CET South of Rome, Italy Once Father Ambrose was gone, Cardinal Bernard signaled to the shadows beyond the open steel door. Erin tensed, her fingers tightening on Jordan’s hand. She was suddenly very happy Jordan had yanked the curtains open. Still, despite the streaming sunlight, she felt chilled. From out of the darkness a black-clad priest stepped into the bright car. He was skeletally thin, a gaunt pale hand held the edge of his hood against the glare. He moved in halting steps, but there remained a certain grace about him, a familiarity in his movements. Then he dropped his hand and revealed his face. Lanky black hair hung over dark, sunken eyes. His skin was pulled tight across broad cheekbones, and his lips looked thin, bloodless. She remembered kissing those lips when they had been fuller. “Rhun . . .” Shock pulled her to her feet.
