side.
Her enormous bulk plowed straight into the gate, knocking one of the two iron support rods loose from the floor. That corner of the gate bent, creating an opening too small for Rhun to squeeze through, but such an escape was not his intent.
He led her around toward where Grigori and Jordan watched the blood sport.
She came after him. He performed the same maneuver, but this time she skidded and stopped less than an inch from the gate. Her paw swatted through the air and caught him across the back as he leaped away. A glancing blow, but it cut through his leather armor and ripped into the flesh of his back.
A gasp escaped him, equal parts pain and defiance.
The Ursa sank onto her rear haunches and pulled her bloodied paw to her maw. With tiny eyes watching him, she licked each drop of his blood from her claws, huffing with pleasure.
He waited at the far side of the room, next to the damaged gate. The iron smell of his own blood coated his nostrils. He slid one staff down his bleeding back and through his belt, hooking the top through his priestly collar. That left him a staff in one hand, and the other hand free.
He broke the staff across his knee and set both pieces on the ground.
Then he dropped to that same knee, bowed his head, and muttered a prayer, calming his mind. A holy kiss on his pectoral cross burned his lips. His pain drew to a single point, centering him.
He touched his forehead with his index finger. “
He touched his breastbone. “
He touched first his left shoulder, then his right. “
Then he crossed his thumb across his index finger and kissed it.
He gathered up the two pieces of the staff.
The bear came.
He whispered, “By the sign of the cross, deliver me from my enemies, O Lord.”
The Ursa thundered toward him, almost upon him.
At the last moment he leaped straight toward the ceiling, flattening his body against the roof as only a Sanguinist could, sliding between the bear’s back and the roof. He found narrow passage, only inches to spare.
Below him, the Ursa hit the gate with a tremendous crack. The
Instead, he twisted in midair and fell back down upon the dazed beast. Before the Ursa had time to shake her stunned head, he stabbed one half of his broken staff toward one shaggy paw.
His aim was true.
His weight and momentum thrust the silver-tipped piece of the staff through her paw and deep into the hole that had been drilled into the concrete long ago for the gate’s iron rod.
She bellowed in pain, from the wound and the precious silver.
Before the beast had a chance to move, Rhun leaped onto her back and rolled across to her other side, shifting the second piece of the broken staff into his right hand.
He drove it through her other paw and into the other hole on the floor, imprisoning both limbs.
The Ursa collapsed forward, her muzzle knocking under the broken gate into the tunnel. With her forelegs splayed to each side, her body formed the sign of a cross.
Rhun had crucified the bear.
She howled.
He jumped atop her head and drew the unbroken staff from behind his back. Kissing the silver end first, he jammed it through her eye and deep into her brain. She twitched and heaved, dying. He read her demise in the vast chambers of her ancient heart.
He bowed his head and made the sign of the cross over the beast’s massive form. As he finished his prayer, the red glow faded from her remaining eye, leaving it black.
After centuries, she was finally freed of her tainted servitude.
Rhun turned to this nemesis, his face defiant, triumphant in his glory.
Jordan’s arms were let free. He stared around, surprised. He swiped his hand down his jacket, as if dusting off the places where Rasputin’s congregants had touched him. Would that Russian monk keep his word and let Rhun and him go? If not, he intended to go down fighting side by side with Rhun.
Rasputin stepped back from the cage’s gate, his blue eyes wide. “God truly loves you, Rhun. You are indeed His most chosen one.”
Rhun knelt down and gathered a rosary, a silver cross, and a flask. Jordan bet they had belonged to another Sanguinist, someone killed by the bear.
Rasputin unlocked the cage.
Rhun’s hatred for Rasputin burned so palpably that the monk fell back a step. His minions retreated as if blown by a fierce wind.
“Where has Bathory taken Erin?” Rhun asked, biting off each word.
Rasputin’s voice cracked. “To Rome.”
Rhun glared, searching the other’s face for the truth. “Are we done here with your challenges to God, Grigori?”
Rasputin tilted his head. “Why do you scold me so, Rhun? Your dear Bernard sought to
“And here I stand,” Rhun said. “But your test is not over, is it? That is why you sent Erin off. You sundered the trio, to test if the three of us would find one another again and fulfill our duties. In this way, you continue to challenge God, as you once challenged the Church.”
Rasputin shook his head. “Not at all. I challenge only you, my friend. The one whom the Church loves as much as it hates me.”
Turning on a heel, Rasputin swept his minions aside with a wave of his hand, opening up a path to freedom.
Jordan waited for Rhun to reach him. Together, they walked through the gauntlet of Rasputin’s dark flock. With each step, Jordan’s bite wounds throbbed. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He tensed, waiting for an attack from behind, a final betrayal by Rasputin.
None came.
“Find your woman, Rhun,” Rasputin called after them. “Prove that the Church placed its faith in the correct bloodstained hands.”
Rhun swept down the tunnel toward the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, not seeming to notice that his own blood pattered onto the frozen ground behind him.
PART V
—Revelation 5:9
