Immortal Hope (34 page)

At the doorway, the all-too-familiar tugging at the back of her mind brought her up short. Her second sight. Twice in one day—it hadn’t fled her after all. She tamped down a rush of excitement and closed her eyes, opening her mind to what the supernatural realm wanted her to see.

Like a portrait of a long-ago battle, several men gathered on a hill, blades in hand, bows at the ready. They wore the white surcoats of the Templars and beneath, hauberks of chain. Opposing them, a terrifying legion of men in ebony blended with the fiendish creature she’d witnessed in her living room, and others she’d never seen before. Foul beasts whose mere presence turned her pulse into a staccato tap dance.

What made the picture far more chilling, however, was the eerie light that played across the ground. Where men would have once held standards, both sides brandished crude torches, the combination of smoke and orangish light creating wispy shadows that reached between the opposing armies like a ghoulish hand. Waiting to reach in and steal souls.

The vision shifted as quickly as it formed. The armies clashed, sounds of clanging steel rang in her ears. Bellows and cheers drowned out anguished cries, and where boots tread, they tromped through blood. In a small cluster of three, separated from the massive sea of knights, Gareth fought against a nytym and a hellish knight. The black visage lifted an ebony blade, let out an unholy howl. It slashed across his body, driving deep into Gareth’s side. He doubled over, one hand clamped beneath his ribs as his sword faltered.

Horrified, Anne pushed at the images. She could not witness his death. Not here. Not like this. She struggled through the chaos in her mind, shoved beyond the cacophony of noise, desperate to surface and rejoin the present.

But the vision refused to let go. Shifting once more, the sounds of battle disintegrated into terrifying silence. Torchlight flickered on a long stone wall, giving life to thick shadows. Beneath the play of yellow light, her sight centered in on the same damnable vision of Merrick laid out in death. His sword clasped in his hands, it lay atop his chest. Battered and bruised, his face was pale, and the spatter of bloodstains on his surcoat left no question as to where he’d been.

Anne’s knees threatened to buckle. Unable to stifle her heartbreak, she let out a sob as she clutched at Gareth’s arm to hold herself upright.

“Anne.” Gareth wound a thick arm around her waist. “Are you all right?” His warm brown eyes searched her face, concern shuttering his normally vibrant humor.

She expelled a shaky breath. “No.”

“Here, sit down.” He ushered her across the hall to a rickety bench fastened into the stone.

Anne shook her head, her legs feeling far more steady. “No. Take me to my rooms.”

He hesitated, looking very much as if he intended to forbid her request. His features pulled tight with a frown. “You possess the wisdom of the heavens.”

With a sigh of regret, Anne nodded. “I have visions. Please keep this between us, Merrick doesn’t know. Would you take me to my room, Gareth? I feel sick to my stomach.” She pressed a hand to her midsection to stop the churning in her belly. Merrick and Gareth. What more did God want from her? Wasn’t one man enough?

Taking a tighter hold on her arm, Gareth ushered her through the common area. Dimly aware of the heads that turned, Anne focused on the far stairwell, anticipating the salvation that would come with being locked inside her room. There she could crumble. Give in to the tears that welled in her eyes. For the first time in her life, she found herself wishing she’d never been given her psychic gift. But then, if she hadn’t, nothing would have stopped her from telling Merrick about their matching tattoos. This way, with the foresight, she could alter the present course and keep him off that damnable battlefield. She still had control, and she’d do whatever it took to keep Merrick safe.

She’d leave tonight. Once she knew Merrick was safe, she’d steal out of the house, borrow a car until she reached the nearby town of Liberty. There she’d call a cab and go straight to the airport. No more visions. No more promises of death.

No more Merrick.

To hell with her career, she wouldn’t lead him to the grave. And the longer she stayed, the more she risked he would discover her tattoo and demand her oath.

Her heart twisted.

Then again, maybe he would leave with her. If she could convince him to return to Atchison with her, there was still some hope she could achieve both of her heart’s desires—a life with Merrick, and professional success. He cared about her, she could feel that in his kiss, let alone the way he made love to her. If he knew they were fated, and understood they’d be separated if she took the oath, surely he wouldn’t insist on maintaining archaic vows when they could have a real future together.

