by Davis, Dee
"The Protector." Faust moved to the railing, staring out at the murky waters of the lake. "I assume since you’ve been trying to find the thing, you know a bit about it."
"I’ve done my research, but I’ll admit I’ve been more interested in who has the thing than the myths that surround it."
"But you know what it’s supposed to signify."
"More or less. The box was created by God in the ancient times. It’s purported to be made of gold, covered with jewel-encrusted carvings that depict the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. According to legend," he said, stressing the last word, "the box holds the seven trumpets and seven bowls mentioned in Revelation. And once the seal is broken and the box opened, the contents will be freed and bring about the end of the world. Hence the name: Protector of Armageddon." He took another sip of his scotch, eyeing Faust over the rim. "Of course I don’t believe any of that—except maybe the jewel-encrusted gold part."
"A nonbeliever." Faust’s smile looked ghostly in the dimming light.
"Let’s just say I don’t go in for all that mystical claptrap."
"Well, what if I told you there’s some truth to the legend?"
"I’d wonder how you could possibly know that for certain."
"No one knows anything for certain, David," Faust sighed, "But some things have to be taken on faith."
"And you believe the box is one of them."
"What I believe is that the box has power and that it isn’t as simple as you’d have it be. Part of the legend includes the fact that the box was to be guarded by the Seven. Men chosen for their honor and loyalty."
"Like the Knights Templar. I read about them. So, are you telling me my brother was killed by the Seven?"
"No." Faust shook his head to underscore his words. "For centuries the box remained hidden, under the careful watch of the Seven. As long as it remained hidden it was safe from anyone seeking to uncover it."
"But there are references to it surfacing now and then. I’ve seen my brother’s notes. And verified the documentation."
"Yes, once or twice there were slipups, times when, for whatever reason, the box needed to be moved, and someone happened to see it. The sightings of course only added to the stories. But there was never any serious threat to the box or its protectors."
"If it’s always been in their possession, how is it that my brother found it?"
"Well, that’s where the story takes an unpleasant turn. The Seven are not immortal, although they possess certain powers. They are simply men of uncommon valor charged with protecting the box. And as they age they are also charged with finding an equally worthy replacement. So the Seven are constantly changing, at least from generation to generation, but somewhere along the line, within the last century or so, a mistake was made."
"What do you mean, a mistake?" David asked, frowning as he swallowed the last of his whiskey.
"The story is that one of the Seven wasn’t pure of heart. In fact, his desire for the creature comforts of this world far outweighed any obligation he felt to protect the next. In short, he made a deal with the devil, so to speak, and in return for earthly riches, he arranged things so that the box could be stolen. His defection was discovered, but the box was not. And, at least according to the legend, the Seven, in whatever incarnation, have been searching for it ever since."
"And my brother found it."
"It would seem so."
"But if this is all part of the legend, then why haven’t I heard it before? God knows I’ve talked to pretty much everyone who has information about the damn thing."
"Let’s just say I came into possession of some very unique documentation."
"From your nameless sources."
Faust’s smile lacked humor. "The point is, David, that this isn’t a task to be undertaken lightly. If you’re going to make sure that you and Jessie come out of this alive, you need to understand what it is you’re dealing with. "
"A hell of an artifact, which, even without supernatural powers, has corrupted many men, one of them enough to kill for it."
"I know you believe that your brother was murdered, but there’s something more you need to know. If anyone but the anointed one tries to open the box ..."
"What?" David asked, a sudden prickling of worry chasing down his spine.
"They die."
Chapter Five
Jessie stared at the flashing letters on the monitor. Password. Password. These days everything required one. She closed her eyes, shutting out the muted colors of her bedroom, as she reached out for the correct combination of letters and numbers.
She’d first discovered her somewhat peculiar gift when she was still quite young. Her mother had received a letter, the words robbing her face of color. Jessie had asked, terrified, what the missive contained, but her mother had only forced a smile, reassuring her daughter that everything was fine.
That night, Jessie had tried to find the letter, to no avail, but alone on her cot, she’d suddenly pictured the parchment, the words as clear as if she’d held the correspondence herself. Her mother had been accused of treason. The letter was a summons by the king.
The next morning a coach came to take her mother away, and Jessie was left to fend for herself, in a world that did not cherish children, especially those that were female. She lived on the streets, getting by on scraps and handouts, never certain where she would lay her head or get her next meal.
It was only when she remembered the letter, and the odd way in which it had appeared to her, that Jessie’s life had begun to change. Using her gift, she had worked her way up in society, exchanging purloined information for protection and favors, finally achieving a status that allowed her to stand on her own two feet.
It was only when she found herself alive after an unfortunate shooting accident, that she’d realized stealing information wasn’t her only asset. The knowledge of her immortality brought the first of her father’s visits. His unexpected addition to her life a paradox she’d never quite grown comfortable with.
