by Tal Bauer
What else could he do? There was too much out there, and running now felt like a sin against Alain’s memory. He couldn’t do that to the man or to his memory, run from what they had built together. One day and one night was all he got, but everything between them had created this future. His path. Walking the path of the knights.
Confronting the darkness. Avenging Alain.
And one day, finding Lucifer.
A lull had settled over Rome since the battle in the church. No risings, no ghosts, no revenants. No vampires, now that the Roman nest was dead. And no demons, despite Lucifer rising from the Veil, corporeal and alive once again.
The quiet wouldn’t last. He needed to be ready.
“I accept,” he said, his voice soft.
Nodding, Luca stood, and raised his right hand, extending his thumb, index and middle finger and spreading them wide. It was supposed to symbolize the Holy Trinity.
Cristoph straightened and raised his right hand, mirroring Luca. It was tradition.
Luca spoke first, half of the oath spoken over the Guardsmen, an oath they were to listen to and swear their lives to if they held the words in their soul. “I swear I will faithfully, loyally and honorably serve His Holiness, Holy Father Clemente and his legitimate successors, and dedicate myself to them with all my strength, sacrificing my life to defend them. I assume this same commitment with regard to the Sacred College of Cardinals whenever the See is vacant. I promise to the Commandant and my other superiors respect, fidelity, and obedience.”
Cristoph answered, the words of his part of the oath rolling off his tongue with ease, so unlike the first time he uttered them. “I, Cristoph Hasse, swear diligently and faithfully to abide by all that has just been sworn to me.”
Luca finished with the refrain. “This I swear. May—” Luca stuttered, his voice catching. “God and our Holy Patrons assist me.”
“This I swear.” Cristoph held Luca’s gaze and lowered his hand, ending the oath early. He couldn’t speak about God and faith, not yet. Maybe not ever. He couldn’t swear to something he didn’t understand and couldn’t know. What it all meant—God, the devil, and evil in the world. The questions were too big.
Luca sat, not saying a word about the omission. “Congratulations, Corporal.” A short nod. “I am sure you have lots of work to do.”
And just like that, he was dismissed. Promoted, casually knighted, and dismissed. It was nothing like Alain’s memories, nothing like the best day of his life.
Cristoph slipped out of Luca’s office and headed back for Alain’s—now his—office.
* * *
Days rolled on, the late summer heat bleeding all over the city and suffocating Rome. Nighttime shimmered with heat waves cast from the ground, stars from distant times occasionally twinkling overhead. The city lights were more prevalent than starlight. Cristoph watched from Alain’s window, counting neon glows and repeating wishes he’d wished a hundred times already.
Luca skirted his existence, leaving the canteen when he entered, turning away in the garrison offices if Cristoph neared. The guards who had remained at the Vatican left him alone, and his isolation grew, surrounding him in an impenetrable bubble.
And then, one evening, the door to Alain’s apartment was ajar when he returned.
He pulled out his pistol, silver-tipped bullets locked and loaded, from the shoulder holster he wore beneath his black suit jacket. A priest’s suit was so much easier to wear than the Swiss Guard uniform, and he had traded in the striped ensemble for the black suit a month prior. It got rumpled, though, when he was researching in the archives or practicing his runes and seals with salt and chalk.
He slipped into the apartment, clearing the corners in the front hallway and sliding along the wall. A quick check of the kitchen revealed no one and nothing stolen. He backed out and braced against the wall at the arched entrance to the study.
A shadow stood in front of the windows, gazing over the Vatican.
Cristoph leveled his weapon at the shadow’s back. “Freeze, evil bitch,” he barked. “You’re trapped.” A demon’s trap lay under the rug, carved there by Alain and reinforced with silver inlay and salt by Cristoph.
A warm chuckle broke through the apartment. “‘Freeze, evil bitch’?” Yellow eyes glanced over one dark shoulder. “You have to get better lines, Cristoph.”
The pistol dropped with a clatter, hitting the floor hard. His jaw fell open, lips parting. “Alain?”
Alain turned around completely, facing Cristoph. He looked like he always had, save for the yellow eyes and the tightening of his skin, the hollows of his cheeks and the sharper cut of his jawline.
The taste of blood and fog hit the back of Cristoph’s throat, copper and damp earth, and a hint of rot. “Alain… Are you back? Are you—” He swallowed. He didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to ask if Alain had escaped, if he was on lockdown because he had gone evil, or if he had just been gone for so long because he wanted to be gone. Wanted to be away from Cristoph.
A soft inhale curled the air between them. “I’m back,” Alain whispered. Fangs curving over each of his teeth flashed as he spoke. “If…” He swallowed. “If you’ll have me.”
