Blood Infernal by James Rollins and Rebecca Cantrell
Rollins was a perfect choice to write the novelization of Indiana Jones and The Movie That Shouldn’t Exist, because he’s been doing that with the Sigma Force. Super scientists with military training who travel the globe stopping apocalypse and finding religiousy artifacts. Sigma Force is popcorny fun. So I thought too might be this series.
The Order of the Sanguines are members of an elite cadre of priests and nuns within the Vatican. They’re essentially daywalkers — hideously transformed strigoi (vampires) who survive and can walk in sunlight because instead of human blood they consume sacramental wine, the blood of Christ. Great concept. Clever as all hell.
But then he Rollins-ed it.
You see, they end up sucking in major biblical figures and whatnot. I mean, we’re talking the founders of the Crusades and Knights Templar. We’re talking Lazarus. We’re talking Lucifer and Rasputin and Elizabeth Bathory. It gets fucking bananas.
To the point that this last book in the trilogy (thought it’d be a series, but the sales probably shat the bed.) involves the chosen three going to find three mystical stones so they can “restore the shackles upon Lucifer.” Uuuuugggghh.
But that’s not even the bad part. I can deal with over the top hyperbole in my action-y adventures. It’s the characters. Erin, the Woman of Learning, and Jordan, the Warrior of Man, are HORRIBLE. Just a bro-dude with angelic blood trying to figure out his feelings towards a reformed evangelist turned archaelogist. There’s so much baggage, if they flew Spirit Airlines they’d be bankrupted. And it just drags and bores. It’s so crap. Just utter crap.
But fortunately, the sun will come out tomorrow, and no more sanguines! HUZZAH! Lotta vampire novels getting the stake this year. And I’m all for it. Bring on the new supernatural cool. GHOSTS.