Field of Blood by Wilson, Eric (dar e dil novel online reading .TXT) 📗

that mop of wheat-colored hair showcasing his gorgeous eyes.

This was the Provocateur. He was here. He’d come back for her.

Her throat tightened.

“Well, buddy boy,” she said at last, touching the scar on her arm. “Just to keep the air clear between you and me, I want you to know I’ve forgotten about that whole cutting ordeal. Nikki’s into that, and I know you were just doing what you were told.”

“I am sorry about that, Gina.”

“Like I said: forgotten.”

Defying her words, the old wound on her neck seemed to swell like a blood blister about to pop.

“It was meant to throw them off. You know, a little misdirection. In the car, we talked about Kiev, then headed south to Belgrade instead. When they found your bloody shirt, they had only your memories to go on.”

“My memories?”

“The ones I bled from you. It was so they wouldn’t—”

“The mysterious they again.”

“The point is, it worked,” Cal said. “We had to get you outta there, because they were onto you. Until recently, I don’t think they had a clue where you were. But now, this pregnancy of yours has them sniffing around again.”

“I don’t like the way you say that.”

“You know that brunette in the cave? The one asking all the questions?”

“She gave me the creeps.”

“She was a Collector. That’s why I tried to butt in.”

Gina rubbed the goose bumps from her arm. She thought about his earlier German tourist act. Cal, here in the flesh—for the safety of her unborn child.

“They’re just waiting,” he added, “till they know for sure.”

“Know what? You throw out all these things, and I feel like that little girl again, back in Cuvin. You’re losing me, Cal. Collectors, immortality, my baby . . . Give me something to sink my teeth into here.”

He snapped his eyes to hers. “Don’t even joke like that.”

“Dang. It’s just an expression.”

“It’s a reality. I’ve seen what they can do. They’ll suck everything they can from you and leave you empty. Your time, money, creative energy—all of it, feeding into their Collection of Souls. The collective misery, piling higher and higher.”

Gina’s stomach contorted. Sharp, needling cramps.

Around the picnic area, parents and students were caught up in their activities, some milling in the parking lot, others yelling to get into/out of/ off of the car. Gasoline fumes arose from an SUV idling near the Cavern Castle entry.

“They’ve been here,” Cal said, “since the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“Of everything. Of history.”

She scoffed. “As in Adam and Eve? That beginning?”

“Sure. Before then, after then. Collectors, out to drain your lifeblood. And I think there were more released a few years back. Without going into all the details, I believe we’ve got this new vampiric breed that’s found a way to use dead hosts. Well, previously dead. Undead . . . Anyway, for a period, they’ll wreak all the mayhem they can.”

“This is lots of great stuff for a movie, Cal. You’re, uh, just taking it a little too seriously maybe. Not doubting you. But, you know, stay tethered to the real world.”

“Nikki hasn’t told you much, I take it.”

“About this? No. Only enough to justify each of her purgings.”

“Yeah, she knows just enough to be dangerous.”

“No argument from me.”

He sighed. “Seems everyone’s out for blood, in one way or another.”

“Yum, yum.”

Cal’s eyelids closed for a moment over the gold flecks.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay, Gina.” He put on a grin, tossed a cautious glance around the picnic area. “In fact, sometimes I joke about it too, just to stinkin’ stay sane. But this is urgent. You’re having this baby soon, and as you confirmed for that brunette today, you’re having a boy. That makes him a potential target. In any given generation, there are one or two males born—for safety measures—to take the place of the Nistarim.”

“The Concealed Ones.” She patted her belly.

“You give the term a whole new meaning.”

“Nikki’s told me the basic spiel. I know they bear the world’s burdens, holding back Final Vengeance, or the Day of Judgment, or whatever. And we should all want to be humble in spirit, right? Show care for others.”

“A noble goal, sure.”

“But, uh, if it’s only boys who qualify for the Nistarim, then why’re you talking to me about this?”

“You’re carrying a boy, aren’t you?”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-EIGHT

Totorcea Vineyards

The warehouse door scraped along its metal track, revealing a bulky silhouette. Megiste started at the shrill sound, then touched a hand to her cheek, relieved to see the stalwart Barabbas. Her thoughts, however, continued spiraling downward. In a matter of minutes, the cluster’s very foundations had begun to crumble.

Sol: he was here and gone.

And about time.

Eros: he, too, was gone. How could this be? The head of the House of Eros was a hollow husk and nothing more. What would Ariston’s reaction be to this devastation? Would she face repercussions for her involvement?

“Facilis descensus Averno,” she muttered in benediction to her former lover.

“Megiste?”

She sighed. “What is it you want, Barabbas?”

He stepped into the pool of overhead light. He wore a despondent expression to match her own. With the large form slung across his shoulders, he could’ve been a hunter returning with a stag, with another rack of antlers to adorn the wall beside the fireplace in the house.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” he said.

“What’ve you done this time, my dear? Who is that?”

“The intruder, I found him. Cornered him up in the ruins.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But Ariston’ll be mad at me.”

“I wouldn’t worry. I think he’ll have more pressing matters on his mind.”

“I tapped almost everything,” Barabbas said. “More than my share.”

“Sometimes the need overtakes us,” Megiste said bitterly, glancing back at the shrunken form of her household leader.

“He’ll find out when he gets back, though.” The henchman flopped the victim onto the floor, and the priestess recognized the features of Benyamin Amit. The body was withered, entwined with crusty brambles that had issued from his heel. “I had him there in my hands, and I smelled the blood, and I just . . . I