"No. I lied to you. I'm a thief." She said each word flatly, without emotion. "I'm a very good thief. In fact, I'm one of the best in Europe. Maybe the world."
What she was telling him and the treasures in the next room did not match. "Do you ever keep anything for yourself?"
"Are you kidding?" She laughed. "I can't afford to be a collector. Everything I make off the stuff I take goes to cover my expenses."
Living in a hole in the ground, traveling by motorcycle, what expenses could she have? "What about the Golden Madonna? Do you intend to sell her after you find her?"
"No." Her face darkened. "I'll bury her with her owner."
He went over to the bed and sat down beside her. "You sound tired. Lie with me."
Nick stared at him. "I just told you I'm a thief, Gabriel. I'm wanted by every cop and Interpol agent in Europe. I've committed hundreds of crimes."
"We have spent more time making love than sleeping these past few days," he said. "Even the greatest thief in Europe must occasionally rest."
Her curls bounced as she shook her head. "Sometimes I think you are crazy."
He pulled her down to the mattress and turned her, tucking her back against him. "For now, I would like to sleep with you in my arms."
Gabriel held Nick and listened to her breathing even out as she fell asleep. Only when he was sure she would not wake did he rise and slip back out to the treasure room to inspect its contents. It took an hour of opening boxes and inspecting relics, but by his calculations, Nick had somehow amassed a collection of artifacts to rival that of any world museum.
She had not been exaggerating when she had claimed to be one of the best thieves in Europe. There were a dozen kings' ransoms here if one only counted the value of the gold. Add to it the irreplaceable historical value of the objects and Gabriel suspected the woman who had saved him might be worth millions.
What was very odd was that all of the artifacts, precious icons, and symbols, as well as the pilgrim coins, appeared to belong to the Templars before they became Kyn.
Why hadn't she sold them off? A single box of coins alone would fetch an inordinate amount of money at auction. Why would she lie about keeping them? Did it have something to do with the man who had killed her parents and stolen the Golden Madonna?
Gabriel found the cross his father had given to the Temple master when Gabriel had taken his vows, a simple piece with only a few emeralds; almost paltry compared to some of the other families' contributions. He had been so proud the day his father had given so much.
Gabriel pressed the cross between his hands, and for the first time in years offered a prayer: God in heaven, help us.
Chapter 17
"So this is the best you could do?" the Kyn guard demanded of Leary as he looked over Phillipe and the addicts from Dublin. "The high lord expected a dozen or more. He will be very displeased."
Leary's mouth drooped. "I did my best, as I always do."
"Tell that to him with the mood he's in, and he'll tear you to ribbons." The guard seemed agitated. "Still, not my head. Come on, this way."
Phillipe had taken position at the very back of the group. When the guard led them around a corner, the seneschal stepped back and waited until their footsteps faded down the hall. After he listened and heard no sounds, he walked quickly in the opposite direction toward the door Leary had said would take him down to the dungeons.
A human guard stopped him at that door. Phillipe remembered to keep a vacant-eyed look as the guard asked, "They send you for the leech, lad?"
He nodded slowly.
"Go on with you, then." The guard stepped aside.
He climbed down the stairs and passed a number of archaic-looking chambers before coming to a closed door with a glass window. Through it he saw Alexandra and Éliane Selvais working at a table. He tried the door, which was unlocked, and slipped inside.
"Not yet, Korvel," Alexandra said, adding a measure of dark liquid to a beaker of blood.
Phillipe felt such relief at seeing her whole and well that he could only lean back against the door. "I am not Korvel."
The beaker dropped out of Alexandra's hand, and she whirled around. "Phil? Oh, my God. What are you doing here? How… ?" She flew across the room and flung herself into his arms. As soon as he embraced her, she stiffened and hissed. "Ow. Careful. I still have some claw marks back there."
"Claw marks." He tried to look down her collar but saw only the edge of a bandage. "What did you get into a fight with this time?"
Her spiral curls bounced around her face. "I'll tell you all about it on the way home." She hugged him again. "How on earth did you get inside the castle?"
"Carefully." Phillipe held on to her but looked at Éliane. She didn't seem surprised to see him. "Are you ready to come home?"
