part of the prophetic trio. But I believe you three are.”
“Where do we go to find the book?” Erin asked.
Cardinal Bernard shook his head. “I have no answer to that question. Rhun said that he found nothing in the tomb to indicate who had plundered it.”
Erin sought Jordan’s eyes, clearly asking permission. He nodded. He didn’t see much point in keeping secrets now. She reached in her pocket and drew out the Nazi medallion slowly.
“This was found in the dead girl’s grip. She must have snatched it off whoever stole the book, whoever killed her.”
The Cardinal held out his palm. She hesitated before dropping the silver disk into his red glove.
He studied it for a full minute, closely examining the writing on the medal’s edge, reading it aloud. “The
“You’re familiar with them?” Jordan asked.
“Our order often had similar research interests as this group. The
Jordan knew how that felt.
Bernard straightened slowly, thoughtfully, and passed back the medal. “I know someone who should see this. We have a Pontifical University—one run by the Order of the Sanguines—hidden at the abbey in Ettal, Germany. They have an enormous research library. There you will find our records concerning the
Jordan looked at Erin. “Do you have any better ideas?”
“Better than a Sanguinist library?” She looked ready to leave immediately. “I can’t wait to see it.”
He grinned. No surprise there. Her excitement was contagious. “Unless Father Korza has objections, let’s start there.”
“I will see to the preparations. After that, I must return to Rome—to ready the Vatican if you are successful.”
The Cardinal made as if to stand, but Jordan held up his hand. “Before you do that, I have a favor to ask.”
“Yes?”
“I wrote letters for each member of my team.” He kept his voice even, professional, trying not to think. “Letters to be delivered to their families in the event of their deaths, and mine. I left instructions with my CO about where they were and how to deliver them. Could you make sure that they are sent?”
Bernard bowed his head. “I can, my son. We have contacts with many army chaplains.”
Jordan cleared his throat, speaking formally. “One more thing, Your Eminence.”
“Of course.”
He reached into a tiny zippered pocket in his jacket and pulled out his wedding ring. He held the ring between his thumb and finger, remembering the rainy day when Karen had put it on his finger, the moment that had been coming at him like a freight train since his senior year of high school. They’d never thought they’d be apart.
“Please see that this gets to my wife’s family,” he said. “I always told them that if I were to die, they would get it back. They had talked of burying it near her gravestone.”
25
Erin had been taking a sip of water when Jordan passed over his wedding ring. She smothered a cough of surprise.
The ring shone gold before the Cardinal’s red glove closed over it. “As you wish, my son. It will be done.”
She fought to fit this change into her overall view of him, barely hearing Jordan give instructions on where to find his letters and where to send the ring. He was
This changed everything. If he was single, his actions took on a different cast—as did her own. She began reviewing all their past interactions, centering back at last to that kiss in his room.
She found her fingertips touching her lips and had to force her hand down.
“Excuse me, Your Eminence.” A peevish voice carried across the garden, drawing their collective attention. Father Ambrose crossed toward them. “May I clear?”
She stood, not certain of where to go.
“Of course, my son,” the Cardinal said. “We are finished supping.”
Wanting to keep her hands busy, her thoughts redirected, Erin helped Father Ambrose clean off the table while Jordan and the Cardinal kept talking. She hurriedly followed the fussy priest with their plates back to the stairs.
She closed the door, wanting a moment of privacy with Father Ambrose on the stairs.
“I would like to speak to Father Korza,” she said.
Father Ambrose filched the lone remaining grape from the bowl and ate it. Out of view of the Cardinal, he seemed more relaxed. Or maybe he considered her no threat to his position. “You may try to speak to him, but our Father Korza is not a
“I would still like to take my chances,” she said.
“Very well.” Father Ambrose smiled tightly, as if hiding a secret. “But you have been warned.”
She followed him down to a surprisingly modern kitchen and deposited their dishes in the sink.
He then took two brass candleholders from a cabinet, inserted a candle in each, and lit them. “There is no light where we are going,” he explained.
He handed her a candleholder and returned to the spiral stairs. They descended, winding deeper and deeper, passing the cells where she and Jordan had washed up, where they’d kissed. Her steps hurried past that level.
As she continued deeper, she wondered how best to approach Rhun. He had been furious when she and Jordan agreed to accompany him on the search. But why? What price had he paid four hundred years ago?
She considered his alleged age. Could he truly be five hundred years old? That would mean he’d lived through the Renaissance. His courtly, formal mannerisms made more sense now, but nothing else did.
Like why she was even heading down here?
Part of the reason was simple:
But Rhun also had answers she needed.
From the priest’s reaction in the garden, she suspected Rhun would be more truthful about the dangers ahead—at least more forthright than the Cardinal. Even though her mind was made up, she wanted to know everything she could about the quest. Rhun might give her answers or, more likely, he would just stare at her with those dark eyes and say nothing. But she had to try.
Father Ambrose stopped in front of another massive wooden door. He struggled to unlock it with a skeleton key from a ring he kept on his belt. The rusty lock looked as if it had not been opened in years.
Hair stood up on her arms as a stray fear came to mind. What if Father Ambrose intended her harm? She scolded herself at such foolishness. Both Jordan and the Cardinal saw her leave with him. He wouldn’t dare do anything to her. Still, her heart would not slow.
The lock finally gave and Father Ambrose pulled back the heavy door with difficulty and pointed into the dark
