They descended the stairs in silence. The same quiet engulfed them as Anne ushered Noelle into the kitchen and poured steaming water from a tall percolator. She passed Noelle a mug, dropped a teabag in, then gestured at a small table tucked into the corner.
Noelle sank into the metal chair. She stared at the cup she held, uncertain what to say now that she’d dragged Anne out of her room.
“You want to talk about it, or do you just want the company?”
On a heavy sigh, Noelle leaned back in her chair. “I’m not sure.”
“I heard your door slam not too long before you knocked. I assume you and Farran had an argument?”
“You could say so.” Noelle dunked her teabag for good measure. Convinced it had steeped long enough, she dropped the soppy pouch onto the table and watched as liquid pooled around it.
Anne reached a slender hand across the table to clasp Noelle’s. “Things are only complicated if you ignore what’s in your heart.”
“Anne, there’s so many things I don’t understand.” The words came out in a rush that gained momentum with their freedom. “Torcs aren’t supposed to move without help. Pieces of wood can’t be buried in sand yet saturated with water. Puncture wounds deep enough to fit my thumb in up to my second knuckle don’t heal overnight.”
Anne’s hand squeezed more tightly, offering encouragement, yet she said nothing.
“I slept with Farran. It was incredible. I thought he was really, you know, there with me. Really feeling the same things I was. I don’t know how he couldn’t have. And then, I find out it was all an act. A great seduction just to get me to say those stupid words.”
Withdrawing her hand, Anne gave Noelle a sympathetic smile. “I’ve never known Farran to be anything less than honest. Maybe you misunderstood?”
Noelle waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh he had pretty words. Plenty of them. He tried to cover his mistake by telling me he was worried about me. That he wanted to keep me safe. But when I challenged him to follow through on his part, he couldn’t answer. Wouldn’t. He left.”
A frown touched the high arch of Anne’s elegant eyebrows. In her thoughtful stare, Noelle observed secrets. Things Anne knew but wouldn’t tell her. Sincerity mixed with that private knowledge, however, making it difficult for Noelle to believe Anne would tell her lies.
“Aside from the evil Farran battles, he has his own private demons to fight. I’ll tell you two things, Noelle, and I pray you listen. If you don’t, I fear the devastation you’ll cause.”
A chill wafted down Noelle’s spine. The urge to run away before Anne could tell her things she didn’t want to hear pressed hard. She squirmed in her chair, caught by an even greater, warring curiosity. “Go on,” she muttered.
“Farran’s not lying to you. The oath he wants will keep you safe. It will save his life too.”
Exhausted by the same spiel, Noelle let out a heavy sigh. “He’s said as much.”
“Don’t press him. When he’s ready to let his past go, he’ll tell you everything. You’ll understand, and whatever you feel for him now will only deepen.”
She took a moment to process the information. Not entirely certain she understood, she frowned at Anne. “You mean he’s got some tragic past?”
“Yeah. Something like that.” She took a sip of her tea and smiled over the rim of her mug. When she set it down, the smile vanished into sharp warning. She lowered her voice, leaned in closer. “Tell him the Sudarium is in Ohio. Before Mikhail does it for you. If you tell him why you hid it, he’ll understand. But if you don’t, Noelle, I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to make it right.”
Noelle recoiled, sending her chair rocking precariously on its rear legs. She leaned forward before she toppled backward, and the chair crashed in place with a thunk. “How do you know?” she cried in a whisper. “I was the only one there. I’ve told no one.”
“I told you I can see things. When I held your hand just now, I saw the board you loosened in the floor. Tell him. Before you can’t.”
Anne drained her mug and rose. “He’s outside in the gardens, where he goes to think.” Standing at the side of the table, she smiled down at Noelle. “While you’re at it, you might also mention how you really feel about him. I think you’d be pleasantly surprised.”
Speechless, Noelle stared at Anne’s back as she retreated through the swinging silver door. How she really felt? How could Anne know? Noelle wasn’t even sure she understood all that Farran made her feel. And how in the hell had her being upset over Farran’s rejection ended up in a lecture on where she’d failed?
