The Daughters of Eve Collection
Date: 2012-06-03 07:00:00+00:00
Description: 3 Full Length Romantic Suspense Novels Sin and Sacrifice Templar's Creed The Seven Seals Five sisters. One secret. An ancient order of Knights determined to acquire them at any cost. And one man hell bent on saving both. Evelyn Grant, along with her four sisters, have a secret. A secret the Knights Templar want for themselves. It all went back to the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Knowledge and Life. The Knights will do anything to exploit the girls and their access to that sacred place, but one man, government agent Rhett Nichols, is set to the task of saving the women from torture and even d
Publisher: Wildbloom Press

Daughters of Eve:

the

Collection
by

Danielle Bourdon

Published by: Wildbloom Press

Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved

Cover art Copyright © Danielle Bourdon

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

For my parents Tim, Kathy, Jerry and Felecia, who always show never ending support in my
writing endeavors.

I love you.

Table of Contents

Sin and Sacrifice

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Templar's Creed

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Seven Seals

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sin and Sacrifice

Chapter One

"He called you disobedient? Please." Evelyn scoffed and popped a grape in her mouth. "Did you whack him upside the head when he spit that blasphemy out?"

Genevieve, sitting close to the balcony rail with the glittering Mediterranean spread out behind her, laughed and set her glass of lemonade down.

"No, but I asked him if he was confused about his role in my life. Told him I wouldn't obey any man that wasn't my father, and, since this was only the fourth date, it probably wasn't going to work out,” she replied.

"What did he say to that?" Evelyn asked with a vast amount of amusement. Classically African, Genevieve had broad cheekbones, a high forehead, bow shaped mouth and a laid back, bohemian flair that attracted members of the opposite sex like bees to honey. The close crop of her dark hair accentuated her striking features and unusual, gray eyes.

Genevieve sat straighter in her chair and affected a studious frown. "You will make a difficult wife for any man. This is best ended."

“So you're not only disobedient, you're difficult and have an opinion. How dare you.” They both laughed. She and Genevieve shared a passion for independence. Snagging a tube of sunscreen out of the bag at her feet, she started slathering it on. The light, golden hue of her skin was prone to burn if she didn't protect it.

Across the round, wrought iron table, slouched into an unfeminine splay of knees and elbows, Alexandra snorted. Her fingers flew over the keys of the netbook perched in her lap. "Didn't take much to convince him. C'est la vie. Don't let the door hit'cha on the way out, bub.”

Genevieve laughed and flicked condensation drops from her glass at Alexandra. “You wouldn't say that to a guy you were about to dump.”

“Yes I would,” Alex argued. The tomboy shared a fiendish smile with them that spelled trouble and rebellion.

“You're incorrigible, Alex.” Evelyn, rubbing a small dab of sunscreen on her own nose, winked at the grinning Genevieve and pretended to give Alexandra a chiding look.

"Run, don't walk, from any man talking about marriage on the fourth date,” Minna, the oldest of the four with a hint of the orient in her eyes and bone structure, added her two cents. Skin clear of wrinkles or laugh lines, she actually appeared younger than the dark haired Alexandra.

"Hear, hear." Evelyn lifted her glass of raspberry lemonade.

Genevieve and Minna brought their drinks across the table to clink, toasting that particular bit of wisdom. They all tipped back a swallow at the same time. Alexandra was too busy with her netbook to bother.

“Alexandra, will you get your nose out of that computer for five minutes?" Evelyn said.

"I'm checking something."

"Checking what?" Evelyn asked. She arched a brow.

"This and that."

“That's a fabulous answer. You're always checking something." Evelyn glanced at Minna, who sat in the chair closest to Alexandra, and appealed for intervention with nothing more than a look.

Minna reached over and clapped the lid of the netbook closed.

"Hey! This is mutiny! I've already seen the water, Ev. And pretty much all of Athens, too." Alexandra slumped back in the chair, grinning despite her protests. She flicked the end of her dark ponytail over a shoulder and laced her fingers on her stomach. "Besides, we've been gossiping since breakfast."

"We're not gossiping," Evelyn scoffed. "We're catching up.”

“Well how much could have changed in the two days since we all left California and flew here?” Alex asked.

“Obviously, Genevieve isn't dating what's-his-name anymore. That's news worthy,” Evelyn retorted.

Minna and Genevieve watched the volley like a ping pong match.

“We coulda found that out at home though. Besides, we all knew Gen wasn't going to stay with that guy.” Alexandra lifted her chin.

“You didn't know that,” Evelyn argued.

“Did so. When I met him that night of their second date, he looked like he had a stick up his a--”

“Alexandra.” Evelyn eyed her sister, struggling not to laugh. None of the girls had liked Genevieve's last 'date'. He'd been too stiff, too serious. Too controlling. Genevieve's languid nature had clashed like oil and water with his stern, stilted view on life.

No one could say Gen hadn't tried.

Before Alexandra could veer the entire conversation out of control, Evelyn said, “Anyway. I was thinking that maybe we could all move back here.” She swept a hand out toward the sparkling Mediterranean.

They had a stunning view from their balcony. Cast in shade from the overhang, the four women who sat around the wrought iron table exchanged glances.

“Live in Greece?” Alex asked.

“Well, maybe not in Greece. Somewhere in Europe though. What do you think?” Evelyn had wanted to return to the womb of the world for longer than she cared to admit. Living in southern California had its purpose and its pleasures, but the twenty-eight years they'd spent on the west coast crawled by at a snail's pace. Centuries whipped by in the blink of an eye when she wasn't pining and homesick.

She glanced at each of her sisters in turn, gauging reaction. Alexandra wouldn't have a problem; Genevieve would think about it for a few minutes and agree, and Minna would predictably hesitate. Of all the siblings, Minna was the most cautious, the one who thought about every angle for days at a time before committing.

“I think it's a great idea,” Minna said.

Shocked, Evelyn stared at her.

“Pacific Palisades is nice enough, but I'm ready to move.” Minna took a drink of her lemonade.

“It's because she broke up with what's-his-name, Ev. We can't stay there too much longer anyway or people might start askin' questions. I'm in. I'll go where ever,” Alexandra retorted, fiddling with the smooth cover of the netbook. Loving little pets over the glossy surface.

Genevieve just smiled, teeth strikingly white against her mocha colored skin. “Let's make plans. We're all single right now, so it's a perfect time to pull roots and relocate.”

“Exactly,” Evelyn said. Excitement spiraled through her. That had gone much easier than she'd thought. “So the question becomes...where?”

England, France and Spain had already been their locale of choice when they'd moved here in previous years. Evelyn would live in any of those countries again in an instant. Each one held special memories during different points in history. She waited to see what places her sisters came up with before laying out suggestions of her own.

“Well, let's look it up,” Alexandra said with no small amount of glee. Only because it gave her an excuse to pop open the netbook and start typing in destinations.

“You're so transparent, Alex.” Evelyn traded knowing looks with Genevieve and Minna.

Alexandra just smiled while her fingers flew over the keys.

“Maybe one of the islands this time,” Genevieve said. “Get a place right on the beach.”

“Oh, nice, Gen,” Minna said. “Do you remember that time we stopped in Crete?”

“Of course we remember,” Alex said. “That was when Genevieve got drunk and--”

“If you love your little computer, you will not finish that sentence.” The languor that Genevieve delivered her threat with nevertheless had an instant impact.

Alexandra snickered, cleared her throat, and kept talking like there had been no interruption. Except any mention of drunken escapades were notably missing. “Crete was awesome. We had to all but drag Minna out of there.”

“Okay, put Crete on the list,” Evelyn said. She loved the island as well—loved all of Greece—which was why they were here on vacation. Antigua was the last island they had lived on. Five years of bliss in the late fifteen hundreds.

“What do you think Galiana's gonna say?” Alexandra asked without looking up from the netbook screen.

“As long as there's shopping, she won't care,” Genevieve said, drawing a laugh from the three other girls.

“That's the truth. Speaking of Galiana, where is she?” Evelyn glanced at the sliding glass doors leading inside their hotel suite. She couldn't quite see the clock from here and refused to wear a watch on vacation.

“Late, as usual.” Minna twisted around to follow Evelyn's gaze.

No Galiana in sight.

“If she wouldn't have missed the flight out of California to begin with--” Alex said.

“But I just need two more pairs of shorts!” Evelyn mimicked Galiana's voice in perfect imitation.

Genevieve laughed into her drink. Minna joined her.

“I'll check the flight schedule,” Alexandra said with a muffled snicker at the teasing. “Maybe her plane's delayed.”

“Let me go try and call her. If she's shopping at the airport I'll hurry her along.” Evelyn set down her glass and stood up. The situation was not unusual; Galiana, famous for keeping them waiting, rarely arrived anywhere on time. After retying the red sarong around her hips, she skirted the table, pushed back the clear glass door and stepped inside.

She's just delayed or distracted, Evelyn reassured herself, refusing to let paranoia take hold and steer her thoughts in directions she didn't want them to go.

***

The sight of the three women languishing in the shade on the balcony paused Evelyn at the door when she closed it. Genevieve, dark all over except for her gray eyes; Minna, slender and deceptively delicate; Alexandra, the rough-and-tumble little heathen with black hair halfway to her butt.

As different as night and day, the lot of them.

No one would ever guess they were all sisters. Born from the same womb.

Evelyn could see her own reflection in the glass; tawny hair streaked with auburn highlights, golden skin, hazel eyes. She'd always thought her patrician nose and oval shaped face rather plain. There wasn't a lick of resemblance between herself and the women she watched, which, she thought, worked in their favor.

She turned and skimmed a look through the living room for her cell phone. The Aphrodite Hotel's mini-suite was a study in pale décor and Spartan furnishings; white walls, white floors and couches of light, baby blue. Sparkling clean, with modern chairs and a glass coffee table, Evelyn thought the design almost clinical except for the plush quality of the pieces and the exotic, colorful paintings in gilt frames depicting famous scenes from Greek mythology.

Spying her phone on the end table, she went over and snatched it up. After pressing three on speed dial for Galiana, she brushed strands of hair away from her face and checked the status of her tan in an oval mirror. Using her thumb, she pulled the black string aside near her collarbone, exposing a paler swatch of skin amidst the golden color surrounding it. She was making impressive headway in the sunbathing department. The conspicuous shape of sunglasses surrounded her eyes and she made a mental note to leave them off the next time she basked in the sun lest she wind up resembling a raccoon.

"You've reached Galiana's voicemail," came her sister's voice down the line. "Leave a message at the beep!"

"Where are you, Galian--" She got cut off when the front door swooshed open.

Galiana stumbled in, dragging her luggage, blonde hair askew around her face. She knocked the door closed with the heel of a designer shoe and snapped the bolt into place.

“I made it!” she crowed. It always looked like a strong wind would blow the woman over.

Evelyn hung up the phone with an exaggerated sigh, hiding her relief behind a sudden smile. She met Galiana halfway and hugged her disheveled sister tight.

“Finally! That's what you get for missing your flight.” Leaning back, she gave her a quick once over; Galiana, the fairest and most fragile of the bunch, looked harried but happy.

“But I found the best sale at Saks, I swear...”

“Of course you did,” Genevieve said, coming in from outside. Alexandra and Minna followed. All three girls were dressed for a day lounging next to the Mediterranean; bathing suits, shorts, sarongs.

Galiana left her luggage right there and hugged each one with fervent affection.

There was a special bond between them all that was never more apparent than when they'd been apart for any length of time. And they had, at different stages of their lives. A situation they tried to avoid when they could. If Evelyn had been pressed to choose a sister she was closest to, she wouldn't have been able to with any accuracy. She loved each one with as much depth and devotion as the next. All of their relationships were different and unique, their interactions varied. But she didn't love one more than the other.

“We're all moving to Crete,” Alexandra announced. She wasn't as lavish with her hugs as the other girls, but they all knew it was just her way and had no bearing on her feelings. She just wasn't as girly as the rest of them.

“Excellent! When?” Galiana didn't even blink at the news.

“We have no idea. Sooner than later though, I'm guessing,” Alex said.

Evelyn laughed, relieved to have all her siblings present and accounted for.

They spent an hour getting Galiana settled in and her things put away. The blonde exclaimed over the suite and the view, which she took in with a deep breath of air and her arms thrown wide. Galiana might have been dainty, but she was expressive and dramatic and didn't care who knew it.

“By the way. We're going out to The Andromeda Chamber tonight,” Evelyn said, bringing Galiana a glass of water with two lemon slices floating in it. There had to be two, never three, never just one.

“I love that club!” Galiana took the glass and had a quick sip. “What time? I need to go have my hair and nails done.”

Alexandra, back at the balcony table with her netbook propped on her thighs, groaned.

“You should just buy a shop or whatever, G. You're at them all the time.”

“You could do with a facial and a manicure, Alexandra. Look at those fingernails.” Galiana shuddered. Alexandra's nails were bitten back, the cuticles untended.

Evelyn watched on, hiding a grin behind a drink from her refreshed lemonade. Alexandra and Galiana were the epitome of opposites. For as long as she could remember, the sisters had squabbled over grooming and fashion—or lack of Alexandra's interest in it.

“Over my dead body,” Alexandra quipped.

“Around nine?” Evelyn interrupted the banter, leaning against the rail. A cool breeze, the seasonal meltemi, made the dry, hot day bearable. It sifted through her hair, whipping the ends this way and that. Summer time in Greece was her favorite. She loved being here and loved being on vacation even more.

Galiana brushed a lock of hair away from her chin. The pale cloud always had an artfully disarrayed look to it. “Perfect. Gives me a little time to make a few more stops.”

“Shopping,” Alexandra said with a snort of disgust.

“I think you should let me pick your outfit tonight, Alex. Jeans and flannel won't go over at the Andromeda.”

“Galiana, I might not squeal over shirts and sales, but I don't wear flannel out to nightclubs.”

For two hours, Evelyn listened to the girls trade quips and flippant but teasing commentary, one upping each other with every volley. Minna and Genevieve lounged in the sun and Evelyn joined them, stretching out on a chaise. There were few things she loved more than basking in the heat. The scent of salt on the air was as relaxing as the rhythmic lap of water against the pristine shore.

Galiana took her leave before dusk set in with a promise to be back before they all departed.

Evelyn had her turn in the shower, choosing something flirty and fun to wear to the club. The skinny straps kept her cool and the sunset colors of the knee length dress looked good against her deepening tan. She choose sultry make up to highlight the color of her eyes and daubed lipstick with the dubious name of Plumpeii on her lips. She wasn't quite sure what plums had to do with Pompeii, but the hue went well with her skin and that was all that mattered.

At nine-thirty, when Galiana called to say she still wasn't done, they all decided to go on to the club without her. Evelyn didn't have the heart to be annoyed. If Galiana ever showed up on time for anything it would be nothing less than a miracle.

Taking a cab, the four sisters chattered about moving and houses all the way to the front doors of the Andromeda Chamber. The nightclub, with impressive columns, lush foliage, and blue lights shining up the facade of the stone exterior, had a tranquil aura despite the throb of music that made the walls shake. It wasn't hard to imagine mythical gods and goddesses moving through the carved tables, sitting in the plush chairs, or gliding over the dance floor that looked like a sheet of pale blue ice. Tiny white lights trickled down from the domed ceiling, resembling stars in the gloom.

Dancers writhed and gyrated through a thin fog that billowed lazily from jets rimming the floor.

Even though she was five-foot-ten, Evelyn felt short compared to Genevieve. Standing several inches over six-feet, her sister commanded attention with her exotic skin and strong bone structure. Alexandra, in charcoal suede and a silk top of blue, swaggered along like she didn't have a care in the world. Minna, mysterious and petite, had dressed in demure slacks and a stylish shirt of red with an oriental flare that fit her perfectly.

They chose to stand at a tall table and order drinks within close range of the dancers. Evelyn paid for the first round and declined two offers from men for a turn on the floor. Minna and Genevieve went out right away, leaving she and Alexandra to indulge in drinking and people watching. It was always easy for Evelyn to tell the tourists apart from the regulars; they stood around in small clusters, wide-eyed, heads tipped together to make gossiping easier. One or two snapped pictures.

Evelyn didn't consider herself a tourist just because she was on vacation here. This part of the world had been home for longer than it hadn't. In their much younger years, she and her sisters had traveled Europe extensively. Back then, there had been quite a few more siblings than there were now. A thought she turned her mind from lest it make her melancholy.

Alexandra, who always wore a watch wherever she went, checked the time when they ordered their second round. “Maybe you should call Galiana again. It's been like an hour and a half.”

“She'll be here. You know how she is,” Evelyn said.

“Well, yeah. But she's gonna miss the whole night.” Alexandra shook her hand so that the timepiece rolled down to cover the two small pinpricks on the inside of her wrist. Before watches had existed, Alexandra used a bracelet or band to hide the anomaly.

All of the sisters bore the same mark. To a casual observer, it resembled a snakebite. Evelyn kept hers obscured by a trio of thin, dangling bracelets. Only a keen eye would detect the black dots just below the heel of her hand. In this modern age, with so many millions of people on the earth, Evelyn wasn't quite as paranoid about someone seeing them as she used to be.

Another hour went by. Evelyn gave in and danced with a man who'd come back three times to ask. He was at least four inches shorter than her, on the thin side, with glasses that slid down his nose every three minutes or so. He had a kind smile and boogied with enthusiastic swings of his arms and dramatic pauses that made her want to laugh. She didn't in case she was supposed to find his jerky gyrating sexy instead of funny.

Back at the tall table after gently declining to give him her number, she indulged in another drink with her sisters. The easy mood and buzz from the alcohol made time go by quicker, especially when a few men joined them, hitting on the girls with blatant stares and boyish grins. The harmless fun ended when a sudden announcement for last call came over the speakers between songs.

Frowning, Alexandra glanced at her watch. “What the heck. It's one o'clock. Did anyone get a text from Galiana?”

The men wandered away when they realized none of the girls were going home with them. Evelyn dug her cell out of the pocket of her skirt. No messages.

Genevieve and Minna had none, either.

“Maybe she got back too late and fell asleep at the hotel,” Minna suggested.

“I'll go call her.” Evelyn worked her way through the crowd toward the restrooms. Decorated like the rest of the club, with pale blue walls and tiny lights hanging from the ceiling, the women's room boasted a separate vanity area that made it convenient to talk. The three other ladies present were all washing their hands and giggling drunkenly.

Evelyn found a quiet corner and dialed. Galiana's voice mail came on.

“Galiana, where are you? We've been waiting all night. I know you can't still be shopping. Either way, we'll be leaving for the hotel soon. A text would have been nice.” Scolding her wayward sister, Evelyn hung up. Galiana, notorious for neglecting to keep in touch like she should, left her sisters in a lurch more often than not. She was easily distracted from things like checking in.

When Evelyn got back to the table and announced the news, Alexandra rolled her eyes.

“She's takin' this shopping thing to a whole new level. You guys ready to go? They're closing in an hour anyway.”

One by one, the girls filed out into the balmy night. Evelyn had just enough to drink to make her tipsy but not drunk; one glance at her sisters told her that none of them had imbibed enough to make them sloppy and careless. She couldn't remember the last time the five of them had been blitzed in public. Caution ruled the day when it came to losing ones faculties outside the safety of home.

The concrete sidewalk led them past trimmed hedges and fountains carved in the shape of mythical Gods. Poseidon held his trident proud and tall next to Athena, while Zeus sat sprawled in a throne. No expense had been spared at the Andromeda Chamber.

Although Alexandra had called them a cab when she'd been in the bathroom, a brief survey of the parking lot to the side of the club showed the taxi hadn't arrived yet. Overhead, the inky sky above Athens glittered with a million stars and Evelyn whimsically tipped her face up to pick the constellations out. Genevieve, Minna and Alex loitered just behind her.

“I want to visit The First Cemetery tomorrow--” Alexandra's comment was cut off by a muffled scream.

Evelyn quit stargazing to snap a look around in confusion. The parking lot, while full of cars, seemed empty of people except them. Whoever hadn't already left the club probably wouldn't leave until it closed its doors in an hour. When she glanced at her sister's faces, she saw the same confusion there.

“Is that someone drunk and laughing?” Evelyn asked. Sometimes it was hard to tell one from the other when someone had that much to drink.

“I don't know. Sounded like they were scared. Kinda,” Alex said.

From around the far corner of the building, where the shadows were thicker, they heard it again. A scream, faint but fearful.

Genevieve frowned and only waited a moment before she started walking with determined strides for the back lot. Evelyn followed behind Alex and Minna, the latter of which had some serious kick ass abilities. If some drunk was pawing at a girl, Minna would be able to handle it with no problem. Her expertise in martial arts was impressive. Alex and Gen, while not experts in those arts, were still not to be trifled with. They had thousands of years to hone their skills and motivation in spades.

Evelyn didn't particularly like confrontation and liked weapons even less. She didn't hesitate to provide whatever aid she could though, even if it just ended up being a shoulder to cry on or assistance in calling the woman another cab.

Passing several cars and a gray van with heavily tinted windows, she rounded the corner on Alex's heels. A halo of illumination provided a cameo for the scene of horror that confronted them; the blade of a long, gleaming sword tacked Galiana to the wooden fence surrounding a dumpster. Pierced straight through the chest, feet suspended several inches off the ground, her body twitched through the last throes of life.

Evelyn processed what she saw in strange, strobe like glimpses; Galiana's chin sunk low, blood dripping off a pinky onto the ground, one shoe missing. The pale cloud of blonde hair, streaked with red, looked like someone had intentionally mussed and tangled it.

Shock severed Evelyn's ability to react as fast as Minna did. The diminutive woman rushed forward with Genevieve directly behind her and gave the sword a yank.

It didn't budge.

The entire situation seemed to take on an underwater quality for Evelyn, the noises of the night oddly distorted, the image of her dying sister flashing like still shots on a macabre slide show. Panting, she pressed a palm over her forehead. She couldn't think. Violence had always been her ultimate weakness. Face to face with it, she tended to freeze and her mind went blank. The irony was that she was a better shot with a gun than any of her sisters, able to consecutively hit her mark on a non-live target with eerie accuracy. Put into a real world situation, she couldn't hit the broad side of an elephant with a shotgun from twenty paces.

Alex understood her distress and pushed her the opposite direction of the gruesome scene.

“Go call for help,” Alex ordered, before rushing in to try and help Minna and Genevieve remove the sword from Galiana's chest.

The detailed hilt swam through Evelyn's vision while she tried to make her feet move. She knew that hilt. Had seen it before. Thick and heavy, with ornate carvings in gold on the edges. A Templar's sword.

Could it be anything else?

Behind her, the door to the gray van opened with a bang. The sound ricocheted through the parking lot. Evelyn whipped a startled look behind her in time to see five men pour out from inside.

Another barreled around the end of the dumpster, running full tilt. Steel glimmered under the moonlight from the sword he carried in his hand.

Evelyn screamed and dropped her purse, leaving her hands free to grapple with the hulking man in black who reached her first. Teeth and fists clenched, she swallowed down the bile that rose in the back of her throat and battered him with impotent blows against the head and chest. He felt like a brick wall.

Immovable. Indestructible. Just as Templar Knights were supposed to be.

Genevieve confronted two of the attackers while another two darted around them for Alexandra and Minna. A sickening crack split the night when Genevieve kicked the side of one man's knee, forcing him to the ground with a howl of pain. The other attacker drew a sword with a hiss of steel and pointed the tip right at Genevieve's neck, effectively stopping her assault in its tracks.

It was the last thing Evelyn saw before something dark got yanked over her head, blinding her. She fought harder and sucked in another breath to scream. The chop of someone's hand against her throat stopped it cold. She choked and gagged, tears streaming from her eyes at the pain.

“Keep your mouth closed, or I'll close it for you. Permanently,” a voice ground out near her ear.

He sounded vicious and cold as death.

Kicking wildly, she flailed, weakened by the vicious strike. Through the thick material of the hood, she heard Minna and Alex fighting for their lives. The men had the advantage in numbers and weapons.

Templars and their battle prowess with swords was legendary.

Hustled forward, she banged her knee against the metal of the van when the man tried to shoved her in. Hands wrenched behind her back, it was her chin that took the brunt of the fall. Impatient, he bodily lifted and tossed her inside, swarming in over her to secure her hands with plastic wrist cuffs.

Gasping and wheezing, feeling like her windpipe had been crushed, she struggled and tried to kick him. He felt like a giant anvil, pressing her down.

“Go, get out of here,” the man said to the driver. The van door cracked closed, shutting out any sounds of a struggle. The vehicle lurched into motion, tearing through the parking lot and out into the streets.

Her cheek banged against the hard floor and she whimpered past the excruciating fire in her throat.

She wondered if she and her sisters would share Galiana's fate. After years of evasion, their nightmare had finally caught up to them again. Evelyn was surprised the Templars hadn't tried to kill her already. Of course they wouldn't though. Not until they had a chance to interrogate her.

Evelyn knew what they wanted. Besides her death, she knew what they sought. The same thing they had probably tried, and failed, to glean from her sister. Grief over the loss of her beloved sibling overwhelmed her. Sweet Galiana, gone.

The van sped through the city, taking so many sharp turns that Evelyn lost count. She couldn't tell what direction they were headed in. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even scream. Had no way to fight the bastards back. She wondered if her sisters were being summarily captured and driven to different locations or if some of them had been slaughtered where they stood.

Unthinkable.

Ten minutes later, at least by her warped estimation, the van came to a stop. Drug from the hard metal floor by her arms, she staggered onto the pavement, blind, mentally protesting the rough handling of her captor. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost a shoe. She staggered beside the Knight with a strange, hitching gait. Like a bug with a leg torn off. Dragging, scrambling, shuddering from one place to the next. He moved too fast for her to easily keep up.

A door creaked open and closed behind them. Footsteps, three pair besides her own, followed in their wake. They traded gruff whispers that she couldn't make out. Another door, a set of stairs leading down. Treacherous and steep, she pitched forward several times, saved by the grueling wrench of the man's hand on her elbow.

At the bottom, she sensed they were in a corridor below ground; their steps echoed off the walls and it was colder here than it had been outside. A confusing maze of twists ended when he pushed her across the threshold into a room. Fear took hold and she wrenched against his grip with a violent yank, using the foot with a stiletto still on to try and punch a hole through his shin.

Her scream got cut off when a sharp blow to her head made the whole world go black.

Chapter Two

The rough material of her hood made it impossible to see when she surfaced from oblivion and tried to open her eyes. Abrasive and scratchy, the cloth made the skin of her cheeks and neck itch. There was an odd smell every time she breathed.

Old, stale. A little like smoke.

Slumped on a hard metal chair, she inched her posture into a straighter line. As the cobwebs started to clear, she realized her hands were still bound at the wrist and resting in her lap. The tingling in her feet felt like a thousand ants swarming over her skin. Through her toes, around the bones of her ankles. There didn't appear to be any rope securing her legs.

Silence, the kind found in crypts and graveyards, surrounded her. The oppressive weight of thick stone walls and a heavy ceiling felt cloying and confining. Enclosed spaces and Evelyn had never been good companions.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been out, or where her captors were. Her throat felt like it was packed with slivers of glass. Every time she swallowed it brought tears to her eyes. A throbbing pain made itself known on the back of her head. Pieces of memory came back one at a time, linked together in a haphazard string.

The club. Her sisters. Galiana.

Galiana. A small, choked sound of grief bubbled from dry lips.

“She's awake. Bring him in.”

Startled by a gruff, deep voice, she stilled.

“Who's there?” Evelyn wanted to weep at the pain speaking caused.

A door, the hinges creaking and squeaking, opened. Footsteps led away, receding into the distance.

“Hello?” She tried again, testing the binds on her wrists. The plastic had been replaced by rope. It didn't give an inch.

She received no answer.

“I demand to know why I'm being held.” To her own ears, she sounded less forceful than she'd intended. Of all the survival instincts kicking in the hardest, denial of who and what she was lurked at the top of the list. If she feigned ignorance, insisted she was only a normal, mortal woman that they'd mistakenly kidnapped, maybe they would eventually let her go.

Still no answer.

The door opened again and two sets of footsteps returned. Sensing someone approach, she recoiled, drawing her head and shoulders back. A suffocating, cloistered feeling made the hair on her nape stand on end. Whoever it was stood right in front of her. Looming.

“It has taken us a very long time to find you. Unfortunately, we had to kill your sister. The annoying little blonde. I hope her example inspires you to be more cooperative than she was,” he said.

Evelyn couldn't place the voice. Male, deep and smooth with a hint of Italian accent. She tried not to have any outward reaction to the baiting he did with Galiana.

“I don't know what you're talking about. I have no sisters.” Years of effortless lies made her reply sound sincere.

“Come now. We know what you are. We know who she was,” he said with a cajoling lilt. A feverish, fanatical quality tempered the way he presented his information.

“What I am?” She injected confusion into her own question to make him think she didn't understand.

Unprepared for the blow to her cheek, she cried out, head snapping to the side. Blood filled her mouth and trickled down her chin under the hood. For a few terrifying moments, she feared she would choke on her own blood. Her throat felt that swollen.

“How many of you are left?” he asked.

Evelyn coughed, fighting through a stunned haze to concentrate. “I don't have any sisters,” she repeated, bracing for another blow. Her back stiffened and her shoulders grew taut.

“Really. Then who were the women with you outside the club? The ones who fought back and escaped?”

When he didn't immediately strike her, she eased in her seat. Not for a second did she think the danger was past. She hid her relief to know that her sisters escaped. “Just friends.”

“Friends who all bear the mark of the serpent?” With a quick, harsh yank, he snared her hands and lifted them like she might be able to see the small, black dots on the inside of her left wrist.

The mark of the serpent. It was the first time she'd ever heard them refer to the marks like that. Evelyn wondered if the Templars knew what it meant.

“That's an...old wound.” Denial felt like the only advantage she had at the moment, if she could even consider it an advantage.

“An old wound that happens to be the same one the blonde had on the inside of her wrist. Do not lie to me!” He grabbed the back of the hood along with a fistful of hair and yanked her head back.

She yelped in surprise. Evelyn wanted to shrink away from his obvious hatred. This time, when he spoke, she could smell his breath through the cloth. An odd mix of liquor and mint.

“It is a mark of evil, and you, like the rest of your sisters, will be eradicated from the face of the earth.”

“A mark of evil?” She didn't know what else to say except to echo him.

“From the serpent in the Garden of Eden. What a clever way for satan to spread the disease of corruption through millennium. One bite and you're tainted forever, blessed with immortality to do his bidding and cast the seed of evil far and wide. Clever, but not clever enough.”

With righteous fervor, the Templar answered questions that had plagued Evelyn and her sisters for thousands of years. The 'snakebite' had been completely misconstrued and misunderstood by the Knights, used as a catalyst for the daughters own destruction, all probably under the assumption that the Templars would be saving the world. If she looked at the situation obliquely, she could almost see how they had come to their wrong conclusion. Unbeknownst to the Knights, their conjecture couldn't be further from the truth.

And she couldn't simply explain that the marks were reminders not to make the same mistakes once made by their parents; that meant admitting who she was, and what she was, and Evelyn was certain in that moment that the Templars wouldn't believe a word she said. They had subsisted for centuries believing and nurturing ideals of defeating evil, a noble cause, surely, and any argument from her wasn't likely to change that. All she had were vehement denials and urgent pleas of innocence.

“I don't know what you're talking about. I really don't.” In her distress, she choked on the words. Fear made her skin prickle. Sweat slid down from her hairline and over the bone of her jaw.

“I expected no less from a daughter of Eve. Nothing but lies. I can do this for longer than you, I promise. And the rest of it will not be as pleasant.” The hissing threat ended with a jerk of his fist in the hood and her hair. Then he released her.

Evelyn gasped, gagging on blood. She pushed the mouthful out over her lips rather than try to swallow it down.

Another pair of footsteps approached.

The muscles of her thighs tightened in anticipation of more violence, teeth clenching so hard her jaw ached. Her hands were picked up again and a pinky held in the vise of the man's fingers.

Instinctively, she tried to pull it out of his tight grasp. From behind, a second man reached over and braced her arm so the first could position something at the edge of her short nail.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me how many of you are left,” the man in front of her said.

“Please, listen to me. I'm not whoever you think I am--” The dry state of her throat put a rasp on her words.

Without further warning, something thin and sharp slid under the nail of her pinky finger. She screamed, the sound rebounding off the walls. Part of the hood sank into her mouth when she sucked in another breath, cutting off a second scream. The sense of suffocation made her gag and twist in the seat. Anchored in place by both men, she arched in reaction to the burning pain shooting along her arm and into her elbow. It radiated out in waves, causing nausea to roll through her stomach. Dizzy, suffering from fear and claustrophobia, Evelyn tried again to get them to believe her.

“I don't have any sisters. It's just me. My dad never remarried after my mom died. I swear.” She hated how the words clattered and shook when she spoke.

The first man, the one doing the torture, moved on to her ring finger. He held it trapped and pressed the tip of the sharp thing against her skin. Just enough to let her know it was there.

Evelyn swallowed. She needed water. Air. Space.

“How. Many. Of. You. Are. There?” He enunciated each word.

She knew in that moment that this was going to go on and on until she either passed out or died. Each finger, each hand, moving from this to battery to body part removal. Or something equally horrible. They weren't going to stop, and she wasn't going to give in. The Knights felt justified forcing confession from her, perhaps even felt justified with their torture.

Eradicating evil, as he'd put it, was serious business.

Faking unconsciousness wouldn't hold up under the pressure of their interrogation. A stab of an instrument in the right place would provide a telling reaction.

All she could do was endure until she slipped into unconsciousness for real.

***

To Evelyn's horror, she discovered they were adept at keeping her awake. Of bringing her back from the blessed brink of blackness that was her only escape. They used water and smelling salts to revive her, relentless in their pursuit of the truth. Relentless in their pursuit to break her.

Evelyn couldn't break. Wouldn't subject her sisters to this even if it meant her own death.

Soon, she knew, it would come to that.

Sometime during the following day, when she was rigid with pain and screaming the walls down, she felt the blackness swoop in and claim her. Time meant nothing in her dark world of flitting nightmares and hazy returns to consciousness. She couldn't focus on faces or voices or commands that they barked near her ears.

It was all distant. Dreamlike. Not a part of her reality. Once, after they'd removed the scratchy hood, she thought she glimpsed the tattoo of an iron cross between the shoulder blades of a Templar.

They all had them. Their own mark. A brand of power and loyalty.

The strong scent of urine and the taste of old blood in her mouth finally woke her. Someone trickled water past her lips. She could taste it mingling with the blood. Men moving forward and back through the room were blurry for long minutes until she squinted and brought them into focus. Four of them, all built like the warriors they were. Thick chested, broad shouldered, lean hipped. Dressed in casual, everyday clothes instead of white robes and red crosses.

But they were Templars, every one of them. Men with sharp, assessing eyes and grim expressions. Hands that had delivered more pain in a day than most people suffered in a lifetime.

Evelyn tried to assess the damage to her person; bloodied, abused fingers, a menagerie of burns, bruises and bumps and a raw split in her lip. Nothing felt broken. Fear crept through her system when she realized that if they didn't kill her soon, they would start to recognize the way her body healed the superficial injuries.

By tomorrow all the open wounds would be closed. The day after that, the burns would be just blushes and rosettes on her skin. Any fractures she might have suffered would be correctly healed. And on day three, there would be no sign of abuse at all. These were gifts from eating fruit off the Tree of Life. It was part of their immortality, what set them apart from the rest of humanity. Genevieve, Alexandra and Minna all had the same gift, given before they were cast out from Eden.

The dehydration she could do nothing about, and it would eventually kill her if they didn't continue to give her water. Healing ability aside, she could die like anyone else under the right circumstances. If she suffered mortal wounds or denied what the body needed to function (food, water, air), she would perish.

One of the men, her main torturer she presumed, broke off from where he murmured with the other three and approached. In his hand, he had a rolled up piece of parchment that he unfurled when he stopped before the chair. It was thicker and more pliable than modern paper with crinkles through the surface and faded drawings that looked like crude maps. She glanced up from the paper to the man's face. Hard, cold eyes. Tight, displeased mouth. Deep lines across weathered skin.

“We will start again. This time, you will correct the mistakes on this map. After that, you will tell me how many of you remain.”

For a crazy moment, Evelyn wanted to scream. She wanted to rail and rant at this man for answers she could never give him.

Because she knew what that map led to, or where it was supposed to lead, and she wouldn't give up the location anymore than she would give up her sisters.

Day one had been almost more than she could bear. What pain would he bring for day two? She swallowed past the dryness in her throat and said nothing.

“So be it,” he said, retreating to a tray of implements that he rolled closer to her chair.

She got a glimpse of sharp, shiny instruments and other, less familiar objects that looked old and frightening. Her mind conjured images and ideas in a rapid slideshow that left her weak and terrified.

“I can't tell you what I don't know.” Her meek lie was met with a vicious backhand. Fresh blood pooled under her tongue. For a moment, her world was nothing but white noise.

“Today, you will tell me or you will start losing pieces of yourself faster than you can count them.” He snatched a scalpel off the tray with a menacing gleam in his eyes.

“I told you I don't know. I don't know!”

Snaring her under the chin with one hand, he brought the scalpel right to the edge of her eye. “You didn't even blink at the map, which means you know exactly what it is and where it leads. Tell me. Tell me where to find Eden or I will carve out your eye, so help me.”

Chapter Three

With a sudden, violent crash, the door to the chamber burst open. The blade nicked the skin of her brow when the Templar spun around in surprise. Furious shouts and commands overlapped each other.

“Get on your knees!”

“Put the gun down!”

“Drop it—now!”

“I said, on your knees.”

Evelyn twisted her wrists to try and loosen the ropes. She didn't know what was going on, but she wouldn't waste the opportunity to get her hands free. Dizzy and weak, the task proved difficult. The bonds were too tight.

“Don't make me tell you again.”

The Knights, surly and growling, got on their knees.

It gave Evelyn a glimpse of the man who'd burst onto the scene. Over the heads of the Templars, she made sudden eye contact with a man taller than any of those in the room—which was saying something—and just as broad. Evelyn's first impression of him was a shocking one. He had a lion's mane of sandy blonde hair to his shoulders, a chiseled jaw, and the palest green eyes she'd ever seen. When he turned them on her, they were sharp and intense. Assessing. Dressed all in black, with a long sleeved shirt that fit high on the throat and snug across his torso, he made an imposing figure that she found it impossible to look away from.

