He caught Olsen’s gaze. “One, two, three…”
He pulled.
Olsen screamed.
The shard of glass came free with a wet, sucking sound.
The blood flowed in waves.
Duncan brought his own bleeding hands over the massive wound in Olsen’s chest.
*** ***
Cade did his best to move forward in a straight line, trusting that his sense of direction wouldn’t fail him.
Yet within moments, he knew he had sadly underestimated the fog. It felt like a cocoon. Visibility was limited to less than a foot in front of his face, the thickness of the fog working to strip his sense of direction from him.
He slowed, then stopped. He wanted to use his Sight, but there were too many unearthly creatures roaming the grounds at the moment; his Sight would be like a beacon fire in the night for them. Walking in the stuff was bad enough. Fighting a pitched battle against barely visible opponents would be far worse.
No, he had no choice but to continue forward.
He stepped off again, moving cautiously, aware of the passage of each moment like a ticking bomb, knowing every second increased the possibility that Logan had diverged from this course.
A shape moved in the fog ahead of him, a suggestion of a hooded figure, and Cade surged ahead, trying to catch up.
Ten steps later he emerged from the fog entirely.
The moon shone brightly, just as it had at the start of the incursion.
By its light he could see that the figure he was chasing was Gabrielle. As he watched, she disappeared inside the oak door of a small chapel.
*** ***
The Necromancer fell to his knees, pleading. “No! Don’t go! You can defeat them. You can recover the Spear, we can still succeed!”
His words bounced off the nearby walls, mocking him with their echo and the emptiness of the chapel around him.
He could feel his power waning; whatever gifts the Other had provided were disappearing along with their provider, and he was being left with only the petty knowledge he had gained on his own in the years before the Other’s coming.
His dreams of glory were fading with each passing second.
A shout from outside reached his ears.
He had only moments before his enemy was upon him.
He looked around frantically for a weapon.
*** ***
Cade pushed the door open fully, letting the moonlight illuminate the aisle before him that led into the heart of the chapel.
He could see an altar in the shadows ahead, but no sign of Gabrielle.
“Gabbi?” he called.
When no answer came, he stepped inside, waiting a moment on the other side of the threshold to let his eyes adjust to the dim light.
Cautiously, he started down the center aisle toward the altar.
Halfway to his destination, the quiet of the small chapel was broken.
Shrieking, the Necromancer charged out of the shadows and swung a large metal candleholder at Cade’s head.
Cade ducked beneath the attack, allowing the makeshift club to pass harmlessly over his head. Adrenaline surging, Cade went on the offensive, stepping inside his enemy’s swing, one hand against the other man’s upper arm, preventing him from coming back in that direction with another attack. At the same time, Cade’s left fist hammered into the Necromancer’s midsection, once, twice, three times.
His enemy countered by continuing his turn and coming around full circle, the heavy base of the candleholder sweeping in at foot level.
Cade jumped up and over the weapon, only to catch the other end across the side of his face as the Necromancer deftly maneuvered it to continue his assault.
The blow sent Cade to the ground, his sword tumbling out of reach.
The Necromancer rushed in, shoving the base of the candleholder at Cade’s face, intending to end the confrontation with one well-placed blow.
The Templar Commander would not be silenced that quickly.
He threw himself backward, into one of the pews, avoiding the potentially lethal blow as the base of the weapon smashed into the end of the pew itself.
The Necromancer screamed in frustration and lifted the heavy weapon over his head for another strike.
That was all Cade needed to turn the tide in his favor.
Diving out of the pew, Cade struck him hard, driving his shoulder into his solar plexus in a makeshift tackle. His momentum carried them across the aisle and against the end of the row of pews on the other side, where the Necromancer smashed bodily into the unyielding surface.
The pain of the blow forced him to drop the candleholder.
Gripping his robes with one hand, Cade rained several blows down on the necromancer’s unprotected face.
A knife appeared from somewhere inside the Necromancer’s robes, and he slashed at Cade with it.
A sliver of moonlight danced along its edge as it came inward toward him, giving Cade enough warning to skip to the side, out of the way of its razor edge.
The move forced him to let go of his hold on the other man’s robes.
Knowing he needed more room if he was to evade further attacks, Cade stepped out into the open area in front of the altar. Logan rushed him.
Cade waited, timing his action.
As the knife came in, he stepped inside its reach, smashing the hard edge of both hands against the inside of the other man’s forearm. Keeping his left hand on his attacker’s wrist, pinning the blade away from him, he used the ridge of his other hand in the opposite direction to strike the Necromancer hard along the line of his neck, just below the ear.
The blow achieved its desired effect, stunning his attacker.
Securing a two-handed grip on the other man’s already extended arm, Cade stepped forward and heaved him bodily over his shoulder, throwing him to the floor on the edge of the altar steps.
Cade quickly recovered his sword and stalked back to where the Necromancer lay cowering on the steps of the altar.