She turned her mug in lazy circles, grumbling to herself. If anything Anne had said was true, it was the Sudarium. Though she couldn’t explain how Anne knew it rested beneath floorboards in Ohio, Noelle wasn’t foolish enough to think if she didn’t come clean with Farran, whatever chance she had at holding on to him would slip through her fingers. No man liked to be lied to. And that’s exactly what she was doing every time she avoided the subject or hoped it would simply go away.
Her stomach in knots over what she must do, she stood and smoothed her palms on her sweatpants. Outside. If she could find the gardens, she’d get this over with. It had waited too long as it was. Besides, she’d rather tell him now when he’d hurt her as much as he could, than give him the opportunity to soothe the wounds and make her bleed later.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d take her home before he could get close enough that she didn’t want to leave.
CHAPTER 31
Farran palmed the pommel of his sword as he scanned the fence for the predators he could feel. Unholy eyes watched and waited. Vile beings scurried amongst the dried foliage. Branches snapped, leaves crunched. The whispered hiss of evil floated on the slight breeze. But only shadows met his watchful eye.
The darkness in Farran’s soul stirred in recognition of its kind. It brimmed in his blood, tormented his thoughts. Urged him to step beyond the protected boundary, engage, and join their unholy ranks.
They would fight again tonight, and he with them. Soon, though, battle would become an impossibility. If his next kill did not wrest him into that black abyss, the act of fighting would rent pain far worse than any injury.
’Twas what Caradoc battled. With each sunrise, Caradoc’s pain intensified. Each night he drew his sword, Farran prayed his brother would return. God only knew how long any of them might linger on this earth. If God was kind, Farran would hear Noelle’s oath and be spared the chains of inescapable agony. Yet Farran had learned centuries ago, kindness was not part of the Almighty’s composition. The very exchange with Noelle in the bedroom proved such. The Grand Creator asked for naught less than all a man could give. And for Farran, far more than he could manage.
Footsteps behind him brought him up short. He spun around, reflex tightening his sword arm. At the sight of Noelle, he swore beneath his breath. Arms crossed over her chest to ward off the cold, she picked her way through the remnants of snow. In the moonlight, a halo of silver illuminated her creamy skin and danced off her silken hair. Were it not for the breath that clouded around her, he would have sworn he looked upon a specter.
The creatures in the trees stirred. Hushed voices took on an anxious hum. Anger that she would risk her safety by venturing outdoors cracked through Farran’s momentary awe. He clenched his teeth tight, his fingers even tighter, and scowled.
“Farran, I need to talk to you.”
“Go inside!” he snapped. “You should not be out here.”
Defying him, she continued to close the distance between them. “I’m not a prisoner. You said so yourself. I need to talk to you, and it won’t wait.”
As she arrived at his side, he swiped an arm out to push her away from the iron fence. She stumbled, but moved forward. At the pressure he continued to apply to her shoulder in hopes she would retreat the way she had come, however, she dug her heels in and pushed back on his hand. “Stop it!”
“Nay, get yourself inside, damsel. We will talk
come morn.”
She twisted free of his hold and flung his arm aside. “No, we won’t. I’ve done something I’m not proud of. You’re going to listen to me while I have the courage to tell you!”
Something deep inside him splintered at her words. She regretted their joining. He had dared to hope, and had erred. Could the Almighty be more cruel? As the fist of darkness around his heart squeezed and its vile claws pierced, he turned away before she could see how her rejection affected him. “Go inside, Noelle,” he repeated in a flat whisper. He inhaled deeply to strengthen his voice. “There is no need for you to clear your conscious. That you regret what we have done ’tis obvious.”
Tiny hands clawed at his shoulder in a futile attempt to turn him around. Her touch burned like a hot poker. Unable to stomach her insistence to speak the words, he braced himself against the pull and took another step forward.
Noelle darted around him and pulled on his arm, forcing him to come about. Her voice rose several octaves as she cried, “What is the matter with you? Is it always about you? Always what you want? Damn it, Farran I’m not talking about—”
Her words strangled to a yelp as a shadowy fist shot through the gaps in the fence and wrapped around her throat. The demon jerked her backward, slamming her back into the metal posts. Terror leapt to her eyes.