“Move it or we're both dead.” He gestured to her with the hand not holding the gun. Get up. Come here. Hurry.

She heard the unvoiced commands as clearly as if he'd said them aloud and lurched to her feet. Sometime between yesterday and now, she'd lost her other shoe. Barefoot, she shuffled around the kneeling Knights, leaving a wide berth between them, and made for the door.

“Stay close,” he ordered when she was within reach. Sliding a hand around her upper arm, he escorted her out of the room with his gun leveled at the Knights, and then down the dark corridor. Like he expected there might be others.

There probably were. Evelyn suspected the numbers of the Templars ranked into the hundreds, at least. She stumbled once and he caught her against his side, letting her use his body to lean on. Over a thin layer of material, she felt the strain and flex of honed, hard sinew. Weakness and dizziness came in violent waves that she battled with every step.

“You! Stop!”

At the juncture of another corridor, someone called out from the far end.

The man at her side didn't even pause. He fired into the darkness and hustled her the other way with haste. Up a stairwell that she remembered coming down. Through a door he kicked open with a boot. Out into the night that disoriented her as much as the confusing hallways had. She couldn't get her bearings and had no time to.

He ushered her by the arm toward a car waiting at the curb, letting her go at the last second to open the door. “Get in.”

Evelyn had no choice but to do what he asked. With pain screaming along her nerve endings she slid into the passenger seat. Out her window, she could make out the rising spire of what appeared to be a church. The stone walls were inset with arching panes of stained glass, the details lost with the darkness. The Knights had been keeping her in the basement or some other subterranean room. So far, none of them had burst out from the door to give chase.

After he got in, she glanced across the car. “Where are we going? Who are you?”

“Let me get us somewhere safe, and I'll explain.”

Whoever he was, he had a pleasant, sandpapery voice and an efficient, no nonsense manner that made her want to trust him. Like he could handle anything and everything that came their way. Evelyn wasn't used to trusting anyone but her sisters and cautioned herself against her own instinct.

He set the gun on the console between them, started the engine, and reached over to fasten her seat belt. A moment later he pulled a knife from under his seat. It flashed sharp and silver and scared her half to death. Even as she twitched in shock he sliced through her binds and retreated. The blade disappeared with a sleight of hand move too fast to follow. He gave her a look that seemed to chide her for thinking he meant her harm after saving her.

Then he pulled the car into traffic. Black and sleek, the vehicle smelled new, a little like pine, and handled like a dream. When he took the corners too fast it hugged the road, growling like a panther after its prey.

Assaulted by his presence and the distinct, masculine scent that clung to his skin, she peeled the ropes off her red wrists and let them fall to the floor.

“How did you know where to find me?” She couldn't help herself. The questions came unbidden.

“Can you just...give me a minute? You'll get your answers soon enough.” He glanced at her with mild impatience and took the next curve with a screech of tires, seeming to know his way through the streets of Athens without needing to consult a map. “You look like hell.”

His blunt assessment would have struck her funny any other time. Just then, her warm, fuzzy feeling of safety and assurance was overridden by waspish irritation. “I was kidnapped and tortured. I'm pretty sure I have the right to look like hell.”

“Do you have any idea why they kidnapped you?”

“I thought you couldn't answer questions right now?”

His sudden smile was all teeth. Checking the rearview and side mirrors with obsessive repetition, he said, “I'm not answering. I'm asking.”

Evelyn exhaled loudly. “I have no idea--”

“Wait.”

“I just thought you said you--”

“Hold on.”

Evelyn saw that he wasn't referring to the awkward question and non-answer session but the light that had just turned red ahead. She pressed back in the seat in reaction, feet jamming down to the floorboards, hands flying out to the door and his arm. It was the first thing in reach to her left. Pain shot in several directions from the sudden contact with her damaged fingers.

He shot into the intersection doing about fifty.

Evelyn saw a flare of headlights coming from his side and was sure they were about to be broadsided. Probably flipped. She tried to scream and couldn't. Tires screeched, horns blared. By some miracle the two cars hurtling into the intersection at the same time missed them, spinning wild circles in the red wash of their taillights.

Evelyn glared at him.

“Are you trying to get us killed?”

“We're being followed. I had to push it. Will you let go of my arm?”

She snatched her hand away from his biceps and twisted around in the seat. Behind them, a tangle of cars blocked the thoroughfare. “How do you know for sure we're being followed?”

“Just trust me. They're back there.” He stomped the gas coming out of another turn and sped through a residential area.

“I think you should take me to the U.S. Embassy. They can help me.” She put her hands in her lap and faced forward. Bringing herself under the direct scrutiny of the officials there wasn't ideal, but it was better than being hunted for the rest of the night.

“Lady, I am the government. We'll be at the safe house in ten minutes.”

Shocked, Evelyn glanced at him. He didn't look like any government official she'd ever seen. His hair was too long and his clothes were wrong. Didn't they wear suits? And how had he known about her down in the Templar's lair? Just what was a US government agent doing working in Athens?

A plethora of silent questions kept her busy until he swerved them them into a short drive that led to the back of a whitewashed building. Two story, with dark windows and open shutters, the house looked like an upscale residence in a long row of them.

Using a remote attached to the visor, he opened the garage door. After it rolled up, he pulled the car inside. With a low drone and clink of chain, it closed once more.

He came around to open her door before she even had the seat belt off. It was a struggle with her abused, sore fingertips to undo the buckle. She needed a phone to try and get in touch with her sisters. Or a computer to check their private email account. Maybe there was a message waiting.

“Thanks.” Repulsed by the fetid stench of her own clothes, she winced and got out of the car. She'd probably ruined his seats. Evelyn felt like a homeless person, shoeless and grimy, hair a tangled mess. The concrete was cold under her bare feet.

“Don't worry about it.” He led her across the spacious garage to a door that he unlocked with a key he took from over the frame and went in first.

“Stay here until I secure both floors.”

“I thought you said this was a 'safe house'?” she whispered.

After a quelling, silent look over his shoulder, he paced away into the shadows. Gun drawn, he kept the muzzle pointed toward the ceiling. He disappeared around a corner, gone from sight.

Evelyn waited there, too wary to defy him and go marching through the residence to find a restroom. From the small niche near the open door, she could see the edge of the kitchen and half of a dining room. Distant nightlights penetrated the gloom, casting vague circles of light over the tiled floor. Evelyn couldn't hear the agent moving around no matter how hard she listened. It was eerie. He loomed out of the shadows a few seconds later, startling her.

“It's clear. Why don't you go clean up. I know there are extra clothes in the closets upstairs so help yourself.” He reached past her to close the door and snapped the bolt home.

Evelyn had her first uneasy moment. Government agent or not, they were alone in a strange place, on a strange night, with her fresh from kidnapping and torture. That he'd rescued her from it made little difference. Earlier in the car they'd been on the move with several options at their disposal. Now there was a silent, empty house and...him.

He arched a brow at the delay, silently asking her if there was a problem. This close, she could see the small scar at the edge of his left eyebrow and the beginning shadow of whiskers on his jaw.

“I don't even know your name. Can I see your credentials?” She felt a little ridiculous. What woman wouldn't at least ask to see them after what she'd been through, she argued with herself.

“Rhett.” From the back pocket of his black jeans, he pulled a wallet and flipped it open. On one side was a gold badge with CIA Special Agent stamped on the front. A card decorated the other. Rhett Nichols, Central Intelligence Agency.

“Rh-ett?” She broke the syllable in half with an astonished laugh and examined the proof of his employment.

“Is there something wrong with it?” A stern frown creased his forehead. Closing the wallet with a snap, he pushed it back into his pocket.

“I—no. You just don't look like a Rhett.”

“What do Rhetts look like?” He shifted his stance, putting more weight onto one leg than the other, gun pointed down against the outside of his thigh.

“It just doesn't fit you. Not really.”

“Yes, because you've figured out everything about me after the whole twenty minutes we've known each other,” he said with a caustic snort.

“You remind me of a Jeremy or a John or something.” She couldn't explain why Rhett didn't seem to fit him. It just didn't.

“Well it's Rhett. Or Mister Nichols, if you prefer to stand on ceremony. What's yours?”

“Evelyn.”

“Evelyn what?”

“Evelyn Grant.”

“Nice. A grandmother's name.”

All her ill subdued humor fled in favor of an inglorious, indignant snort. She drew her posture straighter though it cost her in pain. “It's not a grandmother's name. It's...”

“Dated. Overused. Brings to mind gray helmet hair and--”

“I do not have helmet hair!”

“No, you have a rat's nest,” he said, staring at her hair.

Self conscious, she lifted a hand and smoothed a palm over the disheveled mess. Dry, matted blood covered the tender lump where the Knight had pistol whipped her. If she was honest, helmet hair would have been an improvement. Combined with her wrecked dress, grimy skin and multitude of bruises, she knew she looked a fright.

“Ugh.” Using Alexandra's inelegant grunt as dismissal of the subject, she stepped around him and stalked deeper into the house. Evelyn knew, knew that if she turned around, she'd find him grinning. He'd effectively turned the tables and given her a taste of her own medicine.

The hallway broke open into a large, airy kitchen connected to an equally airy living room. Enormous floor to ceiling windows lined the whole front wall; beyond, the Mediterranean glittered where moonlight reflected off the surface. She thought the view must be spectacular during the daytime. Furniture, in shades of cocoa, cream and deep red, looked new and clean.

A broad staircase led up to the second floor and, suddenly weary, she trudged up them. Each of the four bedrooms had its own bathroom, large beds and simplistic décor that complimented the classic design.

Picking one with a baby blue and cream theme, she examined the clothes in the closet, finding a surprisingly large selection of sizes and styles. She guessed they never knew whether they were bringing in men or women or whole families and tried to supply something for everyone. There were even two board games on the top shelf next to a doll and a Nerf football.

Something soft and gauzy in a shade of barely-there pink drew her fingers to the hanger. The dress reminded her of something Galiana might wear. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks while she let the material slide over her knuckles. Grief took up residence in her chest, a great monster of emotion she was forced to subdue. If she allowed it to overwhelm her, she wouldn't be able to function.

Too nervous to linger long in the shower, she washed away the grime of captivity with strawberry scented soap and stepped out four minutes later feeling like a new person. Considering her injuries and wounds, that was an achievement.

Finding an extra wastebasket liner under the sink, she put the wad of ruined clothes inside and tied off the top to keep the smell contained. Drawing on a pair of jeans that almost fit and a cap sleeved shirt the color of plums, she faced the foggy mirror and used the side of her hand to smudge a swath to see by.

Her face was an atrocious mess. One side looked lumpy and purple. A split that felt as wide as the grand canyon in her lower lip bled off and on around a scab. She tongued it and winced. The ends of her fingers looked like raw meat and burned even when she wasn't touching them. Red rings circled her wrists from the scratchy rope and hand-print bruises marched up her arms.

Tomorrow there would be notable improvements. She wondered how to hide them from Rhett. Maybe she wouldn't be in his company then, and it wouldn't matter.

Drawing on a pair of tennis shoes that were a little snug for her liking, she left the bedroom and went downstairs.

***

Rhett stood in front of the tall windows, hand on his hip, a phone at his ear.

What a strange situation Evelyn found herself in. Did she stay? Go? It wasn't like he was keeping her prisoner here. On the other hand, government agents usually had connections and he might be able to get her and her sisters—if they were still alive—out of the country faster if they thought they were in danger. It didn't hurt to have an extra pair of eyes and ears working on her behalf for the night, either.

“Just find out what you can. All right.” He snapped the phone closed and turned to face her. “Feeling better? There's coffee or tea if you want some.”

Evelyn stood at the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. The addition of a shoulder holster and another gun kept her attention on his torso even after he asked his question. He looked ready for action. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or unnerved. At least her mood had improved and she replied without sounding annoyed.

“I can't stand tea, but coffee sounds divine. I'll make it.” Evelyn, far from helpless, wanted to be busy. Stepping behind the counter, she fished around for supplies, taking care not to bump her hands. “And you can tell me how you found me while I do it.”

“We were staking out another situation, actually, when my partner and I heard screaming further along the parking lot,” he said, coming into the kitchen.

“So you were there by accident?” She fumbled the box of instant coffee when he invaded her personal space and plucked up one of her hands.

“A stakeout isn't an accident. We just weren't there for you.” He assessed the wounds to the ends of her fingers like a field doctor. Clinical and experienced.

“If you were already in the parking lot, then how did they get away with me?” She had to set down the instant coffee and fill a mug all with her other hand. “What are you doing?”

“Well, since I didn't see the whole thing, I can't answer that. What we saw from our vantage was what looked like a kidnapping in progress, so we ran back to get our car. I managed to get the numbers off the plates of the van before we lost it. We tracked it down and discovered where they were keeping you.” He let go and cupped her chin, turning it an inch one way and an inch the other. Looking right at her mouth.

Evelyn, disconcerted by the warmth of his skin and his size, sloshed water onto the counter. She managed to get the mug into the microwave and remove her chin from his grip. “But if you knew they'd kidnapped me, then why didn't you arrest them? We wouldn't be on the run right now—do you mind? My lip is fine.”

“Because, Miss Grant, we didn't get the information until right before I grabbed you. I was alone, we didn't know how many of them there were, or even who they were, or what kind of weapons they might have. I heard shouting and didn't want to wait to extract you. Might have been too late if we'd pulled back and come in a few hours later, armed with warrants.” He spoke matter-of-factly, and added, “It's bleeding.”

Evelyn didn't want to think what shape she might be in if they'd waited. Her initial disappointment in what she considered a flaw in their strategy vanished. Desperate for information about her sisters, and to distract him from his concern over her well being, she asked, “I'll live. What about...the girl they killed?”

Rhett arched his brows. He leaned against the counter right next to her and crossed his arms over his chest. “We're trying to identify her. She didn't have any identification at the scene, although we did find a small purse that apparently belonged to you.”

Discussing Galiana's death was surreal. Unbelievable. Painful. After adding a scoop of hazelnut crystals, she stirred and took a cautious sip to steady herself. “She was a friend of mine. Galiana Jenkins. We were supposed to meet her there but she never showed up.” As an afterthought, she added, “I'd really like my things back.”

“Sure, sure. You'll get your belongings. Who is 'we'?”

“My other friends and I. We all met here to vacation together. I'm not sure what happened to the other three.” Evelyn watched his expression to see if he knew more than he was telling about the fate of her sisters. He looked perplexed.

“There weren't any other bodies. Forensics hasn't come back with the results of the blood we found yet, so we won't know if it's all Miss Jenkins or not. How many of you were there?” Leaning up, he scratched at the vague layer of whiskers on his jaw.

“Four, not including Galiana.” Evelyn watched his hand instead of his eyes.

“I'll see what else I can find out. Did they say what they wanted with you?”

“Not really. They thought I was someone else.”

“Who?”

“Someone with sisters. I don't have any.” Evelyn tread carefully, sipping at the coffee between answers to buy herself time to think.

“Did they say any names, specifically?”

“No. He just kept saying he knew who I was and that he wanted to know where my sisters were.”

“Do you think they planned to kill you?”

The cup rattled against the counter when she set it down. She couldn't meet his eyes. Most of what she'd told him was truth, with a lot of other detail omitted.

“Yes. What do we do now? I mean, what's the plan? Do you even have jurisdiction here?”

“I think we sit tight until some results and information start rolling in. We're trying to find out who they are. You can try calling your friends to see if they're okay or whether we need to be looking for more missing persons. Don't worry about jurisdiction—we have special clearance to be working here.”

She wasn't used to leaning on other people in times of crisis. Usually it was just she and her sisters, dealing with the fallout. Evelyn didn't know whether to walk out on Rhett Nichols or stay here until she knew what was going on. The benefits of staying, for now, outweighed her going it alone. He had weapons, seemed capable, and was trying to help her find her siblings. Sometime soon, she was going to pass out from sheer exhaustion whether she wanted to or not and the thought of doing that with no one to watch over her unnerved her.

The very last thing she wanted to do was wind up back in the hands of the Templars.

“Okay. Can I borrow your phone? I'll try and get in touch with my friends.” She set down the coffee when he dug the phone out of his pocket and offered it over. Their hands brushed when she took it. Evelyn smiled her thanks and stepped away toward the tall, broad windows. Being a government agent, he could very easily have her calls traced, and giving him access to her sister's phone numbers was dangerous. But she also knew that he could find them just as easy with a simple search once he had their names, and in her mind, it was more important to try and make contact than not.

On every try, she got answering machines. Genevieve, Minna, Alexandra. They could have lost their phones, like she had. Alexandra didn't always carry it with her when they went out. The ominous whisper in her ear that something more sinister happened forced Evelyn to consider leaving them messages even if she didn't want them contacting Rhett without her knowledge. There were too many secrets to keep.

“I'm not reaching any of them. Do you think we can get our luggage from the hotel we were staying at? I know one of them left her phone behind that night.” Evelyn decided not to leave any voicemail. She laid his cell next to his elbow and dumped the remains of the coffee in the sink, not as thirsty for it as she'd thought. Her lip throbbed, exacerbated every time she set the rim of the cup there. The steamy brew wasn't worth irritating her wound.

“Yeah, but I think you should give me the information and let us retrieve it. Whoever these people are, they might be watching your room. In fact, I'd count on it.” He pushed his hands into his pockets, looking thoughtful.

“The sooner the better then. At least I'll have my own clothes.” What she wanted was Alexandra's netbook. If the girls were safe, they would leave emails with a private account they had set up for this very reason.

On the counter she found a small pad and a pen. With quick strokes in slanting script, she wrote down the pertinent details: Aphrodite Hotel. Evelyn Grant. Room 220.

“We'll have it by morning. Maybe you should try and get some rest.”

“I think I will.” Leaving the pad on the counter, she straightened and made eye contact with him. After a brief hesitation, she added, “Thanks for your help, Mister Nichols.”

“Just doing my job. You're welcome.” He nodded once, never looking away from her face.

His intensity made her skin prickle.

Bone weary, Evelyn trudged up the stairs. Entering the gloomy bedroom she'd chosen for her own, she questioned again the wisdom of spending a night in a strange house, in a strange bed, with a strange man playing guardian below. What did she really know about Rhett Nichols anyway, besides that he was a government agent who happened to be in the right place at the right time?

Not much.

Not much at all.

Except that he had risked his life to extricate her from that subterranean hell. Any normal person in her position would likely cling to whatever kind of help they could get. How suspicious would it seem if she kept trying to deflect him? Probably suspicious enough to make him start digging deeper.

Alexandra, talented in the hacking department, could only cover their tracks so far. A determined person, with the right access, would start to uncover anomalies with enough research.

Ten minutes after stretching out on the bed, fully clothed, she went out like a light.

***

The firm pressure of a hand over her mouth jerked Evelyn awake. A body loomed above her, so close she could feel its breath on her cheek. Slow to adjust to the pitch black state of the bedroom, Evelyn couldn't see who it was. It didn't matter; she struck out with a fist and twisted under the hulking shadow. The blow glanced off a muscled shoulder.

Somehow, the Templars had found her. Fear licked sharp and hot along her spine.

“Shhh. Miss Grant. It's me.” Rhett used his body to pin her to the mattress. Strong, firm, but not rough. He whispered, “Someone's in the house.”

Sudden understanding replaced the fight or flight instinct; he was there to help her. She stilled, fingers gripping his arm so hard fresh pain shot up her wrists and forearms. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw him staring at her so they could communicate without speaking. Intent, his eyes bored into hers, face tense. She nodded.

He drew back with slow precision, switched his hand from her mouth to her arm, and helped her off the bed. Rhett moved like a predatory animal, sleek and controlled, drawing her with him to the wall. He pressed his back flush and gave her a look that expected her to do the same. She needed no second bidding. Any remaining cobwebs of sleep were seared away by terror, leaving her hyper-aware and alert.

He stopped at the edge of the door frame. Gun leveled upward at his side, he peered around the corner into the hallway. When he rounded out of the bedroom, Evelyn crept after him. Right on his heels. There were two doorways they needed to pass before hitting the top of the staircase. Faint illumination spilled forth from each, creating a rectangular glow. Rhett paused before the first, listening.

Evelyn paused, too, and held her breath. The house was deathly quiet. She understood his signal to stay against the wall while he cleared the room. It wasn't an optimal situation, staying in the hallway, but it was riskier to bypass the room without checking and leave their backs exposed. Even she knew that.

He swerved with the gun raised and went in fast. Evelyn pressed her spine and palms flat against the wall. Motion through the spindles on the banister snapped her gaze to a black shadow creeping up the staircase. Rising parallel to the hall, he didn't have a clear vantage of her position.

Panic seized her. She didn't know if she should scream, follow Rhett into the room, or wait for him to return. The man stalked up another handful of stairs. Any second he was going to hit the landing and see her. Faced with a situation she couldn't control, forced to confront her nemesis and her psychological fear, Evelyn fought down nausea while gathering herself for action.

She could do this.

A decorative vase filled with Pampass grass sat on the floor five feet away. It was much heavier than she thought when she crept over and picked it up. Pain burned up her fingers, into her wrists. Adrenaline motivated her and she hurled it over the railing with a war cry, aiming for the assailant's head. She sought to catch the intruder off guard, with any luck, before he took whatever small advantage she had away from her.

The vase crashed off the arm the man threw up to protect his head. He must have lost his balance because she watched his gun go flying when he pitched backwards, grasping for the banister. In the frozen second when Evelyn wondered whether she had the guts to go for the gun, Rhett swooped in, took stock of it all in a heartbeat, and hauled her back into the room he'd just left with an arm around her waist. With the back of a boot, he slammed the door closed. Without wasting time on questions, he bulled a heavy dresser across the floor and tipped it into the door, denting the wood.

“The window!” he whispered.

She hated how time seemed to slow down, how her footsteps felt mired in sludge. The eleven feet to the window might as well have been eleven miles. Shoving the sheer curtains aside, she fumbled for the latch. The house, a newer model, thankfully had an easy sash to lift. It slid up with a hiss.

Like she was some kind of action hero, she kicked out the screen. Moonlight gleamed off the terracotta tiles that sloped down the short section of roof. Evelyn went out head first, scrambling through the window frame, grasping onto anything she could to keep herself from falling. The tiles were more slippery than she thought they would be. The lower half of her body slid around, stretching her out, leaving her facing the window again on her stomach.

Not realizing Rhett was right behind her, she gasped when he grabbed her wrist. Holding his glittering gaze, her legs fell over the side of the roof and dangled there. She glanced back and down to the narrow lane of sand between the house and the fence, gauging the distance. At least the sand would probably help break her fall.

“Wait for me.” Just as Rhett whispered and released her, the sound of muffled gunshots came from the room behind him.

Evelyn let go and landed with a grunt, falling back on her butt. Immediately, she looked left and right for other skulking shapes in the night. She saw none.

Rhett hurtled down like a cat, feet first, and sprang upright with much more balance than she had. When he grabbed for her hand she clapped it into his, biting off a yelp of pain, and lurched to her feet. Running, they came to the side door leading into the garage. Rhett didn't hesitate. With a vicious kick, he shattered the lock and the door slammed inward. He entered in a shooter's stance, gun swiveling left and right in the gloom.

“Get in the car.” Terse and short, he let her go to get in the driver's side.

Running around the front, sure that the intruder would burst into the garage any second, she yanked at the passenger door and fell into the seat. The ends of her fingers throbbed from the abuse she'd put them through.

Rhett started the car and depressed the button on the remote to roll the garage door up. He set the gun across his lap. Reversing at high speed, he backed into the wide alley that ran along the back of all the residences.

Evelyn screamed when a bullet punched through the windshield.

“Get down!” Rhett bellowed. Twisted at the waist, he braced his arm on her seat, looking backwards, and flew in reverse down the alley.

A hail of gunshots pinged off the car; glass cracked, threatened to shatter.

Evelyn hugged the console, hands over her head. Something hard and plastic dug into her ribs.

At a juncture for one of the other homes, Rhett stomped the gas and shot them forward onto the street.

Evelyn sat up, panting. Shaking. “Was that them? How did they find us? I thought that was a safe house?”

“Hell if I know.” Rhett looked annoyed and unhappy. Picking up the gun, he tucked it into the shoulder holster. “I need to get in touch with my boss. We're going to meet up with my partner and leave Athens.”

“Leave Athens? But what about my...friends?” She barely curtailed the impulse to call them her sisters. The thought of leaving them sat ill with her.

“They'd be wise to leave Athens, too. Since you can't get in contact with them yet, let's hope they stay low.”

“Where are we going?”

“Cairo. It's busy and I have contacts there. Maybe these bastards won't be expecting you to leave the country so soon and won't be watching the docks.”

“The docks?” Evelyn watched Rhett instead of the road.

“We'll take a boat over. They could be watching the airport for all I know and I don't want to draw attention to our movements.”

“How do you know they're not following us?”

“I don't.” He dug his phone out, pressed a button, and put it to his ear. After a moment, he said, “Christian, it's me. They found us. Yeah. We're on the road, heading toward the docks. Meet us as soon as you can. You know where.”

Pushing her hair out of her face, Evelyn looked out the window. The hour was late enough for the traffic to run thin on the street and most of the lights they drove through were green. She felt like there was no time to really stop and think. No time to assess her options. She couldn't even consult with her sisters.

Before the start of the Crusades, there had been fourteen daughters of Eve still alive out of the twenty-two their mother gave birth to. Fourteen women skilled in the ways of survival and adaptation. In the very beginning they had only known Eden, that lush, pristine place of surreal beauty and peace. Cast out after the Incident (as Evelyn liked to refer to it), the children of Adam and Eve adjusted to the raw terrain of the earth. They learned to acclimate with each decade that passed, some becoming excellent farmers, others starting societies that would grow and expand through the centuries. The girls had seen endless cycles of evolution, had personally witnessed the death of Jesus, watched invasions and wars and the rise and fall of the greatest empires on earth.

Nothing could have prepared them for the assault they suffered at the hands of the Knights Templar. They hadn't even known they were being hunted until one of the sisters managed to escape and tell the tale of torture and interrogation. The Templars wanted a radical cleansing, a systematic purge. They wanted all the daughters dead.

Evelyn had never understood how the Church could condone such heinous acts and atrocities. But the Templars took their orders directly and thus, the sisters had no alternative than to believe they'd been targeted. Perhaps it was the reason the Knight who had interrogated her gave; the daughters were suspected to be passing evil across the earth. Servants of the serpent.

The first murder—because that's what it was in Evelyn's mind—happened not long after the siege on Jerusalem by Saladin. Eurijah, with her exotically dark skin and sparkling, dark eyes, had been found dead in her humble cottage. Signs of torture riddled her body.

Once living communally in the same city, the sisters scattered to the winds with a plan to meet up in the one place the Templars were unlikely to ever find them: Eden. It became their safe haven, the one place they knew the Knights couldn't follow them into. And so, year after year, they made a pilgrimage to meet there. Over time, when the space between deaths expanded to decades and centuries, they banded together again.

“You okay?” Rhett asked.

Drawn out of her reverie, she glanced over. “I just don't want anyone else to die.”

Chapter Four

The fifteen minute drive to the docks passed without incident. Rhett made two more calls to set up transportation across the Mediterranean and one to his boss. Evelyn listened while she stared out her window, arms protectively crossed over her middle. She half expected men to start running from shadows whenever they stopped at a red light and the tension gave her a headache. The bullet holes in the windshield were a constant reminder of the danger.

At the docks, Rhett parked the car and reached into the back for a jacket. As they got out, he pulled it on over the holster, both guns tucked into their sheaths. He scanned the area in quick glances, on the lookout for trouble. Evelyn had nothing but the clothes she'd worn to sleep in. The temperate weather allowed her to go without a coat and not be uncomfortable.

Feeling strangely vulnerable, she met Rhett at the front of the car. The vehicle looked like they'd just been through a minor war zone. More bullet holes riddled the wheel wells and hood. She thought they'd been lucky not to get hit.

The sensation of being hunted by unseen things in the night made her crowd closer to Rhett. She hated not knowing where or when someone might strike.

He led her along the swaying dock past anchored boats and bigger yachts, some with low running lights outlining their shape. Water lapped lazily against the hulls, a deceptively soothing sound that might have lulled her into complacence if they hadn't just been shot at.

Rhett stopped in front of one with tiny blue lights affixed to the decking. “Aristo?”

She stood beside him, glancing warily up and down the dock. It seemed empty of everyone but them.

The yacht, with the name Selena Marie scripted on the side, had three decks and appeared well kept. It gave Evelyn the impression of comfort and speed rather than bloated luxury. Blue and white striped deck chairs lined up near a table with an umbrella that had been closed and tied off. Smoked glass sat beyond that, hiding any inner layout and décor from view.

A dark haired man, buttoning his shirt with haste, pushed through one of the glass doors. He blinked in a way that made her think he'd just tumbled out of bed.

“Mister Nichols. Ma'a--” Aristo cut his greeting short when he saw Evelyn's battered state.

Even in the dark, she knew her bruises were easy to see.

“I need you to take us to Cairo,” Rhett said, ignoring the man's reaction. “Christian should be here any minute. This is Miss Grant. Evelyn, Aristo.”

Evelyn smiled a tentative greeting. Aristo speared a hand through his thinning hair and bobbed a polite nod. He reminded her of a bird; tall, thin, somewhat angular, with a hook in his nose and overly prominent features. Countless hours under the sun had baked his skin into something of a mahogany hue.

He gestured for them to board the yacht.

Rhett helped her onto the lowest deck while keeping a sharp eye on the night around them. She noticed he grimaced twice and questioned him when he hopped aboard behind her.

“What's wrong? Is someone out there?” She felt like her words echoed over the water even though she whispered.

“I don't think so.” With a hand guiding her at the low back, he urged her past the lounge chairs and in through the glass doors.

Done in a black and white theme, the spacious parlor sported couches arranged in a square. Striped pillows adorned the cushions and swags of alternating material covered the ceiling. Warm yellow light glowed from miniature lamps and several original looking paintings lined the wood paneled walls. Glass made up one wall by itself, overlooking the lowest deck and part of the dock. It was more lavish than she would have guessed.

Rhett stalked to a wet bar set up in the corner and fished around the cooler for water. He brought her a bottle and had one in hand for himself.

She noticed a streak of red on the plastic and raised it for a better look. Frowning, she asked, “Is that...blood?”

“Don't worry about it.” He cracked the cap off his water and tipped his head back for a long drink.

“What do you mean—is it yours?” Her gaze snapped from the bottle to Rhett. He looked like he always did in the short time she'd known him. Strong, whole, hale.

After he swallowed, he met her eyes. “We'll be leaving the second Christian gets here.”

There was another streak on his bottle. Evelyn's eyes narrowed. “You're bleeding. Where?”

“I just said it's fine.” Capping the bottle, he turned away and set it on the short, glossy counter. When he stretched his arm, it pulled the coat open just enough for the light to glisten off a damp spot on his shirt.

She tugged the edge of the jacket aside to get a better look. A swatch just above his hip stuck to his skin. A tear in the material exposed an oozing wound.

“Oh my God. You've been shot.” She felt a stab of instant guilt. He'd gotten this because of her.

“It's just a graze. No need to think twice about it.” Rhett brushed the injury off like it was nothing.

Evelyn didn't let him off that easy. “I'm sure Aristo has a first aid kit--”

“I don't need anything--”

“Stop interrupting me. Yes you do. It'll get infected and if you don't peel the shirt away, it'll dry like that and then you'll have to rip it off.”

She set down her water. Snagging the top of his jacket, she peeled it off his shoulders and down his arms. He exhaled in exasperation but allowed her to do it. Maybe he realized she wouldn't leave it alone until he caved to her demands. Tossing the coat over the bar, she went around behind it to search for a kit. Barring that there was whiskey. At least it would clean the wound.

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered.

Rhett arched his brows. “You don't need to be so push--”

“Take off your shirt.”

The holster slid down his arms first, and he put that on the floor. Then he stripped the snug shirt up over his head. It smeared small stripes of blood across the hard plane of his stomach and up his side toward his armpit. “If you wanted to see me half naked, you could have just asked.”

Evelyn, minutely distracted by his physique, found a first aid kit in a lower cabinet and brought it with her around the bar. Setting it on one of four stools, she opened it and took out the antiseptic and a folded wad of gauze.

“I'm not green, Mister Nichols. I've seen many half naked men, most of them in better shape than you.” It wasn't true and it galled her when he scoffed.

“How many? And I'm not talking about trips to the beach. That doesn't count. I'm talking personal, one on one encounters.”

He hissed when she dabbed the moist cloth against the wound. She dabbed it again.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Hunched over at his side, she glanced up. “You'll thank me when this doesn't fester and get infected. And I don't keep a tally. Enough to know that yours isn't something special.” Another neat lie. Rhett inspired her in ways a man hadn't in a long time.

“You really know how to kill a man's ego,” he said with just enough droll sarcasm to suggest his ego wasn't anywhere near threatened.

She laughed because she couldn't not respond to the gleam in his eyes and the tone of his voice. “Would you rather have me starry eyed and stuttering?”

“Yes,” he said without one second of hesitation. “You didn't answer the question.”

“What question?”

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

His back, broad and powerful with sinew flexing under the skin, also had several streaks of blood that she cleaned. The graze of the bullet had been just deep enough to make quite a mess. Evelyn didn't realize she'd automatically checked for an iron cross between his shoulder blades until she found herself staring at it. There was nothing but smooth flesh. No ink, no tattoo. He had none anywhere that she could see.

“Of course I'm not enjoying myself. You could have been killed.” The thought upset her more than she wanted to admit. Evelyn didn't want people dying to save her.

“I knew what the dangers of this job were long before I got into it, Miss Grant.”

She straightened and found a fresh bandage from the kit. “Maybe so, but that doesn't mean I want to see you die.”

“Go and get yourself shot, Rhett?” a voice said from the direction of the glass doors.

Evelyn whipped a look over at the man standing there watching them. Shorter than Rhett by an inch or two, with a slightly leaner build and ink black hair, he wore a dark suit and blue patterned tie. His eyes, also blue, surveyed the situation with sharp attention. He carried two bags; a black duffel and a grocery-store variety with the top rolled closed. Like Aristo, he did a double take at the black and blue bruises on her face.

She finished putting the bandage over the injury and gathered the bloodied gauze. Taking it behind the bar, she threw it into the trash and washed her hands in the tiny sink.

“Just a graze. This is Miss Grant. Miss Grant, this is my partner, Christian,” Rhett said, gesturing between them.

Christian walked over when she came out from behind the counter and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Evelyn shook it, making eye contact for a brief moment. “Nice to meet you Mister—Christian.”

“Miss Grant. I believe this belongs to you.” He took a small, glossy black clutch from the brown bag and handed it over.

In all the chaos, she'd almost forgotten they'd retrieved it from the abduction scene. Evelyn took the purse and worked the clasp until it popped open. Inside were all her belongings: I.D, two credit cards, cell phone and a small bit of cash hooked together by a silver clip. The purse wasn't big enough to hold a traditional wallet.

“Thank you. I didn't think I'd see this again.”

“We're trying to extract your luggage from the hotel. When we get it, we'll have it sent to Cairo,” Christian said.

“That's great, thank you. I'm going to see if I can contact my friends.” She glanced between the agents and stepped away with her phone in hand. Anxious to get in touch, she pressed the number for Genevieve's phone. Out the glass windows, she saw they had already pulled away from the docks and were cruising at a low speed through the harbor, headed for open water. Another stab of guilt swept through her when she realized she hadn't even had a chance to arrange a funeral for Galiana.

Each phone she dialed went straight to voicemail. Frustrated, she left messages on each one with instructions not to return to the hotel under any circumstances. Instinct prevented her from saying where she was headed. She knew she didn't have to tell them to check their email account and as soon as she had access to a computer, she'd leave a message there as well.

Evelyn watched the glittering coastline of Greece recede as the yacht picked up speed.

***

The cabin on board the Selena Marie wasn't as small as Evelyn thought it would be. Situated on the second deck, it had a full bed, a dresser and nightstand, and its own bathroom through a rather narrow door. All the furnishings were newer and clean with a modern flare to the design.

With just a few hours until sunrise, Rhett had urged her to rest. While it was still dark, and while he and Christian patrolled the decks of the yacht. Isolated on the boat crossing the Mediterranean, they were about as safe as they were likely to get.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to take off her shoes when she laid on the bed. Closing her eyes for longer than a few minutes at a time proved difficult. Tension that she'd stored in her system unraveled slowly, like honey through a sieve, pooling in the pit of her belly.

Running the pad of her thumb across her fingertips, she discovered that they didn't hurt quite as bad as they had earlier. The tingling and swelling had diminished a little. By tomorrow, there would only be minor puffiness and red skin. If she could get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, the process would go faster.

She considered covering her hands and then decided against it. That might draw more attention to the issue than if she just went on as normal. She couldn't do anything about her face and hoped the speed of her recovery would be overlooked. By the morning, her bruises should be less stark and the split in her lip would be a sliver of a scab instead of a fat one.

After a half hour of tossing restlessly, she got up and wandered into the corridor. There were four other bedrooms on the yacht; two of them were on the same deck as her own. When she passed an open doorway, she saw Rhett's duffel bag sitting on the end of the bed. A small lamp—really nothing more luminous than a nightlight—had been left on in apparent anticipation of his return.

An intense curiosity about the man who'd risked his life twice to save her drew her into the room toward the duffel bag. She knew she shouldn't look. Shouldn't invade his privacy. The corridor had been empty though and she didn't think Rhett or Christian would be down here any time soon.

No one would be the wiser for her snooping.

The zipper slithered along the teeth with a quiet hiss. Peeling the edges of the bag apart, her first sensation was the scent of him. It lingered on the folded layers of jeans, t-shirts and boxers she sifted through. Under those was another, smaller leather bag, a laptop and two more guns. Several clips of ammunition lined the bottom. Between two thin, ribbed sweaters, she found a handful of passports. She picked up the top one and opened it.

