Innocent Blood Read Free

one.
    He turned and swam onward, through twisting passages, following the map in his head, one learned from those ancient scraps of papyrus, toward the secret hidden deep beneath Jerusalem.
    He moved as swiftly as he dared, into utter darkness, through complex passageways. A mortal man would have died many times over. One hand brushed rock, counting passages. Twice, he reached dead ends and had to backtrack. He fought panic, telling himself that he had misread the map, promising himself that the place he searched for existed.
    His despair grew to a sharp point—then a figure swept past him in the icy water, felt as a flow across his skin, heading back the way he had come. Startled, he went for his sword, remembering too late that he had left it in a pile with his robes.
    He reached for her, but he knew she was gone.
    Turning in the direction from whence she had come, he kicked with renewed vigor. He pushed through the rising dread that he would swim forever in the darkness and never find what he sought.
    He finally reached a large cavern, its walls sweeping wide to either side.
    Though blind, he knew he had found the right place. The water here felt warmer, burning with a holiness that itched his skin. Swimming to the side, he lifted trembling hands and explored the wall.
    Under his palms, he felt a design carved into the rock.
    At last . . .
    His fingertips crawled across the stone, seeking to understand the images etched there.
    Images that might save them.
    Images that might lead him to the sacred weapon.
    Under his fingers, he felt the shape of a cross, found a figure crucified there—and rising above it, the same man, his face raised high, his arms outstretched toward heaven. Between the bodies, a line connected this rising soul to the nailed body below.
    As he followed this path, his fingertips burned with fire, warning him the line was made of purest silver. From the cross, the fiery path flowed along the curved wall of the cavern to a neighboring carving. Here, he found a cluster of men with swords, come to arrest Christ. The Savior’s hand touched one of the men on the side of the head.
    Bernard knew what this depicted.
    The healing of Malchus .
    It was the last miracle that Christ performed before His resurrection.
    Swimming along the wall, Bernard traced the silver line through the many miracles that Jesus had performed during His lifetime: the multiplication of the fishes, the raising of the dead, the curing of the lepers. He drew each in his mind, as if he had seen them. He strove to contain his hope, his elation.
     

     
    At last, he came to the depiction of the wedding at Cana, when Christ turned water into wine. It was the Savior’s first recorded miracle.
    Still, the silver path headed outward again from Cana, burning through the darkness.
    But to where? Would it reveal unknown miracles?
    Bernard quested along it—only to discover a wide swath of crumbling rock under his fingers. Frantic, he swept his palms along the wall in larger and larger arcs. Shards of twisted silver embedded in the stone scored his skin with fire. The pain brought him to his senses, forcing him to face his greatest fear.
    This portion of the carving had been destroyed.
    He spread both hands across the wall, groping for more of the design. According to those ancient pieces of papyrus, this history of Christ’s miracles was supposed to reveal the hiding place of the most sacred weapon of all—one that could destroy even the most powerful damned soul with a touch.
    He hung in the water, knowing the truth.
    The secret had been destroyed.
    And he knew by whom.
    Her words echoed in his head.
    Knowledge? Here you will find only disappointment.
    Finding him unworthy, she must have come straight here and defaced the sacred picture before he could see it. His tears mingled with the cold water—not for what was lost, but from a harsher truth.
    I have failed.
    Every death this day has been in vain.

PART I
    I have sinned in that I have