Farran’s heart lurched to a standstill. Though he drew his sword with a barbarian’s frenzy, he could not move fast enough to stop the vile claws from sinking in. A trickle of blood rolled down Noelle’s fragile neck.
She clawed for freedom, kicked a leg out behind her. Another hand snatched at her foot, binding her in place.
Enraged, Farran let out a bellow. Fear so great his blood turned to ice and consumed him. He charged forward, driven by the instinctive need to stop her pain. Hacking his sword through the narrow opening, he brought it down on the unholy hand, neatly severing it.
Noelle lurched forward gasping. But the claws that held her ankle toppled her to the ground. Another hand snaked out, determined to catch her free foot and drag her through the gate. A second set of claws crept through, waiting to capture what other parts of her they might touch. She let out a hoarse scream. Digging her fingers into the cold hard earth, she tried to crawl to freedom.
“Nay! You cannot have her!”
Like a madman, Farran swung. His sword struck the ground, jarring his arm all the way to his shoulder. He shook off the stun and sliced again. They would not take her. Not Noelle. Not the woman he had bared his soul to.
The hand around her ankle broke off with a sickening squish of vile flesh. Before the other could grab Noelle’s freed foot, Farran lobbed it off as well. Freed from her restraints, Noelle scrambled several feet away. From the corner of his eye, he caught her watchful gaze as he quickly disposed of the remaining set of claws and swiped his blade on the leg of his jeans. He stuffed the sword into his scabbard and rushed to her crumpled form.
Scooping her into his arms, he cradled her trembling body close. She turned her face into his chest with a soft cry. He dug his fingers into her hair and held tight, uncertain whom he sought to comfort more. Though the danger had passed, the ghastly scene replayed in his mind. He had almost lost her. If she had been out here alone …
He shuddered and tightened his hold. Brushing a kiss against the top of her head, he murmured, “Shh. You are safe. ’Tis over.”
He knew not how long he held her, but the quaking of her body ebbed. As did his. When she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and touched her fingertips to her neck, he eased her far enough away he could inspect the wounds. She tipped her head, allowing him the freedom.
Three jagged tears marred her delicate flesh, but the wounds were shallow. The puncture of claws had missed her vital veins. But already he could see the rise of deep purple where the viselike fingers strangled.
“Come. Let us take you inside.”
He helped her to her feet, but her legs refused to hold. She wobbled into him, her fears having exhausted her strength. Farran lifted her into his arms. As if she were grateful for his aid, she laid her head on his shoulder and expelled a shuddering breath. With quick, purposeful strides, he carried her through the front entry where he gently deposited her at the foot of the stairs.
“Anne!”
The door upstairs thumped at his bellow. Footsteps pounded down the stairs, a matched pair of boots and sock-clad feet. “Oh God, what happened?” Anne’s question blended with the scrape of Merrick’s sword.
Farran lifted his gaze to Merrick’s knowing stare. “Merrick, rouse the men. The demons attacked Noelle. We must clear the trees once and for all.”
Noelle snatched at his arm. “Please don’t leave me.”
He gazed into her wide eyes, wanting naught else but to stay at her side and offer the comfort she needed. But ’twas his fault this had occurred. Mayhap if he had fought the night before, none of Azazel’s creatures could return to his foul realm and solicit reinforcements. He reluctantly pried her fingers free and bent to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I must go. Anne shall see to your wounds.”
He looked away before her pleading gaze could deter him and nodded at Anne. “If you must, take her to Uriel.”
“Of course, Farran.” She assumed the place he had abandoned at Noelle’s side.
* * *
In the privacy of Anne’s room, Noelle let the tears fall. Holding them back had become too much effort, and with Farran unable to witness her absolute failure of strength, she gave in. They rolled down her cheeks in silent rivulets that dropped into her lap.
Anne grabbed for a Kleenex and pressed it into Noelle’s hand. “Hold on, almost done.” She dabbed a bit of salve on a finger and smeared it down Noelle’s throat. “There. You’ll be fine.”