As she stepped on the stairs, the hair on the back of her neck bristled. She turned her head toward the billiard room and swallowed hard. There, standing against the doorframe, Tane watched. His unblinking gaze locked with hers. His energy hit her like a square of bricks—cold, detached. Dangerous.

Anne moved closer to Gareth and hurried up the remaining stairs.

*   *   *

Several paces ahead of the rest of the men, Merrick moved through the twisting cavern tunnel silently. Behind him, his friends joked, they chuckled, they told tales of previous hunts and victories they had achieved. They had discovered early on he was in no mood to join in their banter and did not attempt to involve him.

Leaving Merrick to listen to the
plip-plip
of distant water and the
ching-ching
of his mail.

And wallow through his thoughts.

A Templar did not leave the field of battle. He did not allow himself to be taken captive. He fought until death claimed him, but for the first time since Merrick had touched a childhood wooden sword, he combated the fierce desire to retreat.

He had promised Anne he would return. How he would accomplish such, he did not know. He could not command his men to fight whilst he stood and watched. He could not dismiss the threat upon the gate and order them to return to the temple. Yet somehow he must find a way to hold on to the last of his soul and honor his oath to Anne.

“Merrick.” Caradoc’s low voice reverberated near his ear.

Merrick turned, acknowledging his companion.

“We are twenty paces away. ’Tis too quiet.”

Cocking his head, Merrick observed the silence he had not recognized before. This close to the gate, they should hear the ghostly scratchings, should have encountered at least one escaping fiend. He lifted his hand, signaling the men who followed to halt. For several long moments, no one moved. Their breaths came in shallow draws. Their fingers curled around steady swords.

Merrick beckoned with his fingers. On silent steps, they inched forward toward a large, jutting slab of stone. The sound of water grew louder as it plunked into a hidden reservoir. The lantern Nikolas carried illuminated the narrow passage, filling the distant enclosure with a warm beacon of light. Enough brilliance to enrage a waiting foe.

Strangely, no beastly howl filled the cavern. No screech of rage erupted through the stillness.

Exchanging guarded glances, the men converged into a tighter group. Swords at the ready, they moved forward as one collective unit, rounding the protruding stone into a large, towering grotto.

The light bounced off stalagmites, glinted against watery stalactites. Against the far wall, a gaping maw expulsed a fetid stench, and from deep within, the moans of souls lost unto time spewed forth. Merrick’s gaze riveted on the open gate, searching through the dense dark for a sign of glowing eyes, a shadow’s ripple.

A
pop
from the lantern echoed like a warning horn, and all seven men froze. If Azazel’s minions had not been aware of their presence, they certainly would know now. In a handful of heartbeats, the vile creatures would spill forth, claws and fangs ready to shred them to pieces. If they were lucky, no fallen knight would defend their unholy ranks this night.

Nikolas eased the lantern to the floor and slid his bow from his shoulder. Nocking an arrow, he pulled the bowstring tight and motioned for the men to spread out. William the Strong joined Nikolas. Behind them, Geoffrey aimed a crossbow above their coif-covered heads.

In unison, they loosed their arrows. Three broadheads soared through the cavern, plunged into the gate, and disappeared into the vile fog. When naught happened, they repeated the attack, this time firing two arrows per each man.

Stillness reigned.

“Naught is here,” Farran observed.

“Yet the gate stands wide open.” Lucan moved closer, his sword extended in front of his body. “They should be present. We have seen naught leave or enter.”

Unusual to say the least. Merrick turned his gaze to the cavern’s ceiling, searching for another means of escape. Mayhap Azazel’s evil beasts had chosen a different route. However, naught but solid stone and a cluster of sleeping bats lurked overhead.

“Close the gate,” he instructed. “Azazel has never left an open portal unattended—we must take this to Mikhail at once.”

As Farran, Caradoc, and Geoffrey moved to shove the massive boulder back into place, Merrick shared a knowing look with Lucan. Neither would dare to speak their thoughts, but both realized something far darker had occurred tonight. What it was, they could not guess. Yet an open, unattended portal could only be a harbinger to something deadly. Something had come out. Or worse, someone had been invited in.

