Immortal Hope (29 page)

He rounded a corner and continued down the long, darkened hall that led to Merrick’s chambers.

Merrick understood the loss of one’s birthright. He would sympathize with Marie’s mother’s death and her family’s disownment. Merrick would understand. If he did not, Tane was prepared to battle for what he wanted. When Caradoc found an old woman wandering the streets, unable to recall her name, Merrick granted Caradoc’s request to establish her within a home. When Farran’s former whore found herself heavy with another man’s bastard, Merrick established her in a small apartment with someone to watch her babe so she could attend the university. Marie deserved no less than those two. Tane spent equal time at Merrick’s side, had proven his loyalty along with all the others. His requests deserved equal consideration.

Tane winced against the unwanted rush of emotion. Nay, in his heart he knew Merrick favored no knight. His decisions had naught to do with preferring one man over another. God’s teeth, this envy would turn him inside out. A fairer leader, Tane had never known—Merrick would not turn aside one in need.

He would help Marie.

As Tane approached Merrick’s door, his steps slowed. His stare riveted on the folded surcoat and offered sword, and he slowly curled his hand into a fist. It could not be. His eyes must deceive him.

Squeezing them shut, he willed the nightmare away. Yet when he looked, the evidence lay at his feet, Merrick’s confession announced as plain as day. He had seduced Anne.

White-hot fury arced through Tane. He clamped his teeth together, silencing a bellow of rage. Anne belonged to him. Her mark would match if he could but navigate a few moments alone with her. But Merrick …

Tane kicked the sword, sending it clattering across the narrow corridor. Merrick be damned! He had no right to touch what did not belong to him. Anne was no spoil of victory, was not a simpleminded whore. She was a seraph, and Merrick sullied her for his own selfish pleasure.

He pressed his hands against his temples with an anguished groan. Nay, not Merrick. Merrick did not possess the selfishness required to mislead the lady Anne. ’Twas not his nature. ’Twas this damnable darkness plaguing him, convincing Tane to believe his brother would forsake oaths for bawdy pleasure. If Merrick claimed the maid, something deeper transpired.

Could it be his brother cared for her? Or mayhap she for him? The idea sent an icy chill rippling through his limbs. He had waited too long to convince Anne into spending a few minutes alone with him. He had bided his time, waiting for the right moment, praying the next time she looked upon his face she did not widen her eyes in fright. In so doing, he had sent her straight to Merrick’s bed.

God’s blood, he would not stand for this. The maid belonged to him, she would save him from the darkness so rapidly overtaking his soul. A truth the entire temple would learn in proper time. A fact Merrick would soon come to regret. He would never again touch the fair maid with eyes like a summer’s day. As for Lady Anne, once she left the temple, whatever feelings she might hold would fade. However long she required, Tane would wait. She would forget Merrick. But she would not spend another day within his company.

Fists balled, Tane stormed down the hall. Aye, he would see his intended at his side, as their fates were written.

*   *   *

Raphael gently set the pristine surcoat and plain broadsword on top of Mikhail’s desk. “I thought you might wish to see this.”

Eyeing the offerings of one who had broken his oath, Mikhail frowned. Too many had arrived this week. With Anne’s discovery, the vows the Templar knights took centuries ago strained. If Merrick did not quickly find her intended, Mikhail feared what might become of the noble knights.

He let out a sigh and gestured at the corner where several other surcoats lay in a heap, the swords already restored to their rightful owners. “Return it. If I kept all the surcoats and swords I found outside the doors, I would have an armory larger than the sea. Do you still collect them from your men?”

Raphael shook his head. “Nay. But it would not be wise to leave this particular bundle in the hall.”

Mikhail slowly lifted his gaze to Raphael’s. His usual merriment failed to light his eyes. Where oft a smile laid, his mouth tightened with concern. Though archangels carried the Almighty’s words, they lacked the gift of foresight, but in Raphael’s serious expression, Mikhail experienced a moment of divinity and heard the certain answer to the question he must ask.

He shifted in his chair, laid his pen atop the ledger of numbers. No mark identified the surcoat, the sword was as plain as every Templar knight’s. Yet Mikhail knew without question it belonged to Merrick. Still he must ask. Perhaps he would be incorrect—by all that was sacred, he hoped he was. “Why?”