While the ointment soothed the burn, it did nothing for the scald in Noelle’s throat. She swallowed with difficulty and managed a short nod.
Anne’s soft gaze pled with her. “Please don’t be upset with Farran. This is what they do.”
“I’m not.” The effort of talking made her throat ache even more. And truth to tell, she didn’t want to speak. What had happened moments ago shattered all her illusions. She couldn’t pretend to understand anymore. To continue to swear the extraordinary events could all be explained by science.
Demons had attacked her. She’d seen the shadowy hand, the horrific claws. Felt the icy touch of death. Smelled the fetid breath.
Anne gave Noelle’s knee an affectionate pat. “I’m going to go down to the kitchen and get you some tea.”
Noelle nodded in thanks. When Anne left, she sank into the overstuffed couch and stared out the window at the unseen noises beyond. Her hand moved absently over the torc. If demons existed, everything else Farran claimed existed too. Immortality. Seraphs. Archangels. Anne could see through the veil.
Which also meant that silly cloth she’d hidden wasn’t just a meaningless scrap of fabric. She’d hidden the Sudarium of Oviedo, and the things that wanted her, wanted it. She’d almost died over that shroud. How many more car wrecks would it take to drive that point home?
She groaned to herself. Blind—she’d been absolutely blind. But then, Anne had said she was. Some prophecy marked her as such.
The same prophecy that dictated she should pledge herself to Farran. The man who couldn’t bring himself to offer the same loyalty to her.
Her brows furrowed as she considered another possibility. Anne had said taking that vow would save his life. How? Maybe she did descend from angels, as hard as it might be to believe, but how could saying a few words in Latin save an immortal’s life? He could still take wounds. By his own words, the sword he used could kill him. So what difference would this oath make?
And then there was tonight. She’d have wagered her very soul Farran felt something for her. Maybe he had. Whatever it was, though, it wasn’t enough to overcome the things he hid from her. The secrets Anne knew.
Another tear fell to her lap as reality settled in.
She didn’t mean enough. He might have opened up, but she was still just a tool. She’d given him everything she had to offer someone, and now he had her faith. He, however, was still as distant as the life she’d known in D.C.
Damn it all, it shouldn’t bother her. Yet no matter how she tried to fight it, she couldn’t avoid the fact she cared. About him. About this silly oath that was supposed to bind them for eternity. She didn’t know exactly when she’d fallen in love with the grumpy, arrogant, jerk, but God help her, she had.
* * *
Voices comingled in the night. Dead. Demons. Templar—shouts clashed as severely as their natures. Above the din, the song of striking steel rang a clear, eerie note. Farran gripped the leather-wrapped pommel of his sword tighter. The darkness from his kill roiled in his veins, burned through his limbs. At his side, Tane, who had happened on the battle moments after it began, neatly hacked his way through a pair of confused shades. Heads lobbed off shoulders, rolled to the ground. Tane also staggered under the infusion of unholy taint, but he recovered with a sharp upper cut that sank his borrowed blade deep into a nytym’s soft underbelly.
A flash of yellow-green drew Farran’s attention on the trees. He kicked aside the pile of shadows near his feet and shouldered past Tane. The pinpricks of pain on his face did not deter him. If anything, they pressed him harder. He had attained that sacred place where survival dominated all thought. Where instinct honed by years of training narrowed his focus on his foe alone. Save for the fleeting picture of Noelle’s stricken features that flashed in his memory and hardened his resolve.
Sword in hand, he elbowed aside a thatch of thorny foliage and stepped into the underbrush. It snapped back into place, lashing across his face. He expelled an annoyed hiss. Squinting into the dark, he searched for the hidden creature.
A rustle to his left spun him in the direction of the sound.
As he took another step into the starless copse, the rush of wind behind him whipped his hair. In the next instant, pain split through his skull. Darkness infringed on his vision. He tottered forward, catching himself on a thick tree. His mistake shot into his awareness. In his blind chase, he had left his brethren behind. Walked right into what could be a deadly trap. Christ’s toes! Only a squire would suffer such a foolish error in judgment.
Immortal Surrender (Curse of the Templars) Page 27
