Mark eased the door of Merry’s bedroom open and strained his ears to hear the voices below in the foyer, where someone had just entered through the front door. His heart froze as he recognized the voice of d’Brouchart, the Grand Master and the Knight of the Holy City, Sir William Montague. What were they doing here? He’d never known the Master to travel with Montague and he’d never known of Montague going on missions of this sort. Cecile had certainly outdone herself this time in more ways than one, but where was the formidable lady? She was not in the foyer, greeting her guests. They had let themselves in.
“Now let’s get this thing done,” d’Brouchart told his companion.
Mark stepped into the hallway in complete silence and edged his way out onto the balcony far enough to see over the railing. The sight of the Grand Master with the baculus almost made him faint from fear.
He had to get Merry out of the house now. He had no intention of going with her, but had not told her yet. He would send her away and do what he had to do to ensure that the Order was protected. Now his plans would have to include protecting the Grand Master. Since his memories had returned, his duty had been quite clear to him. The possibility of accompanying the woman was out of the question. It would be a useless endeavor. His situation was very precarious and there were no options open for him other than the remote possibility of regaining his standing within the Order. There was no hope for the relationship between himself and the Pixie. Love or not. It didn’t matter. He had to go back or he had to die. There was nothing in between. No gray area… only black. The one thing he was worried about at the moment, however, was Merry’s safety. He had to get her away from the house before the Grand Master did whatever he was planning to do. Once she was away, he would come back to do his part.
He slipped silently back into the room and scrambled through the stuff on the floor, looking for the damned keys with renewed urgency.
“Wait! Wait!” Merry looked up with dawning realization. Cecile had almost caught her with the keychain the fourth night of his captivity. She had left them in a candle jar in Cecile’s bathroom. “I remember now. I left them in Valentino’s room. And my pistol’s gone, too! Cecile’s been in my stuff!”
“Damn it!” Mark beat the floor with his fist. He grabbed her by the shoulders and set her down in the midst of the ruin. “Look, forget the keys for now. I have some unfinished business here. We’ll have to split up. I want you to get the keys and take my car. Try to stay out of sight and for God’s sake don’t stop to argue with Cecile. Kill her if you must, but get away from here. I’ll wait here until the coast is clear and then I’ll settle this thing with the others. Meanwhile, I want you to go into town and wait for me there. Where can you go? Where can I find you?”
“There’s a Bed and Breakfast Inn. Penelope Martin’s Bed and Breakfast. Cecile owns it. I can go there, but I don’t want to leave you. How do I know you will come?” She frowned at him and tears welled up in her eyes.
“I have to come,” he smiled at her and lied. He was not a good liar. He’d never had much cause to lie and didn’t hold much store by liars. “I have to return the car to the rental agency or pay the late charges.”
“That’s very funny,” she sniffed and he pulled her to him, hugging her briefly and then kissing her passionately, perhaps for the last time.
“You’re a sorry liar, Mark Ramsay,” she cried into his shirt when he released her. “You won’t come.”
“I’ll come if I can. I promise,” he said and then kissed her once more. “Now go before Maxie comes down from upstairs.”
Merry got up slowly and then went to the door quietly. She opened it slowly and peeked into the hall. She glanced at him once more and he nodded to her, smiling, willing her to go and then she let herself out into the hall.
“Deo gratis,” Mark whispered when she had gone and sat down in the floor. He crossed himself and repeated a brief prayer, asking God to protect her and begging for forgiveness of his sins.
When he finished the prayer, he felt somewhat better, though he hardly believed that God would be listening to him. He picked up the sword from amidst the clutter on her floor and tossed the dagger on the bed.
(((((((((((((
“What is that?” Cecile eyed the baculus with a suspicious frown.
“The missing ingredient in the formula, Mademoiselle,” d’Brouchart said. “It is not really an ingredient that you do not have, but a tool and the knowledge to use it.”
“Really?” She raised her eyebrows and nodded. “So what do we do now?”
“I need space,” he told her and Montague stood behind him with a permanent frown etched on his face. The Grand Master was lying. This was not the Tree of Life ceremony. What was he up to? “Is there somewhere we can go outside. It must be done outside in the open, under the eyes of God, but it should be safe from prying eyes. I’m sure you understand.”
Valentino’s smile faded. She did not savor the thought of leaving the protection of the house with these two men and she did not want to take Maxie with her. He expected to receive the gift as well and she had not bargained with them for him. The last thing she wanted was an immortal Maxwell Sturgeon. The man disgusted her. He was stupid, freaky and ugly. She couldn’t imagine having to put up with him forever.
She rounded the desk and reached in the drawer, removing a snub-nose revolver that she had taken from Merry’s dresser drawer.
“Just in case you decide to try something stupid,” she told them. “And don’t even think I don’t know how to use it or don’t have the nerve. I’ve used it before.”
“You will not need it, mademoiselle,” d’Brouchart told her. “But if it makes you feel better…” He shrugged.
“I know. I know. You’re all immortal, but I also know that I can at least temporarily disable you and you bleed just like the rest of us.”