Rhett Nichols. Thirty-four years old. Hometown: Twenty-nine Palms, California. She remembered seeing the name of the city on a map once upon a time.

“Find what you're looking for?” Rhett asked from the doorway.

Startled, she yelped and dropped his passport so she could cover her thundering heart with her hand. When they locked gazes, she expected to see him scowling or frowning. Instead, he wore an unreadable expression that she found almost more disconcerting than if he'd just been annoyed or angry with her.

“I'm sorry. I was just--”

“Snooping,” he concluded for her. “What did you expect to find?”

Shuffling in place, she lifted a shoulder. “I don't really know. I was just curious about you, I guess. I didn't mean any harm by it.”

“Maybe you should ask me what you want to know.”

Sheepish, she bent to pick up his passport off the floor and dropped it back into the bag. Patting the clothes down, she zipped the duffel closed. Evelyn could hardly believe she'd just been caught going through his personal things red handed.

“It was just general curiosity. I mean, you've risked your life for me twice.”

“That's what government agents do, Miss Grant. I think I said something to that effect earlier.”

An awkward moment stretched into two. She wasn't sure what passed between them just then, but the low curve of a smile that crept over his mouth reassured her that she hadn't offended him too badly.

“Try and get some rest while you can,” he said, and turned to stalk away down the corridor.

Evelyn clapped a hand over her forehead. What the hell had she been thinking? In all the years she'd dated men, she'd never been caught going through their things. Then again, come to think of it, she'd never had a reason or the urge to do so before.

Back in her own stateroom, she sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated taking off her shoes. Four or five hours rest would do her good. She couldn't quite shake the hunted feeling though and in the end, she flopped back, one arm over her forehead, shoes still on her feet. Cautiousness had served her well at the safe house that hadn't been so safe at all.

Evelyn wondered how the Templars had found her. Found them. Myriad scenarios ran through her mind while she stared at the ceiling. None of them were especially pleasing. Phone taps, a tail on the car. A satellite bead? She couldn't be sure just how much paranoia was too much in a situation like this. The Templars had extensive backing and resources. All the sisters had known that for hundreds of years.

During the crusades, the Knights had been able to move between countries unfettered and unhindered. Whatever mission they were on, they were allowed to go about their business without question. She doubted much had changed over the centuries. Their technology and ability to find what they wanted had only improved exponentially with the advent of computers and lightning fast communication.

The girls had adjusted as well as they were able to. Alexandra, to help give them some kind of advantage, had become an expert in computers and could hack her way into just about any database in the world. It was how they changed names and identification and photos and backgrounds. Without it, Evelyn knew their chances of successfully staying free for any length of time were slim to none.

A distinct beep interrupted her inner monologue. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the cell phone she'd left on the nightstand. When the screen lit up, she saw the small text icon and thumbed it so the message would open. It must be her sisters.

Finally. An answer and contact.

Enjoy your temporary freedom. There won't be any escape the next time.

Evelyn's eyes widened. She checked the sender: Unknown.

A dizzy spell struck when she realized the Knights had somehow discovered her cell phone number. It wasn't on any block lists, so they'd probably searched some internet directory and eventually discovered which Evelyn Grant was her.

Lurching up off the bed, she ran out into the corridor and down the stairs to the lowest deck. Dark water stretched for miles in every direction. A curling, salty breeze drifted across her skin while she glanced wildly around for Rhett. She didn't see him and immediately wondered if the Knights had somehow boarded the yacht between the time she'd seen him and now. The paranoia ran thick and deep.

“Rhett!” Panic infused her voice. Every sense on alert, she gripped the cell phone so hard that it left imprints on her palms. Distantly, she was aware that even after knowing him only a short time, it was Rhett she wanted close by. He had successfully extracted her from two dangerous situations and it only exacerbated the secure feeling she had in his presence.

One after the other, Rhett and Christian came running from different parts of the boat; Rhett, gun drawn, hurtled down the stairs from the top deck and Christian did the same but from along the side of the yacht.

“What is it?” Rhett asked, voice tense. He walked right up to her, checking in every direction for a threat.

Christian flanked them, darting looks around the water. Everywhere.

“They sent me a text. I think they know where we are,” she said, flashing Rhett the front of her phone.

He paused and glanced at it, then took it out of her hand. Manipulating buttons with his thumb, he handed it back when he apparently didn't glean anymore from it than she did. His posture relaxed, the gun tucked into the shoulder holster.

“Is your phone unlisted?”

“No.”

“Then that's how they found your number,” he said. “I think if they knew where you were, they'd act first and taunt later.”

“Doesn't look like there's another boat in sight,” Christian added, sliding his gun into the waistband of his pants in the back.

“Are you sure? Maybe they're waiting in Cairo.” Evelyn wasn't convinced that the Templars didn't know where they were.

Christian, standing at her side, shook his head and met her gaze. “I agree with Rhett. If they knew where you were, they would have come after you instead of warning you. If they're waiting in Cairo, we'll have to deal with it when we get there.”

“Then why text me at all?” she asked, annoyed that the Knights were able to set her on edge like this.

Rhett and Christian both gave her the same look. Did she really need to ask?

“To do just what they're doing. Planting doubts, forcing you to stay tense and worried,” Rhett said, spelling it out for her.

“Well, that's just lovely.” Evelyn maneuvered through the menus until she found the one she wanted. “We'll see how they like being blocked.”

Rhett and Christian gave her understanding glances.

After turning the phone off, she made her excuses and disappeared into her room. Determined to get some rest, she kicked back a shot of bourbon from an array of tiny bottles left on the dresser and stretched out on the bed. Rest didn't consist of sleep—she couldn't after the text message—but she did make plans for their stop in Crete on the way to Cairo. She would have an hour to find access to an unmonitored laptop and check the email account to see if any of the girls had left messages. They weren't responding by phone, which could mean a number of things, but there was a much greater likelihood that they'd found a way to leave a note for her there. It was the contact center of last resort and one they all knew to use in extreme circumstances.

If they were all okay, Evelyn planned to depart the agents' company in Cairo and go her own way. She couldn't rely on their help forever and the sooner she began the changes required to disappear from the Templar's radar, the better.

***

The Old Venetian Harbor in the port of Heraklion buzzed with brisk business. Boats motored slowly by, coming and going, while Aristo guided the yacht into a waiting berth. Other boats bobbed in their slips and people milled around the marina, each on their own agenda. The morning sun, bright and rising in the sky, spilled warm rays that Evelyn tipped her face into when she stepped out on deck. All her belongings were in the pockets of her jeans rather than in her purse so that she didn't give her intentions away.

Crete had always been a favorite place to visit and vacation for the sisters. Evelyn found it mildly ironic that she was here when she hadn't planned to be, without her siblings, in the company of government agents. With effort she steered her thoughts away from Galiana and surveyed the bustling activity on the docks. She wondered if the Templars knew she was here, and whether they were watching her even now. It made her plans for the day riskier after the text but she was set on her course.

Aristo disembarked with a promise to be back in one hour exactly. Something about refueling and restocking the yacht for the second leg across the Mediterranean.

Rhett appeared from inside with a tray in his hands. He looked like he'd been awake all night with his heavy layer of whiskers and wrinkled jeans. Despite that, the smile he gave her lacked weariness that she could see. Under the glow of the sun he seemed golden, from his skin to his hair, and she would have never guessed he'd suffered any kind of injury by his confident posture.

Setting the tray on a table under the shade of a blue and white striped umbrella, he glanced her way.

“Lunch. Hope you like chicken salad,” he said.

Surprised, Evelyn walked over to inspect the bowl and the food. The lettuce looked fresh. Grilled chicken lay in strips over the top with several cherry tomatoes sitting to the side. Rhett's talents ran beyond his commendable ability as an agent.

Meeting his gaze, she said, “You didn't have to do that, but thanks. You're not eating?”

Having lunch with Rhett might have been appealing if she didn't have something she needed to do. He gave her an out a moment later and she hid her relief behind a neutral facade.

“No. Christian's on the phone with our boss and I'm heading in to take a shower.”

“You didn't get any sleep last night, did you?”

“I will after we set sail and get out into the open water again.”

“How's your wound?” She squinted at his side.

“It's just a scratch and already on the mend. Your face and hands look a lot better than they did yesterday,” he pointed out.

Evelyn snapped a look up from the bowl to find him studying her. What remained of the bruising had faded down to yellowish smudges and the split in her lip lacked even a scab this morning. She had healed even more than she'd thought she would given time to rest. Self conscious, she touched her cheek and nodded.

“I'm lucky it's healing well. Thanks again for lunch, Mister Nichols.”

“I didn't know what you wanted to drink. Help yourself to water or bottles of juice and whatever else he's got stocked in there.” Rhett gestured toward the small bar in the parlor before turning on a boot heel and disappearing inside.

Evelyn watched him, fiddling with the utensils he'd rolled into a linen napkin. He hadn't pursued the subject of her unnaturally fast healing and for that she was thankful. It made her curious what he thought though. Rhett Nichols did not strike her as a slow man who let obvious things get by him.

Sitting in a chair, she attacked the salad and glanced around for Christian while pretending to be absorbed in her meal. Which was excellent, she noted, while spearing a slice of seasoned chicken. The other agent seemed to be elsewhere on the yacht. She doubted he would have disembarked with Rhett needing some downtime, leaving her unprotected. Evelyn weighed her options and the risks. She could stay here and not try to make contact with her sisters, or she could hurry about her errand and return before anyone noticed her gone.

She made her decision after another discreet check of the deck.

It took her less than fifteen minutes to disembark, hail a taxi, and have him drive her to a small café bordering the marina. Bustling with tourists, the café had floor to ceiling windows along the front, a small seating area around the doors and palms in pots lining the walkway. She went inside and bought herself a ten minute block of time on one of the public laptops lined up on a long counter facing the harbor.

Feeling strangely vulnerable out in the open without Rhett at her side, she engaged the search directory and typed in the email address for the private account. Glancing over her shoulder, she scanned the faces of the customers, looking for anyone who seemed too interested in what she was doing. No one, in her estimation, was paying any attention.

Fingers flying over the keys, she typed in their user name and password and hit enter. The account scrolled into view. No new messages. Evelyn checked the spam folder and the sent folders too, thinking maybe her sisters might have hid something in there so that it wasn't seen at first glance on the screen.

Nothing.

Two days was more than enough time for one of them, if not all of them, to make contact. An uneasy pang clenched her stomach. Alexandra, at the very least, would have found a way to access a computer. Which meant her other sisters had suffered the same fate as Galiana, or they had been captured after their escape from the parking lot and were sitting underground somewhere like she'd been. Tortured and interrogated.

There was no way she would be able to find them without outside help. Help like Rhett and Christian could give her. It was part of their job, wasn't it, to recover kidnapped Americans in foreign countries? They'd recovered her.

As dangerous as it was to continue interacting with the government on such intimate levels, they had access to information and resources she just didn't have. This kind of situation was their specialty, she thought, and it certainly wasn't hers. Unless there was a message waiting when she arrived in Cairo, she decided to stay with the agents a while longer.

Going through the history, she erased any trail of where she'd been on the laptop. Leaving the seat with time still on the 'clock', she wove her way through the bodies and back outside. Brushing wayward strands of hair from her cheek, she glanced left and right and hailed another taxi. With directions to take her to the nearest bank, she settled in the seat, watching the buildings flash by out the window. The architecture never ceased to amaze and mesmerize her although her appreciation was a distant thing compared to her growing consternation.

The taxi pulled up outside a string of businesses on Agapo street and she paid the driver extra to wait.

Climbing out, she crossed the sidewalk and went inside the bank. The interior of the older structure had been redone in marble with spiraling columns and a long counter beyond a sitting area with several couches for the customer's comfort. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows and highlighted a bank of ATMs that she passed on her way to one of the available tellers. She needed more money than the ATM would allow her to withdraw on any given day.

The teller, a black haired woman with clear skin, a hook in her nose and a pair of brown eyes greeted her with a heavy, English accent. “Welcome to the Bank of Herstos. May I help you?”

Evelyn fished out her identification and bank card from her pocket. Smiling at the teller, she passed both over and snatched a withdrawal slip from the stack to the side to begin filling out. “Hello. Yes, I'd like to make a withdrawal.”

“Do you have an account with us?”

“No, I don't. But I'd like more than the ATM will give me,” Evelyn explained. “Can you do that?” She pushed the withdrawal slip over while the teller examined her I.D and the card.

“Yes Ma'am. There will be a short wait and a transaction fee, you realize.”

Evelyn nodded. She'd expected as much. “I'll wait. Thank you.”

“Let me verify this and then we can discuss currency.” The teller punched in numbers into her computer, watching the screen through the fine veil of her bangs. She frowned and clicked through another series of information on the keyboard.

Unable to see the screen, Evelyn watched the woman's face instead. “Is something wrong?”

“It seems your account has been frozen, Ma'am.” The teller spoke with clear hesitation.

“Frozen?” Evelyn frowned. “That can't be right. I haven't closed it out or even accessed it in several days.”

“Excuse me for a moment, Miss Grant. Let me see if my supervisor can make a call.” The teller smiled cordially and took her card, her I.D and the withdrawal slip with her away from the counter. She spoke with a balding, rotund man in a voice too low for Evelyn to hear. They spoke at length while he took the information to a different computer behind a desk in the back, tapping through numbers and screens. Evelyn could see their eyes scanning each different one that popped up.

Unease ate at her insides. What could be the problem?

After several minutes, the man came back with the teller and took up the spot on the other side of the counter. He had an even thicker accent than the woman.

“Miss Grant, I am the manager. I'm sorry to tell you that your account has been frozen, and I will be required to confiscate your card.”

“Confiscate my card? But--”

“I'm sorry, Miss Grant,” he said, commiserating with her. The only card he traded back to her was her I.D. “Perhaps you can straighten it out with your bank on one of our house phones?” He gestured to a row of them, all tucked into privacy cubes, against a far wall.

Evelyn didn't need to follow his gesture. She'd seen them on her way in. It dawned on her belatedly that it was probably the Templars. They'd accessed her information and had enough pull or connections to freeze her account, making it hard for her to maneuver around the country. They were tightening the noose in every way they could.

Her dependence on the two agents had just ratcheted up another notch.

“Thank you for your time.” About facing, she departed the bank without stopping by the service phones. Nothing would be gained by wasting time with representatives that wouldn't give her access anyway.

Squinting into the sunlight, she let her eyes readjust before stepping toward the waiting taxi. A hand on her elbow whirled her around and she gasped in surprise, drawing several stares from people passing by.

Rhett glared down at her, mouth a thin, white line. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Speechless for a moment, she regained her equilibrium and frowned. “I needed to get some money out of the bank--”

“So you just went wandering along the marina, leaving yourself wide open for them to grab you. Why didn't you just call them and set up a meeting place?” He ground the words out past clenched teeth and 'guided' her along the sidewalk, away from the bank.

“Mister Nichols. You have no right--”

“Don't I? Do you want our protection or not, Miss Grant? Because when you do things like this, you're not just putting yourself in danger. You put us in danger, too. Think about it.” After another glare, he helped her into a black car parked at the curb and got into the back seat with her.

Christian sat in the driver's seat looking quite unhappy. He said nothing though while he pulled them into traffic and turned back toward the docks.

“The last I knew, Mister Nichols, I wasn't your prisoner, either. I'm free to see to my business.” His brusque manner made her confrontational. If she was honest with herself, the strain of it all didn't help her mood any.

“All you had to do was ask one of us to come with you,” he said, leaning back against the seat. Knees sprawled, he rested a fist on the arch of his muscled thigh and appeared to struggle to contain his irritation. “And since you didn't, it means you're trying to hide something. What, Miss Grant, are you trying to hide?” The knife sharp edge of his gaze came her way.

Evelyn bristled under the insinuation—which was the truth, damn him—and under his glare. “You'll excuse me if I didn't realize I needed to obtain permission to get my own money out of the bank. You said we were safe enough here. I took you at your word.”

“Which still doesn't explain what you're trying to hide.”

“I'm not hiding anything.”

“Really? Then why didn't you ask me to go with you?”

“Because I don't need a babysitter. It was a trip to the bank. And as you can see, nothing happened.” Engaged in a heated stare down, she refused to look away first.

Leaning closer, he obliterated the space between them and said, “What just happened is that you probably tipped them off to your whereabouts by accessing your account. And you could have fooled me about needing a babysitter when I found you in their basement.”

The warmth of his mint-scented breath washed over her lips and chin. He was so close she could see the gold flecks in his turbulent green eyes. So close that she felt like she had to whisper an answer. “Actually, I'm sure I didn't tip anyone off because I couldn't access my account at all.”

His brows shot up and he leaned back. “Why not?”

“I don't know how, but someone put a hold on it. The money's in there, but I can't get to it. And the manager confiscated my card.” When she broke eye contact and looked forward, she met Christian's frowning gaze in the rear view mirror. Just a brief second of concern before he swerved the car into a slot not far from the Selena Marie.

“They've got more pull than I gave them credit for,” Rhett said. “Checking your use of the card is one thing. Putting a freeze on the account is another.” Swinging open the door, he got out without another word.

Seething and annoyed, Evelyn climbed out as well. She cracked the door closed and marched toward the tethered yacht a few feet behind Christian. Rhett fell in behind her. The tension, a palpable weight between them, made Evelyn uneasy. She knew she was defensive and wary because trust in other people, no matter how much she wanted it, didn't come easy. Rhett's efficiency and normally amiable demeanor tempted her like no one had tempted her in a long time to confide things she knew she couldn't. He just had that I-can-fix-anything-if-you-let-me aura about him.

They boarded the yacht and within twenty minutes, Aristo had maneuvered them out of the harbor and the port and back into the broad, blue waters of the Mediterranean.

Chapter Five

The dark surface of the ocean hypnotized Evelyn while she watched out the window in her stateroom. Little whitecaps peaked and receded like the spikes on a heart monitor machine, and, if one watched long enough, it was easy to sync with the rhythm and be lulled by its eternal consistency. There was something soothing about the perpetual flux of the tide.

Earlier, after arriving back on the boat, she and Rhett had gone their separate ways. She suspected he gave in and went to get some sleep while Christian stood watch. Rhett was only human, after all, and needed to refuel like the rest of them. Christian announced there were deli sandwiches for dinner—although he hadn't made her a plate like Rhett—but she'd politely refused and sought the refuge of her room instead.

Propped on a chair with her legs tucked beneath her, she'd been sitting here for hours, thinking over the tension between her and Rhett, the status of her sisters and what repercussions the freeze on her bank would have down the line. No clear answers presented themselves to any of it. Disconcerted by her reaction to Rhett, Evelyn tried to reason it out. It was more than that he'd saved her from the Knights. More than his persistence in keeping her safe.

There was an inexorable pull, an undeniable something that she couldn't recall feeling around any other man. It went beyond simple attraction. She knew he felt it too, although she wouldn't have been able to say exactly why or how. Even the friction between them didn't offset the draw. Maybe it had to do with his saving her, or that she detected a capacity for caring underneath his tough exterior.

Unable to grieve properly for Galiana, she had the compelling urge to confess to Rhett her pain and agony and let him bear some of the weight.

In the distance, the wink of a light drew her out of her contemplative reverie. The swell of the water played hide and seek with an ocean liner's lights. It came again a moment later, a bright but small flicker, almost like a star on the horizon. She couldn't gauge the distance whatsoever, nor the direction. Many vessels made the voyage from Crete to Cairo or other ports close by. This was just one more ferrying tourists to exotic destinations.

Twisting a length of wavy, auburn hair between her fingers, she wondered if the occupants were having a better time of their trip than she was. Contemplation kept her mind off her sister, off the melancholy that wanted to pull her under like a riptide.

The door to her room swung open without warning, startling her. Rhett, dressed in dark colors with his shoulder holster in place, swooped in on her with a gun outstretched in his hand. He made and held strict eye contact, looming like a frightening ghost, as intent as he'd been the night he'd woken her from a dead sleep.

“Take this and lock yourself in here. Don't come out no matter what you hear or what happens. Shoot to kill if they get past us and get in,” he said, just as the yacht lurched and the speed increased.

Evelyn sat up straighter in the chair and closed her hand over the gun even though she recoiled at the thought of actually coming face to face with the Templars and being forced to shoot them. But she would, if she had to. She would.

“How did they find us?”

“I don't have time right now to talk about it. Later.” He squeezed her fingers around the gun and left the room, closing the door after a final gesture for her to come over and lock it.

Shocked that the wide open ocean wasn't a safe as she'd led herself to believe, she scrambled out of the chair and threw the locks the door. There were two; one in the knob and another deadbolt that made a satisfying click when she turned it. Setting the gun on the bed, she yanked socks over her bare feet and then jammed them into her tennis shoes. It was the only concession to comfort she'd made earlier when she'd retired to rest. All the rest of her clothes were as she'd worn them earlier, and she wondered again if she'd ever feel safe enough to dress in pajamas to sleep.

Rattled, she picked the gun up and checked the safety. Her experience with the weapon was rusty. She wasn't sure her aim would be as great as it once was, not after all these years of avoiding the practice range. The irony of the situation was not lost on her.

From the bed, she went to the window. Broad, with a three inch sill, it gave her a decent view to the east. The small light that wasn't so small any longer. It was closer, bigger, winking in and out like the gleam of a freshly cut diamond. The Selena Marie approached the fastest speed she'd seen so far, cutting through the lapping tide with an uptick in the drone of the engine. Over that, she heard the sound of a distant bang that she struggled to decipher.

With a sudden dousing, all the running lights on the yacht went out. From her second level viewpoint, she'd been able to see part of the lower deck along the side. Now there was only the hazy, phosphor glow from a half hidden moon to make out a dark head running below.

Christian. It had to be Christian. The other boat wasn't nearly in range to transfer people from one vessel to another.

Still, it made her stomach ache with nausea and set her nerves on edge. While the other, smaller boat drew closer, she steeled herself against the unlikely event that she would have to shoot her way free of the Knights. In these minutes before possible confrontation, she reminded herself that it was kill or be killed—or tortured.

Like anyone with a serious phobia, Evelyn's private pep talks only went so far. The mere thought of that kind of violence brought bile up the back of her throat that she kept having to swallow down.

Think of them as still targets. Like at the range. Nothing more than a wood silhouette, without souls, without hearts.

She breathed in and breathed out.

Gunfire erupted, sounding like firecrackers on the fourth of July. Instinct kicked in and she ducked down with only her eyes and forehead above the line of the window sill. It was hard to see and harder to tell who was doing the shooting.

She thought she heard shouting, too, somewhere in the din. Recognizing the voices was impossible. Had someone on the Selena Marie been hit? Dread coursed through her when she thought about Rhett taking another bullet in her stead. Or Christian. Or Aristo.

Drawing in a breath, she worked the latch on the window and slid it open. There was no screen to get in the way when she aimed the gun out over the water, angling the muzzle toward the faint silhouette of the smaller boat that was closer now, veering wildly when the captain tried to avoid incoming rounds.

Whatever light she had seen from a distance had been distinguished, leaving only the moon glinting off the hull to guide her.

Evelyn didn't like violent confrontations, but shooting at the boat—albeit it moving—was better than shooting at people. Steadying her hand and her faith, she braced her arm and cupped the weapon with both hands.

Aiming low, thinking to hit the tanks or something else critical to the running of the boat, she pulled the trigger. And she pulled it again. The weapon bucked in her hands, sending sharp jolts up her arms.

What she didn't expect was a return volley; two bullets punched through the frame a foot above her head. Retreating all at once, she sank below the sill and crab-crawled over the floor to the opposite side of the bed. As long as she'd been alive, no one had ever fired bullets at her. She found it terrifying.

So much for trying to help out.

Two more bullets slammed into the wall on the other side of the room, leaving holes in the window. With every crack and splinter of wood, she flinched. She half expected the smaller boat to ram the Selena Marie.

Steadying herself, she listened to the barrage of gunfire coming from both sides of the confrontation. The burst from a machine gun riddled the night, sounding like chattering, mad laughter. She couldn't tell who was doing the shooting. Breathing shallow like she'd just run a marathon, she pressed her back against the bed for support, making a small package of herself to avoid being hit. It took her three tries to thumb the safety of her weapon on. Until someone tried to come in the door—and please God, don't let that happen—she decided to wait it out.

Suddenly, the battle went silent beyond the windows.

What did that mean? Where were Rhett and Christian? Aristo? In a car, she would have been able to tell if the driver had been shot. In a boat, it was much harder to detect if they were veering off course because the man at the helm was no longer in control.

Her mind ran wild with suppositions. Any second she expected to hear running feet on the deck. Time slowed down and her focus became pinpointed on the door.

Don't forget to take the safety off.

It's you or them. Kill or be killed.

Remember Galiana.

Were they speeding up? Slowing down? Frustrated that she couldn't tell, she considered going back to the window. The not knowing whether they'd been boarded was making her ill.

The lock rattled when someone tried to open the door. Evelyn pointed the gun right at it, fingers shaking so bad that the muzzle swayed and pitched. At the last second she remembered to take off the safety.

“Evelyn, it's Rhett. Open the door.”

She sagged with relief. Re-engaging the safety, she set the gun on the bed and lurched to her feet. She barely had the lock snapped over when Rhett opened the door, forcing her back a few steps when he bulled his way in. His shoulders and jaw were tight with tension. Glittering, his eyes seemed feverish, raking over her with ruthless scrutiny.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a tight voice.

“I'm fine, I'm fine. What happened? Is everyone else okay?” Evelyn forgot to be irritated with him. She looked him over for wounds just like he did her, relieved when she didn't see any gushing founts of blood.

“Everyone's all right.” His mouth thinned when he saw the bullet holes in the wall and above the window. Walking over, he glanced out at the darkness and then at her. “We disabled their boat. Unless they have another one on the water—and radar hasn't detected anything close by—then I think we'll make it to Cairo without another incident.”

“How did they find us? I mean, even if they did track me from the bank, they couldn't have known I left Crete or which direction I was going.”

“Have you checked yourself for anything strange? Black dots on your skin? Looked at your back in the mirror? If they'd put the trace on your old clothing, they wouldn't have known we were here. But they would if they'd attached it to your body.” Leaving the window, he came to stand right in front of her, weapons all tucked into his shoulder holster.

“Wait, what? You think they've put a trace on me? But I took a shower earlier, shouldn't that have disabled it?” The thought hadn't crossed her mind. It explained how they'd found them, though.

“No. Why don't you take off your shirt and I'll check your back.” He made a curt gesture with his hand toward the small bathroom.

The irony of the situation didn't escape her. Just yesterday, she'd demanded the same thing of him. Take off your shirt, she'd insisted.

It wasn't such a monumental task, or even something she was shy about doing. The bra she wore wasn't her own, but it fit well and covered more than most bikinis would have.

Her hesitation came only in the realization that she was exposing herself to him. She didn't want it to matter what he thought. Whether he liked what he saw. Impatient with her own thoughts, she stepped back into the bathroom and switched on the light. Longer than it was wide, decorated as clean and neat as the bedrooms, the bathroom sported burnished gold accents and a rectangular mirror. The soft illumination picked out the auburn highlights in her hair and made what remained of her bruises seem less harsh. They were just vague, yellowish patches that were hard to see unless you were really looking.

Rhett loomed out of the gloom of the bedroom and stood directly behind her. The contrast of his masculinity and her femininity couldn't be more noticeable. He was broad and muscular and she looked almost dainty in comparison. The make up she'd applied made her hazel eyes more dramatic; his peered out from under the ridge of his brow like a predator, sharp and assessing. She couldn't remember the last time a man had affected her like this and silently chided herself for her distractions. Snatching handfuls of the shirt, she drug it over her head, leaving it caught around her wrists in a way that would make it easier to put back on when he was done.

The wisp of his hand against her hair, moving it out of the way, made her shiver. Watching him in the mirror, she saw his gaze dart to a specific spot on her back.

“Shit.” Peeling something off the inside her shoulder blade, he presented it on the tip of his finger around the side of her arm. “We should have known.” Rhett sounded disgusted they hadn't done this sooner.

Evelyn glanced at the tiny black dot, no bigger than the eraser on a pencil, sitting on the end of his finger. It had a small, raised center but overall, she thought it looked harmless. Innocuous. Certainly not able to withstand a dousing in water. She met his eyes.

“That's it? They've tracked us with that little thing?”

“Yes. I don't see any more on your back but it wouldn't hurt to give yourself a thorough looking over. Check your scalp. I really don't think they'd put more than one on at a time, but you can't be too careful.”

“They'll all look like this?” Evelyn hated the thought someone was monitoring her every move. If she had been honest with Rhett about who was searching for her from the beginning, perhaps he would have understood they were capable of this. She'd led him in blind, understating the danger.

“Pretty much. I'm going to go get rid of this one. We'll have to take cover quick in Cairo. I thought we'd be able to buy ourselves some time but they'll be expecting us now.” Taking the tracing device, he met her eyes in the mirror once more and left the room.

While he was gone, freaked out by the thought someone had attached things to her body, she stripped the rest of her clothes off. She searched everywhere; behind her knees, the nape of her neck, over her scalp. Using the mirror, she checked her back again, though she knew Rhett wouldn't have overlooked anything else. There seemed to be no more of those tiny black dots anywhere on her person. Only marginally relieved, she got dressed and went out on deck in search of her agent.

***

Darkness blanketed the sky like a comfortable lover, soothing in its endless serenity. The stars seemed even brighter than they had before the attack of the boat, glimmering like diamond dust. Evelyn saw no evidence of their attackers, no out-of-place spotlight on the horizon. Taking a deep breath, she scanned the lowest deck for signs of Rhett.

She found Christian near the rail, smoke trailing up like winsome phantoms from the burning end of a cigarette. He didn't look any worse for wear from the confrontation and still had his shoulder holster on over clothes that blended with the night. Although not as tall or as broad as Rhett, Christian was not a small man. Physically fit, he had a leaner, more tapered appearance through the abdomen and hips. He gave her the impression he could be quick when he wanted to be.

Evelyn wondered how much conditioning or experience it took for someone to become accustomed to shootouts. Maybe they weren't conditioned and were only better at hiding it than she was.

“Christian?”

He glanced over. “Yes?”

“Is Rhett busy?”

“He's with Aristo, going over new plans for arrival in Port Said. Is something wrong?” His brows furrowed either with curiosity or concern.

Evelyn didn't know him well enough yet to tell the difference. Leaning her hip against the side of the boat, she said, “I'm wondering just what kind of connections these people have to be able to put tracing devices on me and freeze my bank account.”

Not for the first time, she felt like such a deceiver asking her question. Evelyn knew firsthand who was doing this to her, and why. Even then, she couldn't have fathomed the Templar's reach. Their utter ability to manipulate the system any way they apparently saw fit. It unnerved her and she wanted to know what was going on in Rhett and Christian's mind. What they personally thought about the incidents. Christian didn't hesitate to answer.

“The highest kind, Miss Grant. They seem to be able to pull any strings they want to, which makes them not only dangerous, but unpredictable.” Dragging off the cigarette, he exhaled and flicked the spent butt out into the water.

“And you guys haven't found out anything more about them yet?”

“No. Our boss keeps coming up against walls with his queries. They're like ghosts, all but untraceable themselves and good at covering their tracks. Whatever they want you and your friends for, it must be something big.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched her while at the same time, seeming to keep up a constant survey of the night around them.

Evelyn shifted uncomfortably and forced herself to keep her attention on his face. She latched onto the opportunity he gave her to change the subject off why the Templars wanted her. “Speaking of my friends. I'd like to know if you can help us with...Galiana. We're—or I'm—the only one who can make any arrangements for her burial. But I'm a little afraid to do anything and now that they've frozen my account, I can't exactly do what I need to.”

“What do you need help with, Miss Grant?” Christian looked and sounded like he sincerely wanted to help.

“Well, for starters, we need to find out where she's being kept--”

“Her body is at Papadopoulos Mortuary right now. They told my boss they'll hold the body for another three days and after that, she'll be cremated and her remains relegated to an ossuary of their choice.”

“No, no. That can't happen. She needs to be buried.” Evelyn choked on the last word. The tension and strain of the last several days threatened to overwhelm her. All of a sudden, she struggled not to give in to more tears for her lost sister. Cremation was always a last, desperate choice when there was nothing else they could do to stop it. They preferred their bodies returned to the earth they sprung from.

Lifting a shaky hand, she rubbed at her temple.

She felt a headache coming on.

“I can ask my boss if he'll make the arrangements through you,” Christian offered, like he'd interpreted the brow rub as a distress signal.

“Yes, please. Can't you guys override the freeze on my accounts?” Evelyn didn't understand why the Templars had more pull than the government. What the Knights were doing was illegal, wasn't it? Never mind she was the victim here. That was her bank account being messed with.

“For one, we didn't know they were locked until Crete. Two, he needs your permission to try and we've been a little...busy...the past few hours. But I'll see what he can do.”

“Then go ahead. You have my permission. What about my other friends? I think we should count them missing by now.”

“How can you say they're missing if you haven't been in touch with them? They might be anywhere in Athens or maybe even left the country for home,” he said.

Evelyn didn't want to explain about their secret email set up. “None of them have called or texted me back, and they would have after all this. Just to let me know they were okay. I've heard nothing from any of them.”

“We're looking for them, Miss Grant.” He reached out to touch her shoulder reassuringly. “The second we know something, Rhett or I will tell you.”

The fresh tension sliding through her frame eased at his reassurance, even if she wasn't convinced her sisters were safe. “Thanks, Christian. I think I'm going to go try and get some sleep.”

“That's a good idea. Things might get hectic in Cairo.” Pulling a soft pack from the front pocket of his coat, he shook free another cigarette and lit it with a lighter tucked into the plastic lining.

With a grateful smile, refusing to worry about what might happen in Egypt, Evelyn headed for her stateroom.

***

Dusk settled over the architectural wonders of Port Said in an orange film of muted light. High spires, swooping arches and arabesque shapes made a stunning silhouette against the encroaching evening.

Rhett used his body to forge a path through the sea of humanity, marching them away from the busy harbor into the busier city. It almost felt like they were salmon, swimming upstream against an impossible current. An entity unto itself, the crowd milled and swarmed in all directions. One second she was beset by the stench of strong body odor, the next a sickening smell of over ripe perfume clogged her senses. Long robes lapped at the ankles of women who kept their gaze down while brazen tourists paused in the most inappropriate places for pictures.

She caught Rhett checking on her often with quick, sidelong glances. Carrying his bag in one hand, he wore a jacket over his shirt to hide the holster packed with guns. Christian came behind, sandwiching her between them. They made an effective wall that moved her forward at all costs. Never back, never straying off to the side. Ahead, deeper into the flux, until it was hard to tell where one body began and another one ended.

The decibel level felt like they were standing directly in front of a tower of speakers at a rock concert, the very air trembling with noise. Evelyn hunched her shoulders up toward her ears, an inadequate barrier against the din. She never remembered it being this loud on any prior trips to Egypt. It grew worse when Rhett turned them down a narrow pathway between buildings. Vendors, set up on each side, hawked their wares with shouts and gestures, pausing to haggle with tourists and natives alike. The goods ranged from soda in bottles, stacked precariously like pyramids, to culture rich clothing hanging from eaves and jewelry that clinked prettily together in the dry, arid breeze. It was an explosion of color, sparkling glass, carts and teetering piles of hand-painted goods arranged to draw the eye.

Any other time, she would have loved to wander the market, sampling food, purchasing trinkets and collectibles to take home. Just now, she concentrated on being Rhett's shadow, reaching out to touch his elbow or side when someone sliced their way between them. Christian lurked close at her back, a steady presence to help keep her on track and in sight at all times.

Rhett took hold of her hand when they were halfway through the market, towing her to the right between two stalls. A dome shaped archway, cut into the wall of the building, led them into a shadowy alcove straight to a door that he pulled open to admit her.

Stepping inside, letting go of his hand, she glanced around. Ahead, through a hallway, she could see the side of what looked to be a foyer and front desk. A dark haired man stood behind it, tending to guests signing in for the night. On her right was a broad set of stairs leading up and it was there Rhett motioned.

“This way. Go on up. Three floors.”

“But don't you need a key?” she asked, using the banister to start the ascent.

“I've got it taken care of.” Rhett and Christian paced behind her all the way to the third floor. Charming little lamps provided light down the hallway when they got there, accenting the Mediterranean décor and tapestries lining the walls.

Rhett stepped ahead of her after bypassing a handful of rooms and let Christian go in ahead of them at a door marked 214.

Gun drawn, Christian went in with it raised, ready for trouble. Rhett monitored the hallway, a swivel-check each direction, until the agent returned.

“It's clear,” Christian said. He exited into the hallway, taking up a post against the opposite wall.

“Let's go.” Rhett guided her over the threshold with a hand at the small of her back.

If Evelyn hadn't known better, she would have thought the agents had performed this dance a hundred times before. Their overlapping protection had few wrinkles, little room for mistake.

She got her first look at what was more than just a hotel room. It was a suite, with several doors leading off the main living area to other bedrooms and a bathroom. Heavily Egyptian, the red and cream color scheme sported accents of brown and gold trim. The material looked new and fresh, the furniture heavy and solid.

A set of french paned glass doors drew her out onto a narrow balcony that overlooked the market below. She could see clearly from one end of the street to the other.

The structure across must have been a business with residential quarters above. Balconies like hers jutted out from the stucco, some decorated with potted plants, others used as a drying spot for colorful rugs.

“You can sleep in here,” Rhett said behind her, motioning to one of the open doorways.

“Thanks. Did Christian talk to you about my...Galiana?” One of these times, she was going to call the girl her sister. Chiding herself to think before she spoke, she stepped in from the balcony and closed the doors behind her. The barrier only cut the noise in half rather than obliterate it completely. Evelyn wasn't sure how anyone could get any sleep with that cacophony outside.

Rhett watched her like a hawk.

“Yes. We're waiting word from our boss. He's supposed to call before too long.” Rhett consulted the watch on his wrist. “Probably within the hour.”

“Great. How's your wound?” she asked out of the blue, turning her mind from dead sisters and funerals she wouldn't be able to attend.

Rhett dropped his bag on the coffee table and speared a hand through his hair before sliding his coat off.

