Free Innocent Blood by James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell

cat.
    The cougar spotted its prey inside and forced its head and shoulders through the window, going after the priest.
    Jordan floored the gas, intending to ram the beast from behind if necessary.
    Get out of there , buddy!
    The cat squirmed and kicked its hindquarters, pulling its full length through the back window and into the car. It was a tight squeeze, but the beast was determined.
    Then on the other side, Christian squirted out of the far window.
    “There!” Erin yelled, spotting him, too.
    Jordan turned and skidded the Rover past the rear bumper of the sedan.
    Christian stumbled away from the town car, pointing the key fob back at the car. He pressed a button—and all the windows rolled up, and the car beeped twice.
    Jordan stifled a laugh at Christian’s sheer audacity.
    He’d locked the cougar in the car.
    The cat snarled and furiously flung itself about inside, rocking the sedan.
    Jordan pulled up next to Christian. “Need a lift?”
    Christian opened the front passenger door and climbed inside. “Drive. And fast. I don’t know how long my trap will hold it.”
    Jordan understood. He gunned the engine, raced the Land Rover out of the stable yard, and ricocheted along the dirt road toward the highway. He needed to put as much distance as possible between them and that angry cat.
    Christian pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and barked orders in Latin.
    “What’s he saying?” Jordan asked Erin.
    “Calling for backup,” she said. “For someone to dispatch that cougar.”
    Christian finished his call, then glanced back at the stable. “I hope the beast doesn’t have enough space inside that car to get up a good enough swing to break through the safety glass.”
    Erin cleared her throat. “But why was it even here? Why was it after me?”
    Jordan glanced over to Christian.
    “My apologies,” Christian said, looking crestfallen. “But I believe someone must have caught wind that Jordan and I were seeking your help. Word might have reached the wrong ears. As you know, the order has suspicions that there are Belial traitors hidden among our fold. I fear I might not have been careful enough.”
    The Belial . . .
    She pictured that force of strigoi and humans, united under a mysterious leader. Even the tight ranks of the Sanguinist order were not impervious to that group’s reach and infiltration.
    “It might not be you,” Erin said, reaching forward and squeezing his shoulder. “Cardinal Bernard called for me earlier today, too. Maybe he let something slip. But either way, let’s table this until we get Nate somewhere safe.”
    “Don’t I get a say in this?” Nate sounded aggrieved.
    “You do not,” Christian answered. “My orders are clear and specific. I am to take Erin and Jordan back to Rome. That’s it.”
    Jordan wondered if that was true, or if he was just trying to take the pressure off Erin.
    “Why Rome?” Erin asked.
    Christian swung to face her. “It seems, in all this tumult, we’ve forgotten to tell you. Father Rhun Korza has gone missing. He vanished shortly after that bloody battle in Rome.”
    Glancing in the rearview mirror, Jordan noted the concern in Erin’s eyes, the way a hand rose to her throat. She still had scars there from where Rhun had bitten her, fed on her. But from her worried expression, she plainly cared deeply for the Sanguinist priest.
    “What does that have to do with me?” she asked.
    Christian smiled at her. “Because you, Dr. Granger, are the only one who can find him.”
    Jordan didn’t care about the disappearance of Rhun Korza. As far as he was concerned, the guy could stay lost. Instead, there remained only one mystery he wanted solved.
    Who sent that damned cat?

7
    December 19, 4:34 A.M. CET
    Rome, Italy
     
    With a pair of antique watchmaker’s tweezers in hand, the leader of the Belial hunched over the workspace on his desk. He pinched a magnifying loupe to one eye. With exquisite care, he carefully wound a tiny brass spring inside