Rhett watched with a look of controlled compassion, but did not get up to soothe her as he'd done before. Even now, with her heart in her throat, he left all that space between them.
“So you have something they want? A disc, an object? What the hell do you know or have that they want so bad? I only brought you here so that you and I can get on the same page again, Evelyn, because I'm not the enemy. I'll keep on saying it until you believe me, even if we have to sit here for three days.” He spread his hands and crossed them over his chest again.
Evelyn wanted to throttle him and throw herself into his arms at the same time. He was swaying her, she could feel it, making her doubt all the things she'd believed for so long. Lowering her hand, she hugged her arms around her middle. They stared each other down; Rhett's gaze was deep, unrelenting. As serious as she'd ever seen him. She couldn't detect any weapons on him, saw no holster or the gleam of a gun. Nothing.
Could he be telling her the truth? Could he really not know what the other Templars had done, or why they wanted her? She couldn't decide if confessing all her secrets to him was self preservation or giving in, and she hated that, too.
Taking a steadying breath, she said, “They want us, Rhett, because we're the last survivors from the Garden of Eden. The last daughters of Eve.”
Chapter Ten
As the sun started sinking lower in the sky, the rays through the windows grew duskier, less potent. Evelyn had no trouble seeing Rhett's eyes as the gloom deepened.
He narrowed them. Suspicious or disbelieving. She didn't have to wonder long which.
“You're kidding me.”
“Listen, you wanted the truth. I tried to tell you that you wouldn't believe me.” Pacing a few feet in a small area in front of him, she held eye contact the whole time.
He sat forward with a frown, staring hard at her. “How exactly is it that you're still alive? I'm sorry, but that's about as far fetched as anything I've ever heard. I need some kind of proof.”
A hollow, derisive laugh preceded her answer. Not directed at him per se, but at the fact she and her sisters had been hunted for so long and now one of the Templars themselves didn't believe she was who she said she was.
The irony of ironies.
“I could take you to the Garden, but that's forbidden. If you knew the stories and the legends, then you'd recognize this,” she said. Evelyn closed the distance and exposed her wrist, turning it over so he could see the soft underside and the two pin pricks of black that resembled a snakebite.
Rhett looked confused and blank.
It surprised her. He seemed too genuinely perplexed to be faking it.
“That could just be a mark from an old wound or something,” he said, cupping his hands between the parted stretch of his knees. He looked up at her from under the ridge of his brows.
Evelyn didn't know whether to laugh or scream. Could she really be here, just learned of another sister's death, having to prove what she was to a Knight?
“If I was lying, why would the Templars be going to such great lengths?”
“Hell if I know.” Rhett shoved up out of the chair, dragging a hand through his hair. “All right, so let's go with it. You and your sisters are from the Garden of Eden. They want you because....”
“Because they want to know where the Garden is. They want us to take them there, even if it's forbidden. And because they think we're evil. One of them said they thought this mark was made by the serpent, that we're spreading his work through the world. Actually, it was put there as a reminder,” she said.
“A reminder of what?”
“Not to make the same mistakes as our parents. We ate from the Tree of Knowledge and Life and promised to go forth and do good in the world. And we have, all of us. We've honored our agreement down to the last sister.”
“Adam and Eve were your parents.” The question rolled out rhetorical. Rhett propped his hands on his hips and paced, clearly struggling to believe it. “But why are your sisters so different then? I mean, Genevieve, Minna? They're not even the same race as you and Alexandra and Galiana.”
“You have to remember who made them, Rhett. Our brothers and sisters looked like people from all walks of life. Why shouldn't they? Adam and Eve were the first humans on the earth. Is it such a stretch to believe they wouldn't produce diverse offspring?” she asked, smearing another tear from her cheek. Talking about all the siblings she'd lost kept the emotion raw.
He grunted, finally looking away from her eyes to the floor. His expression deepened, brows sinking low. The sole of his boots hissed on the concrete with every step he took.
Evelyn saw the moment Rhett went from a disbeliever to an almost-believer.
“All right, well, we can talk about all that later on,” he said, glancing up when he came to a stop behind the chair. “Do you trust me enough to work with me yet, Evelyn? I'll tell you another thing that might make you feel a little better. Christian and Dracht are my brothers. I told you I had two of them. Dragar is our father.”
Evelyn shouldn't have been as surprised as she was right then. She knew the Templars were generational, the duty passed down from fathers to sons for centuries.
“And I can tell you that none of them know any more than I do about what's going on. The men who tortured you? They're Templars but they've gone rogue or something. I'm not sure yet. The fact that none of us knew what they were up to says this whole thing is a lot bigger than you or I know.” Coming around the chair, he approached her slowly, like he thought she might bolt.
Evelyn regarded him from under the spiky, damp fringe of her lashes. Another surge of hope sliced through her.
“I only know what they told me when they were trying to extract information out of me. Do they have Alexandra and Minna? I don't know if I trust you or not. You have to understand how long they've hunted us, how many they've killed.”
