Her Dark Knight

by Sharon Cullen

  Tears traveled into her hairline and onto her pillow. Terror seized her in its hideous grasp.

  Christien gathered her stiff body in his arms. “’Twas a dream, mon couer. Only a dream.”

  She struggled to catch her breath and tame her runaway heart. Her knee ached, like she really had fallen on it. Her throat hurt to swallow, like someone really had strangled her.

  A sob rushed through her, shaking her body and breaking the numbing paralysis.

  She clung to Christien, fisting her hands on his bare chest. Giselle’s face loomed in front of her, her eyes furious. Lainie cringed from the image and Christien pulled her tightly to him. But even Christien’s strong arms would never dispel the image of what happened in that forest.

  She pulled away from Christien. “She was strangled. That’s how she died, isn’t it?”

  “Strangled? By Lucien?”

  “Not Lucien. In my dream it was Giselle, but that can’t be right.”

  “Giselle?” he whispered.

  “Of course it wasn’t Giselle.” Lainie ran a hand through her tangled hair and laughed, but the laugh was weak. “I’ve been thinking about my project at work and my mind probably stuck Giselle in my dream.”

  “Are you sure it was her?”

  “I’m sure I dreamt it was her, but she wasn’t the one who killed Madelaine. That would make her something like seven hundred years old or reincarnated. Like me.” She tried to infuse some levity into her voice, making a joke out of something not all that funny, but it failed miserably. Instead her voice wobbled and the statement came out more a question. But Christien didn’t seem to be listening.

  “Tell me everything. Everything you saw in your dream,” he said.

  Her mind shied from the visions that wouldn’t let her go. She didn’t want to relive Madelaine’s fear and grief. Nor her death or terrifying things Lucien said to her at the end. Already her heart was galloping, as if she really had run through the forest. She heard the baying dogs, her ragged breaths, the swish of her skirts through the underbrush. Like her other dreams, this one was so real she felt as if she’d been there.

  “I’m sorry, ma chérie, but I need you to tell me. It’s important.”

  She took a deep breath and clutched Christien’s hand like it was her last tie to this earth. “They were so sure Lucien would go after Madelaine, and he did, but not in the way they thought.”

  Christien and Madelaine hadn’t died together. They never found their happiness. Stupid of her to think they would when so much had been stacked against them. But she’d hoped. She’d really hoped.

  “She’d discovered she was pregnant with the count’s baby.”

  Christien’s fingers flexed in hers and he drew in a sharp breath.

  “She went to the garden, to the spot where she met Christien that one night. Lucien was there. He was talking to…” She frowned. “A woman. A woman who looked like Giselle. She heard them talking about King Philip and a letter he’d sent telling the king that Simon of Flandres was sympathetic to the Templar’s cause and he was trying to free the Grand Master.”

  Christien didn’t move. He barely even breathed. “What happened?”

  “I ran away. I was scared.” The words came faster. Her chest heaved with the effort to slow them down. She barely realized she was speaking in the first person. “So I ran.”

  Christien rubbed his thumb along the top of her hand, back and forth, anchoring her.

  “Lucien and…Giselle followed. They had an argument. Lucien claimed…” She couldn’t even speak the blasphemous things Lucien had said to her. The ravings of a madman. That was all it was.

  “Tell me, Madelaine. I need to know.”

  She took a deep breath and looked into Christien’s eyes. “He told me he had to steal the Templar treasure. He said if he broke the seals then he would have the power of one of the four horsemen.”

  Madelaine’s terror came rushing back but Lainie wasn’t sure it was Madelaine’s anymore. It felt all too real when she thought of the books on Christien’s bookshelf that referred to the Book of Revelation.

  “What happened next?” he asked urgently.

  Lainie brushed the tears off her face. “Giselle was furious. She hit Lucien with a tree branch and knocked him out. Then she strangled… She killed Madelaine.”

  She cried, deep sobs that robbed her of breath and shook her body. Christien held her, rocked her, rubbed her back and murmured soothing words until the tears subsided and she pulled away.

  “I think I knew she wasn’t going to live long. It’s just…” She dragged in a deep breath. “It still shocked me.” She tried to pull herself together, to stop the endless tears, to stifle the clawing fear. “What is this all about, Christien? Why would Lucien think he could break the seals and become a horseman?”

  Christien stood and pulled her up with him. “Come, Madelaine, let’s get dressed. There is something you must see.”

  “Now?” She looked out the window where the dark sky was slowly turning a deep purple. A new day dawning, yet Lainie felt as if it were the end rather than another beginning.

  “Trust me, love. You need to see this.”

  Lainie hesitated but eventually nodded. She did trust Christien. As bizarre as this was, one thing remained steady—her trust and her love for this man.

  They dressed silently. A pall hung between them, a sadness that would never be easily erased. She’d lived with this other Madelaine for weeks, experienced her terror, her joy, watched her fall in love with her dark knight. To witness her death, with no warning, horrified her and left her empty and sad.

