by Amity Grays
It was. He stopped. “There’s so much to tell you, but…I’d rather your father be there. I believe he needs to hear it as much as you.”
She moaned her displeasure.
He squeezed her one hand as he took her other. “Please, Edeline.”
“I’ve already waited so long. You really want me to wait longer?”
“I will tell you, if I must, but I’d really rather wait for your father.”
He could see she longed to insist. Her brows drew together to form a pained expression. “I won’t let you get away with it forever, you know.”
He chuckled. “Believe me. I know.”
“So what do I get for my patience, which, by the way, will run out in exactly twenty-four hours?”
“It will run out before then, I’ll wager.” He laughed. “I’ll tell you what—ask me another question. Any question. I’ll tell you the truth and nothing but the truth.”
“How about three questions?” She smiled. “It seems a better trade.”
“Mm,” he groaned. “All right, but then I get one question…the last question.”
“Deal.”
They began once more to walk.
“How long are you planning to stay?” she began.
“Until the job is done,” he said, and then quickly added before she could ask, “No, I have no idea how long that will be.”
“Are you from Los Angeles?”
“No.” He shook his head but didn’t elaborate.
She waited.
He smiled.
“I am way more curious than that,” she said, gesturing for him to continue.
“My, my, you’re certainly pushy.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I like to know about people. For all of my life I can remember, I’ve lived here. I enjoy living vicariously through others.”
“Makes sense,” he said, turning his head and looking up ahead. “I’m an army brat. I was born in Colorado, but I’ve lived all over the world. Now I just travel wherever my job takes me.”
“It sounds lonely.”
“It is sometimes.” They crossed the street and stopped in front of the church. “I’ll see you to your door,” he said, motioning toward the walk which led back to the cottage she shared with her father.
“I get one more question,” she reminded as they moved down the small cobblestone path.
“Shoot.”
“Are you really as nice as you seem?”
“How nice do I seem?”
They stopped just outside her cottage door. Deep blue eyes studied his. “Very nice,” she said, looking down at their joined hands.
“I’m not sure how to answer,” he said honestly. His past was full of both good and bad. Most of the bad being for the sake of a greater good, but still he couldn’t answer. “Decide for yourself, Edeline. Come out with me tomorrow night.”
Her lips twitched. After biting nervously down into the lower one, she asked, “Is that your one question?”
“It is if the answer’s right.” He grinned, knowing her well enough to know she was fighting a smile. “Say yes.”
Their eyes locked and held. She was going to say yes. He could see it in the playful glint of her eyes, in the way she held his hands and in the way she leaned, ever so slightly, closer. But she, like he, was savoring the moment.
“Yes,” she said, smiling wide as she pulled away. “Good night, Lieutenant Colonel Walker.”
He took a deep breath, savoring the moment, one moment longer. “Good night, Edeline.”
He waited for her to get safely inside, waving to her father when he met her at the door. Federic stared at him a moment, undoubtedly as eager as his daughter to have answers. But instead of stepping out into the night, he simply nodded, shut the door and turned the locks. The questions would wait for the morrow.
It had been a full day, watching Edeline every moment, making sure she was safe, fighting hard the pain their separation brought. Far worse, was watching Graham approach her, not once, but twice. The first time, when he’d trailed her to the bookstore. Graham had appeared from almost out of the blue.
Dane had been too far back to get to her before Graham actually reached her. It was a lesson he wouldn’t have to be taught twice. From that moment forward, he vowed she’d never be more than a few quick steps from his or her father’s side.
Graham. It was still hard to believe. Phillip Graham, former commander of the Transport Troop assigned to brave the portal. He’d retired before Dane had joined the squad. The man was legendary. A brilliant soldier, both skilled and courageous, there was hardly an example Dane was ever given that didn’t carry the man’s name.
When Dane had described to General Matthews the men who’d taken Edeline, the general had first mentioned Graham. But then he’d shaken his head and denied the option. It wasn’t until Dane positively identified the soldier’s photo that the general began to even consider the possibility. There was no denying it now. Phillip Graham was most definitely involved. Now the question was—who was he working with and what were their plans?
The large brick mansion stood as proud as any castle in the middle of its endless sprawling grounds. White flowers blossomed through the ivy which crawled up the towering walls and wrapped its sturdy vines around the railings of the second and third floor balconies. Such breathtaking beauty was but a façade to the ugliness which walked the halls within.
Graham hated them, and he hated even more what they had made of him.
Standing at the bottom of the wide sweeping steps leading to the mansion’s grand entrance, he contemplated throwing a match. If there was even an ounce of justice in the world, fate would do the rest.
Justice…Ha!
He wouldn’t bet his hide on that.
There was no turning back. He’d bartered his soul long ago to buy his freedom—his life. What a joke! Yes, he’d lived, but he was still very much a prisoner. And the life he had bartered for was gone. If only he’d been the man he’d thought he was, he’d have died that night and at least found redemption. But instead he’d sold his secrets to the hounds of hell and ever since lived his days with them at his heels.
