Blood Infernal: The Order of the Sanguines Series (41 page)

“It has been long since the Order of the Sanguines has troubled itself with me,” he said, his voice rough and deep, as if he didn’t use it often. He stared at Elizabeth, then gave a slight bow of his head. “And I see you’ve brought someone from my distant past. Be welcome, Countess Bathory.”

“It is Sister Elizabeth now,” she corrected him, touching the cross on her chest.

He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Truly?”

She gave him a demure shrug.

“Then these are strange times indeed,” the man said. “And it seems Countess . . . rather
Sister
Elizabeth is not your group’s only intriguing companion.”

Hugh de Payens approached, staring down at the cub. Once close to the cat, he eyed Rhun. “May I?”

Rhun backed a step. “He is his own master.”

“Well spoken,” Hugh said, holding out a hand for the cub to sniff.

The lion looked back at Rhun, who gave him a small nod. Only then did the cat lean forward and huff at the man’s outstretched fingers. Seemingly satisfied, the cub licked the hermit’s hand.

Hugh beamed at the lion. “Remarkable,” he murmured. “Something wholly new. A creature tainted not by
darkness
, but rather illuminated by
light
. May I ask how you came by him, Father Korza?”

Rhun looked surprised that Hugh knew his name, but Erin suspected the man knew much more than his pleasant demeanor implied. One didn’t survive for centuries, hiding from the Sanguinist order, without honing some talent at subterfuge

“I killed his mother in the desert in Egypt,” Rhun explained. “She was an injured
blasphemare
.”

Hugh straightened. “I imagine she was one of those unfortunate beasts caught by that holy blast in the desert.”

“That’s right,” Rhun said slowly.

Even this surprised Erin. Only a handful of people knew about that event. Most of them were right in this room. So this hermit was more attuned to current events than anyone would have guessed.

“After I slew his mother, the cub came to me,” Rhun explained. “I brought him away to keep him safe.”

“By the rules of your order, you should have killed the child. Yet, you did not.” Hugh shook his head in mock disapproval. “Did you know that the Buddhists consider lions to be
bodhisattvas
—sons of the Buddha? They are thought to be beings who have attained a high level of spiritual enlightenment. They stay in this world to free others from their suffering. You are fortunate indeed, Father Korza, that this beast chose you. Perhaps it’s because you wear the crown of the Knight of Christ.”

Hugh eyed Erin and Jordan. “And travel with the Warrior of Man and the Woman of Learning.”

Jordan spoke up. “How come you know so much about us?”

His question was ignored as Hugh ran his fingers along the cub’s side, eliciting a steady purr. Only then did he rise again and face Jordan, but instead of answering his question, he held out a hand.

“May I see the gemstone you carry in your pocket?”

Jordan took a step back, but Erin grabbed his elbow. There was no reason to keep any secrets, especially as this man seemed to know theirs anyway. And they needed any answers that Hugh de Payens might provide.

“Show him,” Erin urged.

Jordan dug around in his pants pocket and pulled out the two pieces of the broken green stone.

Hugh took them and nudged the two halves together in his palm. He held the stone up to the torchlight, as if to verify the design infused into its surface. “It’s been centuries since I last saw this stone, when it was intact, uncorrupted.”

He lowered his hand and passed the pieces back to Jordan. He paused only long enough to cock his head, staring at the design twined across Jordan’s skin. “It seems you are indeed a fitting bearer of this particular gem,” he said cryptically.

Erin used this statement as a way to broach the reason they had traveled here. “We are looking for
two
more stones. Very much like this one.”

Hugh smiled at her. “You are mistaken. The other two are
nothing
like this one.”

“So you know of them?” Rhun moved closer. “We believe that they are key to—”

“To fulfilling your latest prophecy.”

“Will you help us?” Erin asked.

Before Hugh could answer, the cub let out a mewling cry of simple hunger.

“It seems there are more immediate concerns to address first.” Hugh gestured toward the archway that led farther into the mountain. “Join me in my home. I have dry towels, along with food and wine for those in need of nourishment.”

He rubbed the lion’s head with one knuckle. “And of course, meat and milk for you, my friend.”

Erin followed Hugh de Payens, as he led them deeper into the mysteries locked within this mountain.

But can we trust him?

March 19, 4:48
P
.
M
.
CET

Pyrenees Mountains, France

Rhun dropped his hand on the lion’s head as they followed Hugh through the second doorway, which revealed a winding staircase heading up, cut through the same stone. As the group ascended, they passed landings leading to other levels, each sealed with stout doors. He pictured the labyrinth of tunnels that likely coursed through this mountain.

But their host led them ever upward, holding aloft a smoky torch.

The stairway ended at another door, this one wood strapped in iron.

“Open!” called Hugh through it.

The thick portal swung wide. Rhun followed Hugh over the threshold into what appeared to be a church. To the far left was the tall door they had spotted through the waterfall. It was presently closed, but he still heard the muffled roar beyond, picturing what it must look like when those massive double doors were thrown open upon that cascading veil, the waters lit by the eastern sun when a new day dawned.

Through the windows on either side and above the door, he could catch some glimpse of that spectacle, but the glass was stained, the work of a true master. The circle over the door displayed a perfect rose, its petals blooming in every shade of red. The smaller flanking windows showed flowering trees, their bowers full of doves and ravens, their shadows hiding deer and wolves, lambs and lions, all living in harmony.

Rhun stepped farther in the room, but he cautioned the others to hang back.

They were not alone.

In the deeper shadows at the other end of the church stalked the four shaggy dogs that had attacked them in the forest. Other beasts stirred back there, crimson eyes glowing, revealing their accursed natures. He spotted a pair of grimwolves, a black leopard, and hulking on one knuckle was a mountain gorilla.

