And you’d better hurry.
Erin scowled at Hugh de Payens.
No wonder he and Bernard were such close friends.
They both were masters of secrets and manipulation.
She faced her challenger. “Let me guess. Aqua, the stone of Water, is still up at that mountain lake. Which means you possess Sanguis, the gem of Blood. It only makes sense the monks would send that particular one with you, a Sanguinist.”
“The gem was never meant for me,” Hugh answered. “You must decipher the riddle so that you may retrieve the stone that belongs to you.”
Belongs to me? What did that mean?
She shoved that thought aside for now and turned to face the church. If Hugh had hidden it somewhere in here, it would be somewhere significant.
“Sanguis… blood…” she muttered to herself.
Rhun watched her, his worried fingers rising to touch his pectoral cross. The crucifix rested over his silent heart, the silver burning his skin, the pain meant to eternally remind him of his oath to Christ and the Church. She stared a moment at his bandaged stump.
Was that not enough pain for any god?
She returned her attention to the church, recognizing it was laid out as a cross.
Like Rhun’s crucifix.
A thought rose inside her. She paced it off, striding through the straw. She moved to the center of the church’s cross, to where the transept intersected with the nave.
She stared back at Rhun, seeing the burn over his heart.
She stood now in the heart of Hugh’s church.
And wasn’t the purpose of a heart to pump blood?
The Sanguis stone had to be here.
Erin glanced directly over her head, back to the ceiling. Did Hugh hide it somewhere up there?
No, she decided, that riddle’s been solved.
A previous principle echoed in her head.
As above, so below.
She stared down to her toes, then dropped to her knees. She leaned down and swept the straw from the floor, searching. She scuffled around until she found a stone with a distinct scalloped indentation.
Like a cup.
“It’s under here,” she said hesitatingly, then louder and more certain. “You’ve turned the Sanguis into the heart of your church, Monsieur de Payens! You’ve hidden it here.”
The others rushed over, stirring a flight of dark birds across the bricked vault.
Hugh followed.
Rhun reached her first, lowering beside her. He held his palm over the chunk of stone she had found. “She is right. I can even feel a whisper of holiness rising from here.”
Sophia joined him, warming her hands with that glow. Of all the Sanguinists, only Elizabeth hung back, her arms crossed, showing little interest.
Even the lion trotted over. The cub had kept close to Hugh, mostly eyeing the bird on the man’s shoulder with a natural feline curiosity. The cat licked its chops a few times. Still once near, the cub pawed at the cupped indentation, batting at whatever it felt.
The motion drew Erin’s attention back to that small feature. She ran a finger along the scalloped rim, reminded that blood was likely the key here, too.
“This is a Sanguinist gate, isn’t it?” Erin stated. “The only way it can be opened is with the blood of a Sanguinist.”
“You are truly a remarkable woman,” Hugh admitted. “With a mindfulness that is impressive.”
She stared at him, sensing there was still more. “Something tells me opening this particular gate isn’t that simple.”
“Indeed, such gates can be locked in many unique ways.”
Erin remembered Bernard shutting them out with the pro me command.
“Even I can no longer open it,” Hugh admitted. “I’ve secured it with a command few Sanguinists still remember. Not even my dear friend Bernard.”
Erin nodded. At least that made sense. It was locked in such a way that no one could force Hugh to open it under duress.
“I am too tainted to open it now,” Hugh said. “It will take purity to unlock the holy stone.”
“Purity?” Erin asked.
“It will only open for a Sanguinist who has never supped of blood before drinking the wine and accepting Christ’s offer.” Hugh stared at them. “It will take the blood of the Chosen One.”
Erin turned to Rhun.
Rhun backed from the gazes of the others.
I am no Chosen One… at least, no longer.
It was true that he had not tasted human blood before becoming a Sanguinist. He remembered being attacked at his sister’s gravesite by a strigoi, only to be saved by a trio of Sanguinists who brought him before Bernard. There, on his knees, Rhun had taken his vows, drank the wine, and accepted his mantle to join the order.
But I am far from pure now.
“It can only be you,” Erin pressed him.
“It cannot be. I have sinned. I have tasted blood.”
“But you were forgiven your sins in the desert,” she said quietly, touching his bare shoulder. “It is you.”
Elizabeth frowned at him. “You are the purest of us all, Rhun. What is the harm of trying? Does the fear of failure, of being found wanting, frighten you so? I thought you were of stronger mettle than that.”
Rhun felt shame rise in him. Elizabeth was correct. He was scared, but he also recognized that he could not shirk from this task if there was even a chance it might do good.
He reluctantly knelt on the cold stone and bowed his head. He gripped his silver pectoral cross. The searing in his palm reminded him of his unholy nature and how it ruled him. But he must try anyway. He held his palm above the indentation in the stone, and realized that he did not have another hand to hold the knife to slice his own palm.
How far I have fallen… a Knight with only one arm.
Sophia came to his aid, accepting a small knife from Hugh. She pricked the center of Rhun’s palm. Dark blood welled up from of the wound. Rhun turned his wrist, squeezing a fist, and spattered his cursed blood into the hollow of the stone.
Once done, he crossed himself and went through the ritual, ending with mysterium fidei.
Everyone stared.
Still, the stone did not move.
I have failed.
Despair drove him down, crushing him with certain truth.
My sins have doomed us all.
33
Elizabeth stared down at Rhun, his back bowed, his head hanging. He was the very sigil of defeat. She sighed at the fragility of these Sanguinists, leaning upon their faith like a beggar’s crutch. Knock it away by casting doubt, and they fall so easily.
Sophia played the Greek chorus in this drama. “Rhun was our only hope. He was the only member of our order — going back millennia — who never drank blood before accepting Christ’s gift.”
That is not true.
At least, the archaeologist fought. “There must be another way. If we took chisel and hammer to the floor…”
“I will not allow the church to be desecrated in such a manner,” Hugh said. “And in any such attempt, the gem will be dumped into a river that flows through the heart of this mountain, where it will be lost forever.”