But all of that was a long time ago, and thinking about it now did nothing to help find the password. She blew out a breath, clearing her mind, reaching out for the information she needed.
Slowly the password appeared. REV1318.
Certainly apropos.
She opened her eyes and typed the password, the computer obediently presenting her with the inner workings of Max Braun’s computer system. It took only a few minutes to find the guest list for the club and add their names. And only another two or three to figure out the appropriate designation to allow them access to the VIP floor.
The security system information presented a bit more of an obstacle. Two additional passwords were required and even then she was only able to identify the system and verify the location of the vault. She still needed a schematic. But to do that, she’d need direct access to the computer.
Even magic it seemed had its limitations.
With a few keystrokes, she instructed the computer to print the information she had managed to obtain, and then quickly made her way out the back door she’d opened in cyberspace. With any luck, they’d never even know she’d been there.
The door to her bedroom swung open as David strode through it. "I thought I might find you here."
Jessie frowned and reached for the papers coming off the printer. "Haven’t you heard of knocking?" It wasn’t as if there was anything she was trying to hide; it was just that she was unsettled enough around him without his just appearing out of nowhere without any kind of warning.
"I did. You just didn’t hear me." He was standing in front of her now, glaring down at her. "I’ve just had an interesting talk with Faust."
"Knowing Faust, that could mean almost anything," she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. "Want to be more specific?"
"All right. How about the notion that the Protector kills the people who come in contact with it."
"That’s only a legend, David. There’s no empirical proof that it’s true."
"But there’s also nothing to say that it’s not true," he said, still frowning. "And I don’t like the idea of your taking that kind of a risk just so that you can score one for a client."
Sometimes being an immortal was a pain in the ass. "Look, just take my word for it when I say that I have every reason to believe that the box won’t pose that kind of threat. At least not to me."
"Care to say why?"
"Well, principally because if there is a danger, it only involves trying to open the box. And I have absolutely no interest in doing that."
"What about Faust?"
"He’s a man who keeps his own counsel, but since his main purpose for being here is to help me, I feel fairly confident that he’s not interested in opening it either."
"Well, that’s another thing that bugs me. Why the hell would Faust want in on this, anyway? I mean, there’s no payoff. He said himself that he and your brother like to think of themselves as pirates. So why would a pirate agree to take the kind of risk involved with stealing the Protector without some kind of cash cow at the end of the road?"
"Maybe for the fun of it. I realize that’s a concept beyond your understanding. But sometimes people do things just for the rush."
"I don’t buy it."
"You’re just angry because he backed you into a corner."
"No one backs me into anything, Jessie. I just figured it was better for everyone if I laid out the truth."
"The truth as you see it."
His laugh was harsh. "Maybe that’s all that matters."
"You didn’t kill your brother, David."
"We were talking about Faust," he said, obviously trying to change the subject.
"Fine," she said, walking over to the window. "It’s none of my business anyway."
The lake was calm, the moonlight weaving silver beams into the water, the tiny crests glistening like scattered sequins.
"It’s beautiful," he said, coming to stand behind her, his breath stirring the hair at the nape of her neck.
"That’s one of the reasons I chose this place," she said, nodding at the velvety blue of the mountains towering above the far shore. "I love the solitude. It’s the only place I’ve ever truly felt peaceful."
"You mentioned that before. It’s funny, I don’t think of you that way."
"Nor do I, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing for it."
"I’ve never understood the need for stillness. Give me life at full throttle and I’m good to go."
They were inches apart, and yet Jessie still felt alone. "There’s nothing quite like an adrenaline rush. But I think maybe it’s possible to have too much of a good thing." Five fucking centuries of it. "Maybe I’m just looking for a counterbalance."
She tightened her hands on the windowsill, thinking of all the times she’d imagined him being right here in this room. Somehow the dream wasn’t the same as the reality. But then maybe that’s why dreams were dreams—and suddenly she’d become a sentimental sap.
"So have you had any luck with the security system?" He moved away, and while she missed the contact, she was relieved that he’d brought the topic back to safer ground.
"I’ve gotten us on the guest list and I’ve nailed the make and type for the security system."
"Sounds like you’ve made significant progress."
"I have. But we’ll still need a recon mission. I can’t get the actual schematics without tapping directly into Braun’s computers and to do that I’ve got to get inside."
"And I assume you’re counting on me to get you in?"
"It did seem the logical choice."
"Are you’re certain you want to do this? I mean, is your client really that important?"
She blew out a breath and attempted a smile, feeling for the first time that maybe they really were in this together. "More than you’ll ever know."
"Right, then, I guess it’s up to me to get your back. After all, I do have a vested interest in your success."
"Vengeance." And with one word, any sense of camaraderie was gone.
"You know where I stand, Jessie."
"And you know what I think." She turned back to the window, staring out at the lake. "There’s no way that Jason would want you to throw away your life because of him."