“Well said. Shall we go then?”
Valentino opened the patio doors and waved them outside. “How’s this?”
“Too confined,” he told her and looked at Montague as if to warn him to silence. “We are too close to the building. Electrical fields interfere with the effectiveness of the baculus. Wiring, you see?”
Valentino sighed in aggravation as she looked around. The garden was almost a jungle. The closest place that was more or less wide open was up the hill behind the house where she and Merry had built an observatory in an old service building. She sighed and motioned them toward the garden path.
“Up there,” she nodded to the limestone hill rising up above the trees behind the house. “It’s flat up there. Will that do?”
“It may be… acceptable.” D’Brouchart gazed up at the hill, shading his eyes with one hand. “Yes, I believe that will do quite well.”
They started down the picturesque path through the garden. The cool breeze under the trees brushed his face and caused the silver windchimes in the branches above their heads to jingle softly. When D’Brouchart glanced up into the branches of one of the ancient oak trees overhanging the path, he was not surprised to see the Knight of the Apocalypse looking down at him. He raised one finger to his lips and continued on without stopping. Von Hetz made a slashing motion across his throat as a signal to Simon. The Healer was perched on another branch, higher up. They would not attack. Not yet. They waited for the two Knights and the woman to pass and then dropped silently on the walk behind them.
“What in God’s name?” Simon whispered as they watched the unlikely trio disappear up the path.
“Exactly,” von Hetz nodded. His blood ran cold at the sight of the ancient device in the Master’s hand. “This is not a good thing, my Brother.”
Simon nodded. His blue eyes were wide with terror as they followed their Master at a safe distance along the red brick path leading back the way they had just come.
(((((((((((((
Mark stopped in his tracks in the library, then flattened himself in the shadows before looking out the wide windows int
o the garden as the two Knights dropped down onto the path behind Valentino. He waited for the appearance of Dambretti and Christopher, but the Knight of the Apocalypse and the Knight of the Serpent started off together after the Grand Master without waiting. No one else joined them.
“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath.
Beaujold was upstairs with Maxie, probably undergoing the same treatment that Dambretti had received. Merry had not come down yet. Dambretti and Christopher Stewart were out there somewhere. Here was the Mystic Healer and the Apocalyptic Knight. And what on earth was the Grand Master planning to do with the staff? Where were they going? Were they all looking for him? He went back to the hall and squinted up at the second floor landing. Merry, Merry, come on, he thought, as a feeling of dread overwhelmed him. He went back to the window just as the two Knights disappeared into the depths of the garden. Merry, Merry…
He ran down the hall and took the stairs two at a time.
(((((((((((((
“Where could they have gone, Master?” Christopher Stewart asked as he looked around the top of the bald hill.
“I have no idea, little brother,” Lucio shook his head. He was not above being relieved to have found that Sir Ramsay and the blond were no longer in the observatory. He had been further relieved to find no traces of blood inside. At least Mark Andrew had not killed her there. His conscience was freed of that thought. Perhaps he would not die so soon after all. Perhaps Ramsay had seen the true nature of his remarks.
They started back down the trail toward the house. There was nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. When they reached the place where the door to the shelter was located, Dambretti suddenly grabbed the apprentice and threw him behind an upright pile of boulders, placing one hand over his mouth when they came to rest against the stones. Someone was coming up the path. They positioned themselves behind the rocks and waited.
“Holy Mary!” Dambretti whispered breathlessly when he saw the Grand Master carrying the baculus up the hill.
D’Brouchart found him out immediately and looked directly at him, meeting his terrified eyes with a stern look of warning before traveling on up the hill. Valentino followed behind the Knight of the Holy City with a pistol pointed at his back. She wore a look of grim determination mixed with expectant delight on her face.
“What is going on, Master?” Christopher whispered the question.
“Only God knows,” Dambretti told him reverently. “But I am sure we will soon find out.” He started out of his hiding place, but then fell back quickly. “Wait! Someone else is coming.”
They fell in silently behind Simon and von Hetz when they passed the same way a short time later.
“What is happening?” Lucio caught up with Simon, startling the healer.
Simon just shook his head and kept walking, too disturbed to speak.
(((((((((((((
Mark Andrew tried every door on the second floor. Merry was not there. He hoped beyond hope that she had left via the service stairs and was now on her way to town. He bolted back down the stairs and out through the patio doors, turned left and ran toward the garage. The El Dorado was still parked in the building just as they had left it, along with the white Cadillac limousine and the dark blue four-wheel-drive SUV. He stood looking at the cars in shocked silence. Where was she? Where had she gone? His mind went blank. What to do? Go back to the house? Follow the Grand Master? He knew how to hotwire a vehicle, even a new one. Christopher had kept him updated on the newer models. The SUV would be easiest. He eyed the vehicle and chewed his lip nervously. He could leave now… or… he could do the right thing. He had brought them to these straits; it was his duty to see it through to the bitter end. If he left now, he would have no hope of ever finding peace. If he played his cards right, he could regain his standing and perhaps take time out next year for a long overdue holiday. There were no rules against going on holiday… in America… in Texas.