“It's fine. You're looking pretty good yourself.” His eyes traced her face and the bruises that had faded to all but indistinguishable shadows. She knew they were hardly recognizable from the state he'd found her in and that the healing was curious if not questionable.

Evelyn didn't know what to do or say about it. This was another thing that could trip her up if she wasn't careful.

“I've been icing it every night. It helps.” She hadn't had time to ice it. Every second she turned around there was a crisis to deal with.

“Mm.” He rumbled a noncommittal noise, still studying her, like maybe he was trying to suss out the reasons she might be healing so quick. As if he didn't buy her icing explanation.

“I'm going down to talk to the clerk on duty, have a look around,” Christian said from the hallway.

Rhett ticked his chin in goodbye.

The door clicked when Christian closed it.

Evelyn didn't have time to give a goodbye of her own. She broke eye contact with Rhett and made her way into the bedroom he'd indicated. Better to settle in and let the topic of wounds pass by. The few hours sleep she got on the yacht healed the remaining wounds on her hands, leaving her fingers looking normal, the redness gone.

Spacious and as well decorated as the rest of the suite, the room had a queen bed and its own small bathroom. Setting the purse she'd been carrying on the dresser, she sank onto the mattress and flopped back. It felt like she'd been on the run for weeks instead of an intense few days.

“You hungry? I'm going to order up.” Rhett called from the living room.

“Actually...yes. Will you choose something for me?” Feeling whimsical, wanting to just forget and rest for a while, she left the choice in his hands.

“Feeling adventurous?”

“I trust you,” she said with a laugh.

A moment later, she heard the warm baritone of his voice ordering food—in Arabic. Versed in all languages, like the rest of her sisters, she understood everything he said. All the children who had eaten from the Tree of Life and Knowledge gained the ability to speak and understand every tongue. It was a talent that served them well over the centuries.

Her surprise faded when she realized that if he worked in the area, he probably knew several languages, not just one or two.

Rising off the bed, she made her way into the bathroom. At the freestanding sink in front of the oval mirror, she stared at her reflection while turning on the water. Eyes wide, hair windblown, skin glowing with a healthy tan, she looked the same and yet different. It was in the set of her lips, the faint frown on her brow and the quirk at the corner of her mouth. She couldn't decide if she looked thoughtful or perturbed.

***

Fifteen minutes later, face freshened with a splash of cold water, she wandered back into the sitting room. She paused when she saw him; limned in the spill of dusky light from the balcony, Rhett sat on one of the couches with his hands locked behind his head, elbows askew. It was a masculine position of stolen ease. Knees tilted out, boots flat on the floor, jacket discarded, he looked peaceful with his eyes closed, chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm. She almost hated to disturb him.

“Room service should be here in about five minutes,” he said, somehow knowing she was there without opening his eyes.

“Okay. What did you order?”

“It's a surprise. You said you trusted me.”

“I do trust you.” Evelyn was startled to realize she meant it more every time she said it. Or thought it. Rhett made it almost too easy to trust him. “But I also think you'd order something like octopus eyes and a side of tentacle just to see how fast I'd throw up.”

He barked a laugh, one knee rocking back and forth like it was a lazy hinge. Finally, he slit his eyes open. “That's a little scary, Grant, because it's something I definitely would do. If you weren't under my care, that is.”

“But I am, so eyes and tentacles are off limits.” Grinning, she wandered into the kitchenette. It overlooked the sitting area so she didn't have to raise her voice to continue conversing with Rhett. This unexpected truce, or whatever it was, felt much better between them than the friction.

“You'd do the same thing if the situation was different,” he said. It sounded like a challenge.

Evelyn glanced over the short counter. “I would not. I'm the soul of propriety and good manners.”

He snorted. “I don't believe you.”

Rhett's disarming personality threatened the careful wall she tried to keep erected between them. It felt thin and all but useless when he bantered with her like this. Just as she opened the cooler to see what was inside, someone knocked at the door.

Four hard raps.

With sinuous grace, obliterating the languor and ease in a heartbeat, Rhett rose off the couch and removed a gun from the holster. At the door, he stood just off to the side.

“Yes?”

“Room service,” a muffled voice said from the other side.

“Leave it there. Thanks.” Rhett listened with his head cocked, the gun angled low along the outside of his thigh.

Evelyn watched in silent fascination. Cautious even in this, he took no chances with her safety. After several minutes, he cracked open the door with the chain still in place and peered out into the hallway. The section he could see must have been empty because he closed it, unlatched the chain, and swung it wide again to pull the cart inside. Bolting up the door when he was done, he pushed the cart to the small table adjacent to the couch. The gun went back into the holster.

“I ordered drinks, but if you want something stronger than wine, there's a handful of little bottles in the cooler,” he said, lifting the steel tops off the plates to check the food.

Evelyn came out of the kitchenette, wiping her palms down her thighs. The scent of the food made her mouth water.

He presented her plate with a flourish.

“Kushari. If you've been here before, you've probably had it.”

She sidled up to the table and knew the dish the second he took the lid off. Evelyn had spent a good amount of time in this country and knew the cuisine intimately. The pasta, rice and lentils covered in tomato sauce was accompanied by rice stuffed grape leaves, a favorite of hers.

“I have, and it looks great. No tentacles in sight.” With that, she took a seat and snagged the bottle of wine chilling in a bucket.

“All I have to do is call down to the restaurant...”

“Rhett,” she warned, stifling a smile, and distracted him with a question. “What did you order?”

“The same thing.” He set the covers aside and sat down opposite her. “But I've had it before, so I know I'll like it. Want me to open that?” His chin ticked the direction of the bottle.

Evelyn arched a brow. “I'm not totally helpless, you know. Are you having some? There's only one wine glass on the tray.” One wine glass and one plain glass of what looked like water with a lemon wedge floating inside.

“Nah. I don't drink while I'm working.” He transferred his plate to the table and picked up the utensils.

Rhett, she discovered, ate like he walked: Brisk, to the point, just get the job done. He chewed hard but ate quietly, adam's apple bobbing up and down every time he swallowed.

She was so distracted by it that she didn't realize she was staring until he stopped eating, fork poised midair, and stared back.

“Is there something on my face? You still don't have the wine open,” he pointed out.

She jolted herself out of her reverie, aiming her sheepish smile down at the wine. Using the corkscrew, she got to work. “You eat like you don't really enjoy the food at all.”

“I enjoy it. But there's no reason to examine every piece, is there? What—you go out with guys who roll food across their palate and discuss every seasoning and its function?” He eyed her with a dubious expression.

The cork popped free of the bottle. She laughed, countering his dubious look with an airy retort. “I didn't say that. But you're going to be done by the time I take my first bite.”

Both of his brows arched that time. “And...?”

With a rush of heat, it dawned on her that for Rhett, this was work. And when had it become something else for her? His presence disconcerted her. Distracted her. She found herself doing and thinking things she shouldn't considering their extraordinary circumstances. Evelyn had enjoyed men and all the things they could provide in her time on earth: conversation, pleasure, companionship. But she'd never allowed herself more than that.

None of the girls had, because they knew that it led nowhere. The number of years they could be with a man were startlingly short when someone lived as long as they did. Then there was the risk that the men would become suspicious of why they weren't aging, which caused problems all its own. Minna was the only one of them that had stayed with a man for more than a handful of years. An exception because she knew how to handle her heart.

Buying time pouring and taking a sip of her wine, she met and held Rhett's gaze. When she was through, she said, “It's nothing. This is just the first time I've eaten with a ma-- anyone other than my close friends for a while. I thought maybe you'd tell me about yourself.”

Rhett considered her with a thoughtful look. Setting down his fork, he sat back in the chair. “What do you want to know?”

At first she worried she might have annoyed him, but his tone and his eyes were intrigued instead. Although she'd glimpsed where he lived on his passport, she didn't want to mention it, so she asked, “Where did you grow up? Do you have brothers and sisters?”

While they talked she tested bites of the food, alternating with sips of wine. Once, when she stretched her legs out, she encountered his under the table. Immediately she drew hers back to tuck under her chair.

“Grew up in Twenty-nine palms. That's in California. And yeah, I've got two brothers. What about you?” He sat forward and this time, ate at a slower pace. Not much slower, but she noticed the difference.

His willingness to oblige her had that same strange effect on her insides. “I don't have any brothers or sisters and my folks are dead.” The part about her parents was true, at least. Careful to keep her face neutral, she continued. “They moved me around a lot when I was little, so there isn't one particular place I can really name as 'the' place I grew up. But I live in Pacific Palisades. It's in Calif--”

“I've been there.” He seemed amused that, considering where they'd met and where they currently were, that they both lived fairly close to each other. “Pretty posh.”

“Yeah, but the beaches there are fantastic.” She picked up the wine for another sip. Evelyn didn't want to imbibe too much in case she needed her wits about her unexpectedly.

“What do you do for a living, then?”

“Well,” she said, setting the glass down. “Those friends I told you about? A few of us own some rental property in various locations. It keeps us busy.”

He nodded while he listened, stabbing bites of food between commentary. “Sounds like it. Good for you. I'm guessing you're successful enough that you guys can travel around, take vacations often.”

She detected no sarcasm in his tone. He looked genuinely impressed. And the more she talked about her sisters as friends, the more she warmed to the story. It allowed her to acknowledge them and speak about them without feeling like she was giving too much away. It meant she needed to get in touch with them before Rhett or Christian did so they could get their story straight.

“We do, and yes, we enjoy it. We work pretty hard. I'm also involved in several charity organizations for children, so that takes up another big chunk of my time.” All of the sisters did. It had been part of their promise when they left the garden of Eden—to do good in the world. Spread compassion and kindness. It came naturally to each of them, in fact to all of the sisters, and the others felt as much satisfaction in that capacity as she did. Even Alexandra, the rabble-rouser of the bunch. For all intents and purposes, the girls were like any other women, making their way through life—or many lives. Evelyn was not unaware other people would find them extraordinary and they all understood why it was so important to remain hidden in plain sight.

The knowledge of their existence had the capability to change everything.

She caught Rhett watching her with a complex expression. His eyes looked darker, holding hers with an intensity that made her squirm in her chair. It made her uncomfortable when she couldn't gauge his mood or figure out what he was thinking.

“I would have pegged you as a player, I have to admit,” he said with a wry grin, after a moment. “The kind of woman who takes what she can get and moves on.”

His assessment startled her. Setting her fork down, she pushed her plate a few inches away. “Why is that?”

“The traveling around, the fact you haven't ever mentioned anything about a boyfriend, husband, lover. You just look like the type.”

She frowned. “I guess that old saying is true, then. Don't judge a book by its cover.”

For a reason she didn't understand, he laughed. A wry sounding rasp that sent goosebumps down her arms.

“And that's the god's own truth, hm?” he asked.

Before either of them could say anything else, his cell phone rang. Excusing himself from the table, he took the call. She heard Christian's name and wondered what information the agent had come up with. Sipping at the remnants of her wine, she watched Rhett walk to the open balcony doors. He hooked a hand over his head on the frame, taking up a relaxed stance while he got his update. Silhouetted by the glow of lights from the buildings along the street, the strength of his physique was on prominent display. He reminded her again of a warrior, strong and capable and dedicated to his work. Sometimes he seemed invincible, though the wound on his side declared him as human as the next man.

He ended the call and pushed the phone into his pocket. Turning, he scanned the room and made his way toward the TV stand. After fiddling with a knob, music made more of static than melody hit the air. Something beautifully foreign and lilting. He adjusted the volume to a lower level and thrust a hand back through his hair.

“Better than all the noise from outside. More wine?” he asked, coming back to the table to start clearing the plates onto the cart. He handled it all with brisk efficiency, something she was becoming used to.

“Thanks,” she said when he took her plate. “And no, I think I'm good. What did Christian have to say?”

“He's got the rest of your luggage. All of it.” When he had the table cleared, he pushed the cart to the door and left it in the hallway to be collected later or in the morning.

Evelyn changed her mind and poured herself a little more wine. Just a little. Galiana's things would be with the rest of theirs and she wasn't sure how she was going to face going through it without having some kind of major reaction.

So far, she'd kept most of her tears and grief in check.

“At least I'll have my own things again.” Which was strangely little comfort.

“Are you all right?” he asked, proving that he was sensitive to her mood changes, subtle as they might be.

“Yes. Trying not to think about—well I'm sure you know. It's hard sometimes.”

“Yeah. I bet.” He leaned against the wall next to the open balcony doors. “Who taught you how to use a gun?”

Evelyn glanced up from the swirl of wine and met his eyes. “My friends. They're pretty confident in situations like...those. They stay in practice.”

“Doesn't sound like you do.”

“I don't like violent confrontations,” she admitted. She saw no reason to hide it.

“You used the gun though.”

“I wasn't shooting at a person. And it's more than just weapons. It's the physical manifestation of the rage that makes my knees feel like jelly. I don't know why.” Feeling like she might have said too much, she had a drink.

“Everyone has their thing. Sometimes it's mind over matter. I know you couldn't because you were bound, but would you have fought back if you could when they had you in that room?”

“If it meant escaping—yes. Or helping one of my friends. I'm not sure how effective I would have been though.” The wine glass made a quiet tink on the table when she set it down.

“What happened to you that made you so susceptible to violence?” he asked.

Startled by the insightful question, she fidgeted with the outside seam on her jeans. A scene flashed to mind, centuries old but as clear as if it happened yesterday. Four Templars, two stripped to the waist, the iron cross tattoo prominent on their backs. Swords in their hands, teeth clenched, engaging in battle just outside the walls of Jerusalem. She and Alexandra had passed within feet of their growling fury, sweat flying from their faces, veins standing out in their arms. She knew what would happen if they were discovered and caught, which made it terrifying for Evelyn. They passed so close she felt the heat of their bodies, heard the blade sing as it arced through the air. The Templars were legendary with their sword skill. There had been no other place to escape but there at that particular doorway and although the Knights were occupied with something else, it had left a lasting, terrible impression on her.

“Miss Grant?”

She started in the seat, jolted out of her memory. “I'm not really sure. I've just never handled it well when I see people fighting up close and personal.” The lie felt sour on her tongue.

Rhett regarded her like he thought there was more to the story. But he said, “So if I were to stalk you right now, you wouldn't be able to react?”

Evelyn snapped to attention in a way she hadn't before. Sitting straighter in her chair, posture alert, she wondered if she looked as hunted as she suddenly felt. “I...I don't know. I mean, it's you, and I know you don't mean it--”

Before she could finish her sentence, he shoved off from his lean and started doing precisely what he suggested. Stalking her. And when Rhett wanted to look intimidating, he could. In spades.

Less than thirty feet separated them. Out of her chair before he crossed half that distance, she put her hands out like she meant to fend him off, back-stepping toward the kitchenette. “Rhett, I don't think this is a good idea.”

“You can't hold me off with just your hands. Look for something. What's the best weapon within reach?” Closer, striding long and determined.

Evelyn felt the breath leave her lungs in a rush. That same, strange feeling hit her legs, like they were wet noodles instead of flesh and blood and bone. She couldn't look away from his eyes for anything, not even a weapon. Her hip glanced off the edge of the counter.

He was almost within reach. And then he was within reach, pressing against her hands with his body, pushing her all the way back to the door. Dwarfed by his size, by his sheer presence, she tried in vain to move him by pushing at his chest. He felt as solid as a brick wall.

She looked at his throat, his chin, his mouth. His eyes.

“The best weapon would have been your glass or the bottle. Crack it against the table to make a sharper point. Or there was that vase to the side, but it would have required you to look away from me and that's dangerous. You had time in the safe house to grab it and throw. Tonight, I would have been on you before you ever touched it. If all else fails, bite and kick and go for the eyes.”

“I can't breathe,” she said, and it was mostly true. He'd taken her by surprise and done the unexpected, rendering her incapacitated. “And I can't scratch your eyes out. You're you.”

“You could if I meant you harm. Right? You have to learn to think through the panic. Sometimes the best way is to put yourself in that situation, force yourself to confront it.” He stared down at her and braced one hand against the door to the side of her head.

Alive too long to usually be affected like this by any man, Evelyn found herself surprised at her lack of control where Rhett was concerned. Like a moth to a flame she was drawn by his eyes, his self-assurance. The way he radiated confidence made her wish she could trust him with her deepest secrets, to let someone else in, lean on him when the burdens became too much. It wasn't the first time she felt caught in his orbital spin, and it wouldn't be the last time she forced herself back to the stark reality that she needed to keep this a business arrangement.

“If you meant me harm, probably.” Conceding his point, she stared up through the veil of her lashes. It couldn't be her imagination that he seemed as drawn to her as she did him. The way he glanced between her eyes and her mouth was an age old giveaway. But it was more than lust, more than a feral animal heat. It was something she squelched right then and there—again—and refused to acknowledge beyond mutual attraction.

Minna would set her straight in a heartbeat.

Against the small of her back, the doorknob rattled and turned. Gasping, she pushed into Rhett even while he pulled the gun out of the holster, putting himself between her and the door.

Chapter Six

Christian froze when he came face to face with the muzzle of the gun.

“Hello to you, too,” he said to Rhett.

“Knock or announce yourself next time.” Rhett tucked the gun into the holster and stepped back to let him in.

Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief. Flushed from her interaction with Rhett, she brushed hair away from her cheek and moved out of their way.

It wasn't just Christian pulling a piece of luggage, but two other men, both also carrying luggage, who stepped in behind him.

One, older than the others, stood at least six-foot-five and had black hair with a goatee and mustache. Hair tied in a neat tail at his nape, business suit and polished boots, he looked distinct and businesslike. Almost his mirror twin, the second man, younger but equally as dark, chose a blazer and jeans instead of a suit and his hair was loose around his neck. He too sported a goatee that he kept neatly trimmed.

Rhett didn't look concerned or worried and made introductions while she moved out of the way to give them room.

He gestured to the taller man first. “Miss Grant, this is my boss, Dragar and my associate Dracht. They've been doing a lot of investigating while we've been in transit.”

Dray-gar and Draw-kt. She locked the pronunciations away and shook Dragar's hand when he offered it. The calloused surface of his palm felt rough against her own. He had long fingers and a firm but not crushing grip.

“Nice to meet you, Mister-- er, Dragar.”

“Mister Sagan. But call me Dragar, hm?” He smiled like an indulgent father might and released her hand. The man towered over her, his dark gaze as sharp as Christian and Rhett's.

“Miss Grant.” Dracht took up Dragar's place, peering down at her from his loftier height. He had eyes so dark brown they almost looked black.

Evelyn went through the motions with them both, wondering what they were doing here. Drawing her hand back, she clasped them in front of her. She glanced between the two new agents.

“Thank you for bringing the suitcases. I didn't expect to get them so quickly.”

“Just part of the job, Ma'am. We took a plane to cut the time down,” Dracht said. “We have some news about your friends.”

He and Dragar sat on a sofa, making themselves right at home in the sitting room. They were so tall that they seemed to take up all the real estate on the couch, yet there didn't seem to be an ounce of extra fat on either one of them.

Christian moved the luggage closer to the wall and went to stand near the balcony, keeping watch over the market.

Rhett escorted her to a sofa opposite the agents.

Evelyn perched on the edge, feeling like something important was about to be said. She felt out of place, out of sorts. Nothing could be gleaned by any of their expressions and she felt a moment of sheer panic thinking they were about to tell her that all the other girls were dead.

Please God, anything but that.

It struck her again how much had changed in a short amount of time, and that for now, their fates were inexplicably twined with these men.

Dragar and Dracht watched her straight on, without smiles, their broad hands clasped between their knees. Rhett stood to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. She could feel his gaze pinned right on her.

“Have you made contact with them, then?” Evelyn found it difficult to shape the question. She swallowed past a tight knot in her throat.

“Not exactly. We've been watching the place they held you and managed to track a few of them to another location. A few hours ago, we saw them move three women from a van into a building and we're assuming, considering the circumstances, that they're your friends,” Dragar said.

Evelyn felt like someone had kicked her in the chest. “All three? Did you—I mean, I hope you're going to tell me next that you went in and got them out.”

“Not yet, Miss--”

“Why not? Why would you wait when you know what they did to me?” she asked, incredulous. She'd been hoping against hope that her sisters had been able to stay on the run.

“We went in blind the first time after you,” Dragar said, not unkindly. “It could have cost Agent Nichols his life. We can't do that again. It's better to find out all we can about the location, about the entrances and exits and how best to go in and extract them. It'll happen within the next twenty-four hours though. We thought you should know.”

Caught between concern and misplaced guilt that Rhett had risked his life for her, she looked between their eyes. Part of her was relieved that they were making plans to get the girls out, and the other part of her wanted them out now.

“I understand the risks, but believe me, the risks to their lives are far greater. Are we going back to Greece?” she asked.

“I think it's best if you stay here, Miss Grant. We still don't know how broad their network is or what they even want with you and your friends. With any luck, we'll be able to take these people into custody and question them,” Dracht said, taking over for Dragar. “We're planning to go in sometime in the middle of the night.”

“But every hour you wait is another hour they're being tortured,” she argued, upset at the thought of her sisters enduring that kind of pain.

“We don't know what's going on in there—”

“Well I do. They won't waste any time trying to get them to talk.” She realized belatedly that she might have chosen the wrong words; all four men were staring at her like they wondered what she wasn't saying.

“About the same thing they tried to get you to talk about, Miss Grant?” Christian asked.

“I can't be sure, but it makes sense.” Evelyn felt like the whole thing was perilously close to unraveling around her. “They obviously think we know something we don't, or know someone that we don't.” The collective, contemplative silence of the four men all but unnerved her.

Finally, Dragar said, “We'll go in as soon as possible. As soon as it's safe for us and we know we're not putting your friends in more danger. Is there anything else you can tell us that might help? Think hard, Miss Grant. Every little detail is important.”

Oh, there were many things she hadn't told them. Many things she could tell them that would shed a whole new light on the situation. Licking her lips, she debated confessing. Never had she felt such an overwhelming urge to confide as she did with Rhett and these agents. The same old reasons why she could not kept her secrets safe.

“I've wracked my brain and I can't think of anything I haven't already told agent Nichols. If I think of something though, you can be sure I'll let him or Christian know.”

“Please do, Miss Grant,” Dracht said.

Dragar and Dracht stood up almost on cue, as if there was some hidden signal they reacted to.

“Will you let me know as soon as you have them out?” she asked, standing when they did.

“Absolutely. Don't worry, they'll be all right,” Dracht reassured her. With a cordial smile, he walked ahead of Dragar to the door. “We'll be in touch.”

“Thank you.” Caught between dismay and hope, Evelyn bid them goodbye.

“I'm going down to scout the lobby and around the perimeter of the building,” Christian said, following both of the other men out.

Evelyn watched them go, sending up a fervent prayer the agents wouldn't be too late.

Rhett bolted the door in their wake and came back to lean against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. It seemed to be a favorite pose.

“Want help with your luggage?” he asked.

She understood he was attempting to distract her and nodded her gratitude.

“Yes, thank you. Then, I think, I'm going to try and get a little rest.” She didn't think for a minute sleep was in the cards. She just wanted an excuse to stay secluded after going through Galiana's things.

Without another word, Rhett took the suitcases into the room she'd claimed as her own. He did so with the familiar ease he did everything else, and paused next to her on his way out after leaving them by the bed. “Don't worry. Dragar and Dracht are good at what they do. They'll get your friends out before another one dies.”

***

Unzipping Galiana's suitcase metaphorically translated to unzipping the emotions she'd held at bay since the murder. When the flap flipped back and the sweet smell of Galiana's things hit her nose, Evelyn's restraint and composure fled. All the grief rushed to the surface. Silent tears tracked down her cheeks while she touched the make up bag, the ruffle on a shirt, the outline of a stylish shoe.

Twenty-eight years had passed since they'd lost one of their own. Blindsided and ambushed by the pain, by the hole it left in her soul, Evelyn tried to come to terms with it. The initial shock had been absorbed by the need to get away from the Templars; now there was nowhere left to hide from the uncomfortable certainty of death.

Sweet, compassionate Galiana, lover of fashion, fragile butterfly, fierce protector of the innocent. Sister, daughter, loyal best friend. The girl with a heart of gold who devoted so much time to those of the less fortunate persuasion. She had taken her oath to spread good through the world as seriously as the rest of them. For Galiana, it was less like duty and more a natural inclination to help others.

She didn't realize she was sobbing until she felt a pair of strong arms lace her up from behind. Rhett's distinctive scent and size would have given him away if she hadn't known they were alone. Seeking refuge in a stranger's arms was not typically her way, but she found that today, after all this, she didn't care. Half turning, she rested her temple against his chest and let him absorb some of her sorrow.

Galiana was gone.

Minna, Genevieve and Alexandra, all that she had left in the world from the beginning in the Garden, were at the mercy of the Templars. One or more might very well be dead already. Evelyn wasn't ready to face life alone without her sisters. The thought of never seeing any of them again cut her to her core. Every one of her other siblings were long dead, brothers and sisters alike.

“Shh. It'll be all right,” Rhett said in a soothing murmur.

“Will it? She's gone. She's dead and I never even got to say goodbye.” Her words broke over breathless sobs.

“We'll make sure we hold the body so you and your friends can give her a proper funeral, hm? Then you can say goodbye.”

The stroke of his hand on her hair calmed some of her inner turmoil. Outside the balcony window, the noisy street below clashed with the private moment they had, a constant reminder of the danger they were in. Under her cheek and her palms, Rhett was solid and strong. Sure of himself. The sheer confidence he radiated along with his looming presence helped curb the harsh emotion rioting around inside.

He crooked a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to his.

In the jaundiced glow of the street light filtering in the glass pane, Evelyn locked gazes with him. She instinctively knew it wasn't just her that felt the pull between them. She read the seriousness of it in his gaze, felt the tug of attraction from him as surely as he must have felt it from her.

The pad of his thumb cruised along the top of her cheekbones, smearing the tracks of the tears away. A sweet motion that Evelyn found as irresistible as the spark of heat in his eyes. They hovered on the brink of an action that would change how they interacted together, change everything period. If they gave in to the temptation, they would no longer be Agent Nichols and Miss Grant.

He searched her eyes for answers she didn't have to give him. Evelyn's grief subsided by slow degrees and she felt her chin tremble with suppressed emotion. Leaning on Rhett, literally and figuratively, felt right.

Without warning, Rhett lowered his mouth and claimed hers. A gentle brush turned into a hot slide of tongue that sought entrance. Entrance that she gave him. He tasted like exotic spices and heat. A small groan betrayed her, a sound he drew in and absorbed while cupping the back of her head to keep her close. That he could be so tender after all the things she'd seen him do only exacerbated the desire pooling low in her belly. They might never have had harsh words earlier, never had an ounce of tension between them as gentle as he handled her.

Changing the angle, he came in again at another slant, drawing her into a thorough exploration that left her clinging to him; he felt like marble under her pressing palms, never swaying or losing balance when she came flush against him. As if nothing could ever shake the foundation he stood on. A low growl shook his chest and she responded by arching into him, gasping against his lips when his grip tightened in her hair.

The opening of the door to the suite startled them both. Her more than him. She stepped away with her fingers touching the damp curve of her lips, eyes locked on his. In that split second before he pivoted on a boot heel, Evelyn understood that she'd rocked him as much as he'd rocked her. He wore his desire openly and there was more than lust lurking in his gaze. Something deeper.

Maybe she was just losing her mind.

“Rhett?” Christian asked.

“In here,” Rhett said, leaving her room with long strides.

Evelyn used the time to get herself together. Turning back to Galiana's suitcase, a fresh pang surged through her. In the other room, she heard Christian and Rhett speaking in low voices but she couldn't make out what they were saying. If they weren't careful, Rhett's partner and boss were going to find out things were becoming more complicated than they imagined.

She found Galiana's stash of cash and pushed the fold into the pocket of her jeans. There was an extra credit card she hadn't had on her at the time of her death that Evelyn also kept. All the girls knew the passwords to each others accounts for safety reasons, and if she couldn't get into her own account, she might be able to access Galiana's if she needed to.

Every time she thought about her sister, her stomach rolled into knots.

Hearing the door open and close again out in the main room, Evelyn's curiosity drew her to the archway. Rhett stood there with his hands on his hips, staring at her as if he'd been about to walk in.

“We need to talk,” he said, and gestured to one of the couches.

Safer out here than in the bedroom, she thought. Evelyn nodded and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the cushion. Her mouth still felt bruised and raw from his kisses.

“What's going on?”

“Christian's suspicious of a trio of men he spotted while he was making his rounds,” Rhett said, getting right to the point. All the warm desire she'd seen on his face had vanished in favor of sharp concern. “He wants us to stay alert up here, ready to move at a moment's notice. I'd advise you to rest while you can though. The situation's too fluid not to take advantage of every second we can to refuel.”

Despite his concern, Rhett exuded a sense of calm that, in any other circumstance, would have soothed any and all her fears. The recent torture though, the attack by the boat, kept her from getting too comfortable. Alarm shot through her at the thought that the Templars were closing in.

“What do you mean, suspicious of a trio of men? They can't already be here, can they? How will he know for sure?” The questions spilled out before she could stop them.

He must have heard her angst because he came over to place a hand on her shoulder. Rhett was so tall that she had to crane a look way up to see his face.

“It's his job to know what to look for, hm? Let him work. Right this second it's just a feeling, so we're still okay. Once my boss and Dracht and their team get your friends out of there, they'll be coming back here. Extra eyes, extra ears.” Rhett stared down at her and squeezed her shoulder lightly.

“Will they be bringing my s—friends?” That was the second time she almost slipped and said the wrong thing.

Rhett arched a brow. “Probably not. It's not a good idea to make one big target out of all of you, Miss Grant.”

So they were back to Miss Grant and Agent Nichols. Evelyn's lips thinned, though she knew that it was best to keep a professional distance with his partner coming in and out all the time. That knowledge eased the rankle at the formality he fell back on.

“I'd like to be able to at least talk to them when I can.” Evelyn fretted over Dragar and Dracht questioning her sisters only to get a different story than she'd given Rhett. Not good. Not good at all.

“I don't see a problem with that. We'll know more as the night goes on. Get some rest.” He stepped away toward the small kitchenette.

Evelyn watched him go, remembering all too well what his mouth had felt like on hers. She wondered if he was thinking of her that way, too, or if he'd already put her from his mind.

The look he speared back through the room when he opened the small fridge for a bottle of water assured her that no, Rhett had not put her from his mind at all.

***

Even in the middle of the night, she could hear noises from the market street below. People talking, people laughing, the random shuffle of shoes on asphalt. She wondered if the city ever slept. She also wondered if any of those bodies winding through the market were Templars. If they were, why were they waiting so long to strike?

On her back on the bed, fully clothed with her shoes on, Evelyn stared up at the dark ceiling. Her thoughts swirled around the safety of her sisters, the kiss with Rhett, and future plans that she couldn't quite grasp. She didn't know what direction to go in anymore, wasn't sure how to function without Rhett and Christian's help. She and her sisters needed them until they could slip back into the obscurity they preferred. Would Rhett be satisfied with that when it was all over? --would she?

The answers that came immediately to mind unsettled her. Rhett wouldn't just walk away from this and neither would the US government. They were involved too deep now, too invested in revealing the truth. If they caught the Templars and questioned them, there would be no hiding what they were.

And what then? How would she explain? The lies and deception would be impossible to overlook. Even if she figured out a suitable lie and the government didn't uncover the oddities in their backgrounds, she knew the Templars would probably out them. To save their own skin, they would sing like birds.

Saying goodbye whatever the outcome did not set well with her, either. After only a few days, Evelyn was already torn about her feelings over Rhett. Not one to fall in love at first sight, she still wanted the option to at least get to know him better.

Turning her head to the side, she saw the glowing numbers of the clock on the nightstand: 2:15. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and at least tried to rest. If Christian had come and gone to relieve Rhett, she'd never heard him.

The next thing she knew, weak fingers of light spilled in through the cracks of the curtains over the balcony doors and the scent of food filled her nose. Blinking awake, she saw Rhett standing at the side of her bed with a tray in his hands.

Sitting up, she glanced through the room, bleary eyed.

“Good morning,” he said with too much crisp authority. He sounded like he'd been awake for hours. “I brought you breakfast.”

Evelyn knuckled her eyes and propped her back against the pillows. He set the tray over her lap in that efficient way he had that always made her feel like he was one step ahead of the rest of them.

“Thank you. You didn't have to--”

“I know. Eat, and then we'll have a short chat.”

A short chat. Evelyn snapped a look at his face. He smelled fresh from a shower, hair still damp, whiskers bristling along his jaw. In dark, plain clothing, he'd slung the holster over his shoulder with the guns tucked into the sheaths. She wondered if he had information about her sisters.

“Did you hear from your boss?” she asked.

“Just eat, hm?” he said, giving her a look that said he wouldn't tell her anything until she'd replenished her energy.

Pancakes, two slices of bacon and scrambled eggs stared up at her from the plate. A small glass of orange juice sat to the side. Suddenly, she realized she was ravenous. Picking up her fork, she dove into the meal that seemed home made rather than ordered up from room service.

Rhett must have had Christian gather supplies and cooked it himself.

She watched him cross the room to scoop back the drapes and tie them off to the side of her balcony doors; through the panes, she could hear the bustle of early shoppers and merchants in the street market below. He didn't open the doors themselves, standing with his hands propped on his hips while he surveyed the building across and what he could see of the milling crowd. Searching for threats. Calm and in control, he didn't act suspicious and yet there was no denying that he was alert and attentive.

She didn't think much got by Mister Rhett Nichols.

He turned with a sharp pivot and slanted her a vague smile that she couldn't read. “I'll be out here when you're done.”

“I'll be out in a little bit.”

He left, closing her door behind him. The man was an enigma, government agent or not. Last night he'd kissed her and this morning she half expected him to start whipping out the 'Miss Grant' again.

Ten minutes later, she set the tray aside with fully three quarters of her meal demolished. Awake, but still needing coffee, she made quick work of a shower. From her luggage she found another pair of jeans and a lemon yellow shirt with tiny white piping to wear. Leaving her hair to dry into natural waves, she folded all the spare cash she could find from the luggage, the identification and credit cards, into her pockets.

Done with that, she gave Galiana's luggage a last touch, stifling the knot in the back of her throat, and left the bedroom.

Don't think about it now.

More sunlight poured in through the open balcony doors in the living room, drenching the suite in a warm glow. Rhett made a strong silhouette outlined against the bright day, one arm up on the door frame. She couldn't tell from this angle exactly what he was looking at, but he seemed as serious and as intense as he'd been in her room.

“All set?” he asked before she could announce her presence.

How did he do that? She started to frown and then smiled to herself. If he wasn't so astute, she probably wouldn't be alive.

“I am. What's going on? What did you find out?” Perching on the arm of a chair was as comfortable as she could get until she knew more about what happened to her sisters.

He turned around and leaned his back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. It made him look broader, if that was possible. She tried not to openly stare.

“They didn't get your friends, Evelyn.” Straight up, with a scrutinizing stare, lips thin with displeasure.

Whatever stray thoughts had started to slide through her mind cut off at the news. She looked at his eyes.

“What? Why not?”

“They weren't there went the agents went in. Some time during the night, they were moved through an underground tunnel beneath the church. We didn't know it existed until they did a thorough search.” Rhett seemed grim about the news.

Evelyn's stomach lurched. “Well surely they can track them? I mean, if it's a tunnel, then it leads somewhere.”

“They did that. The basement it emptied into was the building next to the church, an old mortuary no longer in use. They didn't find your friends there, either.”

Evelyn got up off the couch and started pacing. “I don't understand. Was that just a preventative measure on their part? Did they have some other goal? I mean, it seems strange to me that they would just up and move them.”

Rhett shook his head, watching her. “We haven't figured it out yet. But they're working on it. Believe me when I say Dragar and Dracht know what they're doing.”

Evelyn wanted to snap and say she didn't think any of them knew what they were doing; it served no one, least of all herself, to give in to that kind of knee jerk reaction. If she lost control and allowed anger to rule, she'd only end up offending the only people trying to help them. And, the devil on her shoulder reminded her, she wasn't telling Rhett and his co-workers the truth. Not the whole truth.

Rubbing her forehead, she paced a path through the living area.

“So what do we do now? Keep waiting?” she asked.

Rhett straightened away from the wall and dropped his arms. “It's all we can do. But I'm not in favor of holing up in the room all day. Feel up to a short trip?”

Chapter Seven

The Egyptian sun blazed down from a sky as clear and blue as a sapphire. Not one puffy cloud interrupted the perfect canvas. Dry and arid, the breeze buffeted against her skin. Evelyn sat aside Rhett in a jeep he'd acquired from some contact in the city. It reminded her of an older military model, wheels thick with tread, the color a fading pea green. Roofless, with the doors welded closed, they'd had to climb up and over to get inside.

Rhett drove with as much authority as he had the night he'd extracted her from the basement of the church, aiming for the outskirts of Port Said by what appeared to be every back road and short cut he knew.

They passed robed natives and tourists piled into ancient looking buses and a few more markets that seemed to do brisk business no matter what time of the day it was. Camels brayed, led by their owners, and a few donkeys pulled cockeyed carts filled with produce. Raucous crowds reduced the grind of the engine to a low hum.

Once they left the teeming city behind, Rhett steered onto dirt roads without consulting any maps, leading her to believe he knew this area much better than she'd first thought.

Several times, to distract herself from distress over her sisters and Galiana, she let her gaze wander over the flex of muscle under his clothing and the strong span of his hands. When she found he'd caught her looking she veered her attention out to the sandy landscape, wondering just where in the devil he was taking her.

In what seemed the middle of nowhere, with no one in sight, he brought the jeep to a halt and hopped out.

“C'mon. We'll set up right over here.” Dressed in khaki colors, from his pants to the shirt and vest over his shoulders, Rhett matched the desert around him.

Evelyn unclasped her seat belt and hoisted herself over the welded door to the ground. Whatever her other faults and flaws, she was fit and in good shape.

“Set up for what?” she asked, meeting him at the back of the jeep.

“You'll see.”

He hadn't worn the shoulder holster in the open, but she saw a small cache of weapons when he opened a black bag to sort through the contents. Skin tingling from the heat, she watched him take two handguns and three glass bottles of soda out.

