by Lyons, Rene
He should have forced her not to go to that bloody meeting, should have gone with her if he couldn’t talk her out of going. Lucian shouldn’t have gone to The Gate alone…
“At least they’re still alive, Sebastian,” Constantine said to him. “Remember that and try to hold it together. We can’t have you losing your shit and going off.”
Sebastian ran a hand over his shorn head. “I know.” His tone held all the pent up emotions he was fighting back. “I can’t loose her, C.”
Even he heard the note of desperation in his voice. “Fuck all, what if they have Luc in a cage…”
He couldn’t go on, couldn’t even entertain the idea of Allie and Lucian being held like animals. If his thoughts went there, his mind would snap and he’d be no better than a mindless beast out for blood.
Constantine gave him a curt nod to acknowledge the unspoken understanding.
The worst thing you could do to a Templar was to cage them. After three years in that French prison, the last place any of them wanted to be was at the mercy of a captor. Not even an eternity in Hell was as much of a threat to their sanity as one moment of captivity was.
They’d all been through that and had the scars to prove it—both inside and out.
The need for blood raged in Sebastian as he went to his room and grabbed his baldric. The weapon felt good in his hands, calming him somewhat and taking the edge off his fury. As long as he had his sword he’d never be helpless.
At least she’s alive.
He ran his hand over the cross pattee in the pommel of his sword as Constantine’s words came back to him.
Alive.
Yes. Allie was life, and so much a part of him he no longer knew where he ended and she began.
When he was a boy he never knew love, never knew it to miss it. As a man he gave his life to the sword and to God, having no desire to know a love other than for the thrill of battle. Once dead, he believed himself beyond something to be loved or who could love in return. Yet Allie burst into his existence and became the soul he lost.
Allie’s love for him held the power to chase away lifetimes of loneliness and cold. For that alone he would make damn sure the ground ran red with the blood of those who dared to take her from him.
He pulled on his baldric and his duster before grabbing his keys off the dresser. He stomped down the stairs, past Constantine who was strapping an arsenal of weapons to his body, and out to his car.
His only thought was of finding Allie and Lucian. He fully intended on bringing Hell down upon the renegades who had them. The need to spill their blood consumed him as he slammed the Charger into drive and hauled ass to The Specter’s office.
The renegades, who dared to take from them, were going to learn exactly why the Templars were the most feared creatures this side of Hell.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Slapping the palms of his hands to his temples, Constantine doubled over as a blinding pain pierced his skull. Robbing him of sight and reason, all he could do was drag air into his dead lungs as blades picked away at his brain.
And the screaming—Jesus Christ, the screaming of his name over and over inside his mind…
Too much for his senses to take, he felt like his goddamn head was going to explode.
“Fuck it all,” he hissed out between gritted teeth. He dropped to his knees with a tortured groan, wished for the millionth time Fate hadn’t forced these visions on him.
The agony of the visions nearly unbearable, he wondered if he was ever going to know an existence free of pain.
Having gone to Allie’s to get Lex, they were only now returning to Seacrest.
As soon as the vision hit him, bringing with it the pain, Lex fell to her knees beside him. Sebastian, already back from The Specter’s office, came running over when she reached out her hand to touch him.
“No!” he yelled, causing her to pull back her arm and jump away. “If you touch him you’ll only make it worse.”
Constantine, infinitely grateful Sage stopped her, knew if he felt her gentle touch on him he’d shatter into a thousand pieces.
Grinding out a groan between clenched teeth, Constantine held his head in his hands and rocked back and forth as agony stabbed at his brain.
“What’s happening to him?”
Constantine heard the fear in Lex’s tone. Fear for him, not of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw she still knelt beside him, her hands hovering over him.
“He has telepathy,” Tristan explained to her. “If the connection is too strong, thoughts, images, sounds, all come at him in furious assault to him senses.”
Her fingers brushed through his hair and he nearly died. Again.
“But he’ll be okay, right?” Her concerned whisper pushed him over the edge.
Seeing a scene playing out in his head through Allie’s eyes, he saw two renegades take her, though what he saw was blurry at best. Allie’s riotous thoughts came at him too fast and loud to distinguish one from another. The one clear vision was of Allie being hit. The punch to her face turned her world black.
Too much of an assault to his senses, Constantine’s body began to shake violently as agony tore through him with the force of a freight train. He opened his mouth to speak but words were lost to him. All he could do was grab at Sebastian and pull him down to his level. He brought Sage’s face a mere inch from his and growled. His fangs were bared in a vicious snarl as struggled against the waves of pain washing through him.
Sebastian nodded his understanding. Constantine let him go and sagged with relief. “Help me, Tris.” He heard Sebastian say. “He’s a heavy fucker.”
Next thing he knew, Sebastian and Tristan lifted him off the floor and carried him to the sofa. Lex came racing around, keeping herself as close to him as possible without getting in the way. Why she gave a shit, he didn’t know, but he was damn glad she did. Her being near seemed to make the pain ease a bit. When her hand went to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears, he wanted to tell her not to cry, to save her tears for someone who was worthy of them. But again, words were beyond him.