His breath met the chilled night air, the moisture from his lungs condensing into rising clouds of fog which slowly evaporated before his eyes. He was procrastinating. The large wooden doors stared down at him, ordering him to hurry. They would be waiting.
Slowly he ascended the concrete steps to present himself at Hell’s front door.
The bell chimed from within announcing his arrival. Seconds later the heavy door opened, and an immaculately dressed butler stared expressionless his way. Taking a step back, he motioned for Graham to enter.
The moment his feet were in, the door was closed and locked with a heavy bolt. With the sound still ringing, the butler lifted the swinging cover of the peephole and looked out. Satisfied with what he saw, or didn’t see, he let the metal cover drop back into place.
“This way,” he said, passing by Graham to head down the long hallway.
The mansion’s tall walls were decorated from top to bottom with dark wall coverings. The same dark texture was captured beneath his feet in the rich wooden flooring. Paintings from years gone by adorned the walls throughout. No doubt, they were originals, their value immeasurable and to Graham unimpressive. Unlike so many, wealth had never been his enticement.
His escort led him through the backdoors and down a long breezeway, which passed through the magnificent grounds manicured to perfection and decorated with bountiful gardens and miniature stone waterfalls. They entered into what looked like a large pantry. The butler opened the cellar door and nodded for Graham to enter.
Graham eyed the man for any show of emotion. There was none. The man was as dead and tired as he, bought and sold, no doubt, at the same heavy price. Graham wondered what they’d used against him. Was it pride, wealth or fear? They had so many of which to choose. It was no wonder they were so abundant and overwhelmingly successful.
; “Thank you,” he said as he started down the long narrow stairs to the cellar below.
Fear—who’d have thought it would be his weakness? But when they’d taken him from his home all those years ago, tortured him without mercy and then made him watch as they murdered another, only to show him what would be his fate, he had crumbled. Not wanting to die, and without the faith which had given strength to so many through the years, he had surrendered to their will.
His tormentors already knew about the child and the knight who had passed through the portal, and they already knew about the stone. What they wanted from him was a single trip back in time. It was a trade he’d made to keep himself alive.
And so it was, six months after that horrifying encounter, he made his last trip into the past. He and his men landed one day prior to Edeline and Federic’s legendary jump. Their mission was simple. They were to study the portal’s activity on and around that fateful night.
Trusted by his men, he had easily disappeared into the darkness, sneaking into Brine’s Castle and replacing the stone with a replica. It was a replica that, when placed around the child’s neck and left to dangle, would take on a magical glow—nothing blessed or divine, just simple mechanics of the twenty-first century—magic not even the scientists in the lab would have yet discovered or would be able to recognize.
And it obviously worked, at least long enough to do its job. For the fraudulent stone had sat decades inside the vault, undisturbed and undetected, its so-called power fading over time as the man-made magic of an incredibly small battery wore off.
The past had been changed and nobody even knew it, nobody but the monsters who held the stone and waited for the day they could safely ride back into the past and steal from it, not only its fortunes, but also its secrets.
It was the perfect plan with Graham’s soul as the only casualty.
But all the planning in the world couldn’t overcome the hands of time. The portal had weakened and fate had stepped in, robbing from the Dogs their best chance at success.
The portal had closed. They’d lost their golden opportunity. Now, to accomplish their goal, they’d have to take on what they had worked so hard to avoid—the guardians of the cavern, the soldiers of Christ, the phenomenal force of the mighty Knights Templar.
Though secret, they still survived and had come to once again thrive through the centuries. No one knew it better than those Graham served, for the knights had been standing in their way for hundreds of years.
But that didn’t mean the Dogs would surrender. They were simply too close. They had the stone. They knew the location. The only thing they needed was the girl.
“Edeline,” Graham whispered her name as he lifted a bottle from the tall wine rack lining the wall of the cellar. The wall moaned and slowly began to move. He wasn’t proud of what he would do, but then, neither was he proud of what he had done. If he wanted to survive, he would do whatever they asked. And anymore, survival was all he had, though these days he certainly wondered its value.
Chapter Eighteen
DANE STARED DOWN AT THE PLANS. His familiarity with blueprints came from an entirely strategic point of view—finding the best point of entry, potential hot spots, target and exit. It was rare he looked at plans simply for their admirable qualities.
“They’re very nice,” he said. It seemed a rather weak offering, but he could think of nothing better. His attention kept wandering to the back of the room, where Edeline boxed old hymn books, fought with masking tape and grunted in frustration as it failed to cooperate.
Father Tom chuckled, his gaze following Dane’s. “She’s a blessing, our Edeline—such a kind and generous spirit.”
“Augh.” The blue-eyed beauty groaned as the tape she’d rolled out so neatly twisted and bunched. Trying to salvage the strip, she managed only to get it coiled and stuck around her fingers. Irritably, she pulled her fingers free, wadded the mess into one small ball and shot it across the aisle toward the wastebasket.
It missed.
