Assassin's Honor

by Monica Burns

  With a quiet thud, the door closed out the wet weather. He'd parked only a few houses down from Emma's place, and from where he sat, he had an excellent view of her front door. The angry rustle of his sister shifting her position in the seat beside him made him suppress a sigh of pained tolerance.

  He rubbed the dampness off the back of his neck, all too aware of his sister's censorious gaze. She'd given him hell for going into Emma's without her. A quick glance in Phaedra's direction revealed her mutinous expression. He returned his attention to the nearby house.

  "I don't understand why you insisted on me staying in the car," she snapped.

  "And I don't know why you insist on questioning my orders."

  His harsh reply silenced any further comments. Sometimes his sister forgot who led their guild, but he had no one but himself to blame. His indulgence of her had started when the Praetorians had left them orphans almost twenty years ago. He frowned.

  The Praetorians were responsible for a lot more deaths than just his parents. Their persecution of the Sicari had been happening for almost two millennia. Once his people had held the same social status and power as their enemy. But as the Roman Empire slowly crumbled into dust, things had changed. The Praetorians had donned the cloak of Christianity to do more than oppress the Sicari. They'd sought their genocide. There was no clear rationale for why the Praetorians had set out to destroy his people. Some stories said it involved a woman, other tales attributed the persecution to jealousy and a craving for power. Most Sicari believed it was the Tyet of Isis that had started it all. The only problem was, no one knew what or where the artifact was. It didn't really matter what had started it all. It was a lot easier to start a war than to stop one.

  The sound of Phae's fingers drumming relentlessly against the black leather of her jacket pulled him out of his contemplation. The look of frustration on her face made him bite back a small smile. Patience had never been one of Phae's virtues. His sister sent him a sideways glance.

  "Did you get it?"

  "She doesn't have it."

  "Is that what she told you?" Phae snorted with disbelief.

  "You doubt me?" He heard the steel in his voice, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her stiffen as she suddenly recognized the error she'd made.

  "Forgive me, il mio signore," she said with sincere remorse.

  Not responding, he kept his attention focused on Emma's house and yard. He understood his sister's frustration. When he'd received Russwin's personal diary from Shakir in Cairo, he'd been certain they'd find the Tyet of Isis soon. The dead professor's diary had made everyone think the man had either given Emma the artifact or at least told her where it was. But he didn't think Russwin had given her anything, because he was certain she'd never heard of the artifact until tonight. No matter how much she knew, Russwin's murder put Emma at the head of the class as the archeological authority on the Sicari outside of the Order itself.

  It had been a gamble in Cairo to have Shakir show Emma the coin the police had found next to Russwin's body. But it had been important to try and gauge what she really knew about the Order. She'd definitely recognized the artifact, but the answers she'd given to Shakir had indicated only a general knowledge of the Sicari, nothing more. If she knew more than she'd said, he couldn't blame her for holding back. He would have done the same in her position.

  Although if he were a betting man, he'd wager she'd seen something when she first touched the coin. With that ability of hers, she probably witnessed Russwin's last few moments, maybe even the face of his murderer. Whatever she'd seen, Emma hadn't shared it with Shakir or anyone else. She was smart enough to know her talent would most likely generate more skepticism than serve as a defense.

  What puzzled him was the way Emma's parents, and now her mentor, had been murdered. The Praetorians generally tortured their victims before killing them. Instead, the Zales and Russwin had died quickly. The killer's method had been clean, efficient, and merciful. More like a Sicari execution than the usual Praetorian slaughter. But Sicari never mutilated the dead.

  If anything, the brand was more in line with Praetorian practices. But the mark on their cheeks was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. It had taken more than an incredibly sharp blade to carve out the symbol. Great skill and precision had been involved in the creation of the disfiguring brand.

  "Are we waiting for something?" Phae's voice held a distinct edge to it, although she managed to inject just the right amount of respect. He nodded toward Emma's house.

  "When her visitor leaves, I'm going back for her."

  "What do you mean you're going back for her?" she exclaimed. "You're taking her back to the complex?"

  "I don't have much of a choice."

  "Yes, you do." Phae reached out and grabbed his arm. "This woman isn't Clarissa--"

  The moment his sister spoke the name, rage whipped through him. He ignored her gasp of surprise as he visualized her hand being yanked off him. Slowly he turned his head to see her arm held motionless in front of her by an unseen force.

  "I love you, Phaedra. But I'm Legatus first, your brother second." He ground out the words between clenched teeth as he released his mental hold on her. "Don't forget it again."

  "Il mio signore." Dark emotion tightened her voice. "You're not responsible--"

  "The Legatus is responsible for everyone in their guild and for those we endanger. Emma Zale didn't know anything about the Tyet of Isis until tonight. That makes her my responsibility."