"Is the pope an ex-Nazi? Phil, it's so good to see you. I can't tell you how scared I've been." Alex stepped back. "But I can't go yet."
"Master, I have found her," Philippe said over the transmitter. "She is well." He put his hands on her shoulders. "We must leave, Alexandra. At once."
"You don't understand. I have to finish preparing this serum." She nodded toward a row of vials. "It could be a cure for Richard Tremayne's condition."
Confusion made him grope for the correct words in English. "You mean to cure Tremayne?"
She lifted her shoulders and gave him a rueful smile. "I took an oath that says I can't kill him."
Phillipe heard Cyprien's voice over his earpiece say, "Let me speak to her."
"This is a transmitter. The master can hear anything you say." He removed the earpiece and gently placed it in her ear.
"It took you long enough," she said to the button, and cupped her hand over her ear. "No, don't start telling me how much you love me; you'll make Phil jealous again. Listen up, seigneur, because we have serious problems in here."
Phillipe kept an eye on Éliane as Alexandra related to Michael what had happened since Richard had brought her to Dundellan. To that she added, "You have to get John out of here first. He's the one in danger; I have Phil running interference for me, and I'm immortal." She listened for a moment to whatever Cyprien was saying to her. "Right. I don't care. Get John out of here."
The Frenchwoman came over, but stopped when Phillipe moved to block the door. "I have no intention of sounding an alarm."
"I have no intention of killing you," he told her. "Let us not litter the road to hell with either."
"There's something else," Alexandra was saying. "You know how I tune in on killers… Well, Lady Elizabeth has been broadcasting all day. She's found out that I have a treatment, maybe a cure, and she's planning to force Richard to complete his change before I can give it to him. Éliane and I are going to take care of her as soon as I get this serum made. We'll keep the guards busy, too, so Phil can get John out to you. I love you, too, babe. I have missed you so much. I hope you've been taking your vitamins. Yeah." She glanced at Phillipe. "We're embarrassing your seneschal. Quit it. And get going." She removed the earpiece and handed it to Phillipe. "Here's the new plan."
"Father Orson Leary, my lord," the servant announced him.
Leary went into the library, for once eager to see Richard Tremayne. The Darkyn King sat behind his desk, as always, although he had not covered his face, which now appeared as beastly as any hell-spawned demon's. For the first time Leary looked, unflinching and unafraid, directly into his satanic eyes. He could even feel pity for him now.
Being freed of all fear was a wondrous thing.
"They forced me to come here, my lord," Leary said. "The Frenchman and his scarred servant."
"Cyprien," Richard muttered.
"Yes, lord." He bowed his head. "They kidnapped me and forced me to do terrible things. They made me disguise the scarred man and bring him into your stronghold. Cyprien is outside, waiting for a signal to attack. I fear you are in great danger."
"You will stay here." Richard slowly rose and limped to the door.
Leary went over to the wall, where Richard kept a collection of bladed weapons. He found the two-handed sword quite tempting, but was not sure if he could even lift such a blade, much less wield it against the vile one. He helped himself instead to a number of daggers, tucking them inside his clothes, where they would not be seen. Then, after listening at the door, he walked out and crossed to the opposite wing.
It was time to find her.
"I know the rooms where Keller is being kept," he heard a woman say. "We can bring him out this way."
Leary knew the time for his true work had come at last. There would be no more pain, no more Legion. She would never torment him another night.
And there she was, walking with another, her radiance muted by the ugly clothes she wore. She had disguised herself again, as she had in the alley.
He drew one of the daggers he had stolen from the high lord's library and kept his footsteps silent as he came up behind them. It wouldn't do to fail now, not when he was so close.
So close.
So very close.
Close enough.
"Thy name is Legion!" Leary shouted as he buried the dagger in her back. "To hell with you!"
She turned, showing him the face of innocence, the face that made him scream in terror and stagger back, waving his arms to make it stop, make the vision leave him, now, before the worms came, and Leary wheeled around, knocking aside the small dark woman who caught the bitch goddess in her arms and shouted for help and called the demon Éliane.
That was not her name. Her name was Legion. She had told him so.
Leary ran and ran, but none of the doors would open for him, and he was caught, trapped, driven into the dark place where there was only one door that swung open, and the frozen flames of hell glittered all around.