“’Twas outside du Loire’s door. He is away. Anne is not in her rooms. I presume they are together.”

Mikhail sank into his high-backed chair and folded his hands across his lap. “You are certain you had the correct room?”

Raphael inclined his head in the positive. “I followed your directions to the letter.” A glimmer of his typical good humor reflected in his blue eyes. “I knocked. When no one answered, I looked inside. Her perfume lingers in his chambers.”

It took every bit of self-control Mikhail possessed to keep the agitated hiss behind his teeth. The news Caradoc brought about Tane concerned him enough. If word reached Tane about this, only the Creator would know what might happen. Further, whoever was meant for Anne, should he learn of Merrick’s trespasses against her, would have grounds to duel the matter. Seraphs were sacred. The edicts regarding their foretold appearance left no room for misinterpretation. No man would come between the intended pairing. Should one lack the discipline, the wronged man may, if he so desired, call the other unto arms.

Given the entirely chaotic state of Mikhail’s knights, Merrick could not have made a poorer decision.

“Send Caradoc to the main entry. Instruct him to bring Merrick here upon his immediate arrival. Anne did not belong to your Gareth?”

“Nay. Nor to my Tomas. But I daresay my men are in better health than yours.”

A certain fact Mikhail hated to admit. Though it did not surprise him to find the European members robust. For a reason the Maker chose not to reveal, the European knights suffered less. Even the small congregation in South America, which saw far less of Azazel’s vile creations, did not receive such good health.

“I will push Merrick to locate her intended more quickly. Though I must admit, Raphael, I have never known Merrick to behave so foolishly. Whatever hold the maid has on him must be of significance. I may have to assign the duty to another man.”

“Aye. ’Twas my suspicion as well. Although I doubt the lady will be pleased.”

Another time, another place, Mikhail might have argued. But with the modern woman’s views, he found it difficult to believe Anne did not carry equal responsibility for this. If the pair developed feelings for one another, convincing her to swear her vow to another man would prove impossible.

He raked a hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. “I will deal with it. Though you cannot imagine how I wish the Master’s plans did not involve a woman. As it was at the dawn of time, she tempts greatly.”

“’Tis as it is written, my brother.”

Mikhail nodded thoughtfully. It would be far easier to navigate these stormy waters if Gabriel would simply share his knowledge. But that was a hope Mikhail gave up an eternity ago. God’s messenger relayed only what the Almighty wished. Naught more, naught less. “What I would do for a bit of peace. Are you aware the gate in Georgia has seen far more activity? I have not sent the men to repair Maggie’s house. I dare not risk them.”

Raphael moved across the room and seated himself in an overstuffed chair. He tossed an ankle atop a velvet-cushioned footstool, reclining as if he had not a care in the world. “I sense him. Though ’tis far too still in this portion of the country.”

Too still indeed. The dark presence Mikhail recognized nightly came in the form of shades, simple creatures that lacked the basic ability to think for themselves. Created only to follow Azazel’s commands, even they did not roam in the packs they preferred. One or two slipped through weakened gates. Gone were the more intelligent shifters. The nytyms, and the demons capable of the same intelligence man enjoyed, wandered far from here.

Azazel’s knights, men Mikhail had once depended on, were nowhere to be seen.

“He will try for the third nail, Raphael. We dare not move before he does, for we run the risk of revealing its location. In waiting, however, we give Azazel the upper hand. He will have time to prepare.”

Raphael ran his hands down his face as he nodded. “Do you believe he knows the location? He has made no attempt to invade the territory.”

Mikhail longed to believe they had successfully hidden the third. Centuries ago, when they had brought the crucifixion nails to America, it had seemed sensible. The land bustled with activity, newfound territory, men who cared little for the ways of old. Compared to Europe—where thousands searched for buried treasure, lugged out and sold mummified remains, and created a black market based on falsified artifacts—America was safe. With the loss of the first two nails, however, Mikhail could not hope the third would say untouched.

