Blood Brothers: A Short Story Exclusive by James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell Read Free Book Online

his searing cross, allowing the holy pain to steady him.
    He took a slow step, forcing the cart’s wheels forward one revolution, then another. Each turn brought him closer to his goal.
    But a gnawing fear grew with every step gained.
    Am I already too late?
    A S THE SUN sank toward the horizon, Bernard finally spotted his goal. He trembled with exertion, nearly spent of even his fierce strength.
    At the end of the street, past where the last of the city’s defenders fought fiercely, the leaden dome of a mosque rose to an indifferent blue sky. Dark blotches of blood marred its white façade. Even from this distance, he heard the frightened heartbeats of men, women, and children sheltering within the mosque’s thick walls.
    As he strained against the wagon, he listened to their prayers for mercy from their foreign god. They would find none from the beast in the cart.
    Nor from him.
    Their small lives counted little against the prize he sought—a weapon that promised to purge all evil from the world.
    Distracted by this hope, he failed to stop the front wheel of the cart from falling into a deep crack in the street, lodging stubbornly between the stones. The wagon jolted to a stop.
    As if sensing their advantage, the infidels broke through the protective phalanx around the cart. A thin man with wild black hair rushed toward Bernard, a curved blade flashing in the sun, intending to protect his mosque, his family, with his own life.
    Bernard took that payment, cutting him down with a lightning stroke of steel.
    Hot blood splashed Bernard’s priestly robes. Though it was forbidden except for extreme circumstance and need, he touched the stain and brought his fingers to his lips. He licked crimson from his fingertips. Blood alone would lend him the strength to push forward. He would do penance later, for a hundred years if necessary.
    From his tongue, fire ignited through him, stoking renewed strength into his limbs, narrowing his vision to a pinpoint. He leaned his shoulder to the cart and, with a massive heave, got the wagon rolling again.
    A prayer crossed his lips—pleading for his strength to hold, for forgiveness for his sin.
    He rushed the cart forward as his brothers cleared a path for him.
    The doors to the mosque appeared directly ahead, its last defenders dying at the threshold. Bernard abandoned the wagon, crossed the last strides to the mosque, and kicked open the barred door with a strength no mere man could muster.
    From within, terrified screams echoed off ornate walls. Heartbeats ran together in fear—too many, too fast to pick out a single one. They melted into one sound, like the roar of the sea. Frightened eyes glowed back at him from the darkness under the dome.
    He stood in the doorway that they might see him backlit by the flames of their city. They needed to recognize his priest’s robes and silver cross, to understand that Christians had conquered them.
    But more important, they must know that they could not flee.
    His fellow Sanguinists reached him, standing shoulder to shoulder behind him in the entrance to the mosque. No one would escape. The smell of terror filled the vast room, from the tiled floor to the vast dome overhead.
    In one bound, Bernard returned to the cart. He lifted the cage free and dragged it up the stairs to the door, its iron bottom screeching, scoring long black lines in the stone steps. The wall of Sanguinists opened to receive him, then closed behind him.
    He rocked the cage upright atop the polished marble tiles. His sword smote through the lock’s hasp in a single blow. Standing back, he swung open the rusty cage door. The creak drowned out the heartbeats, the breathing.
    The creature stepped forth, free for the first time in many months. Long arms felt the air, as if seeking long familiar bars.
    Bernard could scarcely tell that this thing had once been human—its skin paled to the hue of the dead, golden hair grown long and tangled down its back, and limbs as thin as a