“What's that for?” she asked, following him away from the jeep.

Rhett strode ahead, purposeful and intent. Evelyn had her first inkling when he propped the three bottles a foot apart from each other on a waist high wall of chipped cinder blocks. Beyond stretched barren acres of desert.

“I'm going to teach you to shoot better.”

“I've shot a gun before--”

“Not the way I'm going to teach you. This one's unloaded for now,” he said, handing her one of the black handguns.

Evelyn eyed it skeptically, then reached out to fold it into her palm. It was heavy but not uncomfortable.

“Aim for one of the bottles,” he said.

She raised the gun and aimed for the bottles.

“Okay. Your stance is all wrong and you're holding the gun like it might bite you.” Rhett stepped behind her, a solid wall of hard muscle and heat, and knocked her feet apart with one of his. Gentle taps of his shoe against hers. “Widen your feet a little.”

“I feel ridiculous.” She widened her feet, glancing down.

“You won't feel ridiculous if you're in that basement again and they're coming at you with torture on their mind,” he muttered. “Shooting at that boat on the ocean is a whole different animal than protecting yourself in face to face combat.”

“Is it normal procedure for a government agent to teach the people under his watch self defense?” she asked, feeling truculent and belligerent.

“Is it normal for a group of women to be hunted, murdered and tortured by a clandestine faction no one can seem to trace?” he retorted.

His comeback grated on her fragile nerves. It galled her that he was right. She hated that she couldn't confess, couldn't admit who she was, or they were, and certainly didn't want him becoming more suspicious than he already seemed to be. Instead of fumbling around for an answer to his question, she centered her balance evenly over her feet and got serious about the lesson. Alexandra and Minna would be proud of her for making an effort.

“All right. That's better.” The resonant timbre of his voice that close to her ear sent a tingle down her spine. His hands slid down her arms to her wrists and over her hands.

“Hold it like this. Tighter. Leave your finger off the trigger for now even though it isn't loaded. Get used to the weight and feel of it.”

Evelyn adjusted her hands and tried not to be distracted by the way he wrapped himself around her. The bottles gleamed in the distance. She focused in, realizing she felt more in control in this stance than she had any other time she'd fired a gun.

Rhett talked her through the basics, adjusting her shoulders a little more. His chest kept making contact with her back though he never knocked her balance off. When he seemed satisfied that she understood what to do, he took the gun from her and showed her how to load the clip.

“Try to remember how many bullets you have and how many you shoot.”

“That might be difficult in a panicky situation, but I'll try. If it comes to that.”

Rhett met her eyes under the ridge of his brows. “You know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”

Evelyn wanted to tell him she had no intention of getting into confrontations often that required the use of a gun. He took out two sets of ear plugs from one of the many pockets on his pants and gently pressed a set into her ears. Then he did his.

Standing behind her, he said, “All right. Let's see what you got.”

Lining up a shot, his instructions running through her mind, she depressed the trigger. And missed. She frowned.

“Try again.”

She missed four more times. None of the bottles so much as twitched. It really had been a long time since she'd done any target practice and it showed.

“Line it up again. Breathe. Concentrate,” he murmured behind her.

On her fifth try, one of the bottles of beer exploded into a shower of glass and liquid. Evelyn, lowering the gun, glanced behind her to find Rhett smiling his approval.

“Well done. Four more rotations and we'll call it a day.”

***

Dusk sheared away the last of the sunlight, leaving Port Said in that twilight time where night hadn't quite taken hold. Evelyn walked at Rhett's flank after they dropped off the jeep, keeping an eye on the swirling bodies filling the street. Moving at a brisk clip, he kept both hands free of his pockets, alert and attuned to his surroundings.

Evelyn wondered if he was always this intense. Even while he taught her how to shoot, she'd detected the underlying sense of awareness about him. As if he would never be completely at ease.

The bag of weapons, slung over his shoulder, made them appear, she thought, like any other tourist couple on a sight seeing trip. She tried to give off that aura, concentrating on not drawing any undue attention their way. The acrid heat made her shirt stick to her shoulders and back. She plucked at the material at her hip, letting in a fissure of air to cool her skin.

Around them, the scent of food mingled with sweat, smoke and concrete. Jostled from almost every direction as they sank into the crowded series of market streets, she felt Rhett reach back for her hand. Warm, rough-palmed, it encased hers and held firm. Evelyn had never been the hand holding type when it came to men and relationships, no matter how brief, but she enjoyed the sensation with Rhett.

Without any warning, he stopped.

Evelyn bumped into his side with a quiet oomph. Glancing up, she saw him twist a look behind them, eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” She had to raise her voice to be heard even standing right at his side.

He didn't immediately answer. While bodies swarmed around them, making her feel like a sardine in a tin, Rhett surveyed the area.

“Get in front of me. You know the way to the hotel from here, right?” He tugged on her arm and gave her no choice but to do as he asked.

“I know the way.” She recognized several of the taller buildings.

With a lurch, she started walking in front of him, the clasp of their hands broken. All along her spine she felt his heat. Several times he bumped her when the crowd pressed too close. The urgency she detected from him set her on edge.

Something was wrong. Maybe his instinct kicked in and he felt like they were being followed.

Twice she felt him turn around to look behind them.

“If I tell you to, you go and don't look back. Take the shortest route to the hotel and wait for Christian.” Into her palm he slapped the card-key to the room.

“But I don't think--”

“Just do it, Evelyn. Don't argue or interrogate me for once.”

The short, clipped way he said her name told her that he was on high alert. Using her shoulders, she threaded through the crowd, unable to stop herself from glancing back once or twice. He loomed so close that she couldn't really get a glimpse of his face or his expression. Clutching the key card in her hand, she navigated one street to another, looking for the opening to the market that ran the length of their hotel.

She saw it ahead, finally, and was just about to tell him so when he gave her a push. He didn't shove her, just propelled her forward.

“Go. Right now. Go.”

Evelyn stumbled forward a step but didn't fall. Adrenaline surged through her like a hot lash. Breaking into a run, she didn't look back because she couldn't, not without banging into an unsuspecting body. Cutting down the market street, she thought she heard heavy, hard breathing not far behind her.

As if someone were giving chase.

The hair stood up on the back of her neck because she knew it wasn't Rhett.

“Excuse me!” A knot of people haggling over an item at a booth seemed an impossible barrier between her and the door to the hotel. She squeezed through them instead of going around, gasping when she thought she felt someone grab for her arm.

Bursting out of the group, she hit the doors to the hotel and darted in. Without looking back, heart in her throat, she veered to the steps and ran up them.

Every second she expected to hear the door slam open behind her. Making it to the fourth floor, and then the suite, she jammed the key card into the slot. Glancing down the hallway, she saw no one rushing toward her but that didn't slow her momentum. Sweeping inside, she closed the door and engaged all the locks.

Rhett could knock when he got there.

“Christian?”

Silence.

“Christian, are you here?” Evelyn tossed the key card on the table and searched the suite. Christian was no where in sight.

Wary of the balcony, she stood near the sheer drapes and peered out along the market street, though it was too narrow to really get a good view of the end without being on the balcony itself. Worry for Rhett increased when he didn't show up right away, and doubled after fifteen minutes passed by. Holding the panic at bay, she started mentally going through options and making hasty plans. She had money, identification and Galiana's credit card in her pocket. That was all she would be able to take with her.

The chain on the door rattled, startling her, when someone tried to come in. She froze.

“Evelyn? It's Christian. Rhett's on his way up. Can you open the door?”

Relieved, she went over and removed the chain.

Christian looked out of breath and sweaty. Like he'd been running.

“What happened?” She closed the door when he came in.

“Ran into Rhett out on the street. He thought you guys were being followed so we took a little detour away from the hotel, then split up to make our separate ways back.” Christian bent and put his hands on his thighs to catch his breath.

“Well, were you? Being followed?”

“It's hard to say, but Rhett's instincts are pretty good. Likely, he saw the same face too many times in a row too close to your position.” Straightening, Christian reached for his phone when it beeped.

“Is that Rhett? Why isn't he here yet?” she asked. Evelyn stood near the door so she could open it again once Rhett got there. She had the key card—he had no other way to get in.

“He's making a circuit downstairs, just sent me a text. Said the foyer and all that looks all right.” Christian pecked out a brief reply and put his phone back in his pocket. “We might have to change hotels or something.”

“Whatever we have to do. I don't know how they could have found us already though.” A hard rap of knuckles on the door a few minutes later startled her even though she was expecting it. Undoing the latch, she swung it open to admit a just as out of breath and sweat sheened Rhett.

“You didn't use the phone or anything in here, did you?” Rhett asked right off, without even greeting her first.

“I haven't touched anything.” She held up her hands after closing and locking the door again. The situation unnerved her a little. The brief respite they'd had from the Templars seemed to be over. Evelyn just didn't understand how the knights could be breathing down their necks again. Like they had some sort of sixth sense.

“It could be they're making methodical checks of every port—or maybe it was someone else to do with something else altogether,” Christian said. “There's more going on in this town than just what we're doing.”

“Could be, but I won't take any chances.” Rhett drug a hand back through his hair and went into the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water out of the cooler.

“So what do we do now?” Frustration ran keen that she couldn't take more control of her immediate destiny. The Knights had too many aces in the hole, had too much access to technology and resources that they'd systematically denied her. Although who was she kidding? Even if she had it, she wouldn't know what to do with it. Hacking into satellites, breaking into private databases, commandeering street cameras—she wouldn't know the first place to start to do any of that. Tracking devices, bank account freezing, hunting.

She was no good at any of it.

Alexandra's voice, so many years ago, sounding the alarm over RFID chipping and facial recognition, echoed through her mind. They'd all known they were on limited time before finding a new way to outsmart the system. The noose had grown tighter and tighter around their collective throats.

Ruminating, she studied Christian and Rhett. They'd both put their lives at risk to save her, were even now plotting ways to keep her out of the Templar's reach. But what would their reaction be if she blurted out that she was a daughter of Eve? It would be impossible for them to believe. A far out tale that might bring her sanity into question. There was nothing about her that suggested she was any different than any other woman and in truth, there wasn't except for her lineage, her immortality, and her ability to heal at a faster rate than most people. She had no special magic to prove herself, nothing but a mark on her wrist that could be explained away as a scar or a tattoo.

Simply waltzing them into the Garden of Eden was against the rules. She recalled a scroll, passed down through the centuries, that could validate her existence. Could prove she was who she said she was. Except, if she was correct, that scroll and the box it was contained in should be located in the vault below the Vatican. The very people who had the proof to save her were the same ones trying to kill her.

“What's on your mind, Evelyn?” Rhett asked.

Yanked out of her reverie, she made eye contact with him. He was looking at her in that incisive way again, as if he sensed there was more here that she wasn't telling him.

“I'm just concerned, that's all. Wouldn't you be? It seems like everywhere we go they're right on our tail.” It was the truth, it just wasn't the whole truth.

Rhett didn't look like he believed her. His expression seemed slightly accusing.

“I told her that we might have to move hotels,” Christian said, interrupting the stare down. He stepped past Rhett for the cooler, snagged his own bottle of water and reduced it to half in three long swallows.

“Will that really help anything, though?” she asked. “They seem relentless, ruthless, not to be put off just because they've lost track for a second.”

Evelyn knew that was the truth of it. As long as they breathed, she and her sisters would never be rid of the threat. Rubbing her brow, she paced through the living area.

“It just depends how close we think they're getting. It'd be better if we knew who 'they' were, or what we're dealing with here.” Rhett finished off the water at the same time as Christian and both men tossed the empty bottles in the trash.

There was that edge to his voice again. Hinting. Luring. Suggesting that he knew she had more information. Grouchy and bitter at being forced to hold her tongue, she avoided eye contact.

“I'll take first shift downstairs,” Christian, said, glancing at his watch.

“Thanks for your help, Christian.” As irritable as she was, she didn't forget her manners.

“I'll relieve you at two-thirty,” Rhett said on his way to the balcony doors. There, he double checked the lock and yanked the sheers over the panes.

Christian made his quiet goodbyes and departed.

***

On her way to the door to engage the second bolt and the chain, Evelyn turned her mind from the Templars with determination. Instead, she mentally went over the lessons of the day in explicit detail. Once she'd gotten somewhat comfortable with the weapon, she'd managed to hit her target better than ninety percent of the time. Not bad for someone who loathed pulling the trigger. Rhett had remained patient if commanding and lavished praise on her for a job well done.

“Thanks, I was coming to do that,” Rhett said somewhere behind her.

“Better to be safe than sorry.” She squeezed past him and went into the kitchenette for something to drink. Food wasn't an option until she felt more settled and her stomach worked out of the knots the tension had tied it into. Opening the cooler, she stared at bottles of juice, tea, soda and water.

Hyper aware of Rhett and his presence, she felt him close the distance. The kitchenette was so small that he seemed to obliterate the entire space. She couldn't really see past him and certainly couldn't get past unless he let her.

“You all right?” he asked, reaching past her to grab an apple. He snapped off a bite and crunched it between his teeth.

The light bump of their bodies sent a jolt through her. She closed the cooler door, forgetting to snag a drink.

“Of course, why wouldn't I be?”

“Because you won't look me in the eye. If I've learned anything about women in my time on earth, it's that a woman is not telling you something when she can't even look at your face.”

She scoffed. The toes of her dusty shoes became intensely interesting. “I'm just trying to decide if I want to get some sleep now or wait another hour. If I go too early, I'll be up in the middle of the night.”

Rhett cracked off another bite of apple. He stood so close she could smell the sweet scent mingling with his masculine one.

“You know what I think already. Get the rest while you can.”

“Yes, because we never know when the—those men might find us.” Evelyn cursed her wayward tongue. Rhett made her forget herself.

Rhett's few seconds of silence assured her that he'd caught on to her slip. “That's right. I've got things out here. Why don't you go sleep.”

Because I can't get past without touching you, you ox. Evelyn curtailed the mental rant. It wasn't his fault she was so aware of him.

Well, actually...yes. Yes it was.

When she glanced up, she found him studying her in that way that unnerved her.

“What?”

“Just trying to figure you out, Miss Grant.”

“Why was I Evelyn earlier and now I'm Miss Grant again?” she demanded, suddenly irritated. The rakish smile he flashed annoyed her.

“Are you saying you prefer me calling you Evelyn?” he asked in a far too silky tone.

“I am not.”

“Then why are you bristling?”

“I'm not bristling. You're just being brutish--” Unprepared for the way he snagged her around the waist with one arm, she whuffed a breath when he brought her flush against him.

Without looking, he set the half finished apple on the counter and stared down at her.

Evelyn couldn't accurately describe his expression; searching, scrutinizing, calculating. None of the above. All of the above.

“If I was being brutish, Miss Grant, you'd know it. Why don't you just say what you mean? You've stopped or stalled yourself several times.”

“Does it annoy you?” Breathless, she planted a hand against his chest. She wasn't sure if it was to push him away or to feel the solid muscle under the shirt and vest.

“Not half as much as it makes me curious over what you're not saying.” He let the suggestion sit between them, a blatant invitation for her to clear the air.

“I just want to know why sometimes you call me Evelyn, and other times you call me Miss Grant.”

“There's a lot of things I want to know that I'm not getting the answers for.” He arched a brow pointedly.

Had he guessed she was keeping secrets, or did he mean generally, in regard to the men who'd abducted her? Even as her spine stiffened she saw his eyes narrow. Rhett was trained to pick up on the smallest cues, she reminded herself. He probably knew the whole time that she'd been keeping vital information back.

And yet there they stood, staring into each others eyes in a way that had nothing to do with his being an agent or her being a victim of a brutal assault. Tension thick enough to cut filled the space between them.

Bringing his other hand up, he covered hers over his chest. Trapping it there. Beneath her palm, she felt the steady thud of his heartbeat.

Get ahold of yourself, Evelyn. This won't work. It can't. In a day or two, once the girls are safe, he'll be out of your life forever.

The pep talk didn't work well when he bent his head, watching her eyes the whole time, and kissed her. A brush of lips, warm and apple scented. Almost like he was testing her resolve, or asking permission. Maybe he wanted to see if she could resist him.

She couldn't. Ignoring the inner warning bells, she opened her mouth under him.

That was all the invitation he needed. Plundering her with suggestive strokes of his tongue, he deepened the kiss until she was dizzy. Under her hand, she felt his heart rate speed up. Her own raced, making the blood rush in her ears.

With a low sound that reminded her of a growl, he broke the kiss apart.

Close range, she stared at his face, drawn to the longing he exuded that was like a silent clarion call. Reaching up, she brushed her fingers across the texture of his whiskers, curious and unable to help herself. Prickly and rough, they rasped against her skin and left a tingle in the wake. His eyes darkened when she dared to initiate the touch.

Evelyn lost interest in being confrontational and irritated. He seemed to sense it, drawing his hand through her hair to cup the nape of her neck.

The next kiss started out hot, and grew hotter by the second. There was something desperate and needy about it, a sensation she derived from them both, like they knew they were on limited time. And there were a thousand reasons to just let go. Give in to the desire and the passion. The most prominent one was that they might be parted tomorrow and Evelyn knew she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't have this memory to take with her when they split. She didn't just need to take a part of him with her, she wanted to. This was different than every other interaction she'd had with any man and it seared her to the core.

Pulling her harder against him, he drove his tongue into her mouth with hungry swipes. Molding her to the strength of his frame, Rhett seemed to want to burn the memory of her against his body. She reveled in the hard plane of his stomach and the breadth of his chest. Sweeping her into his arms, he kissed her all the way into the bedroom—not hers, but his—and laid her on the covers. Coming over her like a dark shadow in the gloom, he pressed her into the mattress, made of rough groans and determined hands and a grinding pelvis that quickly drove her wild. It escalated from there to the impatient tug and yank of clothing, stripping each other until it was only her skin and his.

Every stroke of his hips and hands were commanding, possessive, and the look in his eyes when he made her his melted the barriers around her heart that she'd spent a lifetime building. Her nails marked his back and his teeth scored her throat, leaving blush-bruises that would disappear by morning. She wasn't so sure that the furrows she left on him would do the same. They felt deeper, like the imprint of his passion on her soul. It was more than sex, more than a release.

And she knew that he felt it, too.

By the way he stared into her eyes, touched her cheek, kissed her with the same rhythm of his hips. Stroke for stroke, branding himself inside her. It unraveled like a whiplash and she buried his name in his neck, panting and breathless, while he shuddered and held her like something precious and sacred.

No words could make it more beautiful and so they remained silent, touching with gentleness instead of ardor, until she fell asleep tangled with him in an endless splay of limbs and heat.

***

Rain. It drug her up from the abyss with its gentle pressure pattering in her ears. Fluttering her lashes open, she saw the designs on the ceiling. Night still had a grip on the city beyond her windows; her gut told her that as much as the gloom wrapping itself through her bedroom. As clarity returned, she realized it wasn't rain but the steady hiss of water from the shower. Too groggy to figure out if it was Rhett or Christian—was Christian even back yet?--she sat up in bed.

Her body ached in all the right places in all the right ways. Evelyn couldn't remember feeling so sated and content. Pushing at the wild mane of her hair with a hand, she slid her legs over the edge of the mattress.

She smelled like him.

So did the sheets.

Struck by a sudden fit of ridiculous excitement, she got to her feet. It felt like the universe had cracked itself open and exposed a whole other world for her to explore. The men she'd chosen to spend time with on this earth all had their good qualities, but not one of them left her like this: blush cheeked, buzzing with pleasure, like a lost puzzle piece had finally found its place. Evelyn had always been practical where men were concerned, only staying in relationships long enough to enjoy the company but never long enough to threaten her safety.

After a while, people were bound to ask questions when they aged and you didn't.

Realistically, she knew she shouldn't lead herself on. Shouldn't lead him on. But she was too caught up in all the things that felt right, engaging in a moment of self indulgence.

The sight of their clothes strewn everywhere had an air of reckless abandon that appealed to her. It also reminded her that she needed to get dressed.

From her suitcase, she found a pair of jeans and a black shirt with capped sleeves to wear. Out of habit, she pulled shoes and socks on and stuffed the pockets with her usual items. Money, identification, credit cards.

Even if she decided to go back to bed at some point, she wouldn't sleep naked in Rhett's room while he was gone on duty. Paranoia assured that she stayed as prepared as she could be.

In the living room, she pulled the mass of her hair back into a ponytail and glanced at the glowing numbers of the mantel clock: 2:05 a.m.

Christian was due back in less than half an hour. Stifling a yawn, resisting the urge to interrupt Rhett in the shower, she decided to get a drink while she waited.

The front bathroom sat between her bedroom and the kitchenette. She had to pass it to get to the cooler. Rhett had left the door cracked, doubtless to allow him to hear in case anyone tried to get in. It was just a glance she spared in that direction on her way by. The mirror spanning the sink bounced his reflection back at her; the glass doors, etched halfway up in designs and hieroglyphics, kept his modesty while exposing his torso. Even through the vague curl of steam, she could see him so clearly she might as well have been standing right in the bathroom instead of out in the hallway.

But it wasn't the broad span of his back that stopped her, or the way the muscles flexed under the tawny stretch of his skin. It was a strange discoloration, like bruises, as if he'd suffered a major injury. She knew she hadn't done that much damage with her nails.

Drawn closer to the door with concern, she squinted, too curious about what he'd suffered not to investigate.

His skin seemed to be peeling back, and Evelyn wondered if he'd been burned. But no, it wasn't quite the same thing. The bruising, this close, started to take shape.

...the shape of an iron cross tattooed between his shoulder blades.

With a gasp of utter shock, she bumped into the wall behind her.

No. It couldn't be.

Rhett Nichols could not be a Templar. He was a government agent--

Silly fool. He's been playing you all along. They probably don't have your sisters but are hoping you'll lead the knights right to them.

In seconds her mind connected all the dots; they'd covered up the anomaly with make up or a skin-like patch of some kind, maybe realizing she might get a glimpse of his back. Now it was peeling away from the direct power of the shower spray and maybe a little help from her fingernails.

The betrayal felt like a sledgehammer to the gut and shock kept her pinned to the wall as if she'd been nailed there. He'd lied to her, deceived her. All those looks and kisses and--

Oh god.

Seducer.

Liar.

The bile rose up the back of her throat, thick enough to choke her. Christian, Dracht, Dragar. They were all Templar Knights.

Thoughts of Christian and the knowledge Rhett wouldn't be long in the shower drove her into motion. She had money and her identification in her pockets but there was no time to grab extra clothes or a suitcase. Instead she went for a weapon.

How fitting he'd taught her to use it so recently.

From the holster he'd left on the table, she took the remaining gun. The other was probably in the bathroom with him for safety precautions. With shaking hands, she checked the clip like he'd taught her. Seeing the gleam of bullets, she jammed it back into the weapon and tucked it under the back of her shirt in her pants. She couldn't just run around Port Said with a gun in her hand.

Wheezing, distressed, she glanced at the clock.

2:17

She had to get out of there. As it was, she might run into Christian on the way down the stairs. What would she say? What excuse could she give? Creeping toward the door, she disengaged the locks and the chain as quick and quiet as she was able to.

“Evelyn, is that you?” Rhett called out from the bathroom. His voice echoed eerily off the walls in there, resonating.

Maybe he'd turned around by then and had seen her pass by the door in the mirror. She didn't wait to find out but slipped out into the hall and broke for the stairs at a dead run. In her mind she determined how long it might take Rhett to really understand what was going on, get dressed, and come after her. Rushing headlong, she took the flight at a dangerous pace, circling down, down, down.

Hitting the door, she fled into the market without looking back. So many people. Didn't anyone ever sleep?

“Evelyn!” Her name snapped her gaze up to the balcony of their suite.

Rhett stood there, even then yanking a shirt over his head; he'd already managed to get jeans on. The man was quick.

Fear galvanized her into action; without a word, she charged through the crowd. She made hasty pardons when she elicited angry curses from the natives. Panic made her breath shallow. People stared at her, jostled her. Pushed at her.

“Evelyn!”

Startled at the ferocious growl of her name, she glanced back. Before she could look away, Rhett swung over the railing of the balcony, hanging on with his hands, and let go.

Yelping in surprise that he took that kind of shortcut, she watched him aim for an awning to break his fall. It bowed inward and the supports snapped with sharp cracks. Evelyn didn't watch more than that.

Rhett was coming.

Shoving her way through the milling bodies, she emerged out onto the next street and went left. Drawing all kinds of unwanted attention, heedless of anyone else or anything but getting away, she veered down the very next street and into the throng. Ten feet from the corner, she lurched into one of the tiny shops, nearly knocking down an older woman with a basket on her arm. Shouts followed her into the back, where she barged without permission, looking left and right for some other kind of way out.

A spiraling staircase led up and she took it. There was too much noise, too much commotion to see if Rhett was right behind her. Evelyn ascended to the next floor, and the next, following the staircase all the way to a door that led out onto the roof of the building. There wasn't a lock from the outside, but there was a stray two-by-four on the ground and she jammed it under the doorknob.

It wasn't a total fix but it might buy her another few minutes.

Just as she found a fire escape that would take her back to the main street, she heard Rhett kick at the door. The bang echoed across the rooftop.

She missed the rail of the ladder when she flung herself over the edge and for a single, terrifying moment, she thought she was going to fall all the way to the ground. But her fingers caught the iron and she crashed into the ladder with a grunt. Scaling down as fast as she dared, her feet just made contact with the concrete when she heard Rhett above her.

Looking up, they locked gazes.

“What the hell are you doing? Stop running!” he shouted.

Evelyn took off down the alley. She refused to stop or slow down. There was no need to listen to his excuses. Bastard. How could she have been so naive.

The metallic thump of his shoes on the metal rungs of the ladder encouraged her to go faster. Zig-zagging through another market, she looked for places to duck into. Places like the last where she could double back or hide or come out a different exit on another street that might throw him off her trail. There were less people here and she didn't know whether to be angry or thankful.

A jewelry and bead shop looked like it might connect elsewhere in the building, or perhaps she could bribe the owner to hide her. Either way she rushed in, accidentally knocking over a display. Thousands of beads flew everywhere, a riot of color that made the floor a haphazard landscape. Several shouts erupted at once and she gave up thinking to ask the owners to help her. The more commotion they made, the more it would draw Rhett's attention.

While confusion reigned, she found a door that led into another shop and she didn't even hesitate. Running through, toppling racks of clothes and collectables, she burst out onto another street teeming with tourists. It looked to be some sort of gathering or party.

Someone grabbed her ponytail, wrenching her head back. Screaming, thinking Rhett had finally caught up with her, she aimed a vicious kick at the man's knee. She felt it give and bow backwards, hyper extending the joint. When he howled and fell to the ground, she realized that it wasn't Rhett but someone who'd probably thought she was a thief and had been trying to stop her.

Disoriented for a moment, knowing his caterwauling would draw more attention, she glanced around to get her bearings. A glimpse of Rhett crashing through the shop drove her forward, barreling through people and onto another, less busy street. Here, where she had room to move, she picked up speed, uncaring at the way passerby whipped their heads around to watch her go.

A narrow alleyway between two buildings came up on her right and she swerved into the dark opening, feet pounding, breath coming in gasps. Not being a main street, the corridor looked empty, desolate. Muted light from two bulbs spilled over the asphalt, just enough to see by.

She didn't realize she was crying until the alley became blurry and out of focus. Passing two fire escapes, she looked for side doors into shops or businesses and found three—but they were all locked when she tried them.

Whirling at the crunch of gravel underfoot, she saw Rhett standing perhaps twenty feet away, poised like he'd been stalking her. His chest rose and fell with heavy, rapid breaths.

He held up a hand in the traditional gesture of Stop. “Evelyn, listen to me--”

“You liar!” she shouted, reaching into the waistband of her jeans to snatch the gun out. Bringing it up, shaking to the point the barrel wavered three or four inches in any direction, she aimed it at him.

He put both hands out this time. “I have to explain--”

“I've heard enough from you! Is your name even Rhett? Is it? You've been lying to me this whole time!” The shrill edge to her voice carried through the alley.

“We can't do this here, Evelyn. You're going to draw too much attention,” he said, taking a cautious step closer.

“Stop! Don't you dare move another inch.” Clenching her teeth, furious and hurt, she tried to steady the gun. Rhett had abused her trust—trust that she should never have given him—in ways that threatened to shatter her. Fear ticked along her pulse like a mad insect, racing to and fro, to and fro.

He stopped, palms still up in surrender. “There are things you don't understand, Evelyn.”

She cut him off. “I understand what you are. That's all I need to know. You've been lying since the very beginning. What did you all do, decide to have you 'rescue' me, so that I'd trust you and lead you to my sisters? Bastard!”

The whole sordid plot unfurled before her eyes; a daring save, a charming 'agent', selfless acts of protection. They'd planned the entire thing from the beginning. She felt sick beyond anything she'd ever experienced.

He cocked his head and looked confused. “I thought you said you didn't have any sisters?”

“Stop playing games!” She railed at him, angrier by the second that he continued his ruse. If he was a Templar, then of course he knew she had sisters. Sisters they pretended they were going to rescue. Evelyn didn't know what happened to the girls, but she suspected they couldn't get in contact because they'd been hounded worse than she'd been.

“I'm not playing games. Evelyn, come back to the hotel--”

“No! I'm not going anywhere with you.” The gun wavered, centering on him.

“I don't know what you're thinking--”

“I saw the tattoo, Rhett.”

His eyes narrowed in a calculating way. “So? What's it mean to you?”

What did it mean? Death and destruction.

“It means you're one of them. You've known all along. Did you participate in my torture, even?” Nausea gripped her hard. That he could have such a cruel streak after making her feel safe unnerved her. The duplicity was so extreme that she could hardly wrap her mind around it.

“Do you think I'd have risked my ass, rushing into that basement to save you, if I'd been a part of it? Lower the gun, Evelyn.” He took a step closer and had the audacity to look affronted.

“Don't,” she hissed. “Don't do it.”

“You're not thinking clearly. Just stop for a second and listen to what I have to say.”

“I don't need to listen. I know what you want.”

“What is it you think I want? Besides sisters you told me you didn't have.”

“How could you have done this? I trusted you, Rhett.” Evelyn choked back a fresh sob that started to rise up her throat. “Was it you that sent me that text? No wonder the boat found us so fast. You were telling them where we were the whole time.”

“I did not tell anyone our location. What is it you think you know about the tattoo, Evelyn?”

“It doesn't matter what I know. Or how. It matters that you all lied, thinking I'd lead you to my sisters. You don't actually have them in your custody, do you? That was a ploy and a lie like the rest.”

Rhett looked perplexed. “Have you forgotten I came under gunfire? That I almost took a bullet head on for you?”

Evelyn couldn't believe how realistic his confusion seemed. It antagonized her further. “Staged, like your fake concern and your kisses.”

“You're crazy if you think I was faking that. There's some kind of miscommunication going on here, Evelyn. Just take a second to breathe. Let's go back to the hotel and figure it out.” He closed the distance by a foot. Cautious, careful. Watching her eyes.

“Don't. Take. Another. Step.” She clipped out each word with a shaky voice. Her insides were a mess of tension and stress.

“Or what, Evelyn? I know you won't shoot me. You can't stand there and tell me you haven't felt the same thing between us that I have since we met.”

“No. That was nothing. And it was certainly nothing to you. If you really thought I wouldn't shoot you, you would have just come over here and grabbed the gun by now.”

“You don't believe that--”

“Don't tell me what I believe!” She took a step back, gripping the gun with both hands. The muzzle shook like she was having mild seizures. Through the gloom, she could see people passing the end of the alley in periphery. They were alone, but they wouldn't be alone for long. He'd probably alerted Christian. Maybe even Dracht and Dragar.

Of course he had.

“Give me the gun, Evelyn. Let me take you somewhere safe so we can figure out what's going on.” He stretched out a hand. Coming closer.

The crack of debris under his boots sounded so loud to Evelyn just then. Every one of her senses seemed exacerbated by the strain of the moment; the green of his eyes was greener, his hair more golden. She could hear him breathing, hear the rustle of of his shirt when he moved. The gun felt heavier, less steady. Cold. Hard. And much deadlier when it bucked in her hands the second she pulled the trigger.

Chapter Eight

Dracht glanced down to the paper in his hand. The license plate number matched the one of the van parked in the lot of the decrepit church.

“It's the same one,” he said.

“I'll bet they've got them in the basement again,” Dragar said, rechecking the rounds in his clip before sliding it into the gun. “There has to be another door leading down there besides having to go through the front.”

Two other men in the back of their own van made final preparations. All were dressed in black to blend in better with the night. They wore shoulder holsters under their jackets. Each had a belt on with additional supplies: minor explosives, mirrors, stun grenades, heavy sedatives.

Dracht looked out the windshield from the driver's seat and brought the binoculars up to scan the outside of the building. It was the fourth time he'd checked for security. They'd gotten word only an hour ago that the van had been spotted. Dracht didn't want to waste a second closing in. With any luck, they wouldn't arrive to find the women moved to another location, like the last time.

“Anything?” Dragar asked.

“Nothing. I think I see stairs at the back but no one's guarding them.”

“That'll be the door directly to the basement we need,” Dragar added, then spoke over his shoulder to one of the men in the back. “Raoul, bring the bolt cutters just in case.”

“I'm on it, boss,” Raoul said, taking the bolt cutters out of a bag on the metal floor.

“If we're going, we need to go now. There's only about an hour until daylight,” Dracht said, lowering the binoculars.

“Then let's go.” Dragar pushed open the door and got out.

On cue, the other men exited at the same time, leaving the doors cracked so they wouldn't alert anyone on guard at the church to their presence.

Four hulking shadows crossed the street and swarmed the back stairs, descending one at a time.

Dracht stood to the side and let Raoul cut the chain wrapped through the door handles. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad sign. Either the group of men wanted to make it hard for anyone to get in, or they'd already vacated the premises. The van could be a decoy to make them spend time here while the group interrogated the women somewhere else.

The church, on the outskirts of Athens, was an older monument that had not gone through renovations in some time. Thin spires rose high and sharp against the black sky, like needles trying to pierce heaven. A large cross threw a shadow down onto the sidewalk from the moon. Stained glass windows depicting scenes from the bible lined every wall. Several had been broken out from vandals who had no care for religion or sacred places.

After Raoul painstakingly removed the chain, Dracht opened one of the doors and listened; in the distance he heard water dripping and a strange metallic noise that creaked rhythmically. The men around him stayed quiet, keeping an eye out in different directions so that they weren't taken by surprise.

Dracht made eye contact with Dragar. At the go-ahead nod, he crouched and went in; for such a big man, Dracht could move with predatory speed. One spare, lone light bulb swung from the ceiling on a string, casting eerie shadows on a long basement with discolored, pocked walls and thick wooden support beams. Gun drawn, he swung it left and right, ready to encounter anything.

The sight that greeted him when he passed a support beam that had been blocking his view was a shocking study in premeditated violence. A black woman hung from her wrists, head sunk down against her chest in death. Naked, her toes dangled at least a foot from the cold, concrete floor. A pool of blood sat beneath her, dripping down from the hole in her chest where her captors had cut out her heart.

This must be Genevieve.

“Mother of god,” Raoul whispered somewhere behind him.

In this business, Dracht had seen a great many things. Vicious, ugly things. Torture, death, dismemberment. The impact of this girl's death hit him strange and hard and for reasons he could not understand. It felt like something precious had been lost, the light of goodness doused by something evil. This woman should not have died.

Dracht knew and understood that instinctively. The quiet noises the others made assured him that they felt the same thing he did. Unexplainable. Odd. Unlike any other death scene he'd come across in his lifetime.

He wondered if the men who'd found the blond behind the nightclub had the same reaction.

“Room's clear,” Raoul said after a cursory sweep.

Dracht lowered his gun, mouth thinning in disapproval and disgust.

Dragar stepped past him, weapon down at his side. He made a wide circle around the girl, looking for other clues and signs. Dracht knew Dragar well and he could see and sense the same disturbance about this death that he himself felt.

Raoul and Benecio came to stand at his flank. Their unease was unusual and palpable.

“Go check the church and the back steps to make sure they aren't circling around to trap us in here,” Dracht said.

Raoul cut one way and Benecio cut another.

The drip of blood made no noise, but it grated on Dracht's nerves nevertheless.

“This is different than other killings, hm?” Dragar said, bringing up what Dracht hadn't said into the open.

“Yes. You feel it, too?”

“I do. I want to have her examined by a private physician and see if they find anything unusual. Besides the obvious. There's something here we're missing,” Dragar said.

“It doesn't look like they've killed the other women yet, unless they've done so between this stop and another.” Dracht brooded over the fact that the murderers were keeping one step ahead of them and they hadn't saved Genevieve in time.

“They could have split off into two groups. Rhett said there were four of them in the room when he got Evelyn,” Dragar replied. He came to stand next to Dracht facing away from the dangling woman.

Dracht hadn't thought about them splitting off into two groups, but it made perfect sense. “If they've done that, then there's even more here than we thi--”

Raoul came back into the gloomy basement at a run, cell phone in his hand. “Christian just called. He said we need to fly back to Port Said immediately. Rhett's been shot.”

***

In the underworld of politics and religion, men of power had resources at their disposal other people did not. Such as the private jet that swept Dracht and Dragar across the Mediterranean toward Egypt; such as the team they left behind to take care of the deceased Genevieve. Dracht had left specific instructions that she was to be handled like a precious jewel or face the consequences of his wrath. He'd called the mortuary holding the other one, Galiana, and expressed his desire for them to keep the body in cold storage rather than cremate her until he had some answers.

The tasks kept him busy until they landed on the private airstrip where a waiting car whisked them away to a hospital on the outskirts of Port Said. Even here they had pull. Christian would have made sure to get Rhett out of the public eye and have him treated by a physician who could be trusted to keep his mouth shut. They had discovered in flight that Rhett had not been mortally wounded, which notched down the anxiety several levels.

When they walked into the secure, isolated hospital room, Dracht was not surprised to see Rhett sitting up on the bed yanking at the IV line. He had a bandage over the top half of his left shoulder with a small spot of blood seeping through the pristine, white gauze. A flesh covered bandage protected what he supposed was the other wound Rhett had acquired saving Evelyn from the safe house.