  Once they were dressed, Christien took her hand and led her out of the house, through the countryside and over rolling hills covered with purple lavender. The air was so fresh and even though her grief pressed down on her, she still felt as if she’d come home. This is where I was meant to be.

  She didn’t know how long they walked—ten minutes? twenty?—when they entered a line of trees. Lainie hesitated, the terror of her last memory rearing its ugly head. Christien looked back at her, his heart in his eyes. Her trust in him outweighed the fear and urged her forward.

  After a few minutes the trees thinned out, giving way to a small clearing shrouded in the shadows of the waning night. In the middle of the clearing was a cemetery surrounded by a black wrought-iron fence.

  The gravestones were old, some so worn the lettering was almost nonexistent. Many were centuries old, but one in particular looked brand-new.

  Christien stopped in front of it and bowed his head, his shoulders curving as if the responsibilities of the world rested on them. Lainie read the epitaph.

  Madelaine, Countess of Flandres

  1288-1307

  There is nothing love cannot face;

  there is no limit to its faith,

  its hope, and its endurance.

  “I brought her body here after I purchased her family home.”

  Lainie’s gaze flew to Christien. She pictured the imposing house high on a hill with the surrounding countryside spread before it.

  With turrets, crenellations and arrow slits, it was more a castle than house. Built as a weapon of war, a stronghold and a place to retreat to for safety. Now she understood why it looked so familiar, why she was able to walk through it without losing her way and why she felt safe within its walls.

  She hadn’t dreamed of it, but she knew as deeply as she knew she loved Christien that this was where she grew up. There had been additions, renovations and improvements over the years but the heart of the castle remained the same.

  “Why?” She wasn’t sure which question swirling through her brain she was asking. Why did he own Madelaine’s home? Why was her grave here?

  He looked at her through the shadows of the dawn, sadness burning in his eyes. “She needed to be here, where she was happiest.”

  “She was happiest with Christien.” Lainie touched the cold stone, damp from the dew. “I can’t imagine his sorrow when he returned to
find her…gone.”

  “He was devastated. Beyond grief. I… He returned to the castle too late to save you.” He pressed his fingers into his eyes.

  Stunned, caught in his grief and rage, she touched his arm, not knowing what else to do. His muscles were tense, rock hard.

  He drew in a deep breath. “They told me you had fallen off your horse and broke your neck but I doubted the story. However events were unfolding swiftly. King Philip was experiencing heavy financial losses and wanted to acquire the Templar’s wealth by accusing us of heresy and witchcraft. Our leader, deMolay, had already been arrested. My fellow brothers were being rounded up, questioned, tortured, accused of heinous crimes. I was ordered back to Paris to meet with deMolay. There had been no time to inquire further into your death. I thought when I returned I would look into it. But it was not to be. In Paris I was given a…task. I had to travel to Scotland right away. I had no choice.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat, still staring at the stars.

  Scotland. That explained the Celtic cross tattooed on his chest. A tattoo he said he received in Scotland a long time ago. Puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place, but her mind shied from the picture forming. Certainly what she was thinking was impossible. And yet hadn’t she at one time thought reincarnation was impossible?

  “I was operating on sheer force of will and the desperate need to protect the Templar treasure.” He looked at her. “The same treasure Lucien was promised if he took it from me.”

  Lainie took a step back as if distance could separate her from what she was hearing. She’d thought Lucien insane but she knew Christien not to be. Yet why was he telling almost the same story? Why did he too believe in this treasure?

  “It took eighteen months to get to Scotland,” he said. “I traveled at night. The tide of hatred toward the Templars was growing, spreading across countries and continents. I had a mission and it was all I concentrated on. Finish my mission and I could die for there was no thought of living without you.”

  Lainie swallowed past the lump in her throat, aching for her dark knight and his pain.

  “I almost failed several times. I was weak with fever, dying with every breath I took. But it was not enough.” He pounded his fist against the headstone. “’Tis never enough. I was brought back from the brink of death and told I must protect the treasure for always.”

  “What do you mean brought back from death?” she whispered.

  Christien turned to her, his look intense, the knowledge of centuries engraved upon his face and reflected in his eyes. She took another step back, suddenly afraid.

  “I died. And then I was resurrected, never to die again.”

  Heartbeats of silence passed, Christien looking deep into her eyes, willing her to accept what he was saying and Lainie, pushing away the thoughts, refusing to believe.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, you do. I am the same man you met seven hundred years ago. I live still and will continue to live until the end of time. I am the keeper of the treasure of the Knights Templar—the treasure Lucien, now named Lucheux, wants to take from me. I am forever alive, yet dead inside until you came along.”

  She shook her head, holding her hands out as if she could physically stop him from speaking.

  Christien moved toward her. “You dreamt of us, Madelaine. You understand that you and the Countess of Flandres are one and the same. Is it not too much to believe I am the same man?”

  Lainie swallowed and licked her dry lips. “How is it possible—”

  Christien huffed out a laugh. “Oh, it’s very possible. God sent his emissary to pull me from the brink of death, to heal me of the fever and to thrust me back out into the world. Forever.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m all that stands between good and evil.”

  There are people who want to get to me through you.