Striding forward, Cristoph buried one hand in Alain’s wild, messy hair, the other wrapping around his hip. He tugged him forward and captured Alain’s lips in a searing, bruising kiss. Alain refused to part his lips, despite Cristoph’s probing, and he settled for nibbling on Alain’s lower lip. “I’ll never let you go,” Cristoph breathed. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Alain grabbed Cristoph’s arms. The strength in his grip shocked Cristoph. He felt bruises form beneath Alain’s hold. He watched Alain, trying to gauge his reaction.
His eyes were closed, the yellow gleam covered. His breaths came fast and harsh. “Your soul,” Alain finally whispered. “It’s so bright. So beautiful.”
Cristoph quirked a tiny smile, the corner of his lip curling upwards. “’Cause I’m happy you’re back.”
Alain’s yellow eyes slitted open. His fangs shone, sharp and deadly as he spoke. “You’re sure?” His voice trembled. “You’re sure you want me? Like this?”
“I want you always. Every way. Every day. Forever.”
Alain’s eyes slid away. “I don’t even know if I want me like this, Cristoph. I don’t know if I can live like this—”
“Hey.” Cristoph grabbed his face, dragging Alain’s gaze back to him. “We can get through this. Together.”
Slowly, Alain nodded, though his face fell and his expression cracked, slow tears of blood leaking from the corners of his eyes. “Shit!” Alain tried to turn away, tried to curl out of Cristoph’s hold. Cristoph fought him, and even though Alain was strong enough to break free, he fell against Cristoph instead of fleeing, burying his face in Cristoph’s neck. They sank down, falling to the floor on their knees, wrapped together.
Cristoph stroked Alain’s back, whispering soft noises and sweet nothings in his ear. “We will get through this, Alain,” he breathed. “I swear it. I swear on my life. I will not lose you.”
Alain gripped him tighter and pressed his lips to Cristoph’s neck, right over his pulse, over the pounding blood flowing through his veins. “For you.”
Afterword
The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, also known as The Order of the Knights Templar, were one of the most prominent Christian military orders in the Middle Ages. In 1119, the Templar formed in Jerusalem in secrecy, and their power grew sharply over the next two hundred years before their swift and dramatic downfall.
The Order was fanatically secret about itself from the beginning. Rumors of occult and mystical practices followed the Order for two centuries while they amassed incredible power. The Order held hundreds of castles and large tracts of land, owned and managed their own powerful naval fleet for both military and commercial endeavors, and created the Western world’s first form of banking. They were said to hold more wealth and financial power than
many of the kingdoms of Europe combined. The knights answered only to the pope and were exempt from following the laws of the nations they resided in. They could freely cross borders and paid no taxes.
Templar knights, dressed in white mantles with a distinctive red Templar cross emblazoned on the front, were considered the greatest skilled and most courageous knights in the Crusades. In 1177, 500 knights defeated 26,000 soldiers from Saladin’s army in the Holy Land.
In 1307, King Phillip IV of France, in deep debt, convinced Pope Clement V to issue an arrest warrant for the Knights Templar, which commanded all Christian monarchs to arrest the knights and seize their assets immediately. King Phillip and other western European leaders arrested almost 15,000 Templar knights on Friday October 13th, 1307. They were imprisoned and tortured, and many knights confessed to heretical, mystical acts, denying God, and sodomy.
More Templar knights escaped, disappearing into history. The Templar naval fleet set sail from their base at La Rochelle before the arrest and was never seen again.
In 1312, Pope Clement V disbanded the Order permanently through the Papal bull Vox in excelso.
In 1314, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar was burned at the stake in Paris, France. His last words were a curse upon Pope Clement and King Phillip IV. Both men died that year.
At the same time, small groups of people living in the Swiss Alps began to unite in opposition against the power of the Holy Roman Empire, the powerful, yet distant, rulers who claimed to rule over the Swiss lands. This became known as the Swiss Confederacy. Swiss legends and folktales tell of white-mantled knights with blazing red crosses on their chests riding into the mountains and training the Confederacy as well as joining their ranks. After the Confederacy defeated the Holy Roman Empire and gained their autonomy, the Swiss, in a matter of one hundred years, became the most powerful army in all of Europe with the best-trained knights and soldiers. Their military prowess remained unchallenged for over two centuries.
In 1506, one hundred and fifty Swiss soldiers marched to Rome, the first contingent of the Pontifical Swiss Guard, the new army of the Vatican.
The author wishes to give special thanks to Charlotte and Justene for their help with this novel.
Vatican City Map
About the Author
Tal Bauer is an award-winning and best-selling author of gay romantic thrillers, bringing together a career in law enforcement and international humanitarian aid to create dynamic characters, intriguing plots, and exotic locations. He is happily married and lives with his husband and their Basset Hound in Texas. Tal is a member of the Romance Writers of America.
Drop Tal a line at [email protected]. He can’t respond to every email, but he does read every single one.
Check out Tal’s website: www.talbauerwrites.com or follow Tal on social media.
Also by Tal Bauer
Hush
Whisper
The Executive Office Series
Enemies of the State
Interlude
Enemy of My Enemy
Enemy Within