Two close calls.

“What the hell happened?” Dracht asked while Dragar went closer to investigate.

Christian stood up from a chair in the corner and hovered near the other side of the bed with his hands in his pockets after the greetings.

“She shot me, that's what happened,” Rhett said with a snort.

“Evelyn shot you?” Dracht asked. Of all the scenarios he'd imagined, that was not one of them.

“That's right.”

“The kicker, is that he gave her lessons in the desert, thinking to help--”

“Shut up, Christian,” Rhett growled.

At any other time, Dracht might have thrown his head back and laughed. The recent death in the basement and Rhett having been shot by the woman he was protecting subdued his humor.

“I guess you didn't teach her how to shoot to kill?” Dragar asked, clapping Rhett on the shoulder once he seemed sure the man wasn't dying.

“I taught her just fine. If she wouldn't have closed her eyes when she pulled the trigger I might be in the morgue right now,” Rhett said with disgust.

“Do you think she would have really killed you?” Dracht asked, growing more serious at the question.

“I don't think so. I think she was scared and wanted to slow me down.” Rhett didn't seem disgusted so much at Evelyn as with himself.

Dracht regarded Rhett with a sharper eye. “Why did she shoot you to begin with?”

“Because she saw the tattoo.” Rhett twisted his torso around so Dracht and Dragar could see the way the 'patch' had peeled away from his skin. Half of the Templar tattoo was visible.

“I don't understand,” Dragar said. “Why would that send her into flight?”

“She apparently knows something about it. I couldn't get what she knew out of her. Situation was too tense,” Rhett answered.

“How could she know? That secret has been carried down through the centuries. Only rumors exist outside the Church and our group,” Dracht said. He wasn't sure what to think that some random woman knew about their status. Even people that had seen the tattoos didn't know what they really meant. The legend of the Templars had died out hundreds of years ago.

“I don't know, Dracht. But I'm not spending the whole night in here while she's out there on the run and vulnerable. She's been withholding information that we need to help them,” Rhett said, standing up off the edge of the bed.

He swayed, and Dracht put a hand on his other shoulder, urging him to sit down. “You need at least one night of rest, Rhett. Don't push yourself.”

“It's a flesh wound. No good will come of me sitting here all night while she puts more distance between us,” Rhett insisted.

“How will you know where she's gone?” Dragar asked. “I don't think she'll be stupid enough to use her own identification to flee Egypt.”

“Because I put a bug on her while she was asleep.” Rhett sat down and reached across his chest to smear the edges of the bandage firmly against his skin. The IV dangled from the bed where he'd ripped it out.

“Why don't you let us pick her up--”

“No, I want to do it,” Rhett insisted, standing up again.

He wasn't as steady on his feet as he should have been. Dracht and Dragar exchanged glances before Dragar left the room.

“Nothing good is going to come of you rushing after her right now. If you pass out somewhere, it'll take us too long to find you,” Dracht said, buying time.

Rhett went to the armoire against the wall and jerked the handle, swinging the door wide. There was a shirt in there that Christian had probably brought earlier. Rhett snatched it off the hanger and shoved his good arm through the sleeve, going slower with the other.

Dracht knew Rhett well enough to know that he wouldn't slow down or stop until he either passed out or was made to pass out. The wound wasn't lethal, but Rhett had lost enough blood to make him woozy. That meant he'd be less attuned to his surroundings and more apt to be off his game. Mistakes often meant death in their business, and he wasn't willing to take that chance.

Dragar came in with the doctor on his heels. Before Rhett understood their intent, the doctor stabbed a needle into his arm and depressed the syringe.

“.. what the hell.” Rhett snarled and yanked his arm away.

Christian and Dracht caught Rhett as he sagged, cursing a blue streak under his breath that faded as unconsciousness claimed him.

Between them, they had no trouble manhandling him back into the hospital bed.

“Sorry old boy, but it's for the best.” Dracht felt not one lick of guilt for their actions.

Dragar shook hands with the doctor and Dracht followed suit. The physician exited after assuring them Rhett would be well looked after.

Tomorrow they wouldn't have as easy of a time holding him back.

Chapter Nine

The small, seedy bar sat at least four blocks away from the shooting. It was the third one on her stop to nowhere, a late night haunt catering to nocturnal tourists. Gloomy, with a long bar against one wall, seating scattered intermittently and pool tables at the back, it had conflicting orange-green color accents and a floor that felt sticky to walk across, even in shoes.

With shaking hands, Evelyn ordered another shot of whiskey and tried to calm the frantic pace of her pulse. Images of Rhett flying back from the impact of her bullet had burned themselves onto the back of her eyelids, forcing her to relive the horror like a film reel on repeat.

She knew he wasn't dead, not with the bullet punching a hole through his shoulder instead of his heart. It had been the very last act of a desperate woman to save herself from certain death. Evelyn hadn't wanted to shoot him. Had not wanted to pull the trigger. She remembered pinching her eyes closed at one point and then had seen him go down after being struck.

And it irked her to no end that she was relieved he would survive even after his betrayal.

Damn Rhett. Damn him.

The bitter deception he'd perpetrated was hard to wash down, even with the burn of the alcohol. At the same time, she wondered how bad she'd laid him up, if at all, and whether he was going to come after her.

Of course he was.

It was only a matter of time.

She wasn't even positive the bullet had gone through him, perhaps only winging him like the last one had. His swift recovery from that incident was downright depressing when she was the one trying to flee him.

Dragging the band out of the ponytail, she ran her fingers through her hair and propped her elbow on the counter. She considered her options while the liquor slipped through her system.

Staying in Egypt was far too risky, and returning to Athens posed a problem because of travel issues. Even in her state of upset, she recognized that she couldn't very well use her passport or her I.D. She couldn't use Galiana's, either. Likely they had hers flagged, too. The Templars probably had every airport monitored in a fifty mile radius.

She thought about trying to take a boat across and dismissed the idea out of hand. Aristo worked for them and would turn her in if she showed up asking for passage. How many others were on their payroll?

What she needed was to be in touch with her sisters. Thoughts of them in the hands of the Templars made her stomach clench. Undecided whether they'd been captured and were being held as bait or were on the run like herself, she glanced along the bar to the woman sitting one stool down. She reminded Evelyn of a showgirl past her prime, with too much make-up, big hair, bright red lips and a misplaced debutante air.

Lola, of Copacabana fame, came to mind.

What held her attention however, was the purse sitting on the stool between them that gaped open while 'Lola' dug through for a lighter that she produced with a drunken coo of triumph. Specifically, the passport and wallet within easy view, which gave her ideas she shouldn't be having.

Evelyn was no ordinary thief. She wasn't a thief at all.

But desperation made her bold. Lifting her shot glass, she leaned a little to close the distance between her and the woman when she offered up a toast.

“To all night bars,” Evelyn said, pretending to be tipsier than she was.

'Lola' billowed a lungful of smoke her way and picked up her own glass, more than willing apparently to toast a stranger. “Honey, we couldn' live wit'out 'em,” the lady slurred.

Evelyn made sure that the tink of their glasses was hard enough to slosh liquor all down the woman's gauzy shirt.

“Oh, I'm sorry! Must have had a few more than I thought. Here, let me help,” Evelyn said, setting her almost empty glass down while she slid off her stool and gathered up a few napkins.

“Crap, it's soaked through,” the woman said, setting down her glass with a thump.

It was in the seconds where the stranger glanced through the dim room for the restrooms that Evelyn snitched out the wallet and the passport. She tucked them under her shirt, into the waistband of her pants. The bartender was too busy breaking up an argument over by the pool tables to notice and everyone else either couldn't see due to low lighting or were in the wrong vantage point.

Although she and the stranger had different color hair and eyes, Evelyn knew she could get around that with the addition of a hat and a pair of sunglasses. Women changed their hair color all the time, and at least she and the woman had similar bone structure to make the ruse less obvious.

“I'll order us another drink and I'll pay for your shirt,” Evelyn offered, dabbing up what spilled on the counter with a napkin.

“Soun's right. Hold my seat now.” 'Lola' grabbed up her purse by the straps and Evelyn held her breath, hoping she wouldn't look through it right then.

She didn't. Staggering off, the woman headed for the short hallway and the neon Ladies sign she must have glimpsed in her search.

Evelyn only waited until she'd disappeared out of sight to pay for her own drinks and depart the bar. Half expecting the bartender to suddenly call her out, she sank into the obscurity of the still crowded street. At some point, the woman she'd left at the bar was going to discover the theft and call the authorities. Or maybe, if she was lucky, the lady would think she'd simply lost them.

Hailing a cab, Evelyn gave the driver her destination and breathed a small sigh of relief when no one shouted her name or tried to stop her.

At the airport, feeling too exposed under the glow of florescent overhead lighting, she bought a floppy brimmed hat, a pair of reading glasses and a cheap purse to stuff the wallet and passport into. Sunglasses, considering it was still dark outside, might have been too conspicuous.

In the bathroom, she scraped her hair back into a hasty knot, securing it with a thin band she'd had in her jeans pocket. It helped disguise that her tawny, auburn streaked hair wasn't quite as light as the woman in the photo. Evelyn also decided that it made her own cheekbones look sharper, closer to a match for the identification that didn't belong to her.

As long as the clerk didn't pick apart the differences, she thought she could pass through undetected.

Still, she was nervous when she approached the desk a few minutes later. The hat provided her with a small amount of privacy in the way she glanced furtively around, checking for familiar faces, or even people who seemed too interested in her. Trying to be discreet, she was unprepared when the clerk asked her where she wanted to go.

“Excuse me?” Evelyn said, snapping a glance back.

“Your destination, ma'am?” the girl said with a heavy accent.

“I need something immediately, if you have it, preferably to Spain,” Evelyn replied, hastily choosing a spot out of Egypt and away from Athens but still in the general area. She could travel easily enough from Spain to Greece when she needed to.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but there are no available seats until tomorrow in the afternoon.”

“All right, let's try France. I can always connect with another flight there if I have to.”

“All seats are booked until eleven-forty-five in the morning.”

Evelyn caught one of the security guards watching her when she pretended to get inside the purse for the wallet. His scrutiny panicked her, although she tried not to show it.

Of course there were no flights to France. It figured.

The security guard strolled a little closer to the desk.

“What seat do you have available right now? The destination doesn't really matter. I'll just have my sisters change their flights tomorrow.” Evelyn played at being a bored jet setter. Ignoring the security guard became harder and harder to do as he took up what seemed to be a casual lean against the high counter six feet to her right. His proximity forced her into a hasty decision to accept the very first flight out of Egypt that she could get, no matter the destination. Timbuktu, England--

“There's a flight to Las Vegas with four layovers--”

Vegas?!

“I'll take it,” Evelyn said, cutting the desk clerk off. She smiled to reduce any sting and chided herself when her hands shook as she passed over the other woman's identification and passport. The clerk didn't seem to think anything was wrong, because she took up both items to start punching the data in on her computer.

Vegas. Well, that was much farther out of her way than she needed to go. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. If, when she got a hold of her sisters, she could tell them to meet her there. It would put oceans of distance between them and the Templars.

Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn saw the security guard bring a hand up and tip his mouth toward the small radio on his shoulder.

Crap.

He was calling for backup. He'd probably recognized her from fliers the Templars had already sent around, guessing she'd try and flee the country. Thoughts of escape consumed her while she watched the clerk with growing impatience. Fear that more security guards were going to show up escalated her heart rate.

A fine sheen of sweat dotted her brow under the brim of the hat.

The price the clerk quoted was more cash than she had on hand. In a quandary, Evelyn wondered what to do. The pressure was on. She'd already stolen 'Lola's' wallet and passport, probably putting her into a world of hurt so far away from home. To use her credit card on top of that was just adding insult to injury.

Did she have any choice? If she used Galiana's card, the Templars would be alerted if they weren't already. Survival instinct kicked in and she passed over one of the woman's three credit cards, glancing at the name on the front so that she wouldn't have to look like she didn't know it when the time came to sign.

Margaret White.

Not quite a Lola after all.

With the transaction complete, and Evelyn about to jump out of her skin with nerves thanks to the security guard, she accepted the passport and identification back and stuffed them into the purse before signing the slip.

“If you hurry, you can just make it to the gate before final boarding, Miss White,” the clerk said, handing her a ticket and pointing down the airport in the direction she needed to go.

“Thank you.” Evelyn gathered the purse and the ticket. She didn't look at the security guard when she veered away from the counter and took up a brisk pace toward the departing gate. At least she had a good reason to be moving at such a quick clip through the terminal.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Evelyn boarded the plane without being stopped by security. Finding her seat, she sank into the cushions and for now, left the hat on. No one occupied the seat beside her.

All the better. Evelyn wasn't in the mood for small talk.

***

“See, the great thing about our arrangement here, is that I don't have to wait around to sign out. So either you remove the IV, or I will.” Rhett glared at the doctor.

The sun had come up an hour ago and Rhett was impatient to be on his way. Dracht and Dragar were gone in search of the girls—the sisters?--and Rhett didn't want Evelyn to put any more distance between them. He was sure she'd figured out how to flee Egypt already, unless she'd decided on the age old trick of hiding in plain sight.

It didn't matter. The tracking device would lead him right to her.

“But you need to rest for another day at least. You're going to aggravate the wound and you don't want to lose anymore blood than you already have,” the doctor said, looking slightly nervous.

“I don't have twenty-four hours.” Rhett, standing next to the hospital bed, was through screwing around with delays. His patience had a limit. He shot Christian, who waited in the corner with his arms across his chest, a look that said he'd better be ready to move.

The doctor showed his palms in a sign of surrender and came over himself to remove the needle and tape from Rhett's arm.

Rhett sneered when the physician gave a piece of the tape an especially vicious yank. Versed in controlling pain, he showed no other sign than that before he brushed past the physician. The special arrangement in place for the Templars at this, and many other hospitals around the world, made it convenient to get their wounds treated expediently with utmost privacy.

Already dressed in jeans and boots, he tugged a navy blue shirt over his shoulders, careful not to dislodge either bandage. The pain incurred from the bullet was tolerable with the addition of the pills the doctor had given him, and he had more tucked away in his pocket for later. It wasn't the first time he'd been shot, or shot at, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

“Did you bring the monitor?” Rhett asked Christian while he adjusted the shoulder holster to fit around the wound. He gave the leather a few yanks until it suited him.

“I did. She's on the move, somewhere over the atlantic,” Christian said.

Rhett arched a brow and slid his arms through the sleeves of a jacket. “Where the hell does she think she's going?”

Christian shrugged his brows. “I have no idea. She must be pretty freaked out to leave the area altogether.”

“Well yeah, she shot me,” Rhett snorted. “She probably thinks she'll be arrested if she's caught. I wonder what she meant by calling those girls her sisters,” he mused.

“That's what they must be, but I don't see how from the pictures we were able to pull up with their information. One is clearly of oriental descent and another African. Maybe the black haired one, but that's all,” Christian answered. He followed Rhett from the room and out into the hallway.

Rhett grunted, ignoring the fawning look one of the nurses gave him. He was all business, trying to think three steps ahead of what Evelyn might do. “Maybe the blonde we found dead, too. I wonder why she didn't just tell me one or two of them were her sisters.”

They exited out into the already arid morning and Rhett squinted against the sun. Drawing sunglasses from his jacket, he slid them over his eyes and flatly ignored a sharp, stabbing pain through his shoulder. It felt like someone jabbed him with a hot poker.

“She must have something to hide, or that she doesn't want anyone to know,” Christian said. He too drew on sunglasses to shield his eyes.

“Or,” Rhett said, following Christian across the back parking lot to a waiting car. “She's simply protecting them from whatever the Templars want. Any news on that, by the way?”

“Man, no one knows what's going on. Dragar can't get any kind of leg up on all this because too many of them are out on missions and he doesn't know who else is involved. Something is going on, that's for sure though,” Christian said, using the fob to remotely unlock the doors to the sleek, black BMW.

Rhett almost insisted on driving. Instead, he got into the passenger seat, scowling, and slammed the door closed. What remained of his patience and good mood were deteriorating rapidly.

“There were four in the subterranean room when I grabbed Evelyn. I'm betting there are more than just those four who are in on it, though. This isn't like your usual interrogation. They've got these girls mistaken with something or someone else. Has to be. The fact that the rest of us don't know anything about it is suspicious anyway,” Rhett said, working out the facts in his mind. Too much of it was conflicting and contradictory. As a Templar, he didn't know all the missions the other Knights went on, but kidnapping and torture of innocent victims was never on anyone's To-Do list.

He angled the seat belt across his body and glanced at Christian as he backed the car out of the slot.

“Dragar's running an internal investigation while they look for the girls. See if any of the other guys crack under pressure. Someone has to know something,” he said.

“Pisses me off that they killed another one. Systematically going through the ones left alive and taking them out.” But why. Rhett couldn't make heads or tails of it all. He studied the scenery as Christian accelerated and whisked them away from the hospital. Rhett was glad to be out of there. He hated hospitals with a passion.

“Yeah, seriously messed up,” Christian agreed with a low exhale. “Really vicious at the scene. Cut her heart out.”

Rhett's mind superimposed Genevieve's face over Evelyn's. His gut twisted at the thought of her suffering something even worse than where he'd found her the first time. And his own brethren were responsible. Rhett wasn't a novice to death and even murder. Their jobs, such as they were, forced them to commit acts most citizens wouldn't understand. They were in the employ of the Church, acting on direction from a liaison. But their work was always geared toward the good, not senseless death.

And he was very sure that the two murders the Templars had committed already were just that.

Senseless.

“I figure we'll just go back to the stronghold and wait to see where she winds up,” Christian said.

Rhett slanted him a dark look. “Like hell we will. I'll call ahead and get the private jet cleared. We know she's headed to the US, so we'll be on her tail when she arrives and just keep state hopping until she gets off. It'll help if we can find out which flight she's on.”

“I already checked. Her name isn't on any of the manifests. None of her 'friends' names, either. Nothing I recognize. She's using someone else's name, though I can't figure out how she got something that fast,” Christian said.

“Apparently. Let's hope she doesn't think to check for another bug or we'll really be up shit creek.” Rhett grunted. He wouldn't be all that surprised if she found it and put it on someone else's luggage, leading them on a wild goose chase that would just waste time.

Rhett had the distinct feeling that every second they spent away from her was a second closer to her death.

***

This desert felt different on her skin. Las Vegas, with all it's glitter and shine, was not a strange place. Evelyn had been here when the very first buildings had gone up, when the dusty valley had taken on life. An oasis of steel and metal sprung up from the sand, luring visitors from every corner of the world. She'd been here when the Rat Pack played at all the swanky hotels, and she'd been here when Elvis took the stage. Onward, through the years, she'd watched the urban sprawl stretch out over miles while the hotels got bigger and fancier and more elaborate.

Her last visit had been sometime in the eighties, before the Strip had become home to hotels like the Venetian and Paris. As the cab cruised along the infamous street, she marveled at just how many new and glowing palaces changed the skyline she'd once been so familiar with.

Two delays in the extraordinarily long trip put her arrival in the dead of night though like Port Said, nothing about this city slowed down just because the witching hour was upon them. Lights raced around the edges of the Flamingo and the MGM Grand towered like a monolith, glowing as green as the witch's skin in the Wizard of OZ. She might have marveled at the replication of the Eiffel tower but all Evelyn could think was that Galiana would never see any of this again. Her sister had a special fondness for Vegas, always had.

Shoving the emotion down, she watched several little quaint chapels flicker past the window of the taxi, the spires lit up like the faux stained glass arching against the walls. The driver didn't have to compete with quite as much traffic as he might have four hours earlier and for that Evelyn was thankful. He pulled into the parking lot of the Venetian and angled up to drop her off before the front doors. Tipping him with a bit of the cash she had on her, Evelyn got out with only her bag over a shoulder.

People of all walks of life came in and out the doors, one of which she caught to hold open for herself. Entering, a cool touch of air hit her skin and the distant sound of chinging slot machines greeted her ears. Sweeping the hat off, feeling safe and obscure here so far from that gloomy alley a half world away, she stuffed it down into the large bag and headed to the front desk. The décor was charming and fitting for the theme, the lady at the counter helpful and smiling.

Evelyn used the stolen identification again and paid cash for a room for one night. She didn't trust to stay too long in one place and planned to move from one casino to another every few days. In the meantime, she would try to make contact with her sisters and get them on planes out of the middle east. If she couldn't contact them here, it wasn't likely that she would have been able to contact them in Egypt either.

She took the sobering thought with her to the elevators, rubbing her eyelids with her fingertips. The whoosh of the cab took her up to the third floor where she got off and made her way down the hall.

It reminded her of the hotel in Port Said.

It reminded her of the bastard Rhett. Damn him.

Emotionally drained, she used the key card in the slot and opened the door. Like everything else about the newer hotel, the furnishings were crisp and clean and well appointed. Swags in yellow-gold material hung over the broad windows and a separate sitting area boasted two elegant stuffed chairs with matching ottomans. The baroque details and warm red patterned comforter made the room feel like home.

Engaging all the locks and even the chain, she dropped the bag on the ground near the bathroom doorway and went straight to the queen sized bed. Flopping onto the mattress, she stretched out with an exhausted sigh and finally allowed herself to relax for a second.

For the first time since she'd seen the blasted tattoo on Rhett's back, Evelyn felt like she could actually breathe without worrying someone would crash through the door. Not for long, but long enough to just take stock of what had happened. The ceiling blurred out of focus and she closed her eyes.

Only for a moment, she promised herself. Only for a moment.

A sharp rap on her door startled Evelyn awake. Her body had that heavy sensation of deep sleep dragging down her limbs even while she struggled to sit up. Disoriented, she realized more time than she'd thought had passed. Confused and panicked, it all came rushing back as another sharp knock penetrated the haze.

They couldn't have found her already. Impossible. She had no weapons, nothing to protect herself from them. Scrambling off the bed, she lurched for the phone on the nightstand, ready to dial the hotel operator and scream for assistance. Her hands took on a palsied shake from being woken up in such a startling way.

“Hello, room service.” Another rap of knuckles on the door.

Evelyn exhaled and set the handset back in the cradle.

Not the Templars at all. Just room service.

“Nothing right now, thank you,” she called toward the door. Even her voice shook.

No knocks followed.

Tonight she needed to remember to put the Do not disturb sign on her knob.

Making her way into the bathroom, she took care of business, washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face.

The reflection that peered back at her looked pale and drawn. Her eyes had a jaded quality, mouth turned down at the corners. She felt older, as if the strain of the last week had added twenty years to her life.

Even the tan she'd acquired in Greece didn't help.

“What now, Evelyn?” she asked herself. There were no easy answers, even here, alone in a hotel room thousands of miles away from the chaos her life had become.

Her first priority was to buy a few clothes and to find another internet cafe to check for messages from her sisters. By now, if the girls were on the run and not captive, they would have found a way to leave her an email.

Rinsing her mouth, she spat into the sink and patted her face dry. Out into the bedroom, she went to the window and pushed the blackout drapes back. Squinting against the bright glare of the sun, she realized by the slant of it in the sky that it was much later than she thought.

Twisting a look to the nightstand, she saw the digital readout: 11:16.

She couldn't believe she'd slept that long. Gathering up the purse, she double checked that she had her key card and wallet. Putting the hat on her head, she exited the room.

Her first stop was to grab a bagel from the deli. Stuffing it down into the purse, she navigated the classy interior of the Venetian and stepped out through the double glass doors into the heat of the Nevada day. People bustled along the sidewalk and cars clogged the Strip. Keeping a wary eye on anyone that looked suspicious, she started walking. There were so many more businesses lining the street that Evelyn was momentarily taken aback. Not just enormous hotels but restaurants and shops. She ate the bagel on the way, giving her flagging energy a much needed boost.

A few blocks down, she caught sight of a store front off the main drag that boasted an internet cafe. Inside, small tables had been set up with computers across from each other. A long bar sat against a floor to ceiling window with stools lined up for customers to sit on. Airy and clean, pale blue with silver accents, it had an almost fifties feeling to it.

Purchasing a fifteen minute block of time, she chose a table in the corner with a computer that faced away from the crowd. Setting her bag on the floor near her ankle, she glanced over the faces in the cafe before putting her fingers on the keys.

No one looked familiar. Not that she'd expected anyone to. Still, she was too wary not to keep a constant eye out for anything suspicious. It only took her a minute to log into their shared internet account. She clicked the folder for new mail and held her breath.

Nothing.

No new mail. A sharp stab of disappointment turned into a fresh round of fear. Anger at the Templars surfaced as well. Debating the wisdom of leaving her whereabouts, she decided that ultimately she had no choice.

Except she did so in a language long dead that no one else would be able to decipher. Even the most proficient code breaker would find it impossible to translate. Evelyn made obscure references to her location in any case. In her mind's eye, she recalled the skill the Templars had in torture and wasn't sure one of her sisters wouldn't give up the email account information no matter how strong willed or determined.

With her fifteen minutes up, Evelyn closed out the window and erased the history before leaving the cafe altogether. Deep in thought, she walked back to the Venetian with the city coming alive as the lunch hour arrived.

She knew she couldn't go back to Pacific Palisades. Couldn't go home. Didn't really want to with her sisters in a possibly precarious position. Even when they had lived in separate countries all those years ago, Evelyn hadn't felt this alone and unsure of herself. It was like she could feel the Templars breathing down her neck, waiting for the right time to strike.

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder. There were too many faces, too many people to tell whether any particular person had a specific interest in her.

Without warning, she bounced off a hard wall of muscle, a man's chest, and gasped when strong hands grasped her by the elbows.

“Should watch where you're walking, Miss,” the man said.

Evelyn, about to scream and fight back, met a pair of casual brown eyes that belonged to a man in a business suit. He released her right after that.

“Sorry. I thought I heard someone call my name,” she fibbed, standing where he left her. If the man had been a Templar, she would doubtless already be hustled into a car waiting at the curb.

He smiled and walked on, whistling to himself as he went.

Trying to calm her racing heart, Evelyn marched along the sidewalk, unsettled by the contact more than she wanted to admit.

***

Curls of steam permeated the hotel bathroom while Evelyn took a shower. She inhaled the hot mist to soothe her dry throat, scrubbing hours of travel from her skin. The shampoo the hotel provided smelled like it came from an upscale salon. Evelyn washed her hair twice and finally turned the water off. Stepping out, she toweled herself dry and then wrapped it around her head swami style. Using the side of her hand, she smeared the fog away from the mirror and stared at her reflection again.

She thought she looked tired. Distressed. Usually hot baths and showers did wonders for her morale. Today she felt like someone had strapped an anvil to her back.

Three hours of shopping replenished her clothing enough to get her by for several days. Jeans, tee shirts, one sundress, sandals, socks and undergarments.

She felt a strong urge to be doing something to help the girls but she wasn't sure what. Being born in the Garden of Eden didn't give them any special magical skills other than an innate ability to heal and the gift of immortality. Evelyn couldn't look into a crystal ball for answers or make images appear on water. They shared no mental telepathy or any other extreme intuition that might have helped her understand their fate.

Frustrated, she left the bathroom and drew on one of the pairs of jeans, a plain tee shirt of dove gray and new running shoes.

Evelyn didn't think she would ever be able to sleep again without being fully clothed. Not for the first time, she didn't feel comfortable unless she was ready to move at a moment's notice.

Pulling a fat toothed comb through her damp hair, she glanced at the nightstand clock: 3:30 p.m.

She didn't know what to do with herself, couldn't decide whether to stay in the room or investigate the casino. Money was too precious a commodity to throw away on gambling right now. Using the stolen credit card would just lead them to her faster when the woman reported it missing. Too restless to pace up here for the next however many hours until she could fall asleep, she used the complimentary hair dryer to make herself somewhat presentable and filled the pockets of the jeans with money, identification and the key card.

Evelyn left the hotel room for the second time that day and took the elevator down to the main floor. Busier than it had been earlier, the casino buzzed with bodies, the clang of machines and a whoop of someone who'd hit a minor jackpot.

To be so carefree.

She wove through bodies in search of something to eat, preferring the sit down deli rather than a restaurant where she would feel too confined and trapped by booths and walls. Sitting at a small table for one, she ate an early dinner consisting of a hoagie and an orange, people watching while she did so. No one seemed to be paying any special attention to her barring one man who smiled broadly on his way by for something to eat.

Probably harmless, like the business man she'd bumped into, but she wouldn't give him anymore than a vague smile in return to discourage him from coming over to talk. While she ate, she plotted what to do about their houses back in Pacific Palisades. She was sure they were being watched. It pained her to think that they wouldn't be able to get any of their things out.

Evelyn, in fact all of her sisters, had emergency accounts in foreign banks and countries with new identification, new lives and money to see them safely relocated in case something like this happened. The problem was that they needed to get to the stash in the city or country. Evelyn had tried to get to France, where there was one such stash and had to abort the idea when that security guard made her nervous. There was another safe deposit box in Los Angeles, one in New York, Japan, and several other locations that were more obscure. If she didn't hear from her sisters or if they didn't show up here in Las Vegas within three days, she decided she would choose one of those locations to retrieve more money and new ID.

Washing down the food with a swallow of water, she rested her back against the seat and was about to take a second drink when her gaze landed on a pair of pale green eyes. She jerked in surprise.

Rhett. Oh shit.

He stood next to a bank of machines with his arms crossed over his chest, sandy hair loose around his broad shoulders. The bastard didn't look worse for wear, though she knew there was an injury under the long sleeved black shirt somewhere. She thought his expression was almost—accusing.

Frozen, feeling like a deer in the headlights, she couldn't fathom how he'd found her this fast. It cost her precious seconds of getaway time.

Lurching up, she left the water on the table and briskly walked the other direction, leaving the cafe behind. Running in a casino was no good. Security would be on her in a second, making his job easier.

She wove between bodies, trying to get lost, glancing back only to see him stalking with what looked to be a casual enough gait in her wake.

Oh god. Christian was probably somewhere, ready to cut her off.

How had they found her so fas-- a tracker. He'd probably slapped one of those ugly black trackers on her back in Egypt.

“Excuse me. Pardon me,” she said, moving quickly around the main lobby for the doors. It was riskier to be out there but she'd take her chances over the idea that the Templars long reach could sway the security here to turn her over if they asked.

Or, he could just pose as the CIA agent again.

Panicked, her thoughts ran wild, even into sarcasm.

She felt trapped, suffocated. Like there was no where she could go to get away from them. Years ago, Minna had predicted that one day, the time would come when they would have to go back to the Garden of Eden just to survive. Technology would catch up with them, leaving them no alternative but to seek refuge in that hidden sanctuary. As beautiful as it was, as peaceful and safe, Evelyn wasn't willing to concede defeat yet. Especially not without Gen, Alex and Minna.

Straight from the doors, she broke into a run. Several people outright stared. All she cared about was that no one tried to stop her. Rushing headlong, she navigated the pathways, refusing to look behind her to see how much ground Rhett had closed between them. Making it to the sidewalk that ran along the Strip, she didn't turn down it; instead, she darted right into traffic, one hand slapping down on the hot hood of a car that barked its tires and screeched to a sudden halt. The driver swore at her in two different languages.

“Evelyn!” Behind her, Rhett shouted her name.

Too close. He was much closer than she thought he might be already.

Spurred on, she leapt away from that car and around the nose of another, enduring another round of curses from a driver who'd not been paying attention thanks to a scantily clad woman on the other side of the road. Nearly knocking her down, he stood on the brakes and scowled.

Evelyn only caught fleeting glimpses, breath short in her throat, her path through the vehicles hectic and bold. They were drawing attention with their mad scramble. She didn't care.

Making it to the other side, she pushed through people, hearing his footsteps behind her. Closer.

“Evelyn!”

She didn't even look back.

The bastard.

Ten steps later, just as she was about to cut up through the property of another hotel, she felt an arm like a steel band grab her around the middle. In blurry glimpses, she saw people staring and whispering behind their hands even as a rough palm closed over her mouth.

Rhett risked looking like he was kidnapping her all so she wouldn't let out a scream and draw even more attention. Kicking wildly, she struggled while he growled near her ear.

“Stop it. Just settle down for a second.” Bodily manhandling her, he stalked to a taxi sitting on a side street and yanked open the back door.

“Hey mister, I'm waiting for--”

“CIA. They'll have to catch another ride,” Rhett said to the driver, pushing Evelyn in.

CIA her bloody backside!

She screamed against his palm, making such a ruckus that several people stopped and frowned, looking on the verge of interrupting. Rhett's CIA announcement kept a few that might have intervened away. He was unbelievable.

Jamming her foot against the seat, she tried to make it harder for him to get the door closed. He snarled, pushing at the back of her knee with a hand to bend her leg, thus forcing her across the seat whether she wanted to go or not. Rhett snapped an address she didn't recognize to the driver. His tone brooked no argument. Cheek against the cushion, furious at his greater strength even when injured, she bit his hand. The taxi lurched forward.

“Man, this ain't right--” The driver, casting worried looks in the rear view, started protesting the rough treatment.

“Shut up and drive or I'll have you brought in for impeding an arrest.” Rhett glared at the driver until he looked away.

Impeding an arrest. The nerve.

Evelyn clawed at his arm, kicked his leg. She wasn't going down without a fight. The weight of his body suddenly came down over hers when he spoke near her ear.

“You're making it worse. Stop fighting me. I'm not going to hurt you.”

She lobbed sarcastic insults against his smothering hand. Evelyn didn't believe him. Wouldn't believe him. What she needed to do was save her energy for when the taxi stopped. Stilling, breathing hard, she saw glimpses of shiny buildings and racing lights as the taxi took back streets through the busy city.

Rhett's breath was warm on her ear.

“I don't know what you think you know, but you're wrong. Listen to me, Evelyn. I can help you if you'll just take a few minutes to hear me out.”

Along with his good looks, Rhett had talent for persuasion. She desperately wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that their chemistry wasn't a figment of her imagination and that there was a very real, very good explanation for all this.

His deception was too raw, however. Too new. Too shocking. She couldn't just forget thousands of years of being hunted. Of death. The Templars had instilled fear into her very foundation.

And he was one of them.

She ranted at him in her mind, the words muffled into his hand. He meant to subdue her by placating her until he had her in some other basement in a place no one would ever find her, so they could continue the torture they'd started.

Eveyln felt bile rise up the back of her throat at the thought of Rhett hurting her like that.

Pinned against the seat by his bulky frame, she could only wait out this part of the ride. Nothing he said changed her mind. Somehow, an opening would present itself when the taxi stopped and then she intended to escape him.

Before it was too late.

“I have information about one of your friends—your sisters. Whatever they are. You need to settle down. This is serious, Evelyn.”

The low gravel of his voice, the levity in the words shot a stab of fear through her. She hadn't expected him to take that tack, to use her sisters as a bargaining tool. What had they found? What had they done? Did they have the girls in their possession? Were they going to use them as hostages and threaten their lives if she didn't tell them where the Garden of Eden was? It was one thing to endure their torture and another to know that if she didn't cooperate, they would take it out on Minna, Genevieve or Alexandra. Disgusted and afraid, she swallowed down a thick knot of apprehension.

“I mean it, Evelyn. Don't try anything stupid. You need to listen to me,” he said, speaking too low for even the driver to hear.

The cab came to a stop.

“Say anything about what you've seen and I'll bring hell down on your head,” Rhett threatened the driver.

She felt him shift and saw a glimpse of money transferred across the front seat. Rhett manhandled her back out of the car and she was momentarily blinded by the sun gleaming off the metal side of a warehouse. He trapped her against his body with one arm around her shoulders, hand still across her mouth. Evelyn struggled against him to no effect. Even with one arm and his injury, he was all power, too strong for her to break free from.

When he turned her away from the taxi, she caught a glimpse of the Union Plaza. They were downtown somewhere, probably on the outskirts judging by the distance to the hotel, where old buildings and train tracks sat useless and empty.

All of it happened in a few seconds, a blur of turns and awkward steps that brought them to the door of the warehouse. She could tell it had been abandoned a long time ago by the debris clustered against the base of the walls and the extreme state of the chipped white paint covering the outside.

He opened the sliding door with a squeal that had the same effect as nails on chalkboard. Evelyn winced at the ear piercing sound. He guided her inside and closed the door behind them.

The taxi took off with a bark of tires. Evelyn wanted to shout at the driver for not even attempting to help her.

High, rectangular windows lined the top of the building, allowing late afternoon sunlight to pour down on the pocked cement floor. She saw dust motes filtering through the mellow glow. There wasn't anything else inside the warehouse except two mismatched folding chairs and a folding table sitting between them. Evelyn took it all in just before Rhett let her go.

Spinning around, glaring, she brought a hand up to her mouth where his had clamped across it.

“You have some nerve kidnapping me right off the street and bringing me here--”

“It has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with your survival. I couldn't very well have this conversation out on the street or in your hotel room where you could scream us into a bad situation that I don't want to explain to the local authorities,” he said, bringing a hand up to briefly rub at his shoulder.

The same shoulder she must have shot. Faced off with him, she kept a cautious distance between them. It hurt, his betrayal and deception. As angry as she was, there was also pain.

“What did you expect considering that you lied to me the whole time about who you really are.”

“And how do you know exactly who or what I am? I know, I know,” he said, taking his hand away from his shoulder. A spot of red dotted his palm. Blood. “You saw the tattoo. But not many people know what it is or what it means anymore.”

Breathing harshly, she glanced around for other exits. Some other way out. There were two other sets of doors far across the warehouse, the same sliding kind he'd brought her in through.

“Don't even think about it,” he growled when he saw her looking. “Don't you get it yet? I'm on your side.”

“My side? I hardly think so!” she shouted, pacing behind one of the chairs. She rubbed at her forehead and scowled at him. “You know damn well what the tattoo means. You know who and what I am, as well, so stop playing like you don't.”

Rhett threw his hands up. “How many times do I have to tell you that I have no idea why those men grabbed you?”

“Liar. You're one of them,” she accused with a point of her finger. For the first time in years, her bravado felt as fragile as glass. She had to keep swallowing against a growing lump in the back of her throat. It was all just too much.

He took a stalking step closer. Evelyn took one back.

“How do you know that? We don't talk about who and what we are to anyone else. How do you know what the tattoo means?” he asked again, quieter.