Staring down at his foe, weapon in hand, he felt his rage spiral out of control.
This is the man who masterminded the attacks against the Order.
This is the man who was responsible for the death of over 100 of his brethren.
This is the man who had cooperated with the Adversary.
That last thought was enough to shatter what little control Cade had left. The man deserved to die.
With a cry of rage, Cade raised his sword over his head and brought it whistling down toward the Necromancer’s quivering form.
As the sword fell, a shout rang out from elsewhere in the room.
“Stop!”
The voice, and its tone, was instantly recognizable to Cade.
He twisted slightly and managed to turn the blade aside in time to prevent skewering the defeated man before him. Instead of slashing through the Necromancer, the blade struck harmlessly off the carpet next to him. The defeated man buried his face in his hands and mewled in fear.
Cade barely noticed.
He had eyes only for his dead wife, who was standing a few feet behind the altar.
“You need him, Cade.”
He snorted. “Like hell I do. The world will be a better place without him.” His thoughts turned for a brief moment to the death toll that could be laid at this man’s feet. “Justice demands his death.”
“Then justice will have to take a backseat. You will need him at some point in the future. I can see it. Without him, your vengeance will go unclaimed.”
Cade considered her remarks, knowing as he did so that if it hadn’t been for her previous warning, they might never have known about the traitor within their ranks. But still he wanted to know more.
“What will I need him for? And when?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you can’t say?”
She didn’t respond.
Motion at the door caught his attention. Several Knights entered the chapel, their weapons at the read
y.
“Sir?” Riley called, the question in his voice obvious.
“Here,” Cade replied, looking toward them with the briefest of glances. “The room’s secure.”
He turned back to face his wife, only to find she had gone as suddenly and as mysteriously as she had come.
But she had accomplished her end.
The Necromancer would live, at least for the time being. Others in the Order would turn their skills upon him and eventually he would tell them all he knew. At that point his fate would be up to those in charge.
But for the moment, he would live.
Cade turned his defeated prisoner over to his second-in-command and watched as the man was searched and secured by the other soldiers. Riley himself filled him in on what was happening.
“The complex is under control. The last of the Council members have been rounded up. A few of them are even talking, and with their help we hope to have the rest of the missing artifacts rounded up before long.”
“Casualties?”
“Eighteen dead, twelve wounded.” Riley hesitated, obviously searching for words.
“Just say it,” Cade said gruffly, a sudden dread filling his heart.
“The chopper Olsen and Duncan were in went down. Smashed straight into the conservatory. Olsen took a piece of shrapnel deep in the chest.”
“Is he dead?”
“No, boss. And that’s the problem. By all rights he should be, yet it looks like he’s going to be all right. Whatever Duncan did when he pulled him out of the wreckage saved his life. Some of the men are calling it a miracle.”
Cade covered his surprise. “Let them call it what they want,” Cade said gruffly. “Just make sure Olsen gets what he needs.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Riley turned away, Cade reached out and grabbed his arm. “Keep Duncan close, just in case.”
Riley grinned. “You can count on it, sir.”
As Riley escorted the prisoner out of the chapel, Cade remained behind. He walked down the center aisle and took a seat in the first row of pews, facing the altar.
“Gabbi? Are you still here?”
Only the silence answered him.
Using his Sight, he tried to find some trace of her lingering on the other side.
Where in the living world the chapel had lost its glory and had become just a small dark corner in a larger, darker world, in the Beyond, a startling transformation was taking place. Even as he watched, a golden light blossomed in the center of the room, slowly driving away the darkness and the shadows until it shone with the faith that had once infused its walls, a faith that was slowly forcing its way back in. The room was empty, but it was not without power.
And in that moment, his heart echoed that brilliance.
He found himself hoping that one day the burden of vengeance would be lifted from him as well, and that he, too, could feel such a cleansing.
But for the time being, he had a vow that still needed to be fulfilled.
Turning off his Sight and returning to the real world, he took one last look around.
The chapel seemed empty, but deep inside he knew the truth.
After all these years, he’d been so close.
Raising his head, he stared into the shadows at the back of the room.
“Run,” he said softly. “Run while you can. One day I will find you, and on that day there will be a reckoning.”
He hefted his sword and stared at the word etched into its blade. “A reckoning, indeed.”
With that he turned away and walked back up the aisle and into the rising dawn outside.
###
A SCREAM OF ANGELS
PROLOGUE
He stared down at the object at his feet with the dawning realization that what they had just uncovered could change the face of the world forever.
Never had he been more exhilarated. Or more frightened. He knew, too, that he was going to have to decide how to deal with the discovery in the next few minutes or the news would spread all over camp faster than a forest fire in the high Sierras. If that happened, it would be too late.
He and his team had been working along the shores of the Dead Sea for several months now and the season was just about over. In another week or two their permits would expire and, with little to show for all their work, it was doubtful that he could gain the funding for a return trip the following season. Never mind the rising violence in the Occupied Territories that threatened to close the borders permanently.
