The Templar's Legacy (Ancient Enemy) Read online

She puffed out at that. “I have given you my protection. No harm will be brought to you, and we must be able to discuss our plans with Mémèr.”

  I was tired and near the end of my rope. “I don’t have the energy for this.” I held my hands out to Colette. “Give me your hands.”

  Colette hesitated. “Don’t worry, I have promised you.”

  I beckoned with my fingers. “Come on, give them to me.”

  She scowled at me and grabbed my hands. I closed my eyes, opened my Sight, and looked for Colette’s presence. I’d never used my Sight quite this way, but I’d experienced meetings of the mind with Il Saia, Jen, and others whom I’d helped heal. Now, I wanted to feel her sincerity. I needed to be sure she wasn’t conning us. I’d been caught flat-footed by her twice now. It wouldn’t happen a third time.

  As I sank more deeply into the Sight, all of my senses became engaged. As before, the surface of Colette’s mind was hard and unyielding.

  Her thoughts floated into my mind like Spring’s did, mind to mind. Finn, I swear to you, we will treat you as guests, and you will not come to harm, nor will we take your property.

  I tried to weigh the truth in her words, but no sense of her intentions came through. I’d been expecting it to be more like my communications with Spring. My knowledge of the French woman’s sincerity was no better than if we were just speaking. Of course, it was some help that I didn’t get swayed by her pretty face this way, but that wasn’t enough.

  I like to think that exhaustion, my sense of failure, and a grim need to keep my friends safe were to blame for what I did next, but it doesn’t really help.

  Colette, you need to drop down your guard and let me in. If you keep me outside, I can’t tell if you are telling the truth.

  Finn, you will just need to trust me. I swear to God, I’m not inviting you into a trap.

  I can’t afford to trust you or your family.

  You’re insulting my family’s integrity and my honor by doing this. Just trust me!

  I can’t! All the hurt and betrayal that I had walled away from myself broke through. It filled me with rage. You led me on! You made me think you liked me. You played with me as if I were some stupid toy. I never did anything to you, but you stabbed me!

  Finn, I told you—

  You told me you liked me, and you made me feel... I thought... I bet it was fun, playing me, deceiving me. Ha ha, stupid American boy. I trusted you! Even after you stabbed me, I trusted you again! I’m an idiot, I get it, but I’m done!

  No Finn, it wasn’t...

  LET ME IN! I roared my frustration, and then I pushed.

  Outside in the real world I heard Colette gasp, but her mental barriers held. I still couldn’t get in past her guard.

  So, I used a little trick I’d learned from Spring when she had taken up residence in my mind. I formed fine little rootlets, tendrils of will, and I probed everywhere for a weak spot. Like a root questing through rocks for water, I found a microscopic crack, flowed into it, and pried apart her defenses, flowed in more, pried more...

  Finn stop! she cried.

  I intensified my efforts. With a quick, silent snap, all of Colette’s defenses crumbled, and then she was there—surrounding me, penetrating me as well. I learned what it was to be Colette. I felt her fright, anger, and horror at what I was doing. I felt her recent sincerity, frustration, and guilt that my disbelief had caused. What she had done to me was wrong, but she felt it was justified. That pissed me off even more. Instinctively, with the speed of thought, I ransacked her memories of me.

  I saw myself from her eyes. A handsome(!), enthusiastic, and naive young man who wore his heart on his sleeve. I reminded her of simpler times before she took up the burden of the True Cross. I knew springtime in Paris, the beauty of the Mediterranean, warm nights on the beach. I felt her instant delight in my shyness and my quick wit, but she couldn’t quite believe the power I carried. My brilliant aura was hard to look at with her Sight, but there was no way this innocent kid could be behind the killings. Could he?

  I didn’t care about the killings. I thought of the club. That night she had rocked my world—and I had rocked hers! At the club, in her eyes, I became a man of hidden passion and surprising sexual magnetism. Triumph and joy filled me when I saw she hadn’t been faking her enthusiasm after we danced. I felt her anger at spotting McCormick and realized that he was forcing my, I mean her, hand. Finding my cousin dead had shaken me and paranoia started to take hold. What if Finn really was behind the deaths? My doubt was reinforced by Mémèr’s stern voice, “Do not defy me in this! He is dangerous. Jacques has seen death and blood surrounding him.” Perhaps I was the one being fooled. Something was stalking my family and killing us, and we never saw who. Now Pietro and McCormick are dead along with Mama and Papa. Everyone I love is dead. No, this isn’t right, this isn’t me. I have a duty. I have to...