“Why do you keep pretending--”

“Just answer the question, Evelyn, for god's sake. Can't you just answer me honestly and clear the air?”

“You want honest when you can't give it yourself? What a crock, Rhett.” She paced the same three foot line, back and forth behind the chair.

“I played at being a CIA agent to gain your trust, yes, but also because I had no idea what was going on. What happened to you? That's not how we do things,” he said.

He surprised her by admitting he wasn't a real CIA agent. She frowned and stopped pacing just behind the chair, like she needed some sort of physical barrier between them.

“How could you not know? You knew where to find me. You were probably one of the ones who--”

“Don't suggest I was one of the ones who tortured you again. I knew you were there because we'd followed the men who did torture you, like I said, but we had no idea what they were up to. Or why. When I heard what was going on outside the room they had you in, I acted first and thought later.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Evelyn tamped down the surge of hope that flared in her chest. He was lying again, softening her up so he could more easily extract information out of her.

“Yes, I do,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest and widened the stance of feet to balance his weight between them.

Evelyn didn't see it as an intimidating gesture but one that allowed him to stay mobile and agile if she decided to bolt.

“Well, I'm sorry if I can't just take you at your word. Not after all this.”

“This would go a lot easier if you'd just tell me what they wanted with you and your friends, or your sisters, to begin with.”

“I don't know.”

“Now who's lying?”

Evelyn gusted out an exasperated breath and traded glares with him. He looked so masculine standing there with that expression on his face. One that asked her to trust him. It made her irritable. The whole situation scared her half to death.

“I'm not going to tell you anymore than I told your comrades. Which was nothing.” She'd slipped and called the girls her sisters which was bad enough. Evelyn couldn't figure out why he hadn't called in back up yet or strapped her down for more torture. He was trying to coax it out of her using the connection they had between them.

“Why do you sound so seasoned when you say that? Like this is something you've done before?”

Startled at his quiet insight, she glanced away from his eyes.

“Mhm,” he muttered, as if that gesture clued him in that he was correct.

Damn him.

“Why can't you all just let us live? Why can't you let it go, finally, and just move on?” she asked in return.

He frowned in obvious frustration. “Let what go? What did they want with you?”

“I'm not telling you anything.” She felt the walls of her will tremble. Rhett kept battering at her defenses and she had no where to go to escape him.

“This isn't just about us. There's something more here, something deeper. Your trust issues aren't solely because I lied to you.”

“You're very astute, Rhett,” she said, deciding not to argue what was plain to see. “I just can't believe that you don't know what's going on though. Not when you're wearing that tattoo.”

“So you know that we're Templars.”

She shuddered at the word coming out of his mouth. He'd just admitted to being her enemy. How could she have been so stupid? So blind? She said nothing, breaking the stare between them. Evelyn couldn't look at him. Looking at him, with the warm feeling that wanted to blossom out through her system at his presence, did not work in her favor keeping him at arm's length.

“How did you know? No one outside the immediate families know besides the Church and a few people very high up in the American Government. It's a carefully guarded fact that we exist,” he said.

“I just do. And I know that you all do horrible things, which I don't need to tell you considering what you are and how you found me. What I also can't believe is that the Church condones this.” Her disgust couldn't be more thorough or complete.

“We don't always do horrible things. I can see how you'd think so though if all the experience you've had with them is what went on in that basement. I can also tell you that the Church absolutely does not condone that kind of behavior.”

“You killed Galiana--”

“Don't generalize, Evelyn. I didn't kill her. And I don't know why the other Templars did, either. One more time—I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on.”

“I don't believe you and I certainly don't trust you, so all we're going to do here is keep going in circles.” She hated how sincere he sounded. Hated the level look in his eyes when she glanced up from the floor. Could he be that good of a liar? Of course. Look how long he deceived you about being an agent. The devil on her shoulder kept whispering dark tidings, keeping her barriers from crumbling.

Rhett yanked the other chair back and sat down, stretching his long legs out. Hooking his ankles, he crossed his arms over his chest. For all the world, he looked like he was settling in for a long wait.

“Then we're going to sit here and talk about it until you trust me. Because I'm not letting you out of my sight until we've figured this out.”

“You can't keep me here--”

“Watch me.”

He might have spoken quietly, but Evelyn didn't mistake that he meant every word. In the short time she'd known him, she'd discovered that when he set his mind to something he usually saw it through to the end. Exasperated, she realized that she wasn't quite as on edge as she'd been when she first saw him. He was already wearing her down, trying to get under her skin.

She hated that it was working despite the fear and caution that clanged like hazard warnings in her mind.

“We're at an impasse, Rhett. I don't need to tell you anything because you already know it, and I'm sure it's just another way to make me feel better so that when you ask where the girls are--”

“Genevieve is dead, Evelyn.” His voice took a grave turn and his expression showed sympathy for the ugly news he had to deliver.

She froze in place and stared at his eyes. There were no lies, no deception, to read there.

Genevieve. Dead.

Denial kicked in. She wanted to call him out for using such an underhanded tactic, but instinct told her as well as his demeanor that he wasn't lying. Galiana and now Genevieve.

A sob stuck in her throat and she turned away from him, burying her face in her palms. He'd effectively stripped her of her ability to function. She couldn't retaliate or shout or do anything but catch hot tears on her fingertips and try to remember to breathe. Evelyn was aware that Rhett was the one who'd comforted her last time when she'd broken down about a sister; this time he kept his distance, like he knew it would be too much to impose himself upon her while the wound was so fresh.

“How?” she finally managed to whisper.

“They tortured her and cut out her heart. They found her hanging from a beam by her wrists.” Rhett did not sugar coat the horror. He laid it out plainly, with a dark edge to the words. “And if you don't let me help you, they'll eventually find you and do the same thing to you.”

The fight had been sucked out of her. Distantly she wondered if he'd planned it this way. Grief made anger easier to grab onto. She whirled on him, cheeks flushed and tear stained, one hand raising to point an accusing finger.

“And you're here to make me feel helpless and hopeless so that I'll tell you where it is. Obviously my sisters didn't give it up, so now you'll use a different brand of torture to force my hand.” She didn't realize she was shouting until her voice echoed back at her through the enormous warehouse.

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 what.”

***

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 girl 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.

Dracht could all but smell her distrust.

“Rhett, my brother, phoned me just before we got you out of the house. He explained he was with Evelyn and that she had confided in him.” He waited to see if Alexandra would take him at his word, and whether she might confide something of the situation on her own.

She closed the distance by two wobbly steps and swung a small, blood covered fist for his face.

Dracht, too well trained for too long to be taken off guard by her action, caught her wrist and bent her arm up behind her, bringing her right against his chest. He made sure not to exert the kind of pressure that would hurt her.

“Rhett said you would not trust me, so I will not take offense.” Dracht wondered just what had happened in this girl's young life to make her look at him like that. As if she couldn't loathe anyone more.

“You're one of them, aren't you? You only know because some of your hateful comrades tortured the information out of her.” Furious, her blue eyes gleamed with hate.

Dracht remained calm. He wasn't sure what she meant by 'them', and offered nothing about what he was or wasn't. She could be speaking about the Templars and she could mean something else altogether.

“She's in safe hands, that's what I can tell you. If you'll collect yourself, perhaps I can get him back on the phone again and we can straighten all this out.”

Before she could spit out another venomous reply, Dragar stalked into the room with the Asian held by the elbow. Her hands were still tied.

Minna, tiny next to his father, had the same look in her eyes that Alexandra had in hers. In better light, she did not appear to have undergone any trauma, at least in places Dracht could see.

“Any more news?” Dragar asked, the neutrality of his expression telling Dracht that the woman had given him a hard time on the drive over. He arched a brow to see Alexandra with her arm up behind her back.

“No, but I think we should get Evelyn and Rhett on the line as soon as possible. He said they wouldn't believe or trust us,” Dracht said.

“True enough,” Dragar agreed, letting Minna go.

Dracht released Alexandra's arm, slowly. She took a few hasty steps back. The women stood next to each other, different as night and day, glaring at them with open hostility and suspicion.

“How can you expect us to trust anyone with what's happened to us?” Minna demanded. She spoke in dulcet tones and had less aggression in her stature than the other. Alexandra was all spit and fire and rebellion.

Dragar stood on the other side of the women, between them and the door in case either tried to flee.

“How can you expect us to protect you if you won't at least listen to what we have to say?” Dragar countered. “If we were like the others that have abused and tortured you, we wouldn't be standing here trying to have a civil conversation.”

Both women wore their skepticism plainly. Alexandra licked her scabbed, puffy lip.

“What you fail to understand is that two of us have died, you bastards, and we know you're not above trying all these different tactics to find out whatever it is you think we're supposed to know,” Alexandra said, spitting a wad of blood and saliva straight onto the floor.

Dracht suppressed a laugh at the little black haired, blue eyed hellion, and held up a hand to silence any further vehemence.

“Let's get you in touch with Evelyn and then we'll talk. We'll get it all straightened out.”

“Here, I'll cut your binds.” Dragar pulled a blade from his belt with slow precision, letting the women see that he meant them no harm.

Minna hesitated, then offered her wrists up to him.

“Where are we, anyway? This place reminds me of a museum.” Alexandra scowled, smearing her knuckles across her mouth and looked around.

“Don't worry about that right now. You're safe here, that's all you need to know.” Dracht's gut instinct told him that both girls would have a bad reaction to 'Templar Stronghold'.

Christian strode with purpose into the room. Dracht caught the chin kick, come here gesture and excused himself from the trio. He trusted his father, who wore a deceptive mantle of calm, to be able to handle any trouble the women might throw his way.

***

Instead of jet setting off across the world, Rhett had instead sent Christian to speak with their liaison, Father Valanzano. Peaceable, noble, honorable, Father V, as they sometimes called him in lighter moments, would not steer them wrong. Dracht was curious for the puzzle pieces to start falling into place.

Knowing that voices carried in the expansive room, he clapped Christian on the shoulder and turned him so they could bend their heads together and walk back into the hallway.

“What did Father Valanzano have to say?” he asked Christian.

“We spoke at length and he is certain that no one gave the other Knights orders to kidnap much less torture any women. He was concerned and dismayed at the thought they might be acting on their own will, using the resources available to find and detain them. He was very distraught to learn that two of them have already been killed, with a third possibly if Rhett didn't--”

“No, no, Rhett has the other girl,” Dracht assured him.

Christian looked relieved. “I'm glad he found her before they did, then.”

“What else?”

“Father Valanzano is discreetly changing account passwords and ordering new bank cards so that the funding and other resources will be impossible to access. It should slow them down until we bring every one of them in. For now, he said to have father use the safe here to draw what money we need.” Christian glanced back a moment to the women and Dragar.

“We have three in custody awaiting interrogation,” Dracht said. “I have no doubt that we'll be able to pull the names of everyone else in their eclectic little group from at least one of them.” The men might be Templars, and tough beyond reason, but Dracht and Dragar knew all the ways to break them. They knew weaknesses others did not.

“And you have all the girls—the sisters—now?” Christian asked.

“All the ones that are not dead. At least I think. Listen, head over to the mortuary and make sure no one is tampering with the bodies,” Dracht said. “Have Paulo there keep both bodies of the deceased under lock and key until Rhett gets back and we can figure out what the hell is going on.”

Christian nodded and Dracht clapped him on the shoulder to send him off. They were keeping their youngest brother hopping.

Dracht found Dragar standing adjacent to one of the divans, where Alexandra and Minna sat perched on the edge. Their posture remained stiff and their expressions, uncertain. Whatever his father had said in the time he'd consulted with Christian had at least taken some of the viciousness from their eyes.

“All right. Let's put you in touch with Evelyn.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed speed dial for Rhett.

***

A daughter of Eve.

In the hotel room at the Venetian, Rhett double checked the locks on the door while his mind worked over the details Evelyn had confessed in the warehouse. It was almost impossible to believe, and yet, he believed her. It made him look at her differently during the ride back to the hotel and again when he stalked into the small but well appointed room where she stood by the window. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask. She'd been alive, apparently, for centuries. The things she must have seen. Experienced.

When she glanced over, he presented a small smile and came to stand opposite her so they could look out over the beautiful waterways below. Replicating the scene in Venice, the boatmen rowed couples through the turquoise water. Lamps threw whimsical cones of light around the grounds, giving the scene a romantic vibe as dusk settled in.

Bringing a hand up, he rubbed at his shoulder. He needed new bandages and a new shirt. The black one had a damp spot from blood seeping through the gauze. It hurt like a bitch but he wasn't about to complain.

“Feeling a little better now?” he asked. They'd gotten food on their way to the room so they wouldn't have to leave again or have room service come up.

She glanced at him and he studied her eyes. A color of hazel that reminded him of a clear river. The smile that curved her mouth was pretty without being luring and enticing. He was lured and enticed anyway.

“A lot. And relieved,” she replied. “We should take a look at your shoulder.”

Rhett thought there was something beautifully vulnerable about her whether she was throwing vases over banisters or bathed in late afternoon light through a window.

“Don't worry about it. It's just a flesh wound.” It was his standard answer no matter who asked. He set aside the pain to concentrate on the amazing circumstance he currently found himself in. He chuckled at the dry look she gave him. Already she was picking up on his habits.

“It's more than a flesh wound. My aim wasn't that bad.”

“Needs work,” he countered. “Though I'd recommend shooting other people besides me next time.”

His cell phone interrupted the slew of questions he wanted to unleash on her. Fishing it out of his pocket, he answered without looking at the caller ID.

“Nichols.”

“Rhett, can Evelyn have a word with her sisters? We all need to have the air cleared here so we can move forward.”

“Yeah, sure, she's right here. They okay?” he asked.

“Alexandra's a bit banged up but otherwise they're both fine. We have three of the knights involved ready to be interrogated.”

“Good. I want to know what those bastards were up to,” Rhett said.

“You and everyone else.”

Dracht passed off his phone and Rhett did the same to Evelyn. “Your sisters want to speak to you.”

He watched her eyes light up from the solemnity they'd carried after the news of Genevieve. Taking the phone, she leaned against the window and Rhett stepped away to find an extra hand towel in the bathroom to press against his shoulder. While she did that, he called downstairs and ordered a shirt from one of the exclusive shops and had the front desk send up someone with a first aid kit.

After, he listened to Evelyn's one sided conversation to glean what information he could.

One thing he did know. They needed to get to Italy and have a face to face with Father Valanzano. Rhett was sure the Church would be very interested in the women and their incredible story.

***

“Alex? It's so good to hear your voice,” Evelyn said. She fought back another round of tears, exhausted and overcome with emotion. The last week had been one heck of a roller coaster ride.

“Hey. You all right?” Alex asked, sounding wary.

“Yes. I confessed to one of the men, Alex. His name's Rhett and he was the one who got me away from the others. You need to tell Minna. I finally believe they're telling the truth and that they only want to help us. They're Knights, but not like the ones that have been hunting us all this time.” It had taken an extraordinary amount of convincing to change her mind.

“That's asking a lot, Ev.”

“I know, but you're going to have to trust me, too. Not just them.”

“Where are you?”

“In Vegas.”

“Vegas? No, no, doc, you don't need to fuss over me,” Alex said, apparently speaking to someone trying to tend her wounds.

Evelyn wondered how badly she was hurt. If she was talking and asserting herself like she was, then she was doing well enough. Their innate ability to heal would fix anything else that was wrong.

“Yes. It's a long story that I'll explain later. Where are you and how's Minna?” Evelyn asked.

“Min's right here and she's fine. I'm fine, too, don't worry. Just a few scratches and a busted lip.”

Alexandra's propensity to downplay most situations gave Evelyn a clearer fix on how much or how little her sister was actually injured.

“Good, I'm glad you're both safe. You need to stay with Christian, Dracht and Dragar. I've met them all and they've been trying to help us this whole time.”

“I dunno about that, Ev, I mean--”

“Alex, this isn't the time to argue. Really. You and I both know that if they were the others, we'd all be in a lot worse shape right now. They're letting us talk, and hopefully soon we'll all be together again.” Evelyn couldn't wait to see them. The loss of Galiana and Genevieve exacerbated her desire to be within touching distance of her sisters.

“I know, I know. It's just hard to trust them when I know what they are.”

“It was for me, too. We'll figure out what to do with their help. We all knew that at some point or another, we were going to have to do something different than we are now anyway. It's been harder and harder to keep ahead of them with the way the world is.”

“Yeah, that's true enough. You hear about Gen?” Alex's voice dropped lower.

Evelyn took a steadying breath. “Yes. Rhett's offered to help with that, too. So that Galiana and Genevieve can both have a proper burial. You know what would happen otherwise.”

“Nah, we can't let them be cremated. What all did ya tell them, Ev?”

“I told Rhett the basics. He knows what we are and where we are from.”

Alex was quiet for a long minute. “You didn't give directions or anything, did you?”

“No.” She knew her sister wanted to know if she'd made a map to Eden. One of the things the other Templars had wanted so badly.

“Did he ask ya to?”

“No. He was pretty surprised when I told him,” Evelyn said.

“So you think we're safe tellin' these guys here, whatever their names are--”

“Dracht, Christian and Dragar.”

“...you think we're safe tellin' them everything?”

“I think we have to,” Evelyn said. “Maybe when we're all together we can sit down and talk. It's probably not the best idea to say too much over the phone, even though I think this is a secure line.”

“All right then. Hurry up and get your butt back here. We have two funerals to arrange.”

“Love you,” Evelyn said before Alex could hang up.

“You too, Ev. See you soon.”

Closing the line, she turned the sleek cell phone in her hands and glanced out the window again. Vegas bustled below, cars and people going to and fro like busy ants.

“So what'd they say?” Rhett asked.

Evelyn turned to find him stuffing a folded towel up under his shirt. The shoulder was wet with fresh blood. She frowned. “That we should go back as soon as possible. We'd like your help to get our sisters buried and really, you need to see a doctor about that wound.”

“It's nothing.”

“Don't tell me it's nothing,” she muttered. Crossing to where he stood near the heavy dresser, she brushed his hands away and yanked his shirt up.

“Are you always this pushy?”

“Oh, be quiet.” Rhett's mock complaint drew an impossible smile from her when she didn't think she'd be able to smile for a very long time. “You need new bandages. I can make a trip to the little store they have downstairs--”

“I already called down. They're bringing up a new shirt and a first aid kit. I don't think it's wise to leave the room until we have to. We still don't know how many are left in their group, where they are, or what else they have planned.”

“Yes, and if you bleed out, you won't be much help if they show up and there's more of them than there are of us,” she pointed out.

“Such faith in my ability,” he said with a droll tone. “It'll get me by until we get on the plane.”

“Then everyone will see--”

“We're not going back on a commercial flight. The private jet I took out here is still at McCarran and as soon as we pack up your things here, we'll be on our way. Dracht said they've got three Knights in custody that they're going to question. By the time we get back, we should have a much better fix on everything.”

“I'll be so relieved when this is all over,” she admitted with a small smile. “It's strange to trust someone who isn't one of my sisters with the secret, but oddly soothing at the same time.”

“I apologize in advance for all the questions I'm going to throw at you on the plane.”

Evelyn laughed.

Chapter Eleven

“You can watch from here but don't touch the glass. They know this is a viewing room, though I don't want them to know anyone else is observing the session. If you get uncomfortable about something, you can leave by that door.” Dracht spoke to Alexandra—cleaned up after she relented to the doctor seeing her—and Minna near a two way window. The Templar stronghold had this one and another interrogation room down in the basement for less 'clean' question and answer sessions.

The two women, to his surprise, had both been anxious to hear what the Knight had to say. After receiving a nod from each, Dracht stepped through a door way and into the room. Bare of anything but a chair, a single overhead light, and a monochrome gray color scheme, it centered the focus on the Knight slouched and scowling on the seat. He had been restrained around the ankles and wrists.

Saul, in his estimation, was the weakest of the three they'd captured in the house. He was the only one not injured as well, which was either a good thing or a bad thing depending on how stubborn the man would prove to be. He'd known the Templar all his life, as he had all the others, and kept his personal feelings out of it while he and Saul exchanged glances. Brown haired, brown eyed, with a savage scar decorating his cheek, the man had a rugged appearance overlaid with copious amounts of perpetual sarcasm that tended to wear on his nerves.

Brethren or not, Dracht had never been close to Saul.

“Let me just say up front, to spare us both a lot of time and effort, that you're not leaving this room, or drinking or eating, until you tell me what I want to know,” Dracht said. He knew his own reputation preceded him here; he was known for following through on his word always. There would be no deviation, nothing to spare Saul from this moment forward until Dracht had what he wanted.

He stood several feet in front of Saul's chair, spreading his feet apart for casual balance, and crossed his arms over his chest. As if he thought he was in for a long wait. To his surprise, Saul cocked his chin up and made a derogatory gesture with his hands, wrists straining the rope.

“Then get on with asking what you want to know,” Saul said.

Dracht had expected him to at least put up a fight for a day or two.

“Let's start from the beginning. How many of you are there involved in the pursuit of these women?”

“Twelve.”

“Why? What drove you to break rank and torture, then murder two of them?” Dracht moved little, watching Saul's face for signs of deceit.

Saul laughed, a rumbling sound not unlike an engine sputtering to life. “Because we have carried a secret for thousands of years that the rest of you know nothing about, Dracht. A secret so sacred that it could not be trusted with the entire Templar group.”

“The one that has to do with the marks on their wrists?” Dracht asked drolly, catching Saul off guard. The Knight frowned.

“How did you know...oh, the women broke and told you, didn't they? I suppose they spouted some frivolous lie that you and your brothers all bought like the saps that you are. Always falling for a pretty face, eh, Dracht?” Saul snorted a caustic laugh.

“I would quit worrying about the women, Saul, and worry more about saving your own ass. It's not expendable.” Dracht laid his threats down without boast or arrogance.

Saul leaned forward with a snarl. “They are the ultimate evil, set loose upon the world at the beginning of time. Do you even know about the mark of the serpent, hm? Have you never heard the tales? Check their wrists, Dracht, and you will find a snakebite on each and every sinner's skin.”

“And what do they represent to you? How is it, Saul, that your group thinks they know that kind of secret?” The snakebites are reminders, Rhett had said. He kept that in the back of his mind as the interrogation went forward.

“Because the truth was passed down through the centuries, generation to generation. A sect within a sect, Dracht, our own secret kept from the rest of you all this time. We have been rooting them out and killing them longer than you might believe. Doing the citizens of the world a service while they sleep. Even the Church does not realize their true intent, the maliciousness that walks the earth.” Saul spat on the ground.

“What I know is that none of your actions were condoned or ordered by anyone, which means you've acted against the wishes you promised to uphold and honor. What if you're wrong? What if the women are innocent?” Dracht dropped his arms and paced before the chair.

“When the Church learns that we've been eradicating the vermin, bringing an end to the disease and evil, they will immediately understand that we have been following God's will.” Saul's eyes glinted with feverish fanaticism.

“Spoken like a true zealot, Saul. So it's God's will, is it, to slaughter women?” Dracht snorted his disbelief and disgust. “Did he tell your great ancestors that himself? Just how is it that they came into such knowledge?”

Saul sat forward until the chair creaked, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tight his knuckles were white. He spoke with righteous fervor.

“Before the crusades, a wealthy land baron's guard captured a man in a raid. They suspected him of thieving and pillaging a nearby village that had been under attack at the time. More than fifty men were rounded up. This particular man though, when it came about that he would be put to death for his crimes, spouted an incredible story. He talked about the Garden of Eden, about his brethren that had fled there with him, and how they had all eaten from the Tree of Knowledge and Life. He spoke convincingly of immortality, how they were destined to live forever. He whispered about a mark on the wrist of the women. The mark of the serpent. A mark he did not carry.”

Dracht paced and listened, hiding his incredulity over the topic. “Go on.”

“The prisoner promised that he could prove the truth of his words. He challenged them to let him live, and to inflict injury upon him, because they would see the miraculous speed with which he healed. Then they would have cause to believe him. And that he had many sisters who had escaped Eden with him. But the women, as their mother, had been cursed instead of blessed and that they had been bitten by the serpent, knowingly spreading his evil across the world. It was their task, chosen because of their fair looks and ability to breed. What more perfect vessel to assure the continuation of wickedness.” Saul licked his lips, forehead beaded with sweat.

Dracht grunted and arched a brow, encouraging Saul to continue.

“This man wanted his freedom for the location of a few of the sisters. He didn't know where they had all scattered to, but with the capture of one, the guards could likely coax out the whereabouts of the others. He told them to look for the mark, and what their names were. He had an address of one, they could start from there. What the man didn't count on, was that the guards and the wealthy land owner, religious in their own right, saw an opportunity to prove his words another way. They wanted the location of Eden so they could seize fruit from the Tree of Life and therefore live forever themselves. Become immortal, like the man and his sisters. With that power, the baron thought he could rule absolutely. They kept the man a prisoner while they went in search of the sisters, whom they found, and whom all bore the mark of the serpent. They were slaughtered, the evil wiped from the earth, although none gave up the locations of any other siblings. They died with the secrets locked on their tongues.”

“What happened to the man?” Dracht asked.

“They kept him a prisoner for years. Afraid he would confess his secret to another, they locked him in a cell in the baron's dungeon. He did not age and quickly healed from any superficial injuries he sustained. The baron had solid proof that the man was a son of Adam and Eve, which meant the women were his sisters, and moreover, that the women were indeed as evil as he claimed. The baron passed down the legacy of the man to his children, and their children, and still the prisoner never aged. Never died. He lived through three generations and could not ever produce a map leading them to Eden. He suffered dementia after a time and became nothing more than a shell of a babbling man. But the secret was in the hands of powerful men who made the right connections. The Templars were begun for this mission, Dracht. This is why the order was initially started. It expanded outward during the crusades and the Church used their power and prowess to advance their agenda. My forefathers never forgot what they saw, what they heard, nor that the man lived for more than a hundred years in captivity. Their belief's were well founded and only grew stronger over time.”

Dragging a hand through his black hair, Dracht tried to absorb the story. It sounded impossible. Daughters of Eve. Eden. Immortality. A man who never aged. Yet he was faced with women who were being slaughtered without remorse and here was one of his own brethren spinning a tale that he couldn't just dismiss.

What had Rhett said? You won't believe it. He resisted the urge to glance at the one-way mirror.

“What if the captive man had been lying? To save his own ass? In the face of his own demise, he might have thrown them to the wolves. As a Templar, you know that you're required to find out what all the possible answers might be in a situation like this. Besides that, you and the others engaging in murder--”

“It's not murder,” Saul spat.

“It is,” Dracht said, leaning his back against the wall. “What happened to the man?”

“He eventually died. His mind was gone for the last twenty years.”

“How many women have the Templars killed in the name of erasing evil?”

“There were supposedly twenty-two girls born to the sinner. No one can be exactly sure. We have killed twelve.” The zeal kicked up a notch in Saul's voice when he made the announcement.

Twelve.

He remembered the uneasy feeling he'd had standing before Genevieve as she'd hung from the ceiling by her wrists. That uncomfortable sensation that something pristine and beautiful had been lost. For a moment, Dracht was overcome with the desire to end Saul where he sat.

“Where are the other Templars staying?” he asked, forcing calm.

“That I cannot tell you. After Rhett's raid we split off into two groups. So even if I wanted to tell you where the others were, I don't have the information. Safety precaution.” Saul sat back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “Father Valanzano, in fact the whole congregation, is going to be terribly put out with you when they discover that you have interfered with our plans.”

This was why Saul hadn't fought him for the information. Saul honestly believed the Church would stand on their side, that they'd been carrying out God's work all this time.

“I doubt it. You over reach. You and everyone working with you.” Dracht exited the room without any more questions. If he stayed any longer, he might give in to the urge to beat Saul to a bloody pulp.

Half expecting the viewing room to be empty, Dracht found Alexandra and Minna standing right where he left them, eyes wide, faces pale. Wary, too, that much was easy to discern. He couldn't blame them. Shock, maybe at the news one of their brothers had been held for so long as a prisoner, or that he had turned against them, was plain on their expressions.

“Ladies.” He gestured them out of the hallway and back into the main quarters of the stronghold. Dracht wasn't sure what to say to them at the moment. He needed to consult with Dragar, Christian and Rhett.

“What are we going to do now?” Alexandra asked, quite subdued from her earlier belligerent attitude.

“I need to speak to Dragar and Christian while Rhett and Evelyn make the trip back. Until we have the rest of that other group contained, I'd like you both to stay here in the stronghold. We have guards at the front gate and at the back and we'll be changing all the access codes shortly. I need to know you're both secure so we can act without worrying you'll bolt the second our back is turned.” Dracht laid it all on the line, no nonsense, no bullshit. If the women wanted help, they had to give him a little.

“Just point us in the direction of a shower and a bed,” Alexandra said.

***

The plush interior of the private jet was far more comfortable than commercial airplanes. Colors of fawn, cream and dark brown were accented by touches of red and gold trim. Evelyn spent most of the flight sitting in a leather chair across from Rhett with a small table between them. All her doubt about Rhett's loyalties and intentions fled between the time in the warehouse and their arrival back at the hotel.

In the peaceful atmosphere, with the roar of the engines in the background, Evelyn eased into the details of her life.

Out of twenty-two girls, eighteen of them had been given the choice to go forth in the world from the Garden. The other sisters had died natural deaths either from childbirth or injury. She explained that although they had innate healing abilities, they were still susceptible to mortal wounds and could die like anyone else. Reliving the murders of her sisters was difficult even without the two most recent deaths, and she fought back fresh tears as she rolled out the horror the Templars had visited upon them. One of their sisters had escaped, only one, and had urgently relayed the intent of the Knights, sending the sisters scattering across the globe. Evelyn had spent the ensuing centuries watching humans populate the lands and adjusting to the changes that took place with each generation.

She had seen Christ rise and fall, witnessed the unbelievable massacre of the Jews, lived through too many wars to count. Sometimes she and a few of her sisters would reside in the same city, always watching over their shoulders, always wary. As the population swelled, it became easier to hide. Travel was more convenient, giving them a wide range of countries to enjoy. Every year they returned to the Garden to reconnect with each other.

By the sixties, there were only seven sisters left. In nineteen-eighty-four, the Templars found them and killed two more. One had been Galiana's twin sister.

Rhett asked quiet, intuitive questions of her with serious eyes that studied her with the intensity she was used to. Perceptive, he seemed to know which questions not to ask that might upset the fragile balance she'd acquired since leaving Las Vegas. He served her drinks and made them a late dinner of teriyaki chicken and rice, handling the preparations with as much efficiency as he handled everything else.

Later, he drew her onto the long couch and encouraged her to rest. Evelyn, exhausted, leaned against him and fell into a dreamless sleep. When he woke her it was with a light press of his lips against her temple. The pilot announced their final descent and landed without incident.

Disregarding his wound, Rhett drove them through the last minutes of an Athen's sunset toward a safe house. Each mile they drew closer, Evelyn grew more excited to see Minna and Alexandra, until she was wringing her hands and scouting the streets in anticipation.

The house Rhett pulled them up to was large and imposing, almost cold. 'House' was an understatement for the expansive structure that reminded her of a small museum or state building.

“What is this place?” she asked after the guard let him in the gate.

“It's one of the Templar strongholds,” Rhett said while he parked the sedan.

“One of them?” She glanced across the car. Rhett met her gaze.

“Yes. We have them set up all over the world.”

“It seems the Templar business is thriving.”

“They keep us pretty busy.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and came around to open her door.

“Thanks,” she murmured and got out.

“Of course.”

“I hope your brothers and father won't be angry.” Considering she'd shot him. She brushed a piece of hair away from her cheek and stared up at the imposing facade of the building.

“I've explained. Not everything, not yet, but enough.” After retrieving their bags from the trunk, he guided her toward the stone steps leading up to the carved, double front doors.

Christian swung one open just as they reached the landing. Evelyn studied his neutral expression, detecting no open hostility. He seemed welcoming and as calm as she'd ever seen him. His size was the only thing she thought he had in common look or build with Rhett. The black hair and blue eyes, the whole structure of his face was quite different than his brother.

“Hello, Christian.”

“Good to see you well, Miss Grant,” he said without sarcasm or mockery.

“Evelyn, just Evelyn.”

“Evelyn.” He inclined his head and closed the door after she and Rhett entered.

The brothers exchanged claps on the shoulder while she surveyed the soaring foyer ceiling, arched and painted with a mural. There was a classical feel to the atmosphere enhanced by the random carvings of lions on the banisters of the stairs and more around the archways to other rooms.

Rhett dropped their bags at the foot of the stairs.

“I think they're all in the back,” he said, gesturing deeper into the expansive home.

Evelyn heard voices even as he spoke. Passing through the high archway, she saw Alexandra and Minna standing near a tall fireplace speaking with Dracht. Her sisters seemed relaxed and comfortable, a surprise considering what surrounded them.

“Alex, Minna!” The girls broke away from Dracht and met her halfway across the room, arms tangling in a tight embrace. Alexandra was as awkward about her affection as she'd ever been, giving a few stray pats to her back.

Nevertheless, the hug relieved her. It felt like years had passed since she'd seen them, smelled them, kissed the downy softness of her sister's cheeks. Under the skin the subtle heat assured her they were real and not figments of a fever dream.

“What the hell were you doin' in Vegas anyway?” Alex asked after untangling.

Leaning back, Evelyn checked them each over head to toe; Alexandra looked beat to crap but not seriously wounded and Minna seemed fine.

“It's a long story. I'll fill you in later. It's so good to see you.”

Genevieve's missing presence was as much a black hole in Evelyn's life as Galiana's. She saw the similar looks on the faces of her siblings. They spoke of their sorrow with their eyes instead of their tongues.

“Hey, that Dracht guy made arrangements to hold Galiana and Genevieve so that we can give them a proper funeral,” Alexandra said.

“I know, Rhett told me on the way over.” It dawned on her that Alexandra and Minna hadn't met him yet. Glancing back, she saw him in conversation with Christian and Dracht. Catching his eye, she gestured him closer.

Rhett broke away from his brothers and approached.

“Girls, this is Rhett.” Introducing him felt more intimate than it should have. On the plane, Rhett had showered and changed into simple, nice fitting clothing in dark colors. It accented his golden skin and hair and as yet, he'd neglected to get rid of his whiskers.

“Nice to meet both of you, finally,” he said, and shook both girls' hands.

Alex clicked her tongue against her teeth, shaking firm and vigorous. “Yeah, you too. What's wrong with your arm?”

Alex and Minna were the type to notice the small things. Galiana, bless her, wouldn't have noticed anything but the cut and fabric of his clothing. How his skin smelled. Genevieve would have pinged in on his intensity, facial expressions and mood. She had always been empathetic and intuitive that way.

“Oh, that. Evelyn shot me.” Rhett brushed off the remark like it was nothing.

Alexandra gaped like a landed fish and Minna darted a startled look at her.

Evelyn shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “He cornered me after I saw the tattoo. What was I supposed to do?”

Alexandra in her typical manner, resiliently bounced back from their strange circumstances and snagged Evelyn with both arms. “Way to go, Ev! There's hope for you yet.”

“Hello, Dracht,” Evelyn said after she pried Alex off with an exasperated huff. Relieved that none of the brothers were offended at her extreme course of action, she gave him a smile.

He inclined his head from where he stood near the fireplace. “Evelyn.”

“All right. We need to figure out what we're doing next,” Rhett said, gesturing to the available seating.

Evelyn sat between Minna and Alexandra on a deep set leather sofa. Alexandra sprawled, despite her injuries, one foot hooked up over the opposite knee. There was just nothing feminine about her. It was useless to try and correct her wayward sister's habits.

The brothers stood in a semi-circle in various poses of relaxation.

“Dracht suggested going to Italy to talk to Father V-someone or other, but I dunno if that's such a good idea,” Alexandra said.

“Why not?” Dracht inquired.

“Because what if they see it the other Templar's way? What if they agree we should be wiped off the face of the earth once they hear his side of the story?” Her paranoia would not be shed so easily.

During the plane ride, Dracht had called Rhett and explained, in painstaking detail, what he'd learned from Saul. Rhett had relayed that to her with a fair amount of surprise at the tale.

He wasn't the only one. Evelyn had been downright stunned.

“Father Valanzano knows the system well. As do we. If we thought there was any danger of that, we wouldn't have contacted him to begin with,” Dracht said.

“I don't see them taking that route, Alex, I have to be honest,” Rhett added.

“Saul only thinks that the Church will be swayed when they hear the details because his mind has been warped into believing the wrong truth. He's delusional, and obviously the rest of them have been convinced of the same thing.” Dracht seemed to have lost all respect for the rogue group of Templars. With good reason.

Rhett sank down onto an ottoman with his knees splayed wide, clasped hands dangling between. He fit right into the grandiose surroundings, as impressive and imposing as the arching ceilings and masterpiece paintings on the walls. Whenever their eyes met, she swore she saw a secret smile in his own.

She didn't miss a thing Dracht said in the meantime.

“The thing is, Alexandra, that if they knew the real truth, that you are who you say you are, then they can take further steps with the Knights who've acted out against you. Once we find the rest of them, they'll all face charges and you won't have to ever worry about them again.” Christian spoke up this time.

“And then what? I mean, I get your point. But then we'll become curiosities and have no life but the one they dictate.”

“Why would you think that?” Christian asked.

“Because I'm not stupid. They'll want something in exchange for their help. They'll want the same information the Templars have been tryin' to wheedle out of us for centuries. And I don't need to explain what world-wide repercussions this will have if it gets out.”

“...that can never happen, Alex,” Dracht said, cutting in. “They wouldn't allow it for one thing because they'll realize the consequences. They've kept many secrets for thousands of years--”

“None of them are living, Dracht.” Alexandra, blunt as the day was long, nevertheless spoke with respect to the brothers.

Evelyn thought wonders would never cease.

“What do you think, Minna?” Rhett asked with a chin tick her way.

Demure and quiet, Minna, with her hands clasped lightly in her lap, said, “I think it is the only way we can ever hope to continue living and have some semblance of a normal life.”

Alexandra scowled sideways at Minna. “What? C'mon, Min-Min. We'll be nothing more than glorified prisoners.”

