Unable to dwell upon the matter, he shoved his hand into his pocket and produced Chloe’s serpent torc. “Will you?” he murmured.
“Yes,” she answered through her tears. “God, yes.”
Lucan dropped the armlet of bronze onto his sword. It slid down the blade, coming to rest against his hand. He grimaced as throbbing broke through his body. Each beat of his heart pulsed torment across his ribs. Yet despite the pangs, he found the strength to whisper, “Meus vires, meus mucro, meus immortalis animus, fio vestry.”
My strength, my sword, my immortal soul, becomes yours.
A smile pulled at the swollen corners of her battered mouth. She wrapped her hands around his. “Meus vita, meus diligo, meus eternus lux lucis, fio vestry.”
My life, my love, my eternal light, becomes yours.
Between them, his sword flared with a blue-white light. Against their intertwined fingers, the serpents stirred. Elongating into one snake with two heads, it stretched out atop their hands. Two golden jaws opened to reveal small pointed teeth.
Lucan watched in fascination as one head attached itself to the small golden cross at the broadsword’s point of balance. The other slithered to the identical mark embedded in the pommel and sank its teeth into the metal. With one slow undulation of its bronze body, it shook the patina from its scales, then lay still. Where he had naught but a plain pommel before, warped quillions formed an eternal barricade to the vile darkness he would spend immortality combating.
He gazed down into Chloe’s wonder-filled eyes, and a new sensation filtered through his veins. The sting that accompanied each beat of his heart dulled. The hot flow that seeped down his ribs trickled to a stop. Warmth, unlike any he had experienced, slid through his body from head to toe.
With it came something else. Something more valuable than any gift of healing or protective guard.
Trust.
As he held Chloe’s gaze, it sank into his soul. He knew then the freedom he had longed for. She would never betray him. And he would never again doubt the allegiance of her heart. In time, he would regain the same confidence in his brothers. As he would regain the light that had once filled his soul.
“Lucan,” Gareth urged quietly.
At the louder sound of approaching knights, Lucan sheathed his sword, swept Chloe into his arms, and eased to his feet. “We must flee this place.”
“Take him?” She pointed at her brother’s battered body.
“Aye.”
Lucan directed Gareth to carry Julian with a jerk of his head. When he had picked the man up, Lucan strode down the corridor behind Alaric, following the tiny white marks Gareth had drawn upon the wall.
CHAPTER 42
A heavy hand settled on Chloe’s shoulder. She smiled at the familiar weight. The silent offer of support she’d come to know so well. Turning over her shoulder, she looked up at Lucan and bathed in the warm light of his loving gaze.
“How is he?” he asked quietly.
She covered his hand with hers and turned back to the tiny bed her brother lay on. Two days of Zerachiel’s healing touch and the cook’s rich broth had restored color to his skin. But nothing had brought him from the place his mind lurked, and his breathing became more shallow with each passing hour.
“He’s dying,” she whispered. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, as they had countless times since they’d returned to the temple. “Zerachiel said his soul was transferred to the demon’s body. It is sucking his life away. He won’t last much longer. But Zerachiel swears he is out of pain. That he’ll die in comfort, and when he does, he will ascend to peace.”
She couldn’t ask for anything more. Her brother had suffered unfairly. But the knowledge he’d die without pain made her grief bearable.
Lucan too eased the ache in her heart. When she looked at him, when she went to sleep in his protective embrace, her sorrow ebbed. Though her own injuries had prevented the reunion her body craved, consolation came with the warmth of his skin, the stroke of his hand.
“Mayhap not.”
He slid his fingers through her hair, stirring her innermost awareness of him. Her body tingled from the inside out. Her pulse quickened as it did each time he touched her. She tried to ignore the unsettling sensation and focus on his words. “What do you mean?”
“I spoke with Raphael. He comes now.”
Just then the door to Julian’s private healing room opened. The golden-haired archangel entered, his expression serene, his blue eyes alight with divine radiance. Hope burst inside her, and she turned pleading eyes on his beautiful face. “Can you do anything?”
Raphael drew in a deep breath and set his hand on Julian’s shoulder. He lowered long lashes in concentration. After a few moments, he withdrew with a sharp frown. Chloe peered at him quizzically, but said nothing as he dragged a chair close to Julian’s side and sat down.
On her shoulder, Lucan’s grip tightened.
“My strength is with the sword,” Raphael murmured. Folding his hands in his lap, he continued, “But I concur with Zerachiel’s assessment. Julian’s soul is damaged beyond repair.” He looked to Lucan. “It is the same sort of affliction Gabriel and I beset upon you. You are possessed by darkness. Except, in your circumstance, the darkness does not think for itself. In Julian’s, the demon is possessed by him. He resides within a living, breathing entity, that has stripped him of control.”
