Though she nodded, he realized the empty gesture for what it was. She did not agree. Yet she had placed her faith in him, and she would not revoke it now.
He reached for her hand, smiled when she slid her fingers against his. “Come, Isa. Let us save your daughter.”
“Ours,” she corrected in the briefest of whispers.
Caradoc grimaced inwardly, yet he would not argue. Not when the matter of September’s parentage meant so very little in comparison to her life. When this was over, when all three of them had returned to the temple, the answers would come. Then, Isabelle would realize September was not his, and this dispute would be put to rest once and for all.
He led her down the hall to the elevators and inside. When the doors rolled shut, he pulled his hand free to set two fingers beneath her chin and tip her gaze to his. Troubled eyes searched his face for assurances he could not make. He did the only thing he could think of to ease her frantic thoughts and dipped his head to hers.
Her mouth was soft and pliant, hesitant to return his gentle kiss. Knowing she needed comfort far more than the heat of ardor, he nudged her lips apart just slight enough he could capture her lower lip, cling to it for a scant few moments before he slowly let go. “I promise you this, Isa,” he whispered. “Paul Reid will never trouble you again.”
The faint smile that touched the corners of her eyes was all the response he required. Stepping back to clasp her hand once more, he waited for the elevator to open onto the lobby. When it did, he gave Isabelle’s fingers a reassuring squeeze and ushered her out the front doors.
“Where did you park?”
“Over there.” She pointed at the row of vehicles alongside a circular bed of flowers.
At a brisk pace, Caradoc escorted Isabelle to the car. She let herself into the passenger’s side, then passed him the keys. Before he slid behind the wheel, he offered one last prayer to the heavens, beseeching the Almighty for his favor, then took his seat and keyed the engine.
They drove down the drive in silence, the lavender hues of twilight rapidly shifting into deep indigo. But at the intersection connecting the side road to the main thoroughfare that would lead them to their destination, Caradoc could endure the quiet no longer. He cleared his throat, glanced at Isabelle, and sought a distraction. “Tomorrow—you will accompany me to the temple?”
She blinked and her brow crinkled. “I hadn’t thought of that, I guess.”
“Nay?” Catching the bright glare of headlights in the rearview mirror, he tipped it out of his way.
“No, not really. I just assumed I’d go back to Chicago and…” She let out a short laugh. “I don’t know what I assumed. I didn’t stop to think about what happens after Sicily.” Isabelle reached across the console to set her hand on his forearm. “Is that what you want me to do? Will September be welcome?”
In truth, he did not know. But until the relics were secured and Azazel had been stopped, he dared not leave the temple or his brothers. “’Twill be necessary, I fear, for a while.”
As he steered a left hand turn, the headlights glared off his side view mirror. A frown settled into his brow. Careful to keep his actions slow and methodical so as not to arouse Isabelle’s suspicion, he readjusted the rear view mirror to better view the vehicle behind them.
“Necessary, but not welcome,” Isabelle said flatly.
“Children are not part of our lives, Isa. They do not belong in war. You cannot expect the men to leap for joy over a child’s presence.” Seeking to soften the truth, he gave her a quick smile. “Though I am certain ’twill take little to win over their hearts and attitudes.”
Isabelle let out a disbelieving laugh. “Nice try. Maybe September and I should find a place to rent nearby, until you can join us.”
In a thousand lifetimes, he would not agree to such. Beyond all the lessons Isabelle must learn within the Order’s stronghold, they had been parted once. He would never again allow that to occur. Mikhail and the others would have no choice but to accept September. He would give them no other option.
The glare hit him again as he turned left onto the winding road that wove around the coast line beneath Villa Valguarnera’s shadowed outline. He tightened his grip on the wheel. “Hold on.”
“What?” Despite the dim light, Isabelle’s puzzled expression was unmistakable.
“Hold. On.” Sighting a side street, he let off the gas. “Now.”
As the intersection approached, Caradoc whipped the wheel to the right and spun the car’s rear end sideways to make the turn. Tires squealed. Isabelle careened into the passenger’s door with a squeak.
