by Alex Archer
“No!” Annja cried, and tried to call her sword back to her.
Grimes spun around, leveling the gun at Annja even as she began to wonder if the sword had chosen a new bearer.
The solid hilt slapped into her hand. For now, at least, she was the only bearer the sword would have. But if she didn’t live through the next few seconds it wouldn’t matter one way or the other.
Peripherally she could see, and feel, the Giborrim warriors swinging up their weapons, ready to take on this new threat. Annja knew, with the surety of those who have embraced their own death, the warriors would never get a shot off in time.
As Grimes’s finger began to tighten on the trigger, Annja brought her sword arm back over her head, her muscles tensing for the throw. It was going to have to be very, very good….
She never got the chance to find out.
Over Grimes’s shoulder she watched Ephraim rear up, the Staff of Judea in his hand. His eyes blazed with silver fire, his hands shone with holy light, and for just an instant he wasn’t holding a staff of wood but one made of light.
He swung the staff like a major league baseball player and connected with Grimes’s skull.
There was a sharp knock, like the sound you get when a player has hit the ball squarely on target. Grimes dropped like a stone, never having had the chance to pull the trigger.
Chapter 45
For a moment Ephraim stood there, staring at them all, and then he collapsed facedown on the dais.
“Ephraim!” Annja cried, turning to rush to his side, only to be stopped as Jephthah grabbed her arm in a viselike grip.
“Wait!” he said. “It is not safe. Your friend has seen the face of the Almighty. He will not recognize you. Let my people handle it.”
Without waiting for an answer Jephthah shouted instructions in his mother tongue, and a dozen or so of his warriors ran across the room and up onto the dais. Rather than work on Ephraim where he lay, they lifted him over their heads and raced back down the steps to disappear through the doors they’d entered.
“Hey, wait!” she shouted, but Jephthah stopped her again. This time with only his voice.
“Your other friends need you more, I think.” He nodded to where Roux, Gardner and Hamilton lay bleeding on the polished stone.
Annja snarled at him and then ran to help.
When she looked up ten minutes later, Jephthah was gone.
* * *
THANKFULLY NEITHER ROUX nor Hamilton were seriously injured. The bullet that had hit Roux glanced off the side of his hard head, knocking him unconscious and leaving a shallow furrow along the side of the head that would leave a scar. Hamilton, on the other hand, had taken a shot to his shoulder, but the bullet had passed through without breaking up and once Annja stopped the bleeding his biggest concern was keeping it clean from infection.
Annja wouldn’t leave Ephraim behind and so the group remained where they were, dozing more or less fitfully. Annja was startled from sleep when she heard her name being called.
Ephraim stood halfway across the room, dressed in the robes of the Giborrim, beckoning to her.
Even from here, she could see the strange gleam still in his eyes.
She got up and went to meet him.
“How are you?” he asked, once they were standing opposite each other and out of earshot of the others.
She stared into those silvery eyes for only a moment and then had to look away. She hadn’t seen anything of her friend in those eyes.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Hamilton needs a hospital, though.”
And so, apparently, do you, she thought, but didn’t say it.
Ephraim heard her just the same.
“I don’t need a hospital,” he told her. He was quiet a moment, then added, “I’m no longer the Ephraim you knew, Annja. At least, not just the Ephraim you knew. I am more than that now. I’ve changed.”
You can say that again.
“I’ve changed,” he said, and this time he smiled.
It was creepy as hell, but somehow that smile reassured her. It had been Ephraim’s smile and that told her they weren’t in any danger from this man.
“I’ve spoken to Jephthah. He’s agreed to let you go. Says it is unjust to hold those who were instrumental in saving his life, and I agree with him.”
“That’s great, Ephraim! Let’s get our stuff and get out of here.”
Ephraim studied her, his head cocked to one side. “I’m not going home with you, Annja.”
For a long while neither of them said anything.
Then Annja said, “Yeah, okay. I understand.”
And oddly, the truth was she did. Ephraim had been touched by something and would never be the same. She knew what that was like, and she couldn’t imagine him returning to the life he had known.
She certainly hadn’t, not really.
“You’ll be okay?”
He nodded. “Better than I’ve ever been, Annja. I wish I could tell you what it’s like, but I don’t have the words. Maybe someday I’ll find you and tell you what I can. And perhaps you can share the story of your sword with me in turn.”
Annja smiled, but she felt sad, lonely. “I’d like that.”
After that, there wasn’t much else to say. At Ephraim’s summons Jephthah’s men returned, helped them gather their gear and then led them all back to the surface.
Henshaw was waiting for them beside the helicopter. He told Annja how he’d been attacked from behind just after landing, had spent the day in captivity without ever seeing his captors and had been released just moments before she and the others had showed up. He obviously noticed Ephraim’s silvery eyes, did a double take, but didn’t say anything.
Annja gave a point to whoever had conducted Henshaw’s British butler training. Ignoring eyes that glow with inner fire? That was impressive.
They loaded everyone aboard the chopper, including Daniels and Johnson who’d been guarding the entrance, then gave Ephraim and his Giborrim comrades time to get clear of the rotors before Henshaw fired it up. When he’d come to a few hours before, Hamilton had told Annja where Ephraim’s graduate students were being held captive and she intended to stop on the way home to make sure of their safety. After that, it would be a night in Jerusalem to get some much-needed rest and then a flight back to New York and a return to her job as cohost of Chasing History’s Monsters.
It was funny, but she was looking forward to whatever assignment her producer Doug Morrell sent her on next. Right about now hunting the rabid dog men of upper Botswana sounded just fine. She’d had enough of long-lost treasures for the time being.
Later that night, she would find the copy of the scroll translations Ephraim had slipped into her backpack and would take the time to reconsider. But for now, she was content to just sit back and enjoy the ride.
* * * * *
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin ebook. Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Subscribe to our newsletter: Harlequin.com/newsletters
Visit Harlequin.com
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
ISBN: 9781460307106
Copyright © 2013 by Worldwide Library
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mech
anical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com