Chloe shriveled at the delivery. Fresh tears tracked down her cheeks, and she dropped her head to hide her heartbreak. Lucan rested his other hand on her shoulder, drawing her back against him.
“Zerachiel was not instructed in the curse. His purpose is to heal, not to wound.”
She shook with the devastating news, and her heart broke all over again. A sob wrenched its way out of her throat.
“Chloe.” Raphael reached across Julian’s unmoving form and took her hand. “You must look beyond your heartbreak. Consider what Julian would most desire, for you have a decision to make.”
She lifted her head with a prolonged blink. “Decision?”
“Aye. I can pull his soul back to this body. The vessel that harbors it now will cease to exist. But the demon will remain with Julian. Though I will grant him the strength to dominate the presence, it will always be a torment. A day shall not pass where he does not combat Azazel’s dark desires. He will have to dedicate himself to the Templar purpose, for with this he will also gain immortality.”
On a hard swallow, Chloe nodded in understanding.
Raphael’s fingers gripped hers harder. “You must decide what your brother, not you, would want. If you let him go now, he will ascend to the heavens and know eternal peace. But if you believe he would wish to live, no matter the struggle, and that he is capable of keeping the beast within under control, I will grant my aid.”
She gazed at her brother’s handsome face. To ask her to decide was unfair. She couldn’t guess at what Julian would choose. But he’d never shrunk from a challenge. Never ran away from anything that intimidated him. His zest for life, even if he tended to embrace it too much now and then, had inspired her on countless occasions.
As she studied his serene expression, she thought of the many things he’d sworn he would do before he died. Climb the Tibet mountains. Walk the Great Wall of China. Visit the Australian outback. All things he’d never accomplished but had talked about with such passion he’d made her own heart race with excitement.
A strange, displaced thought drifted to her mind. Miranda. One solitary word that as it echoed in her head, she knew what she must choose. She pulled her hand from Raphael’s and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Bring him back.”
“Are you certain?”
No, she wasn’t. But the voice in the back of her mind echoed Miranda’s name again. She couldn’t shake the gut-deep feeling that allowing Julian to die was wrong, even if living meant he’d never know peace. That Miranda would somehow suffer.
She gave Raphael a slow nod. “Bring him back.”
&nbs
p; A faint smile touched Raphael’s eyes. “Go then. Leave me to my work.”
Hesitantly, she stood. “Are you sure it’ll work?”
His smile broadened as he looked between her and Lucan. “Aye. Go and embrace the life that flows between the both of you. You have had little time to celebrate the vows that bind you together. Tomorrow you shall speak with your brother.”
Guilty pleasure seeped into her blood. The Veronica was gone. A gray cloud hung over the Order. The knights she passed in the halls wore the touch of defeat behind their cordial smiles. She had no right to know happiness when she had contributed to the Veil’s loss and those around her knew only despair. And yet they had been given a gift in this time of darkness. A divine gift handed down by the Almighty, blessed by the archangels. She couldn’t bring herself to feel shame.
And she hungered for time with Lucan to celebrate their vows. Now that her bruises were little more than purple spots and the swelling in her face had lessened so his kisses didn’t hurt, nothing sounded more delightful. Knowing her brother wouldn’t die while she was away allowed her the freedom to revel in the man and the love she treasured.
She slipped her hand into Lucan’s. With a blush, she found the first genuine smile she’d experienced since her capture. He met her gaze, his gray eyes bright. Between them the undercurrent of desire flowed freely. His fingers twined through hers, and as Raphael bent over Julian, Lucan led her from the room.
In the hall, heedless of those who might pass by, Lucan dragged her against his chest. He captured her with an ardent kiss, the stroke of his tongue laden with urgency. His weight pressed her backward, until she came to a stop against the stone wall. On a sigh of surrender, Chloe looped her arms around his neck and welcomed the hard press of his hips.
His mouth softened. His hands settled at her waist. Slowly, he eased the kiss to a close and withdrew to stare into her eyes. “My love for you is as eternal as our lives,” he whispered as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.
Her heart swelled to painful limits and she rose to her toes. Subtly, she rolled her hips into his. “Take me to our room and prove it to me?”
Desire blazed behind his intense gaze. In one effortless sweep, he lifted her off her feet and tossed her knees over his arms. “Aye, milady. There is naught that would satisfy me more.”
TOR BOOKS BY CLAIRE ASHGROVE
Immmortal Hope
Immortal Surrender
Immortal Trust
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
IMMORTAL TRUST: THE CURSE OF THE TEMPLARS
Copyright © 2013 by Valerie M. Hatfield
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Scott Grimando
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
e-ISBN 9781429948661
First Edition: April 2013
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
The Curse
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Tor Books by Claire Ashgrove
Copyright
Immortal Trust Page 36