  The tense silence between them almost tangible, he rested his elbow against the car window and rubbed his chin with his hand. Clarissa. He closed his eyes against the images flashing in his head. Focus. He needed to focus on his task. Emma Zale needed his protection. Failure wasn't an option.

  Down the street he heard a dog barking wildly. Immediately he straightened in his seat then turned the ignition key a notch to clear the windshield with one sweep of the wipers. With his field of vision clear, he saw a figure moving along the sidewalk toward Emma's house. Eyes narrowing, he studied the person heading in their direction.

  The sight of a large dog emerging from the shadows on a leash made him relax into his seat. It was a miserable night to walk a dog. Beside him, Phae cleared her throat softly.

  "I suppose you're going to have Sandro and Octavia's heads for not being more thorough in their investigation of the Zale woman."

  He grunted. "They got sloppy. It tells me we're overdue for some training exercises."

  "That will give Lysander something to smile about." A tight note of sarcasm filled her words.

  A quick glance at Phae's profile showed she was glowering with irritation. His Primus Pilus had always set his sister on edge. She made it her mission to provoke the man at every turn. If Lysander found her insults irritating, he never said a word, which simply made Phae all the more determined to find new ways to annoy him. He wouldn't blame his second-in-command for putting Phae through the ringer when it came time to run exercises.

  "Worried he might make things difficult for you?"

  "He can try," she said with a snort of derision.

  The red flash of the cell phone attached to the dash interrupted their conversation. Leaning forward, he pressed the talk button.

  "DeLuca."

  "We've got a problem." Lysander's voice echoed out of the car's stereo speakers.

  "What is it?" He kept his eyes trained on Emma's front door as he waited for his lieutenant to respond.

  "Julian's missing." Lysander rarely displayed emotion, but concern ran under the clipped statement. That alone put Ares on edge. He frowned as he gave the conversation his full attention.

  "When did he check in last?"

  "Right around five thirty. I sent him to the Gary Airport to pick up a shipment of surveillance equipment."

  "Did you get a signal from the truck's GPS?"

  "Yes." Lysander hesitated. "It's parked in a warehouse district near the airport."

  The terse response knotte
d his muscles taut with tension as he flicked a brief glare at the phone. Something in Lysander's voice told him his lieutenant hadn't shared everything with him.

  "There's more?"

  Again, Lysander hesitated. "It's parked only a block away from the Oriental Institute's warehouse."

  "Deus damno id," he snarled. "He went against my direct order. I told him to stay away from that warehouse until you or I had time to assess the activity levels."

  "Octavia hacked into the airport's cargo database. The Institute received some large items from Cairo late this afternoon."

  Merda. Knowing Julian, he'd seen something and decided to check it out without permission. He was going to skin the fighter alive when he caught up with the man.

  "Can you handle it on your own?" He tensed as he debated whether to leave Emma to an unknown fate for even a brief period of time.

  "Thaddeus returned from New York just before dinner, so I'll take him and Bastien with me."

  "Good, I'm not finished here," he replied. A long silence drifted out of the phone, and he could easily visualize the stoic look on Lysander's scarred face as he debated asking any additional questions.

  "And the Tyet of Isis?"

  "She doesn't have it." Another quiet pause followed his response.

  "I see." Even with such a noncommittal reply, Lysander said a great deal. "As soon as I find Julian, I'll be in touch."

  His second-in-command didn't wait for an answer and broke the connection. Fingers wrapped tightly around the SUV's steering wheel, he studied Emma's well-lit front porch. Christus, when would Julian learn he couldn't go rogue whenever he got the urge. The Order didn't like it when guild members acted in an unrestrained manner. He knew that from personal experience. But it was more than that. Everyone in the guild knew he despised undisciplined behavior. Julian had the potential to be a great Legatus, but his renegade behavior was putting more than just his own life in danger. Now others were involved.

  Beside him, Phae sat rigid in her seat with her gaze fixed on the wet road. She and Julian were good friends. At times Ares thought the two of them might even wind up married, but Phae always did something to sidestep the issue when Julian pressured her to take their relationship to the next level.

  "He'll be fine, Phae," he said with quiet reassurance. "He's foolhardy, but he's got good instincts."

  She bobbed her head in a sharp nod. Although the tension radiating off her eased somewhat, her lips had thinned with anger. Suddenly he felt sorry for Julian. Phae could be merciless when it came to castigating people, and something told him his sister would have a lot to say to her friend the next time she saw him. Returning his gaze to the front of Emma's house, resignation tightened his mouth.

  He had a feeling Emma would have a lot to say to him as well. The sudden memory of her soft curves pressed into his body jolted its way through him. He didn't like the way she made him feel. It made him uneasy to discover his senses were under fire. Not even Clarissa had affected him the way Emma did.