“Is it Lucian?” Sebastian asked him.
“No,”
That came out in a harsh hiss laced with all the pain that wracked his body.
“Allie?” The note of desperation in Sage’s voice pushed through the fog of pain.
Gritting his teeth, he nodded. “Renegades,” he rasped out as voices and visions invaded his brain at a lighting speed. So fast they made his eyes feel as if they were going to pop right out of their sockets. “She’s alive.”
Though it damn near killed him to push those words out, he had to give Sebastian that one small assurance. Sage was good to him and he loved Allie. Constantine had to give him hope his mate was alive.
At least for now.
*
Alive.
Allie was alive. He hadn’t lost her. Somewhere behind him, Sebastian heard Lex whisper, “Thank God.” She said what he was thinking.
“Thank you, God. Thank you…”
Still, knowing Allie was alive did nothing to quiet the violent fury shooting through him. It demanded vengeance. It called for renegade blood. He knew the rage wouldn’t quiet until that need was meet.
Until Allie was back with him where she belonged.
His hand went to the pocket of his jeans, resting over Allie’s keys. He found them in front of The Specter’s office. As soon as he touched them he felt Allie’s fear. It lingered on the air, choking him with its intensity.
He wanted to go off half-cocked and hunt down the bastards who put that fear into his woman. But his reason overcame his emotions and he returned to Seacrest to wait for Constantine and Raphael. A life spent in battle taught him not to charge blindly in without the Templars at his back. Especially not with Allie and Lucian’s lives on the line.
Why renegades would target Allie and Lucian made no sense. It was also suicide. Renegades, knowing they were inferior vampires, liked their immortality too much to give it up in a losing
battle with Templars.
The only equals the Templars had in the nocturnal hierarchy were the Order of the Rose, a sisterhood of vampires who were the daughters of a Druid priestess. And you did not fuck with them. Ever.
Since four members of the Order made their home here in Damascus, Templars would occasionally brush past one of them. That’s where their contact began and ended. Seemed only Raphael was able to cozy up with the Order, and even he gave those women wide berth.
If Lucian was right, and renegades were gunning for him, it still wouldn’t explain why they would take Allie too. She didn’t know anything about the Daystar. If she did, the Templars would have the thing in their possession by now.
Shit wasn’t adding up. A piece of the puzzle was missing and Sebastian was determined to find it.
Tristan came to stand behind the sofa as Lex dropped to her knees before Constantine, who looked as he had back in Chinon the night they broke him.
Lex was silently weeping with worry for Dragon.
“Don’t worry, Constantine, I won’t touch you,” she said softly, wringing her hands.
A long while passed, the only sounds in the hall the hissing of the fire dancing in the hearth and Constantine’s ragged breathing. One of his hands gripped the edge of the cushions. The other held tight to the back of the sofa. Every muscle in his body strained under his pallid flesh. His mouth was set in a hard line as he fought back his pain.
“How are you doing?” Tristan asked when Constantine finally looked as if his body was starting to relax.
“Great. You?” Dragon ground out sarcastically. He slammed his eyes shut. Sebastian knew he was assailed with another barrage of visions.
He wanted to demand Constantine tell him what he saw. He needed to know what Allie was showing him. But he held his tongue. He wouldn’t add to his suffering by making Constantine tell him the things he ached to know.
Constantine opened his eyes and ran a hand through his mess of hair. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Dark,” he ground out roughly. His upper lip drew back in a nasty snarl. He continued to gasp for air. “Tied up.”
That information hit Sebastian hard.
Hard enough to cause him to stumble backwards and collapse into one of the chairs. He dragged a hand over his head as everything in him rebelled at the idea of Allie bound in the dark.
His fury too great for him to control, he needed to put his fist through something. Anything. But most especially, he needed to hurt the renegades hurting his Allie.
“Dead. Every last bloody one of them.” The declaration was pulled from the dark place within Senbastian he rarely set free.
“I can see the house she’s in,” Constantine gritted out hoarsely. “Old farm house. Boarded windows.”
Rage, pure and hot, surged through Sebastian as Constantine’s words took shape in his mind.
Constantine began shaking furiously. “Just relax now, C. Go easy,” Tristan said soothingly. “Raphael’s not even back, so we’re not going anywhere yet.”
Sebastian stood and went over to the sofa. Standing next to Lex, he was surprised when Allie’s sister rested her hand on his leg. Such a simple touch, yet in it was a wealth of emotion. The poor girl was terrified she was going to lose her sister.
He put a hand on her shoulder and felt she was shaking with fear. “We’ll find her and bring her home,” he said to her. She sniffled and nodded before wiping the tears from her face.
“Sorry.”
Gaping, Sebastian looked to Constantine when he whispered that hoarsely. This was the first time he’d had ever heard the word “sorry” pass Constantine’s lips. “Rest now, you miserable bastard,” he said lightly. “We’re going to need you battle-ready come tomorrow night.”
Constantine nodded before his head sagged to the side. His eyes slid closed. “Put your hands on me.”
