that the monks would know how to repair it, so Legion came to believe it, too. Unfortunately, once he took in the monks’ long memories, he found no such knowledge.

  Frustrated, Legion made new plans. Leopold and Hugh de Payens both trusted the Woman of Learning, held her in the highest esteem. If anyone could figure out how to repair the stone, it would be her. So he hid himself away and carefully manipulated the three monks, using them to wheedle the truth out of the trio, to make them do the work for him.

  And how perfectly that had worked.

  The Woman did indeed provide the answer, and the Warrior gave his blood to make it so. Together, the trio had opened the gate—which left Legion the simple task of shattering the stones, to ensure this portal was never closed again. This world would be claimed for the dark one. Once that black angel was freed, the garden would be purged of mankind, leaving this paradise for Legion alone.

  A promise sworn to Legion by Lucifer.

  Legion stepped from the small cave in the rocks and lifted his arms to the eclipse-darkened sky. He only had a handful of moments to complete his task. The sun was already being born again in the sky, rising fiery from the ashes of the eclipse. Knowing time would be short, he had chosen this spot to hide earlier, a shelter closest to the green stone, the closest to the Warrior who still guarded it. Though mended, that stone was still the weakest. Legion would shatter it first—then he would destroy the others one by one.

  To ensure his success, he had lured the Knight astray by threatening the Woman. Legion had waited until the Sanguinist priest was drawn close before slaying the first of the trio. Next, Legion would destroy the Warrior, who remained trapped by the emerald light, a bird in a cage. Only then would he dispatch the Knight, after breaking his will by killing all those he held most dear.

  But Legion wouldn’t do so alone.

  As he stepped under that blasted sky, the denizens of the dark land came to him, gathering to him like shadows. They licked his tattered boots, bowed and scraped before him, bit each other in wild joy in his wake. Of course, they loved him.

  He had freed them.

  And now he would free this world of the plague of man.

  Legion eyed the Warrior.

  Starting with this one.

  12:08 P.M.

  Sprawled on her side, Erin clamped both hands to her throat. Hot blood slicked between her fingers, as cold snow cushioned her cheek.

  She could only watch as Xao stepped over her body and met Rhun’s charge with a bloody dagger in one hand and a curved sword in the other. Beyond the fiery sphere, steel and silver clashed in a flurry of blows, counterstrikes, and parries. The cub helped, flying in to snag the edge of the monk’s robe to throw Xao off balance or bowling into the man’s legs.

  Even now, she understood the source of this betrayal, knowing how artfully they had been played in this sacred valley, used like puppets by Legion, as surely as if they had been posses
sed by the demon themselves. Legion had needed them to bring the two stones, repair the broken one, and open the gate so that Lucifer could rise from the darkness of the lake.

  And we did all of that.

  Anger kept her warm as the blood continued to seep through her fingers.

  Xao backed toward her, passing through fire to reenter the sphere. The demon inside seemed oblivious of her, perhaps believing she was already dead, or at least, too weak to fight.

  But I am more than the Woman of Learning.

  She lashed out with a leg and tripped Xao, catching the demon by surprise. As he fell and lost his guard, Rhun struck fast with his karambit, jamming it deep into the monk’s eye. Rhun used that new handle to swing Xao’s skull and crack it hard against a neighboring granite pillar. He smashed it over and over again, until the monk stopped moving.

  Only then did Rhun swing around and fall to his knees next to her.

  At least I won’t die alone.

  But ultimately she did not matter.

  “Jordan . . .” she croaked out.

  Rhun took her hand, refusing to leave her side.

  She let her other hand drop from her throat and pushed at his knee, urging him to help Jordan. Instead, he placed his own hand to her wound. His stronger fingers applied firmer pressure, as if knowing where to push to close the largest arteries.

  She wanted to fight him, but she did not have the strength.

  The cub paced outside that fiery veil, anxious, plainly wanting to help.

  Erin gritted her teeth, hating to fail them both. She was the Woman of Learning, and she still had a job to do. She would fight in the only way left to her.

  She shifted to better expose the pack on her back.

  “The Gospel,” she whispered.

  Surely there had to be some answer in that book. She had carried the volume this far, not just because she didn’t trust Bernard, but also because she knew that the book must still have a role to play. She had been bound to the book. That had to be important.

  But if I die, the potential of the Gospel dies with me.

  She could not let that happen without trying everything.