But now there was this.
He turned to the man crouched next to him. “Who else knows?”
The other shook his head. “No one. I’ve been working this end of the trench all day by myself. You’re the first to see it, other than me.”
Maybe, just maybe, they had a chance then.
After another moment of deep thought, he said, “Okay, here’s what we are going to do"
*** ***
Later that night.
His team moved swiftly through the camp and assembled on the far side. The rest of the area was quiet and no one seemed to have noticed their passage. With five hours before sunrise, they should have just enough time to extract the specimen, wrap it up, and get it loaded on the truck before their companions discovered what they were up to.
There were five of them. All men he’d known for years. All men he trusted implicitly. They had sworn the same oaths as he and so he had little doubt that they would go to the grave with the secret if it became necessary.
He hoped it would not. He hated to think of what he’d have to do if they were discovered in the midst of their activities.
It was difficult work. The specimen wasn’t too tall, just a hair over seven feet, but the width was twice that and he was determined to remove it in one piece if at all possible. It took them almost three hours just to free it from its ancient resting place. Getting it properly mounted and wrapped took another two. By the time the sky began to glow pink with the coming sunrise, they were working furiously to get the now-secured package loaded up into the back of one of the expedition’s half-ton trucks.
While the rest of his team had worked through the night to extract the specimen, he had reached out to his network and had set other, longer range plans in motion. He’d secured a site to store the specimen until they could decide what to do with it and had arranged for others to meet them a few hours drive north. Smuggling the specimen across the border and out of the country was going to be difficult, but thankfully he knew more than a few places where the border guards would look the other way for the right amount of money. He’d cross that particular bridge when they came to it. For now, he’d done all he could.
The team said their goodbyes quietly and then he climbed up beside the driver for the long ride north. The rest of the expedition’s personnel were just beginning to stir and there was no time to waste.
As they got underway, it occurred to him that he had just organized and carried out the biggest theft in the history of the free world.
And, God help him, it actually felt good.
CHAPTER ONE
“You have got to be kidding me!” Sergeant Sean Duncan stared in disgusted disbelief at the hand-held cosmetic mirror that his commanding officer, Knight Commander Cade Williams, had just given to him. “What the heck am I supposed to do with this?” he asked.
His question was greeted with several raucous calls from the other men in the ranks, suggestions that he check to be sure his hair was in place or that he ask it who was the fairest of them all, which only caused the newest member of the Echo Team to scowl even deeper than usual.
Cade ignored both the question and its various replies as he finished handing out the mirrors that his executive officer, Master Sergeant Matthew Riley, had managed to procure. Heaven only knew where he’d appropriated them from, here in the midst of the Longfort Containment Facility, the Order’s most remote prison complex; Cade was just happy he had. They were desperately needed for what lay ahead.
; When he was done he shot his exec a glance and the big black sergeant called the rest of the team to order.
“All right, that’s enough. Pipe down and pay attention!”
The men were all members of the Holy Order of the Poor Knights of Christ of the Temple of Solomon, or the Knights Templar, as they were once more commonly known. Long thought to have been destroyed in the fourteenth century, the Templars had emerged from hiding during the desperate days of World War II and had joined with the very entity that had excommunicated them en-masse so many centuries before, the Catholic Church. Reborn as a secret military arm of the Vatican, the Templars were now charged with defending mankind from the supernatural in all its many forms.
Williams was in command of the Echo Team, the most prestigious of the elite strike units fielded by the Templars, and was as known for his ruthless efficiency as he was for his unorthodox methods. His command squad was made up of four men; himself, Master Sergeant Matthew Riley, Sergeant Sean Duncan and Sergeant Nick Olsen. Riley and Olsen had been with him a long time; they had seen and heard things that would make the average Templar soldier sick with fear, but Cade had won them over with his leadership and his dedication to the cause. They would follow him anywhere, no questions asked.
Duncan had only been with Echo for a just a few weeks, having spent several years before that on the Preceptor’s security detail, but in that time the unit’s strange and often enigmatic leader had become important to him. Cade had helped him begin to recognize that his own unique gift was just that, a gift, rather than a temptation or a curse. And though he often had difficulty with Cade’s disregard for the Rule, the code of behavior that every knight was sworn to live by, he had come to quickly understand that he could learn a lot from the other man.
Cade waited until he had their undivided attention and then turned to the smaller man standing rather uneasily off to one side of the group and said, “Warden, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Very good, Knight Commander.” The warden was a short, stout balding individual who looked more like a banker from the Midwest than the man in charge of two hundred of the Order’s most dangerous prisoners. “As you know, Longfort prides itself on the fact that we’ve never had a major riot or a successful escape. Since the facility’s construction in 1957, we have done our utmost to keep the beings you bring to us safely locked away from the rest of humanity in a place where they can do no further harm. I say that simply to let you know how unusual and dangerous our current situation is.”
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