She complied without hesitation. She ran one hand through his hair. The other, she rested lightly on his chest. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
Constantine gave him a barely perceivable nod before slipping into unconsciousness. As soon as he was out, Tristan sank down on the one of the high-backed chairs to keep vigil over Constantine along with Lexine.
Tonight was going to be a long night.
*
Sebastian used the time to do something he hadn’t dared in centuries.
He went to the chapel to pray.
Knowing they wouldn’t be able to go out tonight and hunt the renegades, he stalked out of the hall, his destination the chapel. He knew if he stayed, watching Constantine suffer, the walls would close in on him, adding to his already dangerous level of fury.
He didn’t know why he came here since he knew God didn’t want him near His house. Nor did he know why he was torturing himself with being so close to holy ground. Though he stood a good distance away already the bottoms of his feet began to heat, a promise of the burns to come. Not even the thick soles of his boots could protect him from God’s wrath for daring to put his damned feet on His hallowed ground.
He looked at the chapel, his eyes aching as he looked upon the holy building. Such a simple structure, small and unremarkable, no one would ever imagine the power housed within. He felt the pull of it throughout his body, whispering promises that filled his head and body with need. This was the temptation Tristan faced every moment of his existence and which forced the Templars to avoid Seacrest to the point of making their home at Randall Manor instead of the castle.
His gaze lingered over the stained glass windows, which depicted the Templars journey from living Knights to the damned creatures they became. It brought back so many memories. Painful memories best left forgotten.
Sebastian didn’t dare enter the chapel. He tried that nonsense once when he felt he needed to feel God’s warmth on him. Once was more than enough. He wasn’t up for that party again. As the chosen Guardian, only Tristan could enter the chapel. Only he could touch the ancient relic it housed. The rest of them were here to protect Tristan. It was what God demanded of them in order to earn redemption.
Remembering the day he died, the feel of the flames licking at him, Sebastian couldn’t stop the shiver of revulsion that ran through him. Even after all this time he couldn’t forget the stink of his melting flesh, or the agony of slowly burning to death. Nor could he ever forget what it had felt like to have Michael tear his soul from him.
He wished he could say he was wrongly arrested. Wrongly imprisoned. He wanted to be able to say he didn’t deserve that awful death or his damnation. But that would all be lies. He did deserve it. All of it. They all did. They were the guilty among the innocent.
Genuflecting, Sebastian bowed his head. He made the sign of the cross. A horrific burn cut a path across him in the wake of his hands.
“In the name of the Father.”
“And of the Son.”
His flesh was scorched from head to heart.
“And of the Holy Ghost…”
A trail of a fire ran shoulder to shoulder.
Sebastian prayed to God to watch over and protect Allie. He asked the Lord to keep her safe and whisper in her ear that he was coming for her and to not be afraid of the dark she was in, for He was with her. He prayed for God to look past Lucian’s sins and watch over the Knight as well.
As he prayed he felt his knees burning at the prolonged contact with the consecrated ground. Not that he cared. To pray for Allie and Lucian, he would risk his entire body bursting into flames.
Besides, he’d been burned worse.
Burned until he died.
He’d stay here praying until the skin damn near melted clean off the bone if that was what it took for God to hear his prayers.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Allie blinked open her eyes, she was met with complete darkness. Forcing down her panic, for a fleeting moment she actually believed she might be dead.
Or undead—since she still felt very much alive.
As she quickly as the possibility came wa
s as fast as it went. Aside from feeling like warmed over shit, she quickly regained all of her functions and realized she felt her heart not merely beating, but hammering against her ribcage painfully as terror ripped through her.
Once her head cleared of the haze after being knocked unconscious, Allie felt too weak to sit. Instead, she turned her head from side to side in an attempt to see where she was. She saw nothing but black. She felt as if she were in a tomb. And for all she knew she was, since her eyes saw nothing but the dark.
Robbed of sight, Allie’s other senses flared to life, making her aware of the stench that rose around her like a living, breathing thing. The stink of filth sat on the still, stale air, making each breath torturous. She heard faint sounds coming from beyond the room, muffled voices she couldn’t make out clearly.
Facedown, when she went to move to push herself up she became all-too aware her hands were bound behind her back. “Oh Christ,” she swore, pulling at the ropes binding her wrists.
Like a wild-woman, Allie fought against the rope, twisting and turning until she was grunting with exhaustion from the futile effort to free herself. Her only thoughts were of those other women. They’d been tortured, used as food, raped, and slaughtered before being left to rot like garbage. She didn’t want to go out like that, her soul stolen, trapping her between life and death like the very ghosts she devoted the last years of her life to hunting.
When she was done with this world, Allie didn’t want her eternity spent as a ghost. Caught between realms. Haunting life. Dear God, the thought was enough to have her growing physically sick. Gagging, she fought down her vomit and tried not to think about what might be waiting for her in the dark.
Fighting for calm, Allie used her face as leverage to somehow manage to sit up. Once she was on her knees, her gaze darted wildly around the room, trying to see through the darkness. She couldn’t make out a damn thing. Though Allie never had a fear of the dark, she found this complete blackness terrifying. If she was the type to give in to terror, she might have wept from fear. Thankfully she was the type who fought, not about to waste her energy on tears.