“Really?” she said, looking into the air and questioning fate before walking to the wad and depositing it into its targeted destination.
“Place the end of the tape on the crease and then slowly roll it out,” Dane instructed, mimicking the action with his hands.
“I’ve tried that, but it keeps lifting.”
“That’s because you were trying to go too fast and pulling too hard.”
Her brows wrinkled at the top of her dainty nose. “I did not.”
“You did. Try a little more patience.”
The nasty look she gave him made both men laugh.
Dane looked to the priest. “You forgot to mention patient and compliant.”
Father Tom chuckled. “I didn’t forget them. I merely didn’t apply them.”
They watched Edeline try once more Dane’s simple technique, slowing it down as was suggested. It worked. She looked their way, her lips twitching as though she was finding what she had to say distasteful. “Better,” she admitted, looking away when Dane grinned.
Stubborn, but adorable—that was the Edeline Dane knew and loved.
Lowering his voice, he turned to the Father. “Have you heard anything back yet? Have they made their selection?”
“I should hear something today. It’s not an easy choice. The Knights Templar is full of men with great courage and faith, but it takes more than that for the transfer to be successful. He who takes Edeline’s place as guardian must also possess purity, a quality not so common in man.”
“Not even in such men?”
Father Tom shook his head regretfully. “Not in any man, especially of this world where temptation is so abundant.”
“Every day we wait, she is at risk.”
“I realize this and so do they. No one is standing idle, son. Now that we know there is an option, we are all eager to make the exchange. But we can’t afford to err. The cost would be too high.” He let out a long troubled breath, his eyes turning toward Edeline. “The Dark Army is stronger in their region. It’s one of the reasons we’ve left her here. Before we are called back, there are other preparations which must be made—preparations for her safety. As much as we want this, our enemies do not. Believe me—they would rather see her dead than us successful.”
The muscles in Dane’s shoulders and across his back tensed. “They’ll have to get through me to get to her.”
The priest’s expression grew somber. “It must have been very hard for you to let her go.”
The question took Dane by surprise. He hadn’t told anyone of his feelings for Edeline or the love they’d shared.
Father Tom smiled. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s not an easy thing to hide. I see it in your eyes when you look at her. I hear it in your voice when you say her name. You love her, and I suspect strongly she loved you.”
Dane looked down. “She’ll love me again?”
A comforting hand landed on his shoulder. “Yes, I imagine she will.”
“I promised her I would never leave her, and I never will.”
The priest nodded. “She would be a hard one to leave.”
A roll of masking tape came undulating their way, Edeline following close on its tail.
Dane picked up the runaway roll and handed it back to her. “I’m hoping you’re better with utensils, or tonight could be embarrassing.”
“Thank you.” She laughed as she took back the tape. “I promise I am better with fork and spoon.”
“How about I meet with you and your father around noon? Think he can make it?”
“He will. He’s quite anxious. If you want to meet sooner, I’m sure that would be fine as well.”
“But not later?” he teased.
“Not a second.” Pursing her lips, she shook the masking tape his direction.
Dane held up his hands in mock surrender. “Careful, you’re not a real good driver of that thing.”
Laughing again, her blue eyes captured the light from the windows above and shin
ed like gems before his eyes. “I’ll see you at noon.”
“Noon,” he promised.
The priest was grinning from ear to ear when Dane turned back around.
“What?”
Continuing to smile, Father Tom shrugged his shoulders. “I knew the day would come.”
“What day is that?”
“The day my Edeline would find her future.” Father Tom sighed and looked back toward the lovely woman now humming happily between the pews as though she hadn’t a care in the world. She had surrendered to the masking tape and switched her efforts to distributing new hymn books. The priest looked back to Dane. “I just never imagined her future would carry with him her past.”
“Eda was only two when she and Federic left their world for ours,” Father Tom said as he, Federic and Dane moved through the basement which lay beneath the church. “It was Professor Blaine who contacted me. I was living in Italy at the time.”
The priest stopped outside a large ironclad entrance. Pulling a key from his robe, he unlocked the door. “The professor and I had met three years prior at a conference in Rome,” he said, looking back over his shoulder. “We shared a great interest in history and a special attraction for the Knights Templar. His interest stemmed from science, mine from my father.”
“Your father?” Dane asked.
“My father was an archeologist. He’d made some amazing discoveries in his day, but nothing compared to his work in France. It was there he uncovered some truly astounding artifacts which led to a great deal of research on the era and the men who called themselves the Knights Templar.”
Father Tom pushed open the door, the hinges squealing in protest at its heavy weight. “I was probably twelve when I first realized my father had a secret life. When I say I remember it as though it were yesterday, I really mean it. The memories of that night are as vivid as this day’s. My mother had ushered us all to bed early, insisting we put aside our books for the evening and try to catch up on rest, which was not needed or missing. I knew something was up. For hours I lay there unable to sleep. I could hear my parents whispering and moving around downstairs. My mother was fretting, worried about something I never could make out.”
