The Sacred Blood

But that didn’t stop Amit from trying a couple other doors first. Locked, of course.

It was going to be tough making a subtle entrance.

58

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The two burly guards who’d manhandled Charlotte out of the basement had taken up posts at the wide doors leading out of the octagonal conference room. The rabbi had had them position her directly in front of something plunked down on the glossy tabletop commanding the room’s center. The object was covered by a silky blue veil with gold embroidery depicting two winged creatures. Angels, maybe? she guessed. Though the form beneath it was largely rectangular, the veil was draped clumsily over two peaks on its top.

Pinched between Rabbi Aaron Cohen’s fingers was a vial of blood, and he rocked it back and forth, watching how the thick crimson swished side to side. “You’re quite familiar with the sophisticated tests used to study blood?”

Another rhetorical question, so Charlotte chose silence. No use encouraging him.

“While you were sleeping, I took the liberty of taking this from you,” he said, holding up the vial.

Was nothing sacred with this guy? “You’ve taken a lot more than that from me,” she said, seething.

He knew precisely what she meant. “Sacrifice, Dr. Hennesey. It must be made. Shortly, you’ll have a much better understanding of that. You’ll realize that no death would be too great a price for what you are to witness.

“Since the beginning of human history, blood has been the symbol of life and sacrifice. It is the tie that binds us to our ancestors.” His expression hardened. “Blood also separates us.”

Charlotte felt like she’d been picked from an audience to assist in performing a bizarre magic trick. She couldn’t help but think the rabbi would jam her into the box and saw her in half. Maybe then he’d get what he was really after.

“Let me show you what I mean,” he said. He summoned one of the men to the table. Then he pulled up a corner of the blue shroud so that the top corner of the box was revealed.

Charlotte was amazed to see that the surface of what lay beneath glinted wildly in the light. Gold? And its decorative edging looked an awful lot like the ossuary she’d studied at the Vatican. What most perplexed her was the fact that the small section of the box’s exposed face was covered in neat columns of ideograms. The top corner had a unique edging to it that suggested a lid or removable panel.

“Give me your hand,” the rabbi told his drone.

The man gave it no thought, offering his left hand palm up.

The rabbi took a small blade off the table and deeply incised the flesh along the base of the man’s pinky.

From there, the man didn’t need instruction. Curling the hand into a tight fist, he held it over the box and squeezed hard. The blood swelled from the slit, then rained down onto the box.

The instant the blood hit the gold sheathing, bright sparks crackled it into tiny droplets, then completely burned it away to nothing—all in under a second.

Charlotte didn’t know what to make of it. The effect was like that of water dripped onto a hot frying pan, but more potent. Though this could have come across like a rudimentary science project in electrical conductivity, it didn’t. She was engrossed.

The rabbi had watched her reaction, her incredulity, very closely. “Now watch, please,” he demanded as he uncapped the vial.

Holding the vial over the same spot where the man’s blood had completely disintegrated, he slowly tipped it so that Charlotte’s blood spun out in a thin string. When it connected with the gold lid, nothing happened. No sparks came.

The rabbi smiled victoriously. “Blood binds us, blood separates us. Purity and impurity.”

“What’s the point?”

“You see, Dr. Hennesey,” the rabbi said, his tone suddenly more reverential, “the most pure blood holds God’s covenant given to Moses at Sinai. The blood of the Messiahs is the most pure . . . the most sacred. This box hasn’t been opened in two thousand years. Jesus was the last to touch it—to be given the Spirit. But the prophecies have foretold that a Chosen One would come after Him. He sacrificed Himself on Golgotha so that his bones—His sacred blood—would be passed on to the next Messiah at the appointed time.”

Now Charlotte had to fight the urge to smirk. This was crazy talk.

“If you don’t believe me,” he said, “put your hand on the box.”

“Put your hand on the box,” she retorted.

He shook his head. “You still don’t understand.” Cohen signaled to the men and they grabbed her to bring her closer.

“Hey!” she protested, shaking her arms free. “No need to get rough. I’ll touch it.”

The rabbi motioned for them to back away.

“Fine,” Charlotte said. “I’ll play your game.” Stepping up to the table, she couldn’t help but admire the relic’s craftsmanship. The scientist in her found herself peeking around its sides for hidden wires that might have activated the light show she’d witnessed. Yet something else stirred in her when she found nothing.

Stretching out her hand, she could see the men backing away on the periphery of her vision. The rabbi himself seemed to be holding his breath.

Time for the big show, she thought. Very slowly Charlotte lowered her left hand over the golden lid.

59

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