  Clarissa. Her death might not rest entirely at his feet, but he'd failed to take appropriate precautions where she was concerned. If he had, she might still be alive. The irony of it all was that the man who'd raped Clarissa before slitting her throat hadn't even been a Praetorian. He'd been just another depraved bastard inflicting random pain on society. It hadn't taken much to hunt the son of a bitch down and rid humanity of one more blight.

  But then Clarissa's killer really hadn't stood a chance. Ares's connections had made it easy to find her assailant in less than forty-eight hours. One couldn't be an assassin without knowing people on both sides of the law. Not until the night he caught up with Clarissa's murderer had he ever taken pleasure in a kill. The man had died crying for mercy.

  At the time, he hadn't given a damn. He'd only taunted the bastard, taken his time splaying him open one piece of flesh at a time, just like a Praetorian would. But now--He dragged in a breath of remorse as the man's terrified face flashed through his head.

  He'd overstepped the boundaries of the Sicari code of honor. Not only had he failed to ask the man's forgiveness, he'd killed the man out of revenge and he'd enjoyed hurting the man who'd killed Clarissa. That was something a Sicari never did. Phae cleared her throat softly.

  "So what are you going to tell her about the Order? The guild?"

  "As little as possible. She already knows too much as it is."

  "Too much?" Although she took care not to openly confront him, he heard the note of censure in his sister's voice. "Why do I have the feeling you're not telling me everything about Emma Zale?"

  The accuracy of Phae's observation made him shift uncomfortably in the seat. Avoiding the penetrating gaze of his sister's violet eyes, he continued to watch for any unusual activity on the street. For some unexplained reason he didn't want to reveal Emma's skill. He trusted Phae implicitly, but something held him back. He wanted Emma to trust him, and that meant keeping her secret until she said otherwise. Remembering what was in his coat pocket, he pulled it out and offered it to his sister.

  "Tell me what you make of this."

  "What is it?" Phae pulled out a small flashlight from her coat pocket to examine the artifact in the light. A soft gasp echoed out of her as she studied the object. "Dulis Mater Dei, another Sicari Lord coin. Where did you get this?"

  "It was in Russwin's possessions. Emma doesn't know where he got it. I'll have Sandro review the man's diary to see if he notated finding it."

  "And she just gave it to you?" The amazement in her voice made him flex his jaw.

  "No." He remembered Emma's display of anger when she realized the coin was missing. Regret nipped at him, and he didn't like it. He'd return the damn thing after the guild had time to study it. Phae sent him an inquisitive look, but didn't question him when he turned his head away from her.

  He stared out at the neat row of houses lining the street of Emma's neighborhood. Until Russwin's death last month there had only been one known medallion bearing the Sicari Lord's icon on the back of the coin with the Roman Emperor Constantine on the front. The first one was in a vault in the Order's main headquarters in Genova, Italy. Now there were three.

  "Do you think the Zale woman knows anything about the coins?" Phae studied the small antiquity more intently in the beam of her flashlight.

  "If she does, she wasn't exactly in the mood to share anything with me."

  "If I were her, I suppose I wouldn't have been too happy with you either." His sister released a quiet sound of disgust. "Maybe taking her to our place isn't such a bad idea after all."

  This last bit she mumbled beneath her breath, but he heard it just the same. Turning his head, he eyed her chagrined expression. In the glow of her penlight, Phae's face flushed with color. When he didn't say anything, she shrugged.

  "Okay, I was wrong. Taking her with us is the right thing to do."

  Phae turned off her flashlight and handed the coin back to him. Apologies weren't his sister's forte, and he knew how difficult they were for her to make. For him it was enough she'd admitted being wrong. Now, he just needed to convince Emma to come with him to the safe house. He threw his head back against the headrest in a gesture of frustration. If his gut was anything to go by, he'd find it easier to do battle with a Praetorian than persuading Emma Zale to do something she didn't want to do. Phae had been right. He was going to have Sandro and Octavia's heads.

  Chapter 5

  FURIOUS, Emma uttered a vicious cry of anger and slammed her fist into the desk one more time. The bastard. How could she have been so stupid? If she ever saw him again, she'd read him the riot act. She closed her eyes and bowed her head as she gripped the edge of the desk. God, she was beginning to think she belonged on a psych ward.

  What if she'd dreamed up the coin, the stranger, all of it? It wasn't as if her life had been all that calm and serene of late. Charlie's death could have easily traumatized her to the point she'd gone over the edge. Christ, of course she wasn't crazy. At least not
yet. But if that blond Lucifer showed up again, she'd--

  "Is there anything wrong, my dear?"

  Ewan's voice echoed behind her, and she jumped with surprise. As she saw the look of concern on his face, she waved her hand and shook her head.

  "I'm fine. Well, at least I think I'm fine," she said in disgust. "The coin is missing. I left it right here on my desk earlier, and now it's gone."