  The words he said to her in the hospital suddenly took on a whole new meaning and chilled her.

  “This evil.” She cleared her throat. “Is that what you meant when you said I wasn’t safe?”

  “Yes.”

  Fear leapt inside her but she bravely fought it down. “Who is… What is the evil?”

  For a long moment he didn’t speak, as if he didn’t want to say what had to be said. The longer the silence stretched, the harder her heart pounded and the weaker her knees became.

  “Christien. Tell me. Please. Is Lucheux the evil you speak of?” Good God, what was happening here? What was Christien in the middle of?

  His eyes were like flint. “Yes. The treasure I was chosen to protect contains the seven seals. If they are opened…” His voice trailed off but he didn’t need to say more. His message was clear enough. If they were opened unspeakable things would happen, all leading to the Apocalypse.

  She didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know, but she asked anyway because to deny it would be cowardly and she wasn’t a coward. “Lucheux. He’s the opposite of you?”

  For the first time a shadow of a smile played across his lips. “You could say that. He and Giselle were given eternal life by a demon of Satan. They are tasked with finding the treasure and opening the seals.” Christien’s lips thinned. “’Tis the reason I was in Milwaukee. To keep an eye on them and contain them.”

  Even though she’d been expecting his answer, it still felt as if someone had body-slammed her. Lucheux and Giselle. The people she worked for. The woman who’d killed her in another life. This couldn’t be happening. These were the things movies were made of, not something that happened in real life. And yet, part of her believed. No, part of her knew it to be true. It all made sense now. The clothes in Christien’s bedroom, Giselle’s hatred. Is this why Lucheux never showed his face to her? Had he known she’d been dreaming of him? Yet she hadn’t dreamt of Giselle until the very end. How had they known?

  A terrifying chill raced up her spine. He knew. The demon or Satan. One of them knew what she’d been dreaming. Had maybe even controlled her dreams?

  “Now do you understand my fear, Madelaine? This is far worse than anything you could have imagined. And to think you were brought into the middle of it.” His teeth came together and a soft growl erupted from him. “It kills me.”

  You are my Achilles heel. His words came back to her, bitter, full of irony.

  “I was reborn to be used as a pawn against you.” The thought staggered her, frightened her more than anything else. She had been conceived to bring about the downfall of Christien. The downfall of the world.

  “At first I thought that, but now I am not so sure.”

  “How can you believe otherwise?” she cried. “We were in love all those centuries ago. To bring me back would destroy you. Distract you from your purpose.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and looked at her fiercely. “Your return didn’t destroy me. It gave me hope and reminded me what life is about. Your return was every dream, every prayer, every hope come true. Don’t ever believe otherwise. I love you, Madelaine. Through centuries, through wars. Nothing will change that.”

  She blinked her tears away. This wasn’t a do-over like she believed. This wasn’t God’s way of righting a wrong, of bringing two good people together again so this time they could have a happy ending.

  This was a disaster in the making.

  “What I can’t figure out is why the attempts on your life? If you were sent as a distraction why kill you?”

  “Giselle,” Lainie whispered.

  “What about Giselle?”

  “She killed me because Lucien wanted me. She still hates me.”

  “I should have seen,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  “How could you? You didn’t know Giselle and Lucien were lovers back then.”

  “But I should have known.”

  “Beating yourself up isn’t going to help us. We need to figure out what to do.”

  “’Tis obvious what I have to do. There are two treasures to protect now.”

  Lainie shook
her head, her heart rending in two. “The Templar treasure is more important. What will happen if Lucheux and Giselle get their hands on it?”

  She stepped away, creating more distance from Christien.

  Christien looked at her sharply. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t you see? I have to leave you.”

  “No!” He reached for her but she sidestepped him, her heart breaking, but her resolve firm.

  “If I’m not around. If I’m…gone, they have no hold over you. You can concentrate on protecting the treasure.”

  “You don’t understand, Madelaine.” His heart was in his eyes, the pain and terror of losing her so acute she felt it inside her. Her own emotions mirrored his, but this was one thing he wasn’t going to talk her out of. She knew what she had to do.

  “I’m your Achilles heel.”

  He winced. “No.”

  “Yes.” She took another step away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “I will not allow this. You will stay beside me.”

  “There are some things you can’t command, Christien. Some things are out of your hands.”

  “Not this.”

  Her dark knight. Her hero. The man of her dreams. She was dying inside, knowing what she had to do to make this right. To bring balance back into the world.

  “You think you know, but you don’t,” he said. “You don’t know everything.”

  He slowly made his way toward her and God forgive her, she couldn’t move away. Her feet were planted in the earth as surely as the roots of the tree growing a few paces away.

  “When I was told of my mission—to live forever, to protect the treasure—I was also told of the key that would break the seals.”

  Lainie stilled. “Key?”

  “A key, Madelaine.” He reached out and lifted the silver key hanging around her neck, cradling it in his large hand. His fingers closed around the necklace and his worried gaze searched hers.

  “This isn’t the key,” she said. “This was given to me by my mother and has been in her family for years.”