“He toys with us. ’Tis my fear that in possessing our former knights, he has gleaned information. Whilst we archangels have taken care to keep the secrets among ourselves, bits and pieces have been revealed. Yet our fallen brother is no fool. He will attempt to distract us, spread our men thin, and strike beneath our noses.”

Raphael’s scowl matched the darkness of an angry sea. “He cannot find that nail. If he succeeds…”

He trailed off, but Mikhail needed no conclusion. If Azazel joined the three nails, he would possess the essence necessary to begin the unholy ascension. While he would still need to obtain the remaining five relics, the blood on those bits of iron were the first components necessary. Naught would stop him from pursuing the others that Mikhail and his brothers had hidden. Unless the seraphs like Anne arrived soon, the Templar knights, the Almighty’s chosen protectors, would be overrun.

Mikhail sat forward in his chair and rubbed his thumb across the back of his hand. “Once Anne announces her intended, I will send men to guard the nail. Meanwhile, send word to Gabriel that he must return. Perhaps he can speak with her and urge her to reveal her mark. He has her trust.”

“I will contact the rest of our brothers and ensure all are aware of the circumstances here. The other relics should be moved.”

“Nay. They must stay put. If you do too much, Raphael, Azazel will notice. We must move with stealth. If our numbers were larger, it would not be a problem, but we cannot afford to be careless.”

Raphael’s blue eyes sharpened like glass. “The time is upon us, Mikhail. Since the dawn of time we have prepared for war. ’Tis here. Now. We must—”

Mikhail cut off his brother with a crisp lift of his hand. “We must bide our time. We must be careful. As you said, ’tis written. Our hands are bound. Go and find Gabriel. The seraphs control our destiny.” He leaned back once more, closed his eyes, and recited the Almighty’s ancient prophecy that no archangel dared forget, though many of their knights had.

“Whence comes the teacher, she who is blind shall follow. The one who digs in dust precedes the finding of the jewel. And she who understands the sword precludes the greatest loyalty. When darkness—”

“—rapes the land, the seraphs shall purify the Templar and lead the sacred swords to victory,”
Raphael finished in a hushed voice.

With a sagely nod, Mikhail opened his eyes. “Aye. We wait. Fight only as necessary. ’Tis our only option.”

CHAPTER
23

Wearing a smile she couldn’t contain, Anne reclined in the silver SUV’s passenger’s seat. Almond-encrusted salmon and wild rice had never tasted as good as it had with Merrick for company. They’d talked, mainly about her, throughout dinner. She didn’t dare ask much about him, or his life, or even his former life, for fear someone might overhear their conversation. Now, though, in the quiet of the car, as he held her hand atop the center console, her mind ran amok with questions. There was so much she didn’t know about this man. So much he kept hidden that she yearned to understand. Curiosity that went beyond simple craving of the Templar secret history and the Church’s eradication.

Sitting forward, she turned to study his profile. His strong jaw spoke to the power of his body and of his spirit. A slightly offset nose told a tale of a long ago battle where surely he’d broken it. Rugged features carried a distinct mark of pride and grace. Handsome. Every time she looked at him, her breath hitched and her heart stuttered. He was all man. Down to the annoying arrogance that strangely pleased some buried, all-too-feminine part of her soul.

He glanced at her, those hard features softening with his smile. “You have grown silent.”

“Yeah. There’s so many things I want to ask you.”

“Ask, damsel. My secrets are yours.”

Though she knew he spoke of her tie to the Order, his remark sent a thrill sliding through her veins. While he would only share what he felt she needed to know, she couldn’t help but hear something more intimate. As if he’d just given her a cherished freedom.

“The nails Mikhail mentioned—why does a lesser demon want them?”

Merrick chuckled long and low. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and shook his head. “Azazel is no lesser demon, and the nails are not any kind of nail. They are the three spikes that held Christ to the cross. Driven through his body, they carry his blood and the last of his living essence. There is power in those bits of iron.”

“But why would he want them?”

“You will not believe the truth if you should hear it, Anne.”

She scrunched her eyebrows together and gave him a frown. “Try me.”

“Azazel rules all darkness. He alone—”

“Wait,” Anne interrupted. “That’s not what I was taught in church. Satan has that job, last I checked.”