Merrick sheathed his sword and pushed his coif off his head. Stuffing it under his arm, he shook out his hair and let the cold air cool his scalp.

“Farran, you will drive. Return us to the temple immediately,” Merrick barked.

He picked up the lantern, waited for the slab to settle into its deep groove, then took off at a brisk walk, retreating from whence they had come.

“What do you make of that, Merrick?” Nikolas asked as he jogged up beside him.

“I do not know, but it cannot be good. ’Twas not even a being inside.” He did not voice the suspicion that turned his stomach into a mass of knots. ’Twas the certain kind of diversion Fulk would attempt, should he seek to draw his enemy away from his real target. He would be the most skilled of Azazel’s knights, and he would understand his threat lay with his cousin, Merrick. Should he wish to avoid Merrick’s sword, he would send them elsewhere.

A tactic Merrick shared with his cousin. Particularly when faced with limited numbers.

Convinced of the theory, Merrick quickened his pace and jogged down the rest of the corridor, forcing his men to assume the same tempo or be faced with the cavern’s dark.

CHAPTER
28

The hollow sound of tires skidding to a stop against gravel brought Anne to her feet. She leapt out of her chair and rushed to the window, flinging aside the curtains to look down at the parking lot. Dust rose beneath two silver SUVs. In unison, eight doors sprung open and seven men filed out. All seven walked, unaided, to the front door at a purposeful stride.

Her heart flipped against her ribs as joy soared through her. “Merrick,” she whispered as her fingers curled into the thin sheers. Home at last.
Safe.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and the tension that had coiled in her shoulders relaxed. She bowed her head, pressing it to the cool glass as a smile broke across her face. Any minute now, he would walk through the door. He’d take her in his arms, kiss her until she couldn’t see straight, and she’d let him know in every way she could contrive, how very glad she was to see him.

Then she’d do what his safety demanded and drag him into a conversation where she revealed their fated pairing and begged him to abandon all this. If he refused, when he slept, she would leave.

Frowning against the unpleasantness that clamped her belly down tight, she dismissed the thoughts of her possible departure. Heaven above, she’d miss this man. For as long as she breathed, she’d never again find this kind of bliss. He’d gotten under her skin, dug down so deep she didn’t stand a chance at forgetting him. She had to explain tonight. No matter how he protested, no matter how angry he became at her suggestion he leave all this—and he would most assuredly—she must find the courage to convince him to walk away. If he did, the mark would never threaten him again. They could live their lives together, without the worry of his duty to protect the nail and the death it would bring.

If he refused, she would leave to prevent the destructive fate from occurring. Without her oath, Merrick would stay alive. Maybe not safe from harm, but alive.

Anne turned from the window and went to her bedroom where she pulled on a long, hunter green nightgown. Belting her robe around her waist, she sat down on the bed and picked up a book off her nightstand. As she stretched out her feet, something heavy hit the floor. She glanced down to see the dagger Gareth had left her with, its long blade glinting in the lamplight. Bending over the edge of the mattress, she plucked it off the floor.

A rustle at her door brought her smile back in full force. She snapped upright, her pulse a rapid tap-dance in her veins. Holding her breath, she willed herself to wait, to resist the urge to leap out of the bed and meet Merrick at the door.

It opened slowly, as if he expected her to be asleep. Anne silenced a giggle by chewing on her lower lip.

When he stepped inside, Anne’s smile vanished. Instead of Merrick, she stared at Tane. His expression was anything but joyous. He stalked toward her, determined.

A scream rose in the back of her throat, and she scrambled backward. The headboard thwarted her retreat. Tightening one hand around the dagger, she stuffed it behind her and slid off the opposite side of the bed, keeping her distance.

“Lady Anne, stop,” he commanded in a low voice. From the doorway, he held up one hand, palm out. “I will not hurt you.”

Anne swallowed hard, mistrusting the glint in his green eyes. Though perspiration turned her palms clammy, she wound her fingers around the bone hilt more securely. “Merrick will be here any minute, Tane. You better leave.”