  Our thoughts became so tangled I had trouble telling who was thinking what. What is he doing to me? What is he? Blood and death surround us. So much blood. Dear God, save me!

  I realized the lines were blurring further. A new “I” was forming, not Finn, not Colette, but me. I tried to redefine my boundaries, to pull back, but we failed.

  Memories of shared time merged and became nearly unfathomable. After meeting me and discovering that I really didn’t know what I wore around my neck, I held back from taking the Caduceus. Instead, I told myself that I needed to discover more about me. I wasn’t going anywhere and I was obviously infatuated with her. Such innocent passion he had! So simple and clean! I could take the holy relic any time I desired, but I needed to understand why God would entrust such power to a boy. Perhaps he was meant to have it. There is no guile nor harm in him. I was so beautiful and my accent enthralled me.

  Finn, come back. Spring called to me, but a familiar feeling pulled my mind down a different road. Guilt.

  I had to take it. My family was dying. This was the weapon I needed. I would take it and be gone. He would be safe. His family would be safe. I wove threads of sleep around him and came in through the window. I know I didn’t make any noise but he woke up and trapped me. Dear God, help me! He is so powerful! No one is that strong! How can anyone be that strong? I have to get away. I couldn’t let him take me too. I lashed out.

  The memory of his pain and betrayal poured through me. No! No!

  I am...

  Finn! Spring’s cry tried to call me back to myself. The lines had melted away. Who was this in my head? A dryad? How? So much blood! New-old images burned me, threatened to bury me. Jen’s bloody body on the ground, on the floor in the lab. Spring dying in a pool of her blood—which somehow was my blood. Gregg, pale, still, dead. Killed by Erik, by Wendigota. A headless corpse sitting in front of a TV bathed in blood. Fergus McCormick dead in my room. How could the Caduceus get buried in the mound five hundred years before America was found? Dear God help me. I was in Its grasp again. Slave to the endless cold hunger, the freedom from limits, the exultation, the taste of a soul. Daniel dead on the ground. Oh God! Please God, no more! Please don’t rape me anymore!

  The words drove to the very center of me. The I that was us knew instantly the horror of that statement. We couldn’t let it continue. We’d never intended. Oh God!

  With a mental heave, I pulled myself back and felt Colette do the same. I felt her withdraw, recoil, pull away from me. I was...Finn, and I could barely conceive the evil I had just done.

  Spring was there with me, calming me, reassuring me. She anchored me and said, It’s okay. You’re with me again. You’re safe.

  Someone was crying. It was me. I was Finn, and I was crying along with Colette, but she didn’t have Spring to reassure her. I had to try and make it right.

  Beside me, the little hussy black girl, looked shocked. Her eyes were filled with concern. No! This was Jen. My Jen.

  I waved her hand away. “I’m okay Jen, but I just did something terrible. I have to help her.”

  I hunched across the small space to Col
ette and took her up in my arms. I expected her to withdraw or to pull out her knife, but she didn’t. Shudders quaked through her body as the tears flowed down our cheeks. I remembered how her mother used to sing to her. I started singing in French.

  Sleep, sleepy,

  Sleep, sleep,

  My little poppet

  Is going to sleep

  In the arms of her mommy

  Who lulls her tenderly

  Sleep, sleepy,

  Sleep, sleep.

  She started to relax, but shudders still shook her small frame. I whispered in her ear, “Hush little cricket, everything is fine.” I stroked my fingers over her eyebrows in the way she liked, and she relaxed even more.

  “I’m so sorry, little Marie. I didn’t know. You’re safe now. I swear it. Please, please be okay. Please be well. Please forgive me.” She preferred to be called Colette, but Marie was what her father had always called her.

  I ignored both Jen and Dave’s concerned inquiries and just held Colette. We sat together that way for quite some time. Eventually, the car pulled off the highway, onto a gravel road. I could hear rocks popping and tinking off the tires. A short while later, we stopped with a final crunch of gravel.

