Blood Infernal: The Order of the Sanguines Series by James Rollins, Rebecca Cantrell Page A

that hung from the ceiling. Touching the dusty wires was a badge of honor in the ninth-grade class, and he intended to reach them.
    He stopped for a moment, readying himself for the last bit of the ascent. Lately, he got out of breath so easily. It was worrisome. Half a year ago, he had been touched by an angel . . . literally. Angelic blood had flowed through him, curing him of his cancer, strengthening him, even making him temporarily immortal. But that was gone, burned away in the sands of Egypt.
    He was just an ordinary boy again.
    And I plan to stay that way .
    He hung for a moment, staring upward and taking a deep breath.
    I can do this .
    A sharper shout reached him from below. “That’s far enough! Come back down!”
    That would be Martin Altman, Tommy’s only friend at the new school. He’d lost his old friends when he had moved in with his aunt and uncle. After Tommy’s parents had died, they were his only blood relatives.
    He pushed that thought away before dark memories overwhelmed him. Glancing between his toes, he saw Martin staring up at him. His friend was tall and lanky, with long arms and legs. Martin was always ready with a corny joke, and laughter came easily out of him.
    Of course, Martin’s parents hadn’t died in his arms.
    Tommy felt a flare of anger at his friend, but he knew it came from a place of petty jealousy, so he stamped it back down. Still, the rope slipped between his sweaty palms. He clutched tighter.
    Maybe Martin’s right .
    A wave of dizziness further convinced him. He started back down, but everything grew steadily fuzzier. He struggled to hold on as he descended more rapidly, sliding now, burning his palms.
    Whatever you do, don’t let—
    Then he was falling. He stared up at the sunshine flowing through the windows above, remembering another time he had plummeted through the air. Then, he had been immortal.
    Not so lucky today .
    He slammed into the pile of mats at the base of the rope. Air burst from his chest. He gasped, trying to refill his lungs, but they refused to cooperate.
    “Move!” shouted Mr. Lessing, the gym teacher.
    Everything went gray—then he found his breath again. He heaved in great gulps of air, sounding like a hoarse seal.
    His classmates stared down at him. Some were laughing, others looked concerned, especially Martin.
    Mr. Lessing pushed through them. “You’re okay,” he said. “Just got the wind knocked out of you.”
    Tommy fought to slow his breath. He wanted to sink through the floor. Especially when he spotted Lisa Ballantine’s face among the others. He liked her, and now he’d made a fool of himself.
    He tried to sit up, tweaking a spike of pain up his bruised back.
    “Go slow,” Mr. Lessing said, helping him to his feet, which only made Tommy’s face heat up even more.
    Still, the room tilted a little, and he clutched the gym teacher’s arm. This day couldn’t get any worse.
    Martin pointed to Tommy’s left hand. “Is that a rope burn?”
    Tommy looked down. His palms certainly were red, but Martin pointed to a dark mark on the inside of his wrist.
    “Let me see that,” Mr. Lessing said.
    Tommy shook free and stumbled away, covering the blemish with his other hand. “Just a rope burn. Like Martin said.”
    “Okay, then everyone clear out,” Mr. Lessing ordered. “Showers. Double time.”
    Tommy hurried away. He was still light-headed, but it wasn’t from the fall. He kept the lesion covered. He didn’t want anyone else to know, especially not his aunt and uncle. He would keep it secret for as long as he could. While he didn’t understand what was happening, he knew one thing for sure.
    No chemotherapy this time around .
    He rubbed the spot on his wrist with his thumb, as if trying to erase it away, because he knew he was out of miracles.
    His cancer was truly back.
    Fear and despair welled through him. He wished he could speak to his mother or father, but that was impossible. Still, there was one person he could call,