Behind them, the vehicle made the same hard turn, bright headlights lighting up Caradoc and Isabelle’s car as they righted from the swerve.
“What the hell are you doing?” Isabelle rubbed at her right shoulder.
Grimacing, Caradoc stepped onto the gas and sped ahead. “We are being followed.”
Her slight injury forgotten, she twisted in the seat to look out the rear window. “By who?”
“I do not know.”
He had his suspicions, however, and naught could make him voice them. For if he were correct, and another of Azazel’s minions had been observing Isabelle, Paul would know she had not come alone. If so, the danger to September had just tripled.
Chapter 34
Caradoc gunned the Mercedes around a tight bend and turned off the headlights. On this seldom traveled road, he did not concern himself with oncoming cars so much as he did the vehicle following them. The stars above, combined with the bright silver sheen of the moon offered enough light to navigate the twists and curves, and he wished for naught but to fade into the darkness. Mayhap their unexpected guests were mere adventure seekers, intending to explore the forbidden Villa Valguarnera. Mayhap the vehicle had made a wrong turn and would reverse.
Mayhap the driver who rode on their bumper was Paul. Or another of Azazel’s fiends.
He glanced at Isabelle’s ashen expression, checked the rear view mirror once again, and breathed more deeply. Their pursuer had dropped back several hundred feet. He downshifted the car, using the engine to slow it down so as to avoid touching the brakes.
“I don’t like this,” Isabelle murmured.
“’Twill be fine.” He hoped. Yet he would not allow her apprehensions to eat away at her by speaking his own doubts. Too few people drove the route to put faith in the possibility their follower was accidental.
Hulking shadows of ancient stone buildings with thatched roofs rose amidst the trees. Open windows marked blackened dwellings where once people had lived in luxury and servants abounded. Now, the long block edifices only spoke of sorrow, abandonment, and lives forgotten. Caradoc wove the car along the lane, eyeing the columned entrance to the private mansion. Wrought iron gates that had not been opened in decades stood open wide, though the palatial residence beyond was as dark as pitch.
Isabelle’s grip on the door tightened, and her posture became more rigid as Caradoc slowly passed between the urn-topped columns into a small, circular courtyard. Ahead, another, narrower entry opened into a wider, more solemn court of honor. He drove with care, eyeing the tall walls that secluded them from the gardens beyond for signs of unholy life.
At the top of the sweeping stairs that led to the main doors, light filtered through tall windows that the imposing walls had shielded from view. Caradoc eased to a stop in the deeper shadows where the moon did not reach and turned off the engine. Isabelle grabbed at the door handle. He caught her wrist, stilling her attempt to exit the car. “Nay. Wait.”
“Why? We’re here. September’s waited long enough.”
As headlights flickered over the walls behind them, he pointed to the rear view mirror. “Let us see who comes.”
She twisted sideways in the seat to get a better look at the oncoming vehicle. Caradoc reached between them and into the back seat for his sword. Slowly, he freed it from its silver scabbard, pulled it onto his lap.
“You really
need a gun.”
He recognized the teasing remark for what it was—an attempt to alleviate her nerves through sarcasm. But ’twas time she fully realized the danger they faced and came to recognize the threats they would encounter could not be slain with bullets or the weapons of modern man. Slowly, he shook his head. “No gun can extinguish the power of Azazel, Isa.” He tipped the blade up, allowing the moonlight to drench the deadly blade. “Only that which has been blessed with divinity.”
Her gaze fell to the faintly illuminated steel, and she closed her eyes on a hard swallow. Her acceptance came with a silent nod.
As the sound of approaching tires grew louder, Caradoc stiffened. His gaze remained fixed on the mirror, his pulse quickening as a pair of headlights rolled slowly through the gates. At the moment, he would trade all the lands he had ever owned to have Tane and Gareth at his side, for as certain as he knew his own name, he knew he would not encounter merely a single foe.
“Isabelle,” he murmured quietly, his stare trained on the side view mirror. “Promise me you will stay at my side. That if I am wounded, you will take this car and leave. I will find you and rejoin you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Held it. Then, her air came out in a forceful rush. “I can’t.”