  Colette’s shuddering also stopped, but now she stiffened in my arms. I immediately released her and pulled back. The shock and hurt in her face cut through me to my heart. I had no defenses against it. It was mine as well.

  She backed away from me, sobbed, and sprang out of the car. I ducked looks from my friends and blundered out into the rain after her. I now knew our driver. Jamie was his name. He ran after her calling out, “Colette!”

  Colette’s memories of the sanctuary flooded me. I had, I mean Colette had always liked Jamie. He was kind and solid.

  We were in the courtyard. Everything around me was old and new. Tall stone walls set with small windows defined the irregularly squarish space. As my eyes were drawn to the crenellations which capped those walls, I recalled the path along the top of the north wall where I used to hide—I mean Colette used to hide—from Jamie and her other cousins when she needed to be alone. I could peek down between the crenellations and secretly watch everyone coming and going. My cousins were too timid to cross the adult’s prohibition from playing there, but Colette wasn’t. I remembered sitting on the edge of the outer wall and dangling her feet over the thirty-foot drop. I slapped my hands to my head, I couldn’t think. Her memories were tied up with mine in a Gordian knot.

  I felt a presence at my side, and warm hands grabbed my arm. “Finn? Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Dude, it’s a fricking castle!” exclaimed Dave as he came around the car.

  I was standing in the cold rain, in a place I’d never been. It felt like home, it felt safe, and it made me shudder. The clash within my mind paralyzed me.

  Finn, freeze up later. We need to get the flock out of here.

  She was right. With considerable effort, I shook off the heavy blanket of confusion. “Come on guys, we need to get out of here!”

  “What happened, Finn?” asked Dave. The question was reflected by Jen’s furrowed brows.

  I didn’t have time to answer their questions. I ran to the front of the limo and checked for keys. They’d gone with Jamie.

  I heard the main door in the southern wing, where Colette had been taken, slam open. Five people I recognized ran into the courtyard. All five were Bearers of the True Cross, which meant trouble for us. Normally they were out in the world. Granny must have recalled them from their duties when she learned that their unknown assassins were closing in. We couldn’t hoodoo our way out of this.

  Every face there was familiar. I knew these people. I knew I wouldn’t willingly harm them. That ruled out some of the more dangerous tricks I’d just inherited from Colette. One major rule of working with God’s gift states that you had to cultivate a unity of purpose and a clarity of mind, before you drew on His power. If you didn’t, the very best you could expect was to just fail.

  The Delacroix didn’t waste any time. They closed with us, and Henri hit us with a command. “Stop! Do not move!” My muscles seized up on me, and I started to panic before I realized that I knew how to slip out of his control. I’d trained for months to the point that it was just automatic. It was disgusting that after all that work, I’d nearly panicked. I pushed through the tissue thin command holding me and returned it tenfold. I didn’t have time to wonder about how natural it felt, but with a prayer to God, I threw everything could pull through the Caduceus.

  “Stop!”

  Nicholas and Angela, the youngest, fell over onto the wet gravel. Tristan, Katerine, and Henri froze in their tracks. I turned to my own frozen friends and extended my will. “Dave and Jen, shake it off, it can’t hold you.” As quickly as thought, they were moving. They ran to me glancing at our attackers with awe. I looked to make sure my friends were unhurt and forgot to pay attention to our foe.

  “Finn!” shouted Dave. He sprang in front of me with a jump worthy of an Olympian. He flew past me and landed in the gravel. I only had a split second to think What the... before an incoming motion drew my attention to Henri. He ran straight at me, and my recent intense training with Uncle Mark kicked in. Colette’s training augmented it, but I was the wrong size so everything felt uncoordinated and awkward. I closed with Henri and yelled as I attempted to block his strike. I was technically successful. His knife didn’t hit me in the eye or throat. Instead, it drove deep within my forearm. I saw the point come out through the back in a spray of blood. I didn’t even feel it, so it didn’t slow me down. I yanked my arm back with a twist, trapping the blade between my radial and ulnar bones, and pulled him into me, while I drove my out-thrust elbow into his throat. He dropped the knife and his hands flew to his neck. His face opened wide in shock, as he went down.