“I'm afraid so. Dracht and Dragar and several others are looking for them still. Christian was with me but stayed behind when he got a call from Father Valanzano.”
“Who's Father Valanzano?”
“Our connection through the church. I know they don't know what's going on. I've already had two conversations with him and he's deeply concerned that the Templars are apparently following their own agenda. He's as confused about why they want you as we were,” he admitted.
Evelyn had to lift her chin to keep eye contact when he stopped right in front of her. Even now she felt that strange electricity between them, something that wanted her to trust and believe in him. She didn't flinch when he set his broad hand on her shoulder to squeeze. It was a gesture of comfort and perhaps understanding. Right that second, she didn't want to be plagued by doubts. She wanted to believe all the things he'd ever told her, everything he'd made her feel.
Sinking against him, she wrapped her arms around his middle and held back the sobs by sheer force of will. He caught her up against him close and tight, putting his mouth in her hair.
If he'd wanted her dead, she reasoned, she already would be by now. He had most of the information, all except the exact location of Eden and how many sisters were left alive.
He'd been telling her the truth all along.
“We'll figure it out.” The words were a rumble.
“I'm sorry I shot you,” she said with a shaky voice.
“Considering what you've just told me, you didn't have a choice. You closed your eyes at the last second and didn't hit anything major. C'mon, let's get out of here. I need to call Dracht and Christian to see what they've found out. I don't really want to tell them what you've told me over the phone even if these lines are technically supposed to be secure.” Rhett pressed a kiss against her crown and leaned back to use both thumbs, smearing the pads across her cheeks.
“Yes, let's go. And Rhett,” she paused, “Thank you.” She half expected him to say he was just doing his job, like he'd done in the safe house.
“There was no way I was letting you into their hands again. No matter w
hat.”
***
Dracht and Dragar crouched alongside the outside wall of a house that had appeared abandoned from the street. The neighborhood, straight up middle class, had a few homes in the row that needed more than a little bit of TLC. Islands of desolation with knee high grass, chipping paint, and a general air of neglect.
This house was one of them.
Weapons drawn, muzzles up, they listened for movement inside.
Nothing moved in the night around them. Other than the sound of their shallow breathing, the only noise came from the distant bark of a dog.
Against his hip, Dracht's cell phone vibrated. Not an opportune time to take calls, he paused long enough to dig it from his pocket and check the ID.
Rhett.
“Yes?” He spoke soft and low so his voice wouldn't carry. He knew Rhett would understand that he was in the middle of something important.
“Don't let any more of them die,” Rhett said. “Do whatever it takes. The girls will not trust you or any of the Templars and if they fight you or try to run, tell them that Evelyn has confided in me.”
“So what is it? Do they have some heirloom or knowledge--”
Rhett cut him off. “You won't believe it and I'm not going to repeat it over the phone. Just tell them that we know the snakebites are reminders.”
Dracht couldn't figure out what the hell Rhett was talking about. He knew the women had marks on their wrists that resembled snakebites. That must be what he was referring to.
But a reminder of what?
Taking the information at face value, he set his own questions aside for now. He had no time to grill his brother.
“I'll get back to you.” Dracht ended the call on that note and traded a look with Dragar, who had heard at least his side of the conversation.
They had no time to waste.
A thump from inside drew Dracht's attention back to the home. On the move, the large men skulked toward the back of the residence, searching out a rear entry. Two more Templars waited on either side, blending in with the shadows while another three were en route.
One of the other Knights, acting strangely, had led them here an hour earlier when he'd left a mandatory meeting Dragar had called in an attempt to flush out the traitors. Hundreds of Templars were out on missions, spread out over the globe doing their duty. It was the others, the ones who worked in Athens that were on their list of Knights to watch. They knew a couple names already; now they just needed to contain the rest of the ring and get the girls to safety.
With the windows boarded up, it prevented them from seeing in. It also prevented anyone inside from seeing them, as well, which suited Dracht just fine. They probably needed all the surprise they could get.
The back door, situated under a grimy green and white awning, had a lopsided screen in front of it, barely hanging on by the hinges. Dracht didn't scowl though he wanted to. That was going to make noise either way when they opened it to go in.
Leaving the shadows after a glance at his father, he rushed the back door and looked for any chains while Dragar yanked open the screen. Dracht saw nothing that would impede his entrance on the outside and lifted a boot to kick the shit out of the door. It banged open and he went in low and fast, gun out in front of him sweeping left to right in the gloom.
At the end of a short hallway, the space opened up into a larger room. Candlelight spilled over the scene from the left, the same direction a grunt alerted him to danger. Sinking to one knee, he pivoted and swiveled, aiming low. He recognized the size and shape of his brethren, two of them standing over a body roped to a chair.
“Don't move!” he shouted.
Dragar, at his back, came around the other side.
The slithering hiss of steel could be none other than a Templar sword, and, acting on instinct, Dracht swiveled the muzzle to the right just as Dragar passed; he pulled the trigger and blew out the thigh of a Templar arcing a strike aimed at his father's back. The sword clanged off the ground eight feet away.