He took his eyes off the nearing vehicle to give her a stony stare. “You must.”
“Not without September.”
Gritting his teeth, he bit back an oath. But before he could argue with her further, the vehicle passed his door and rolled to a stop ahead of their car. His spirits brightened as the large shape revealed itself as an SUV. A silver SUV—a Templar car. The possibility he might yet fail Isabelle vanished as the driver’s door opened, and Farran stepped into the courtyard.
Caradoc threw open his own door. As his boots touched the crumbling pavement, Lucan exited the SUV’s passenger’s side, followed by Chloe and Noelle. Unable to contain a grateful smile, Caradoc ducked his head inside the Mercedes and grinned at Isabelle. “Come out, Isa. The eve has just turned in our favor.”
True, they were now stronger, but despite his relief, he could not shake the feeling that if they were present, the danger he had assumed could not be so slight. Mikhail had sent the seraphs. ’Twould be no mere battle against shades and demons.
Joining him at the front bumper, Isabelle tucked her hand into his, and Caradoc led her to his waiting brothers. The time for introductions would be short. ’Twas certain Paul observed, and by now, whatever evil presence lurked within was aware she had not come alone.
* * *
Isabelle couldn’t help but stare at the two women who stood beside the men Caradoc shook hands with. She didn’t know their names, but she recognized their faces. September had described them perfectly—right down to the way the blonde’s hair hung to her waist, and the glasses on the brunette. The women from September’s dreams…the angels she’d described. They existed. And in that truth, she realized they were the same as she—seraphs, and the men beside them, their immortal Templar knights.
“Isabelle?” Caradoc prompted, pulling her from her stupor.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head to clear the away the surreal sense she was observing this scene from some distant, far-off place.
“Meet Farran, Lucan, Noelle, and Chloe.”
Chloe. That name she had heard. Chloe was new to September’s visions. That must mean she’d recently taken her oath. Isabelle struggled for a smile, but it fell short, the attempt wavering on her lips. She managed only a courteous nod.
“What brings you here, brother?” Caradoc frowned at Farran.
“Mikhail instructed us to join you. He told us naught else.” Farran’s gaze crept over Isabelle, then fell to the sword Caradoc carried. A smile graced his handsome face. “You have taken your oaths.”
“Aye.”
Surprising Isabelle completely, both men dropped to one knee and laid identical broadswords before their prostrated feet. Resting their elbows on their knees, they bowed their heads.
She arched an eyebrow at Caradoc. Blinked when Noelle let out a soft laugh.
“Don’t worry,” Noelle said with a grin. “We’ve all been there. Give them their swords back, and you’re good.”
Chloe chuckled. “It’s their vow of loyalty. You’ll get used to it eventually.”
Hesitantly, Isabelle bent over and picked up the first heavy blade. Unaccustomed to the weight, she bobbled it, coming dangerously close to dropping it on Lucan’s boot, before she managed to find the center of balance and hold it out for him to accept. He took it from her hands, gave her a wide smile, and rose. “Milady, ’tis a pleasure to meet you.”
Farran was not so polite. When she handed him his sword, he bounded to his feet with a devilish grin and clapped a hand on Caradoc’s shoulder. “’Tis beyond a pleasure, Lady Isabelle. I shall not have to endure another of Caradoc’s morose moods.” Sobering just as quickly, his grin vanished. “Tell me, brother why are we here? What duty did Mikhail send us to accomplish?”
“My daughter,” Isabelle blurted out. “She’s inside. She’s been taken.”
Farran and Noelle exchanged a look Isabelle could not decipher. But when their gazes shifted first to Caradoc, and then to her, the hair on the back of her neck lifted. They knew. But how? She’d only just told Caradoc about September—no way could his friends suspect. Besides, from the little she’d said a second ago, nothing linked September to her father.
“Aye, Isabelle’s daughter is in danger,” Caradoc repeated. “I know not what waits for us within, but she has been captured by a demon, one who has threatened her life if Isabelle does not surrender the tears.”
“The tears? ’Tis impossible,” Lucan argued in a low voice. “He cannot acquire such.”
