The Blood Gospel

other always near to hand. After that, he cleaned Erin’s Sig Sauer.

Nadia knocked on the door and thrust a paper bag into his hands without a word. As he closed the door, he opened the bag to find basic toiletries and a change of clothes for both of them.

Warm sweaters, so he guessed he wasn’t flying back to Jerusalem.

Room service arrived, and Jordan started his breakfast before Erin finished her shower.

Moments later, the flow of water shut off with a clunking sound. He kept glancing at the door, trying his best not to picture Erin buffing her naked form.

He failed.

He waited for her to come out. When she finally did, she stepped into the room in a cloud of steam. She wore a white terrycloth robe she must have found in the bathroom and had rebandaged her hand. Her face and neck were flushed from the hot water. He wished he could see how far down her body that flush extended.

As she approached, Jordan adjusted the napkin on his lap.

“I tried to save you some hot water,” she said.

“I … um … tried to save you some breakfast.” Jordan took a big sip of his steaming coffee.

Erin walked over and looked down at the remains of the food. She smelled like soap and clean laundry. “Here’s hoping I did a better job than you.”

He kept his eyes studiously averted from the front of her robe and hurried to the bathroom. He showered and shaved quickly. After he brushed his hair and pulled on a clean pair of khakis and a long-sleeved shirt, he felt ready to take on the world.

Or at least to take a long nap.

Erin was just finishing up breakfast when Jordan came out of the bathroom. He lay down on the bed and sighed. A real bed.

“I could sleep on the floor,” Erin said.

“Neither of us is taking the floor,” Jordan answered. “I promise to stay on my side, if you promise to stay on yours.”

Erin looked at the floor, as if considering the other option.

Jordan rolled back to his feet and retrieved his dry coat from the radiator. “During times of dire need, didn’t maidens once sleep with a sword between them and their knight protector?” He spread the coat across the middle of the bed and held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor, I won’t cross this moat of leather unless you ask me to.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Were you ever a Boy Scout?”

He flopped down on the side of the bed closest to the door. “Eagle Scout.”

After a short time, they both settled to their respective sides of the bed. Jordan thought he’d be awake thinking about Erin lying inches away, but he fell asleep almost immediately, still in his clothes.

He awoke sitting up, one hand on his gun. He took in the sunlit room with a single glance. Nothing out of place. Door closed. Window closed. Bathroom empty. What had woken him up?

Next to him, Erin whimpered.

He turned to check on her. Still in her robe, she lay on her side facing him, her hands clasped under one cheek. She gasped in her sleep. He wanted to reach over the coat and touch her, but he didn’t want to break his promise. One wrong move with Erin, and he would be finished.

“Hush,” he whispered, as if she were his niece Abigail, famous in the family for her nightmares about giant tarantulas.

Erin let out one long breath and seemed to sink deeper into sleep.

She had plenty of food for bad dreams: strigoi, bats, and—

With a scream, Erin sat bolt upright.

“I’m right here,” Jordan said, sitting up with her. “We’re safe.”

She looked over at him, eyes wide.

“It’s Jordan, remember?” he said.

She drew in a ragged breath and scooted back to lean against the headboard. “I remember.”

Careful to stay on his side of the coat, Jordan did the same. “Bad dreams?”

“Bad reality.”

“Should I be insulted?” Maybe that would lighten the mood.

“I didn’t mean you. You’re … well … fine. But the rest of the situation …”

Jordan was insulted at being relegated to merely fine, but decided this wasn’t the time to make a smart-aleck comment about it. “At least we got some sleep and food. I haven’t felt so good since before Masada.”

He stopped talking. Masada. Where his team had died. All of them. He named them in his head, intending to never forget them: Sanderson. McKay. Cooper. Tyson. All of them, except McKay, younger than he. Tyson had a two-year-old daughter who would never see her mother again. McKay had three kids, an ex-wife, and a dog named Chipper. Cooper used his army pay to support his frail elderly mother and a long string of girlfriends. Sanderson hadn’t even had time to start a relationship. He was just a kid. Jordan rested his head against the headboard. “It’s been a very long twenty-four hours.”

“I wonder what comes next,” Erin said.

“Another field trip with our fun tour guides, Rhun and Nadia.”

“Nadia’s not much fun.” Erin pulled the covers up past her waist. “I think she would’ve killed me in that church.”

“I thought she was bluffing.”

Erin put one hand up to her throat. “I don’t think Nadia bluffs.”

Jordan didn’t think so either. “I get the feeling that if she wanted to, she could just crush us like bugs and hire someone to clean up the greasy spots.”

Erin grinned. “That’s supposed to be reassuring?”

He glanced over at her. “At least we have each other.” It sounded so cheesy he wished he could take it back.

“But I barely know you,” she said.

“What do you want to know?” He stuck a pillow behind his head. “I’m human. Thirty-five. Career army. Born in Iowa. Third son. My mom had five kids. My favorite color is green.”

Erin smiled and shook her head.

“Not good enough?” Jordan decided to go for it, just tell the truth. “My wife—Karen—was also in the army. She died about a year ago. Killed in action.” His voice tightened around that knot of grief, but he forged on. “No kids, but I wanted three. Now your turn. Kids? Husband? Siblings?”

“I can’t play this game.” He saw a quick flash of pain in her eyes before she glanced away.

Family was off-limits. Got it. He picked an easier question. “Not even your favorite color? That’s not a state secret, right?”

She turned back with a slight smile, as if she appreciated the effort. “Sepia.”

“Sepia?” He looked over at her. “That’s brown, right?”

“It’s a brown gray. It was originally made from the ink sac of a cuttlefish. Sepia is the Latinized form of ‘cuttlefish.’ ”

Her earnest amber eyes stared over into his. Or were they sepia?

“See. That’s a start.” He shifted on the bed, trying to come up with another question. “Let’s say today was Saturday, and you were home. What would you be doing?”

She looked down at the grimwolf jacket, almost as if she were embarrassed. “I’d be eating Lucky Charms and watching cartoons.”

“I didn’t see that answer coming.” He imagined her sitting in pajamas with a bowl of cereal in her lap and cartoons on TV. Not a bad way to start a weekend.

“My roommate in college, Wendy, got me into it. She said I had a lot of cartoons to catch up on.”

After her freaky childhood, it sounded like Wendy had a point.

“So,” Erin said. “Your turn. What would you be doing on a lazy Saturday morning?”

“Sleeping.” He wished he had a cooler answer.

She looked sheepish. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I’m not.” He reached over and smoothed a damp strand of hair back from her cheek, ready to back off if she