"Maybe he wouldn’t. But then he wouldn’t have wanted to die either."
"Believe me, living isn’t all it’s cracked up to be."
"What in hell do you mean by that?" His voice was sharp, colored with his confusion, but there was really no way to explain.
"Nothing. Just the cynic talking." She felt him move to stand beside her. "I just meant that we all cling so desperately to life, and maybe it isn’t really worth all the fuss."
The silence was broken by the song of a cricket somewhere out on the lawn. Jessie sighed. "Sorry," she said, shaking her head, "didn’t mean to get maudlin. It’s just that with everything going on I’m suddenly second-guessing myself. I thought I knew what it was I wanted. Or at least what would be for the best. But now I... well, I just don’t know. I don’t suppose that makes any sense at all, does it?"
"Yeah, I guess in a sort of fucked-up way it does. I think a person can spend too much time trying to figure out the right path. Sometimes it’s better just to play the game and see where the pieces land." He reached out to catch a strand of her hair and tucked it gently behind her ear.
"David, I..." Her hand came up to cover his, her heart beating a staccato rhythm.
"I’ve missed you, Jessie." The words seemed to come out of their own accord, surprising them both.
She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t give her the chance, instead, pulling her close, his lips finding hers, the touch sending sparks of fire racing through her.
She traced the line of his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers. His hand found her breast beneath the soft cotton of her shirt and with a tiny moan she pressed against him, all rational thought fading away against the power of his touch.
His thumb rasped against her nipple, sending shards of pleasure dancing through her, and she deepened their kiss, breathing in his essence, holding it deep inside her. His hand moved lower, caressing the skin of her abdomen, soothing and exciting her with one touch.
His lips moved, too, following the hollow of her cheek until he reached her ear, his tongue sending more fire rippling through her as he traced the curve of its shell, his teeth toying with her earlobe, moist and hot against her skin.
His head dropped lower, his mouth trailing along the line of her shoulder, his kisses teasing in their simplicity, his hand continuing to move across her skin. His mouth found the crest of her breast, the hot, sweet suction tantalizing with its promise of things to come.
Urgency built within her. The need for something more. For connection, belonging. The part of her she kept locked away, clamoring for release. She’d promised herself she’d not allow this. Not give in to the sensual need he evoked in her. But the physical pull was so strong now. So essential. Like breathing.
With desire shimmering between them, she pushed closer, grinding her hips against his. Her hands slid to his waist, undoing the buttons on his jeans, her fingers brushing the velvety tip of his penis. With a groan, he pulled off her shirt, at the same time pushing her backward until she felt the cool plaster of the wall against her skin.
His gaze raked across her, sending shivers dancing along her oversensitized nerves. "I want you, Jessie. Right here. Right now. So now is the time to tell me if you’re having second thoughts."
She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t form the words, instead shaking her head, her heart pounding a rhythm in her head. With a swiftness that threatened to rob her of breath, he removed her pants and panties, following suit with his jeans, and finally they came together, the contact of her breasts against his chest beyond exquisite.
She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to his kiss, drinking him in, wanting nothing more than this moment, this man. Their fervor incr
eased, each touch, each movement raising the stakes, heightening the pleasure.
He pulled her tighter against him, sandwiching her between his body and the wall, his sinewy strength the perfect foil for her soft curves. This was what she remembered. The smell of his body, the strength of his hands. Heat radiated through her, setting flash fires in places she’d forgotten existed.
And for a moment she simply reveled in the contact.
Then her need took over. With a passion she’d almost forgotten, she began to taste him. All of him. The salty skin at the corners of his eyes. His beard-stubbled chin. The softer skin of his neck, and the silky strength of his chest.
She took his nipples into her mouth, caressing first one then the other with her tongue. Delighted when they responded to her touch. Moving lower, she sampled the skin of his work-hardened belly, tracing the line of it with her tongue.
And finally, finally, her lips found the velvety heat of his manhood. She ran her tongue along its length, pleased to feel him tense in pleasure, his hand stroking her hair, urging her onward. With a smile, she took him into her mouth, feeling him grow harder, even as her own desire burgeoned.
And then he was urging her upward again, his hands settling beneath her hips, lifting her until her legs circled him, their gazes locked. There would be no turning back. She was cognizant enough to know that. This wasn’t a casual dalliance. And a part of her, the rational, sane side, was screaming a warning, but the rest of her cherished the moment. And the man.
He moved back slightly, still holding her in place, and with one long thrust was inside her, the pure pleasure of the movement threatening to shatter her into pieces. And together, they began to dance. In and out, in and out. Each stroke taking them higher, until she could no longer tell where he ended and she began.
She closed her eyes, letting sensation carry her away. Aware of only the feel of him inside her, filling her, holding her, binding them together with every stroke. And just for the moment, she forgot about her immortality. About the fact that the two of them could never be more than casual lovers.