He didn't want to go for a kill shot unless he had to. They needed them alive for questioning.
Through a cacophony of shouts, Dragar's gun discharged. In strobe flashes, from his kneeling position, Dracht saw another girl in a chair against the wall, saw one of the Knights fly backward from the bullet impact, recognized a third who never got a shot off when Benecio darted past them and tackled him to the ground. Their backup rushed in to secure the scene and subdue the Templars.
Dracht pressed to a stand and advanced on the first girl strapped to the chair. Dread made the blood thick in his veins; the way she slumped in the seat with her head forward looked like she might already be dead. The poor light did not help him identify which one it was until he gently tipped her head up and back, getting a look at her swollen, bloody face.
The one named Alexandra.
He felt for a pulse, working quick, prepared to attempt CPR on her to try and bring her back.
“Is she still alive?” Dragar asked, one knee planted in the chest of a Templar while another bound his wrists.
“She is. Unconscious, but alive.” Dracht holstered his weapon and unbound the girl's hands from behind her. More signs of torture showed through bruises on her arms but she seemed intact. Unlike the last one they'd found.
“Here's another,” Dragar said after leaving the fallen Templar in Raoul's care. He stood next to another chair in the corner, tugging the gag out of a girl's mouth.
“Get away from me, you pig,” Minna spat, glaring upwards.
“Here now, we're not going to do to you what they did,” Dragar said.
“Don't touch me.”
“I have to in order to remove your binds. We're here to help you and you'll help us in return if you cooperate, Minna,” Dragar said. The personal use of her name seemed to surprise her.
Dracht listened while he freed Alexandra from the ropes around her wrists and ankles. Lifting her like a bride, he glanced over to Raoul and Benecio to make sure they had control of the other Templars. They would be taken for treatment and held for questioning. The girls needed treatment as well, at least the one in his arms. The other spitfire sounded fine if her temper had anything to say about it.
Rhett had warned him the girls wouldn't respond well to their presence.
He carried Alexandra out the back of the house where another three Templars waited. Around the side, Dracht walked the girl to a waiting sedan and carefully climbed into the back with her. Another sedan waited behind this one to ferry Dragar and Minna to the Templar stronghold.
Settling Alexandra across his lap, Dracht scooped long pieces of tangled black hair away from her face. While the vehicle rolled into motion, he wondered silently what she and her companions had done to deserve such volatile treatment. The men who represented the sword were not unused to violence, either facing it or committing it, but generally their targets were something other than a flock of females.
You won't believe it, his brother had said. It piqued his interest.
The sedan took all the shortcuts through Athens while Dracht phoned in an order for a medic to meet them at the house. He wouldn't risk taking any of the women to the hospital unless he thought they were in mortal danger.
Turning into a long drive, the car stopped at a tall gate, gained admittance, and sped toward a structure that stood like a monolith against the night. Four tall columns decorated the front where a broad porch ran the length of the building. Intricate architecture had been carved onto the facade by what looked like master's hands, the depictions of war exquisite and detailed.
On the eaves above the door, carved into the stone between two rearing horses, sat a Templar shield. In the middle, the same iron cross that decorated the back of every Knight.
Dracht disembarked at the steps with the girl in his arms, bearing down on the double front doors that sported the same carvings as the facade. One of the doors swung open like they were expected.
They were.
Dracht took the gi
rl in through a wide foyer and straight back past a swooping staircase with marble lions on the banister. The large room they ended up in, lit by sconces on the walls and a fire in a fireplace big enough for him to walk into, had couches and divans spread out over a spacious area. He marched Alexandra to one such divan and laid her down, careless that she might bloody the material of the furniture.
Just as he stood to see if the medic had arrived, she started stirring. Dracht motioned to another Knight, the one that had gotten the door, to go see about the doctor in his stead.
Dracht stared down at Alexandra but didn't loom. He knew she probably wouldn't have a great reaction to being in a new place with a stranger standing over her, especially one wearing a shoulder holster packed with guns.
“Alexandra?” he asked, putting her name out in front with the thought it might calm her.
The clothes she wore were bedraggled and grimy. Pieces of her hair were matted with blood and god knew what else. He watched her struggle through disorientation and confusion, awareness coming in small bursts. With a sudden lurch, she sat up and looked at him.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, choking on blood.
“My name is Dracht. We've called for a medic to see to your injuries. Understand, Alexandra, that we're here to help you.” He repeated the words and let her see the sincerity in his dark eyes.
“Oh, I just bet you are.” She pushed unsteadily off the divan to her feet, keeping a wary distance between them.
If he didn't know better, he might have thought she'd been on one hell of a bender.
“I'm supposed to tell you that your sister confided in my brother. She said to say that the snakebites are reminders, whatever the bloody hell that means.”
The words had an immediate and profound impact on the girl. She stilled, staring at him through narrowed eyes.
He wasn't sure how much to tell her, or what else to say to put her at ease. His conversation with Rhett had been short and to the point.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
Daughters of Eve Collection (Books 1, 2 & 3) Page 17