“Do not be afraid,” Hugh said, standing to the side with the torch. “You are my guests . . . until I say otherwise.”

Rhun moved out with the others, but he kept everyone back from that dark menagerie, whose eyes watched their group with equal suspicion. He frowned at the state of this small cathedral. The nave held no pews, and the stone floor was spread with straw. A dozen cots lined the walls, while smaller side chapels were penned off, revealing troughs and thick beds of loose hay.

Sophia nudged Rhun, nodding toward tall, thin figures hovering near marble statues.

Strigoi
.

At least a dozen.

The
strigoi
had no weapons that he could see, save perhaps those garden tools leaning against the walls—rakes, hoes, and spades.

“You need fear no one here, Father Korza,” Hugh tried to reassure him.

Rhun hoped that he was telling the truth. He glanced around at the building itself. Rather than raw rock, the walls were covered in white bricks, soaring up into great gothic vaults. Huge wrought-iron chandeliers hung down, dripping with candlewax.

Even up there, creatures stirred.

Hugh noted his attention, lifted an arm and whistled.

A shred of black shadow broke away and swept down, landing on his wrist.

It was an ebony-feathered raven with glowing eyes. Its beak was a spear, its claws true talons. Hugh used a finger to gently ruffle the feathers along its neck. The bird bowed, rubbing back in turn.

“This is Muninn.” Hugh glanced upward, searching the roof. “Huginn is up there, too. Or perhaps he’s off hunting.”

Erin must have recognized the names. “Odin’s ravens,” she said. “They were said to be able to fly around the world, bringing information to the Norse god, keeping him informed of everything. You’re not suggesting these are—”

“The same ones? No, my dear,” Hugh said with a smile. “It just amuses me to call them by those names. And the pair is but two of a great flock that haunts these forests, a mix of
blasphemare
and natural birds.”

“Amazing,” Erin said, her gaze searching the ceilings.

Rhun suspected she wasn’t looking for more birds, but her attention was captured by the decoration across the vaulted roof. The ceiling was white, but red stars and blue wheels had been painted across its surface, forming an elaborate, fanciful design.

“The frescoes above,” Erin muttered, confirming Rhun’s guess. “They’re extraordinary. They look Middle Eastern—with the wheels and stars—but not quite, somehow.”

She wandered off a few steps to better take them in.

Jordan kept to her side. Elizabeth trailed after them after Rhun quietly signaled her to do so.

Sophia waved to the beasts and
strigoi
. “How did they come to be here?”

Hugh looked lovingly upon his flock, as Muninn hopped to his shoulder. “It is my experience that creatures seek out their true masters. To reach my sanctuary, many
blasphemare
and
strigoi
traveled hundreds of miles. I did not call them. They are drawn to me, just as this sweet lion was drawn to Rhun.”

Rhun rubbed the cub’s head. “But how do you keep them from killing in these mountains?”

Hugh lifted his arms. “Because, like you, they have made
peace
with their nature. Instead of being ruled by their savage blood, they control it. They are no longer killers.”

Sophia looked little convinced by the man’s words.

Rhun could not blame her. “How does one find peace outside the bounds of the Church?”

“Acceptance and mindfulness,” Hugh answered. “I was taught certain techniques during my travels long ago, ways to open your mind and develop patience and love. I can teach them to you, if you like. All are welcome here.”

Hugh motioned gently behind him. “Francesca, would you join us? I’ve found truths are best heard from the lips of those who have experienced them firsthand.”

A slim woman parted from the shadows only yards away. Rhun had not even known she had been there. She was likely once beautiful, with long pale blond hair and supple limbs, but there was a gentle frailty about her thin frame. She smiled at Hugh, love shining from her eyes.

Rhun noted the hint of fangs, the lack of a heartbeat.

“Tell them,” Hugh said.

“We were first taught
awareness
,” she whispered reverently. “Awareness of our nature, of who we are. To know we are one of God’s creatures.”

Sophia made a scoffing noise. “You are predators, preying upon the weak.”

Francesca smiled sadly at her. “No one judges a lion for bringing down a gazelle. It is the lion’s nature, and the lion need feel no guilt or shame.”

Hugh moved to a stool and sat down. A three-legged gray fox scurried over and jumped onto Hugh’s lap. A clean white bandage had been fastened around its stump, and Rhun felt a twinge of sympathy for it. When Hugh stroked its back, the fox leaned against him, showing no fear, not even of the lion, whose ears had perked up at the sight of the injured animal.

“But how do you sustain yourselves?” Rhun asked.

“Somewhat with wine,” Hugh answered. “Like you.”

“Monsieur de Payens, can you still consecrate wine, even after turning your back upon the Church?” Elizabeth asked.

“A priest bears an indelible mark upon his soul,” Rhun explained, “which means that one remains a priest and can consecrate wine even after one leaves the Church.”

Sophia picked out a guileful detail to the man’s explanation. “You said wine
somewhat
sustains you. What else does it take?”

“Blood, of course.” Hugh showed no sign of shame or guilt at this admission. “As Francesca has told you, we are all predators and must accept our natures.”

Rhun felt sickened, remembering how Rasputin’s followers mixed wine with human blood to survive. They remained killers. It seemed Hugh had fallen into the same sinful trap. He remembered too well the taste of Rasputin’s blood-damned wine.

Hugh held up a hand. “Understand, we take as little as we need to survive—but we also have a right to survive. As I mentioned
awareness
is but one half of a whole.
Mindfulness
is just as important.”

Francesca nodded in agreement, explaining, “While we accept and are aware of our nature, we must be
mindful
not to lose control. We meditate, learn to separate need from desire, taking only what is necessary and right.”