Isabelle gritted her teeth. The argument had grown stale. Evidently no one understood the bonds of parenthood. She took a step toward the sweeping exterior staircase, intent on leaving their discussion behind and pursuing her own resolution to Paul’s demands. But strong fingers grasped her elbow, kindly urging her to stop. Turning, she found Farran’s meaningful gaze on her. In ale brown depths, she read understanding. Compassion that softened the hard lines of his mouth in a way Caradoc couldn’t achieve, no matter the depth of his emotion. Empathy that could only come from a man who knew what it was like to be a father.
“With respect, Lady Isabelle, Lucan speaks true,” Farran murmured. His gaze stole sideways to Caradoc, a silent question present in the lift of his brow. “But Caradoc has led us to victory many times throughout the centuries and is well versed in strategy.”
“Aye,” Caradoc exhaled. He fastened his sword belt around his waist then reached into his lightweight jacket to produce the necklace of tears. As he held them in his open palm, they glinted in the moonlight, emanating a subtle sheen of blue. “I will present the tears. When I step forward to offer them, I had intended for Isabelle to enter the gardens, locate September, and call out her name.” Closing his fingers over the precious jewels, he clenched a fist. “Then I shall slay the creature who sought to take her, and we will all leave this place.”
The way he failed to look at her set Isabelle’s instincts on high alert. He was hiding something. Something that he hadn’t disclosed in all their conversations about what would occur tonight. And the way Lucan’s expression hardened turned that buzz of alarm into a deafening blare.
“And if ’tis more than one demon within?” Lucan asked warily.
Farran cut through the budding tension with a purposeful dip of his head. “I shall stay with Caradoc and defend the tears. Lucan, go with Isabelle. Take Chloe with you, she can fight with her mind, though her sword arm is weak.” He caught Noelle by the hand, gave her fingers a squeeze. “Noelle…”
“Yeah,” she answered in a whisper, as if she could read his thoughts.
Yeah what? Isabelle pursed her lips. All of them understood something she didn’t. What the hell weren’t they telling her? And where…
She glanced aroun
d in search of the third angel September referenced in conjunction with Noelle and Chloe, the redhead who led the women. “Where is Anne, and what aren’t you telling me?”
“Anne?” Caradoc blinked. “How do you know of Anne?”
Isabelle gestured at the two women. “These are the angels I told you September talked about. The redhead is missing. She’s always with them in September’s visions.”
Again, Farran shared an uneasy glance with his seraph, Noelle. She, however, was the one who cleared her voice and struggled for a relaxed smile. “Merrick and Anne had more important things to see to.”
“So what is it you aren’t telling me?” Isabelle pressed.
Lucan shuffled his feet, let out a heavy sigh. Farran pointedly looked away, his stare fixed on the abandoned stone monstrosity behind them. All too coincidentally, Noelle chose that moment to return to the SUV’s cargo bay door. And as Isabelle studied Caradoc, he too found sudden interest in his boots.
“Me,” Chloe answered, breaking the tension. “They’re not telling you about me.” As her companions stiffened, she lifted her chin in defiance and delved on more quickly. “Lucan tried the same plan when I was taken into Azazel’s realm. We lost the relic. The plan failed.” She pulled her hair into a knot at the base of her neck and ran her palms down her jeans. “But this one can’t. He can’t have the tears. Their power outweighs the Veil’s, tenfold.”
Facts clicked into place with the precision of the interlocking stones in the wall surrounding them. Isabelle sifted them together, stacking them one at a time until she came to the logic for their concern that her mind couldn’t embrace. She swallowed through a closing throat. “And none of us can die if a stand is made for the tears?”
Chloe shook her head. But the sadness in her eyes reflected what she didn’t voice—none but September.
That was all she needed to hear. Stumbling blindly forward, Isabelle marched toward the sweeping staircase. She was going to put an end to this one way or the other, right here, right now. She’d go into Azazel’s hellish realm if it meant saving September. He couldn’t have the tears, maybe, but he could have something else he evidently coveted—a seraph.
Immortal Sacrifice: #4 The Curse of the Templars Page 28