“Damn it!” he shouted into the dim interior of the building before racing back out into the midday sun. He looked back at the house once more, searching every window in sight for signs of life and then up at the limestone outcropping behind the garden.
There were no more options. He was out of time. He ran back toward the garden and up the path where the Grand Master and the rest of the strange entourage had disappeared.
(((((((((((((
D’Brouchart looked about the relatively flat top of the barren hill and walked to a spot near the center of the clearing. Sweat ran down his neck, soaking the collar of his dress shirt. He hooked one finger under the knot of the tie and tugged it loose. Montague took up a stance near his left shoulder. The Master held the baculus out in front of him and set the base of the staff upon the ground.
Sir Montague shuddered. He longed to be back in his office in London, sitting in his comfortable leather chair, reading the Wall Street Journal on his computer screen, sipping a cup of Earl Grey. Buying and selling stocks was his forte. Checking the market trends. Overseeing the financial holdings of the Order. That was his first love. This mystical stuff was beyond his comprehension. He was a businessman, not a Magus. As a history buff and an armchair philosopher, he loved his wine in the evening, a good cigar and an old Bogart movie. He took two holidays a year. In the spring time he spent two weeks basking beside the pool at the Villa north of Pompeii and in the dead of winter he took another two weeks in the Florida Keys staying in one of the quaint old hotels there. It now seemed that his whole life flashed in front of his eyes like a dying man, but his first duty was to God and whatever the Grand Master said was final. It was the Will of God that he was there when he should have been dead years ago. Every moment of his life was a precious gift from the Creator and Master of the Universe. He gritted his teeth and steeled himself for the worst. He would see this thing through to its conclusion and do the best he could to serve God and his Master. He slipped his hand inside his jacket and touched the butt of the pistol there.
“If you would, my lady,” d’Brouchart addressed Valentino solemnly “please stand in front of me and face the Staff of Power.”
The woman sighed and rolled her eyes. “Staff of Power. It figures,” she muttered.
Valentino positioned herself directly in front of the staff, but kept her distance. She trained the pistol on Montague.
“If anything goes wrong, I’ll shoot him first and then I’ll shoot you and take your staff. Got it?” she warned them both and they nodded solemnly.
D’Brouchart nodded and then drew himself up to his full height, an unlikely six feet, three inches, though his weight made him seem shorter, and raised his eyes toward Heaven.
“All ye gathered here,” he began and the words drifted across the hilltop as if he were speaking into a microphone “behold the work of God and tremble. From the bowels of the earth I call upon the powers of the Creator of the Universe to work his mysterious miracles for the benefit of the children of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.”
Valentino kept her eyes moving nervously back and forth from the globe of the baculus to the faces of the two men. Montague had stopped watching her and was now staring at the amber orb atop the ivory staff. It seemed that a tiny flame had been ignited in the center of the cracked glass. The white triangle seemed to be ablaze inside the crystal. The wind whipped around them suddenly, picking up bits of dried grass, cedar needles and debris. A cold shiver coursed up the accountant’s spine. Something very bad was going to happen. He was sure of it.
“O great Creator of the Universe. Most Excellent and Holy, most High, look down upon the misery of your people and help them in the hour of their need. Bless them with the miracle of your abundant love and show them signs of your all powerful presence.”
Montague squinted at the globe. The flame in the center grew brighter and it seemed that the brilliant rays of the midday sun dimmed a bit. He blinked his eyes and glanced at the woman. She no longer watched him. The pistol was still pointed at h
im, but her eyes were glued to the top of the baculus.
Montague had never heard these words before. The fear in his heart made his pulse race and his legs tingled. He didn’t know if it was just his imagination or if it was some effect of the ceremony. Perhaps the Master was just trying to frighten the woman with some mystical display. He swayed slightly and righted himself quickly. It almost felt as if the ground had shifted below his feet. He had to get hold of himself or they would be picking him up off the ground.
(((((((((((((
The three Knights of the Council of Twelve and one apprentice lay on their stomachs at the crest of the hill like truant school boys and peeked across the flattened ground at the three people standing near the observatory tower.
The apprentice lay next to Simon D’Ornan who had begun to whisper prayers in French. Christopher crossed himself again and again as he watched the strange drama unfolding in front of him and tried to keep up with the prayer that the Healer was praying next to him. He knew which one it was, but he said the words in English. His French was worse than his Latin.
The sun dimmed as if clouds had passed in front of it and his ears popped. Glancing up, he saw nothing, but blue sky. The wind blew bits of dried grass, dust and debris in his face. None of them looked up or said anything when Sir Ramsay joined them quietly. He lay down next to Christopher and squinted into the dust, pushing the Flaming Sword out in front of him on the ground, ready for attack or retreat. They could easily hear the voice of the Grand Master as it echoed eerily in the silence. Even the insects in the grass had ceased their chirping and buzzing. Gradually they became aware of an oppressive humming noise, more felt than heard, enveloping them. The clear blue sky turned a sickly shade of green.
The Red Cross of Gold I:. The Knight of Death Page 52