  “Ow! Holy fuck that hurts.” moaned Dave from the ground. Jen was there next to him. I hadn’t seen her get there.

  I checked to make sure none of the others had broken free of my command yet and turned my attention to my friend. “What happened, Dave?”

  With Jen’s help, he rolled over showing bloody hands grasped around the spreading red stain oozing from his stomach. He made a jerking motion and came away with a scarlet throwing knife. More blood poured from the hole it left behind. I looked away only to see another river of blood flowing from the knife wound in my arm.

  Suddenly, terror hit me. Blood! Too much blood! I was standing in oceans of blood, the blood of loved ones. I was drowning in it. Panic and horror clamped around my limbs—I couldn’t move!

  Finn! Go! Shake it off! shouted Spring in a voice which echoed through my mind. Finn! Stop it!

  Suddenly my arm was on fire. A shot of incredible pain speared through me and broke me free of my crippling vision.

  I dropped to Dave’s side and pulled his hands away. He moaned and looked at the blood spilling out from the wound. “Goddammit, Finn. Ow!”

  I flashed on what had happened. Dave had seen Henri throwing a knife at me and had jumped between us to protect me. “What the fuck, Dave! You idiot, couldn’t you have just yelled ‘duck’ or something?”

  “Jesus, Finn! I was trying to catch it! Next time, remind me to just let you take the hit. Ow. Ow. Ow.”

  With only an instant’s hesitation, I plunged my hands into my friend’s blood one more time. I pushed my Sight into his wound and started exploding red blood cells to encourage clotting and supercharged the skin and muscle cells in that area. That’s as far as I got before a silver net of force landed on me and took me down to the ground.

  This was a variant of what Colette had done to me. I found myself helpless to move.

  Spring, get me up!

  My body pushed itself off the ground, and I stood up to meet the gaze of the one who threw it. It was Granny, and her strength dwarfed Colette’s. I was stronger, but I still couldn’t break free. I found myself meeting her eyes. They were a startling pale blue set into the face of an apple-core woman.
She was as wrinkled, wiry, and every bit as scary, as I remembered. Her eyes were wide with shock as she regarded me. People didn’t get out of her net—ever.

  Technically, I hadn’t either. She just hadn’t counted on there being two of us in this brain. My face spread into a taunting smile, and my index finger came up in wagging reproof. My mouth said in English, “Sloppy work, Granny.”

  That’s enough of that Spring. We’re not Dirty Harry. Let me talk, okay? We’ve got to be more diplomatic.

  The net around me fell to silvery motes of nothing and vanished. Granny must have dropped it when it didn’t seem to have any effect on me.

  Spring smirked in my mind.

  Granny said, “Give me the Iesu-sacrificium, beg for forgiveness from God, and I will let you leave here alive.”

  “Look,” I said desperately. “I don’t want to fight, but I can’t give you what you want. I need it. I promise, I won’t abuse it. Can’t we form an alliance? We both face the same enemy right now, and I know how ruthless he—it is. I can—”

  “There are no other arrangements possible, Mister Morgenstern. After what you have done, it is obvious that you are not fit to be a Bearer of the Cross.”

  My heart sank. She knew what had happened with Colette.

  “Give it to me, and beg for forgiveness for your sins before you are branded an enemy of God.”

  Despite my guilt, stated desire not to piss Granny off, and previously noted lack of strong belief in God, her questioning of my faith burned. “So you’re claiming to be God now? The purveyor of his mercy and executor of his justice?”

  “Of course not, and I will not tolerate your blasphemy. God has entrusted the Iesu-sacrificium to us. It is his will. To defy his will is to defy God.

  “You seem quite certain this is his will. Did God appear to you in a burning bush?” I clamped my mouth shut to avoid provoking her even more. Damn, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. This wasn’t me—ah shit! It was Colette—her influence—I hoped.

  “Do not mock our holy calling. This heavy burden was placed upon us by Jacques De Molay, last of the Knights Templar, as he sat in prison the day before he was burned alive. Ours is a faith and purpose spanning centuries, with a dedication that you could not possibly fathom.”