“They gain nothing by keeping us prisoners of any kind. Perhaps they will simply continue to offer us their protection,” Minna said, splaying a palm toward Rhett, Dracht and Christian to indicate who she thought might get the job.

Alexandra snorted. “There's no way they'll let us out of their sight ever again, much less live 'our own life'.”

“We have no other choice but to trust them, Alex. There are only three of us left. We must preserve what we can.” Minna's voice was filled with so much inner sorrow that Evelyn reached an arm around her shoulders to both give and share comfort.

“Evelyn?” Christian asked, putting her on the spot.

She licked her lips, rubbing Minna's arm lightly. Alex had a valid point. She understood where her hellion sister was coming from, but she also believed Minna was right. They had no choice any longer.

“I think we have to trust that they'll do the right thing. Rhett made a good point that we've already discussed between us before. With facial recognition and fingerprinting and everything else, it's only a matter of time before making new identification with new names doesn't work anymore. If the wrong authorities pick us up, it could go a lot worse. Think about it, Alexandra.”

Alex exhaled and shoved up off the couch, tonguing the wound on her lower lip. Hands on her hips, she paced around the large room while all eyes followed her. The dark length of her hair, unbound and wavy, made a curtain to hide most of her profile when she bent her head in contemplation.

Evelyn met Rhett's eyes and held them while her sister made circuits of the room. A prickle raced along her skin at the energy she imagined passed between them. Even with a look, he moved her. She had come full circle with her thinking and trusted Rhett and his family implicitly.

It had nothing to do with the sparks she felt every time she was around him. He had proven himself time and again, risked his life in their honor.

Finally, Alex lifted her hands and let them smack down on the outside of her thighs. “All right. Whatever you guys think.”

“Good. I think we should have him come here instead of flying to Italy. It's not wise to be putting ourselves out into the open more than we need to until we collect what's left of the group,” Rhett said.

“Which could take weeks, if they've been trained like you,” Alexandra pointed out.

“We have our ways,” Christian said where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

It seemed to be a favored position of the brothers.

“Or we could bait them out,” Alexandra suggested, leaving no doubt she meant using herself to lure them.

“Alex! Don't even think it,” Evelyn said, lurching up off the couch. She frowned at her sister; there had been too many losses already. The risks were too great. Evelyn would have rather waited weeks or even months for the others to be found before putting another sibling at risk.

What worried her more, was that Dracht, Rhett and Christian didn't have the same reaction.

Christian watched Alex thoughtfully. Rhett regarded her while scraping the tips of his fingers through his whiskers. Dracht...was grinning.

Were they all mad?

Minna did not look as opposed to the idea as Evelyn wished she did. Then again, why should she? Minna had always been practical and ready to do what it took to see a situation resolved. She was much more methodical and precise than Alexandra however. Alexandra would likely just waltz out into the open and invite the chaos in.

Evelyn rubbed her temple.

“It's a good idea, Ev. I'd rather just get it over with. Then we can see what the Father V guy has to say and--”

“No, Alexandra. I won't listen to another word of it.” Evelyn felt every eye on her. “It's not worth it. Let them do their jobs. They're Templars too, and if anyone knows how to find them, they do.” Evelyn threw a hand wide to indicate the brothers.

“Why don't we talk about more immediate concerns. Staying here is a good idea because it's fortified already. The other Templars wouldn't think we'd bring you here and won't show up because they know we'll detain them. Let's figure out what you need, if anything, and get you settled into your rooms?” Rhett suggested. He stood up off the ottoman.

Evelyn didn't immediately jump on Rhett's offer. She stared at Alexandra, facing off with her sister over an idea she just didn't agree with. Then Alex smiled broad and deviant at her, diffusing the situation like she always did. Evelyn wanted to throttle her, which wasn't anything new.

“C'mon, Ev. He's right. One thing at a time.” Alex swung an arm around her shoulders.

Evelyn scoffed but relented. There was little use in arguing and demanding. She caught a grin on Rhett's mouth, too, as he led them across the large room.

***

Bigger than it looked from the outside, the Templar Stronghold impressed Evelyn with its design and function. The front end consisted of the broad foyer with a library and offices off to the sides. It led back into the long living area where they'd had their discussion, flanked by the stairs leading to a second floor. Beyond that sat an indoor sand pit situated in a courtyard surrounded by arches and hallways that gave easy access to the bedrooms lining the perimeter. A clear dome rose over the pit, allowing sunlight or moonlight to filter down and illuminate the sand.

Evelyn recognized it as a training area, especially after she caught sight of several Templar swords attached to a board within easy reach. Just seeing the swords caused a shiver to race down her spine. Those weapons had once meant death and destruction. Had terrified her, filled her sleep with nightmares.

Although the moldings, ceilings and statues of the stronghold were elaborate, the space itself was spartan and clean. The furniture, heavy teak accented with leather or microsuede, suited its purpose rather than fashion.

Rhett escorted them along a hallway that ran parallel to the courtyard with doors leading off to medium sized rooms. Each bedroom—Evelyn counted ten rooms on each side of the pit—offered a queen sized bed, one dresser and one teak chair. Nothing fancy, just clean and neat. The small closet might hold enough clothes for two weeks, if that.

Of course Alexandra and Minna gravitated toward the sand pit and only redirected their attention after Rhett called their names three times.

Rhett suggested they could put two more beds into one of the more spacious rooms so the girls could all sleep in the same space, but Alexandra declined. Evelyn knew her sisters would go exploring when they couldn't sleep and as long as they were all under the same roof, she didn't really care where anyone slept.

The back of the stronghold sported a gym, a large, galley style kitchen and a long dining room. Nailed to the wall of the dining room were what looked to be ancient Templar artifacts; chainmail, more swords, a white shield lined in hammered silver with a red cross emblazoned through the middle.

Such blatant signs unnerved her, until she caught a warm look or smile from Rhett. He grounded her, reminded her that he was on her side.

The building seemed like a fortress, with bulletproof windows, Rhett pointed out, and steel enforced doors on the only two main entrances leading in from the outside. There were updated alarms as well, and they were cautioned not to touch the doors after dark unless they told someone first. The basement, which they didn't visit, had a secret entrance that Rhett explained in some detail. Evelyn understood he meant to give them knowledge in case, just in case, the barriers were breached.

She put thoughts of that from her mind. Evelyn was tired of death. Tired of running. She just wanted peace.

Chapter Twelve

A slice of moonlight slanted down through the dome high in the ceiling, painting the sand in the pit white instead of beige. Rhett could only see a sliver of the milky illumination in periphery from his supine position on the bed. This room flanked the training pit at an angle. For now he studied the ceiling, one arm cocked up behind his head.

The smell from dinner the brothers made the women finally dissipated and midnight had come and gone, leaving the stronghold in silence. On rotation with Dracht and Christian, Rhett was supposed to be resting. Unable to sleep, his mind wandered through the things he'd learned the last two days, lingering on Evelyn.

Immortal.

A daughter of Adam and Eve.

He still had a hell of a time wrapping his mind around it. Evelyn would live a long time after he was gone, hundreds or thousands of years, not bound to mortal concerns like the rest of them.

Rhett wondered if her thoughts had strayed where his had. Did she think about them, too? He knew she felt the same inexorable pull. The current between them was alive with attraction and chemistry. It didn't matter how long he'd known her. He couldn't deny the magnetism or the furious desire to see her safe.

His life up to this point didn't allow for personal relationships that lasted longer than one night stands. The dangers were too many, the intricacies too hard to hide. He'd accepted his role with no remorse, no regret. Constantly on the move, challenged with puzzles and danger, he could ask for no better job. It made him feel alive.

Evelyn made him feel alive, too. In ways his job didn't. He wondered if she had ever been in love, if she'd ever had children. Were they immortal, too, destined to live out forever on the earth? Those were questions he hadn't asked on the flight over.

Eventually, someday, he would marry and start a family of his own, leaving his offspring to carry on in his wake. It was the way things were done, had been done for thousands of years.

The hiss of steel on steel snapped his attention to the crack of his door. Easing up off the bed, he crossed the room in silence, fully dressed. Just in case. He had a clear shot of the sand pit and the doorways of all the rooms across the courtyard.

He was more than a little surprised to see Dracht and Alexandra, barefoot, swords in their hands, faced off against each other.

Instantly he tensed.

Then he realized when he saw their faces that Dracht was giving her instruction. The sword raised in a blocking motion, she copied it precisely, handling the weapon with skill considering she'd probably never held one like it before.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the door frame and watched.

This must be the epitome of ironies; a Templar Knight giving a Daughter of Eve self defense lessons. They circled each other, parrying until their blades slid slowly off one another. They did not clank or clang, but Alexandra was learning nevertheless.

He was impressed by their resiliency, how they stayed as fluid as the situations around them. Rhett imagined it was part of how they'd survived this long.

Motion further beyond the pit drew his gaze. Across the courtyard into the opposite hallway. Evelyn, resembling a deer caught in the headlights, stood just far enough out of her doorway for the vague glow of the moonlight to outline her features. She looked startled at what she saw her sister doing in the pit. To her credit, she did not interrupt the lesson.

He knew the second her gaze found him, though. Her chin shifted and he saw the fixed stare his way. The distance was not so great that he couldn't read the change in her expression. In another moment, Rhett knew that he wore the same look of open desire and need that she did. Across the space of the courtyard, through the moonbeam, they locked and held gazes while Dracht and Alexandra moved in slow motion with the blades catching light to bounce off the steel.

For five minutes he kept her there hovering in the doorway with nothing more than a look. Finally, she broke the spell and backed into the room, closing the door with a quiet click. Putting a barrier between their gazes but not the energy he could still feel slithering through his system.

Rhett glanced once more at the two in the pit before drawing back into his own room. Any thoughts of sleep had been lost for the rest of the night.

***

Gathered in the spacious living quarters the next morning, Evelyn sat between Alexandra and Minna on the couch. Smoothing her hands along the crease of her ash gray slacks, she waited in silence for the meeting Dragar had called. Their luggage had arrived early that morning from Egypt, giving them access to their own belongings once more.

Alex leaned behind her to whisper to Minna and Evelyn caught words like 'training' and 'sword' and 'skill' in the conversation. She was curious what Minna would think about Alex practicing with Dracht but didn't interrupt the girls to ask.

If she didn't know better, she would think Alex was starting to enjoy herself here. All the facial swelling had dissipated overnight and the bruises were fainter.

The brothers stood across from them, ever appearing the warrior; Christian, with his hands behind his back, Dracht and Rhett resembling twins in posture with their arms folded over their chest. Rhett looked especially appealing in jeans, a white button down and dark navy blazer.

Dragar entered the room and with him came the presence of power and steel control. He exuded it more strongly than did his sons, though none of them were lacking in confidence or ability. Evelyn wondered how she couldn't have realized the familial similarities between he and Rhett if only because of their size and stature. Dracht was almost a spitting image of his father with his dark hair and goatee.

Standing at a spot that allowed him easy eye contact with everyone, Dragar got to the point.

“I have spoken at length with Father Valanzano, who, as you know, is my direct liaison with the Church. Everything that we have learned from you as well as Saul was discussed and as you may have guessed, he is extremely skeptical. They're going to need some other kind of proof, but I have his early assurance that if this can be proven beyond doubt, that you will have their protection from here on out. Actually, you will have our protection. We—myself, Dracht, Rhett and Christian—will become your guardians. You will live as you always have, without the need to constantly look over your shoulders. Provisions will be made to change or hide your identities as the years progress so that as technology grows ever more intimate, you will be able to slide under the radar,” he said.

Evelyn exchanged a look that was hopeful but cautious with her sisters. She knew they felt the same way she did; if this was truly the end of being hunted, then it was worth the small sacrifice of answering questions and having what amounted to bodyguards for the rest of their lives.

Which brought Evelyn full circle to the knowledge that when these men became too old to properly do their job, someone else would take their place. It reminded her, again, that she and Rhett had all the odds stacked against them.

“You do want the protection, don't you?” Rhett asked.

“Hm? Oh yes, of course we do. Although I expect that your jobs will be fairly boring after this because the biggest threat to our existence is one you're going to take care of now, rather than later,” Evelyn said, coming out of her reverie.

“Somehow, I have a feeling it will be far from boring,” Dragar said.

Evelyn watched his rugged features while he spoke. Relief and melancholy fought a bitter war inside for dominance; if this had happened a few weeks ago, Genevieve and Galiana would still be alive. She glanced at Alex and then at Minna, exchanging silent communication. They had another way to prove they were who they said they were, but she wouldn't give that information over without their consent.

“Might as well,” Alex relented. Her foot started bounce-jiggling with restlessness.

Minna inclined her head in agreement.

Evelyn felt every one of the Templar's eyes on her.

“Somewhere in the tunnels of the Vatican is a box that has been passed down from the time of Christ. Its existence has been kept a strict secret. The Church will recognize it as the box of the Golden Pear.”

“And what's in the box?” Rhett asked.

“A scroll with a list of twenty-two names. I'll give you the names, in the order they appear. There should be script as well indicating that these were the original daughters born to Adam and Eve.”

“Why just a list of the daughters?” Christian asked.

“Because there's already a list of male names and this particular list was made specifically in case we found ourselves in the position we do now,” Alex interjected.

“Instructions were passed down that dictated the box was not to be opened until a woman named Eiah came for it,” Minna added. She pronounced it eye-ah.

“Who's Eiah?” Dragar asked.

Alex and Minna both pinned their gazes on her.

“That's me,” Evelyn said with a lift of her hand.

Dracht, scraping fingers thoughtfully through his goatee, asked, “And how did someone know that you specifically would come asking for it one day?”

“We chose my name as a password,” Evelyn explained. “It didn't really matter whose name became the key, so to speak, as long as we all remembered which one it was. As well, it didn't matter which daughter used the password. The disciple who wrote it intended it to be protection and perhaps explanation if our existence came to light.”

“That, and there is no other complete list of the daughters to be found anywhere else,” Minna said.

“Not the correct version anyway,” Alex added with a grunt.

“What if he asks you to lead them to the Garden of Eden?” Christian asked.

“You can't just walk in if you're not one of us. It takes permission and special circumstances. The Guardian has to allow it,” Evelyn said.

“Besides that, you can't find it without one of us. We're the only ones other than the Guardian who knows how to get to the Gate.” Alex spread her hands and clapped them back together again after she'd made her point.

“The Guardian?” Christian looked confused.

Evelyn glanced between the four men. “The Guardian of the East Gate?”

Christian looked blank.

“The angel God put there to protect the Tree of Life.” Rhett proved he knew a little more about it than Christian.

Evelyn nodded at the same time Alex and Minna did and said, “Correct. Not just the Tree of Life but the entire Garden.”

“Huh.” Dracht grunted, arms still crossed over his chest.

“All right. Make me a list of the names so I can give that to Father Valanzano before they try and find this box you're talking about. Then we'll wait for a reply while we're baiting the other Templars into a trap and go from there once they're in our custody. In the meantime, I've arranged for you to visit your sisters before their burial.” Dragar gestured to Dracht, Rhett and Christian. “You three come with me for a moment.”

“I'll make the list,” Minna offered, standing up.

“Thank you, Dragar. We'll see you all shortly.” Evelyn thought that went a lot better than she'd imagined. She stood up when Dragar nodded and met Rhett's gaze for a lingering beat while he filed out of the room behind his brothers. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

“C'mon, Ev. Let's go get ready to say goodbye.” Alexandra slung an arm over Evelyn's shoulders and led her out of the room.

***

With a lot on his mind, Rhett followed his father and brothers through the halls to an enclosed office. Like the rest of the stronghold, the furniture was heavy, thick and sparse. A desk framed by walls of bookcases sat in the middle of the room. Three chairs with leather cushions and burnished studs offered seating. On any other day, the brothers would have sank into the comfortable confines for the oncoming conversation.

“Shut the door, Christian,” Dracht said with a gesture.

Christian closed the door behind him.

Rhett stood next to Dracht while his father perched on the corner of the desk, meeting each of their gazes dead on.

“The plan we discussed has been put into motion. False details were relayed that the girls would show up at the funeral for their sisters tomorrow. At the same time, I made a discreet call on a separate phone to Valanzano telling him that the girls would be transferred to one of the other safe houses here in Athens and that the funeral was to be used as a cover for the move. I have no doubt the Templars will intercept that phone call and show up at the safe house to try and nab them,” Dragar said.

“How many of us do you want at the safe house? If all nine show up, it could get messy. The element of surprise will help,” Christian said.

“I want you and Rhett here at the stronghold with the girls. Dracht, Raoul, Benecio and I will apprehend the men at the safe house along with some of the other Templars we've recalled from duty. Once we have them in custody, Dracht will call you while I inform Valanzano.”

“Who is going to Italy for the transfer of the Knights?” Dracht asked.

“I'll take Raoul and Benecio with me. The girls are more familiar with you three, so I want you here until we get the rest of this straightened out.”

“What about the visit to the mortuary today? You still want us to leave in separate cars?” Rhett asked, comfortable with all of the other plans. Everything, so far, was going according to their tentative schedule.

“Different cars, different departures. I can't imagine any of them would think we'd bring them here, but just in case they've outguessed us, I'd like to cover our actions as well as we're able,” Dragar replied.

“I'll take Alexandra with me and go out the back entrance,” Dracht said. “That'll split us up even more.”

Dragar inclined his head. “Good. Then I want everyone back here with no other stops in between. After that, it's just a waiting game until tomorrow.”

“I'll take personal pleasure in seeing the bastards brought in.” Rhett, annoyed that their own brothers had deceived them, looked forward to their capture.

Chapter Thirteen

“How are you feeling?” Rhett asked.

Evelyn watched the streets of Athen's whip by out the tinted windows of the car. They had left the stronghold separate from the others, staggering their departures as Rhett suggested. She'd added a cream colored, crocheted shirt over the lemon yellow one underneath, affixing the single button across her chest. Paired with the gray slacks, it would have to do for the impromptu viewing of her sisters. She wouldn't complain; she wasn't up for a shopping trip and there was no time for it anyway. She felt lucky that they were allowed this last chance to see the girls before they were buried.

“Better now that the truth is out and we can all move forward from this. I'm anxious to have the others in custody and to figure out what happens after that.”

“Soon. Dragar's got the names now thanks to Saul. He's getting a team together while we do this. It's just a matter of figuring out where they are,” Rhett said.

Evelyn admired him instead of the view. To go along with the jeans and dark blazer, he'd shaved and combed his hair away from his face. He'd never even met Galiana or Genevieve yet he took pains to look respectable. She knew he wore a holster under the blazer—probably wore it at all times—and the knowledge reassured her. Even with the wound she'd inflicted, Rhett was a force to be reckoned with.

“How did you get that scar above your eyebrow?” Evelyn gave in to curiosity at last.

“In Jakarta. Barroom brawl.” He smiled without taking his eyes off the road.

“...it wasn't from work?”

“No. Some drunk picked a fight when we were off duty. Christian and I almost got thrown in jail.” Rhett rumbled a laugh, obviously reminiscing.

“You're pretty close to your brothers.” She said it as a statement and not a question.

“I am. This has been our life since I can remember.”

“Do you ever wish you were doing something different? Living a more normal life?”

“Define normal. If you mean do I wish I was sitting at a desk all day punching numbers or some other typical job, then no. I like what I do, if that wasn't obvious.” He glanced at her.

Evelyn quirked her lips and looked out the front windshield.

“Why do I get the feeling that wasn't the right answer?” he asked.

“It's just dangerous, that's all.” With an abrupt change of subject, she asked, “How do we know the others aren't following us?”

Evelyn took his few seconds of silence to mean she'd caught him off guard with the swerve in topic. Either that, or Rhett was deciding whether or not to pursue the former subject.

“We don't. I've done my best to lose any tail in the city though. What's on your mind, Evelyn?” he asked.

“I don't know. I think I'm just moody about this. It's hard to say goodbye.” It was this and it was also other things she didn't know how to mention.

“Is that all?”

“Mostly. I have a bad feeling I can't put my finger on.”

“Do you get those feelings often?”

“Not really.”

“You're not reassuring me here, Evelyn.”

“It's hard to reassure you when I can't even reassure myself.”

***

Papadopoulos Mortuary felt as cold on the skin as a midwinter day. It seeped through the layers of clothing all the way to her bones. The sterile room in the back wasn't meant for guests or loved ones; it was a place to store coffins and bodies in the time between viewing and burial. The gray floor matched the gray walls and even the ceiling fit into the monochrome theme. It made the glossy, cherry wood caskets stand out like sore thumbs.

Evelyn stood next to Minna and Alexandra while an assistant opened the lids so the girls could say their final goodbye.

In her lifetime, Evelyn had experienced many deaths of her loved ones, and each time was just as hard as the last.

Galiana's skin was starting to mottle near the hairline and closer to the back of her neck. Her face, a ghastly whitish-blue, looked peaceful. Youthful. The inky web of her lashes fanned down over the high crest of her cheek. If she wasn't so pale, even with the light layer of make up, Evelyn would have thought she'd just been asleep.

An assistant at the mortuary had been kind enough to obtain clothing according to Evelyn's direction, so that Galiana would go to rest in a stylish dress of peach and cream. Genevieve, who'd suffered more physical facial damage than Galiana, was outfitted in the earth tones she always preferred.

With Rhett hovering at her back, she bent to place a small kiss on Genevieve and then Galiana's cheeks, restricting her tears to silent trails of saline that dripped harmlessly onto the satin lining the caskets.

Minna expended her grief in quiet breaths, murmuring soothing words while she stroked her hand over their hair and followed suit with a cheek kiss.

While Alex took her turn, Evelyn dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief Rhett pressed around her shoulder and into her fingers. She felt him touch the small of her back reassuringly, his broad stature like a wall looming behind her.

“You find some kick ass sales in heaven, Galiana, and we'll be seein' you sooner than you think,” Alexandra said.

“Alexandra.” Evelyn should have known Alex would say something like that.

She thought she heard Minna, Rhett, Dracht and Christian all muffle a laugh. Evelyn didn't know whether to be amused or beat her wayward sister to a pulp.

“What?” Alex said. “You know you were all thinking it.” Alex went over and kissed Genevieve's temple next. “Tell Eurijah I'll be taking that necklace back she 'borrowed' like a thousand years ago when I get up there. Love ya.”

The irony was that it had been a thousand years ago when Eurijah borrowed Alex's necklace and was never able to return it before her untimely death. Evelyn discovered she couldn't chide Alexandra for being herself. It was just her way, and probably made it easier to cope with the loss. Alex hadn't ever liked to show much emotion in front of anyone.

“If you two even think of snibbling and snarffling over me when I die, I'll kick both your butts when you get to heaven,” Alexandra announced when she turned from the caskets. She eyed Evelyn and Minna with her brows up.

The girl was impossible.

“Snibbling isn't even a word. Hush and let's go.” Evelyn pinched Alex's side to get her moving for the doors. She glanced a last time at Galiana and Genevieve before the assistant eased the lids back into place. Knowing that she would see them again was the only thing that kept her from breaking down completely.

Rhett caught her elbow with his fingers and steered her toward the back entrance. “Your sister is something,” he murmured near her ear.

“She's always been blunt. I suppose it's a coping mechanism or something on days like today.” Evelyn pushed the handkerchief into her pocket to return to him later, after she'd washed it.

“I'm sorry you won't be able to go to the cemetery. But at least you'll know that they'll be buried like you wanted. Once this is all over, we can do a memorial if you'd like the proper way.” He led her out the back door and into the sunlight.

“That might be a good idea.” Evelyn and her surviving sisters hadn't ever had a memorial for any of them before. It had felt too risky to gather in one place in case they were being watched. Usually they were on the run by then, doing their best to stay one step ahead of the Templars. Alex would balk at the thought. She couldn't be sure what Minna would say.

While the others parted off in pairs to travel back to the stronghold, Evelyn walked with Rhett to their car. He went around to open the passenger door for her and closed it once she was inside.

Evelyn tracked him in the rear view mirror while he made his way around to the driver's side. She could still smell the subtle scent of his cologne on her clothes and the seats. When he got in, she examined his profile while he slid the key into the ignition. The engine growled to life. They were slated to leave a few minutes before the others, staggering their exit like they had from the stronghold.

“Do you think we'll ever be able to live like we used to, Rhett? In our own houses in the cities of our choices?” she asked. He glanced at her, the pale green of his eyes serious.

“I'm sure you will. It'll all depend on how much protection we think you need, what you're willing to accept, and where you all want to live, really.”

“We'd planned to move back here in the not too distant future. Crete, maybe. I don't know what the girls will want to do now, but I know we won't be splitting up to live separately again.”

“You lived apart before?” He backed the sleek vehicle out of the slot, one arm slung behind her seat. Once clear, he put the car in gear and cruised toward the street.

“We scattered across the globe after Eurijah was killed. We wanted to make it harder to track us down. And if they did manage to find us, then at least we wouldn't put any other sisters in jeopardy by living together. That was our thinking. But finally, when so many decades went by without an attack, we felt pretty secure living close to one another again. Now I doubt I could be separated from them for very long.”

“You shouldn't have to worry about it after this. You can live anywhere you want to.”

“Will you and your brothers go anywhere we go? I mean, won't that be disruptive for you?”

Rhett stopped at a red light and searched her eyes. He said nothing for long seconds. “For a while. At some point I'm going to pick a home base and settle there, start a family of my own. It isn't something I've considered so far due to my lifestyle. They'll replace me with someone you can trust.”

Evelyn was unprepared for the stab of jealousy that hit her. She had no right to feel so possessive over him after knowing him such a short time. Or did she? They'd shared more than just a kiss, and their situation was far from some casual meeting in a club or at a party. They'd been chased, shot at, hunted. He'd put himself in the line of fire for her.

Remembering the look they shared the night before across the sand pit, her cheeks flushed. She would have bet in that moment he felt just as possessive over her.

“So you can have little Templars of your own to train and get into the family business, I'm sure.” She didn't phrase it as a question. Templars were generational. Of course Rhett would eventually settle down and have children of his own.

Evelyn hated the thought of him growing old, growing infirm and feeble.

“I don't know how the kid thing works for you. Have you had any?” he asked.

“Alexandra and I are the only two that haven't. I chose not to because the thought of watching them grow old and die didn't appeal to me. Alexandra just isn't the motherly type, not really.”

“How did you 'choose' not to back before there was birth control?”

Evelyn studied his face while he drove. Confiding in him shouldn't be so easy. “Like our ability to heal, we have an innate knowledge of when the precise time is to conceive. So if you don't want to, then you avoid relations with men until that time has passed.”

“Very handy little extra sense. I guess you're not susceptible to disease or anything like that then?”

“No. Though if we ingested enough poison or something like that, we'll die.” She watched his reactions while he took a longer route back to the stronghold. By the way he watched the rear view and side mirrors, she knew he was making sure he lost any kind of tail.

“Does the immortality get passed down to the children?”

“No. That comes from eating fruit from the Tree of Life.” Evelyn folded her hands in her lap, memorizing the strength of his jaw, the masculine bridge of his nose. The scar above his eyebrow only added to his appeal in her mind.

Rhett met her eyes and held them at the next red light.

He said nothing else for the rest of the trip to the stronghold.

***

The scent of grilled chicken wafted through the kitchen. Evelyn, impressed with how well equipped it was, decided to help Rhett make dinner. Not bothering to change, she'd found a full length apron to don over her clothing, the strings wrapped twice around her hips and tied off in the front.

Dusk had settled over the landscape a few minutes before, bleeding orange fingers of light through the windows.

“Smells pretty good,” Rhett said from the island where he stood piling ears of corn wrapped in foil from the grill onto a plate. “There's salad fixings in the fridge, too. We can do that last.”

“How many months out of the year do you live here?” she asked, turning over a few pieces of chicken with the tongs. An overhead vent quietly pulled the rising steam away.

“Months? I don't stay for months at a time anywhere. I move between the strongholds and houses depending on where I'm needed to work,” he said, setting down his own pair of tongs.

“Oh. You don't have a place of your own for vacations and things like that?” she asked, glancing over at him.

“I've invested in a couple residences, but I don't live there. If I go on vacation, I choose a destination far from where any work is going on and usually just stay in a hotel or something.”

“How long has it been since you've had a vacation?”

“Eleven years or so?” He went to the fridge and took out a fresh bottle of cold water, cracking the lid with a twist of his hand.

“Eleven years! That's a long time.” Evelyn couldn't imagine waiting that long to have a vacation.

“Well, how often do you go on vacation? Two or three times a year?” He laughed as he asked.

“Of course not. But we usually all go somewhere at least once a year.”

“That's because you have a lazy job.”

Evelyn darted an astonished look at him. “I do not! I'll have you know--” She paused when she saw the devilish gleam in his eye. Setting down the tongs, she grabbed up a towel and after giving it a quick roll, she snapped it at his hip.

He dodged her with too much ease, grabbing the end of the towel to suddenly tug her right in front of him.

“You were saying?” His tone picked up a predatory edge.

Evelyn couldn't remember what she was saying. His proximity made her forget herself. “You're terrible.”

“You like it,” he challenged brazenly, setting the towel on the island after she let it go. But he didn't move away from her.

Evelyn lifted her chin. A small show of defiance. “I like no such thing. I prefer my men demure and--”

“Metrosexual?”

She laughed, skirting around him both to get her breath back and to see if there was any wine in their fridge. If there was ever a night she wanted to indulge, it was this one.

“What gave you that idea?”

“Just a hunch. Am I right?”

“Not whatsoever.”

“So what kind of man do you prefer then?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Why are you avoiding?” he countered.

“If I told you, then I'd have to kill you.” She muffled a laugh against her shoulder while he barked a loud one into the kitchen.

“You tried that once. Your aim sucks.”

“Rhett!”

“I just call it like I see it.”

“You're an instigator, is what you are.”

“I repeat—you like it.”

Evelyn found a bottle of blush and a bottle of burgundy. She took both out of the fridge. “I think you just want me to like it.”

“There are a lot of things I want you to like.”

Evelyn set the bottle of burgundy on the granite counter top. The inflection in Rhett's voice drew her gaze. He stared at her in a way that suggested he wasn't teasing any longer. It was both the right and wrong time to address the situation, but Evelyn knew that they needed to before anything went further between them. She glanced through the kitchen; it was empty save for themselves. Less interested in the wine than before, she toyed with the bottle.

“Such as?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

He strolled over after turning the grill off and leaned a hip against the counter a foot away. “Me, for one.”

“I do like you. In fact, I like you more than I should if I'm honest.” As if the events of the day weren't difficult enough, Evelyn found herself forced to begin a conversation that would only make things worse.

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“Haven't you been listening to everything we've said, Rhett?” she asked.

“Of course. It's impossible not to. What troubles you about it?”

“Don't you know?” Leaving the bottle alone, she faced him. He looked sturdy and solid, like always, as if he could fix anything. Change anything. Make life better just by being present.

But he couldn't fix this. He couldn't bridge the enormous gap that existed between them no matter how they both felt for each other.

Astute, he narrowed his eyes.

“If you think I haven't thought about the immortality, then you're wrong. I have.”

“It's why we don't have relationships for long periods of time. Minna is the only one of us who has ever made something last longer than a year or so. It's not fair to you, or really, to me, either.” If she allowed herself to fall the rest of the way, Evelyn knew that eventually, when they had to separate, he would not be the only one devastated.

She'd never felt this way about any man, no matter how fond she'd been of a few of her boyfriends over time. There was something different about the bond she felt with Rhett.

“I hate to fall back on an old cliché here, but isn't it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?”

Evelyn snapped a look up from where her gaze had gone distant on the wall. Was he telling her he was in love with her? Or conjecturing about their possible future? One that wasn't a future at all but a progression toward the day when they would have to part for the age differences.

She would continue on, like this, while he grew old and feeble.

It did not answer the question he put to her, however. And standing this close, where his scent lingered in her senses, his eyes regarding her so warmly, she felt tested beyond measure. Would the joy of being with him for twenty years outweigh the other thousands she would be without him after he died?

“A cliché made by someone who never had to watch a loved one wither and fade, and ultimately die. It's easy to make such grandiose statements when you're in your prime, when you're both in your prime, and have the rest of your lives to grow old together. We don't have that luxury.” She rested her palm on the cool counter top. It was surreal to even be having this conversation.

Rhett continued to maintain eye contact.

“A cliché made by someone who undoubtedly understood that no matter what else, they wouldn't be able to resist what they want and to keep trying to do so would only result in lasting heartache. Better to seize the moment and live it than to wake up miserable every day, don't you think?”

“And how resentful will you be when you begin to age and I don't? Hm? How much do you think you'll enjoy that?” Evelyn closed the distance between them, standing so close that she had to tip her head at a sharp angle just to hold his gaze.

“I choose to live for the moment, Evelyn, not look so far into the future that it taints what we might have today. I could have sworn you'd be the type to do the same.”

Evelyn of six months ago would have engaged in a brief affair with him and had no second thought about it. But today things had changed. Their secret was out. Rhett was...Rhett. Different than other men she'd dated. She wasn't sure if she was relieved that he knew her so well already or annoyed by the same.

“You make a good argument for the situation,” she murmured, unable to come up with a suitable reply. “I need a little more time.”

“There's no rush, despite my ticking clock.” Rhett brought the topic back up to lighter footing with mild humor.

“What if I decide not to take the risk, Rhett? What if, ultimately, I don't want to put myself through it?” She almost hated to see the gleam in his eyes fade.

“Then that will be that. I won't fight you over your decision, Evelyn. There's no joy in it if you don't come willingly, with your whole heart.” He turned away without any heat in his words to finish dinner preparations.

Evelyn tinkered with the bottle of wine and watched him, thinking over everything he'd said. It would be a challenge either way and for a moment, she felt frustrated by their circumstance.

Chapter Fourteen

“Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?” Dracht asked from the doorway to his room.

Rhett glanced up from the bible in his hands. Curiosity had gotten the better of him after dinner and he'd sought a volume out from his father's extensive library. Well past midnight, Rhett was on schedule to take over after Dracht's shift.

“Can't sleep,” he admitted, slapping the book closed. He set it on the bed beside him. Sitting on the edge, fully clothed, he propped his elbows on his thighs and eyed his sibling.

“Something happen I'm not aware of? I'm sure you're not worried about tomorrow.” Dracht leaned a shoulder against the door frame.

“Nah, I know you guys will clean house. Everything ready to go?”

“Everything's set. The house is wired, videoed and we already have lookouts placed on the street. You didn't answer my question.”

“Had a talk with her earlier while we were making dinner.”

“And?”

“And I don't know if she'll set aside the major difference between us to give this thing a go.” Rhett studied his brother. Dracht didn't bother to hide his surprise.

“I thought I was just imagining whatever it was I saw between you. Since when do you want something more than a one nighter with a woman?”

“Pretty much since the first night I met her.” He saw no reason to lie. Rather than fight being baffled over their connection, he sought ways to overcome the problem.

“Huh.” Dracht grunted. He made the sound often when he was thoughtful. “I don't need to tell you it's going to be tricky. Not just because they live for however long, but because at some point, word is going to leak out.”

“The Church has kept many things secret for years--”

“I'm not talking about the Church. Who's to say these guys haven't already told someone else?”

“Wouldn't we have heard by now?” Rhett asked.

“Not necessarily. There are a lot of reasons, some we can't even guess at, why they might come forward. Money, notoriety, a shot at becoming immortal.”

“We'll deal with it then. It's not enough to keep me from trying with her.” He stood up and stretched his back. They spoke at such a low volume that he wasn't worried Evelyn or any of her sisters would overhear. Last he knew, they were all sleeping in their appointed rooms.

“Leave it to you to fall for someone you shouldn't have.” Dracht snorted.

Rhett latched onto the thread of humor and smiled devilishly. “You know me. I like a challenge. It'll help tomorrow if you and Dad can slip out without the girls seeing you. That Alexandra asks a lot of questions.”

“A challenge is what you're going to get.” Dracht laughed. “Yes, she does. I'm half surprised she isn't waiting in the pit for another lesson. We're heading out an hour before dinner, so keep them distracted in the kitchen or something and they'll never know we're gone.”

“I'll have Christian help me keep their attention diverted. After tomorrow, we can make extended plans. Hey, how do you feel about Crete?”

Dracht looked perplexed.

Grinning, he clapped his brother on the shoulder and let him wonder.

***

There was a certain archaic kind of peace to be found within the stronghold. Evelyn imagined centuries of Templars residing here, going on their secretive missions only to come back to rest and recover. Two weeks ago she would have gone cold at the thought of being ensconced within their sanctuary; now she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Strange.

Standing in front of the swords attached in a line on the board in the sand pit the following evening, she examined them closely. The blades shined. Each one had ancient script carved along the edge, a flowing line of words about strength and honor. Before meeting Rhett and his brothers, she would have laughed at the thought that any of the Knights were honorable. Each also bore an insignia, the same as the iron cross tattooed between the Templar's shoulder blades. It matched another engraved into the gold lined, leather wrapped hilt.

The weapons were rich with detail, polished and well cared for. A novice, even she could see that.

She wondered how old the swords were, how many generations they'd been passed down through.

Blanching, she wondered if any of them had been the instruments of death that had ended the lives of one of her sisters.

“Not inclined to pick one up?” a familiar voice said near her ear.

Startled, Evelyn whipped a look back at Christian. She smiled, one hand pressed over her racing heart. “You surprised me. I—no. That's probably not a great idea.”

“Why not?” he asked, reaching past her. With care, he pulled one particular sword from the grips that held it vertical to the ground.

Evelyn took two steps to the side to give him room. “I've always had a fear of them, I guess. I'm sure you can understand why.”

He angled the blade so that it was pointing straight up. Christian followed the shining steel with his gaze right to the tip. The grip he had around the hilt looked firm but comfortable, as if he'd spent a lot of time with the weapon. A corner of his mouth crooked into a half smile when he met her eyes past the glinting metal.

“I can understand that,” he said with a nod. “Did you see them in action once before or something?”

“A very long time ago, yes.” Evelyn laced her arms across her front. Overhead, beyond the dome in the ceiling, thunder growled through the sky. A few seconds later, lightning flashed a spear of illumination over the pit. It sounded like a big storm was rolling in.

“Must not have been very pleasant, judging by the look on your face,” he added. “Then there was the way Galiana died.”

An immediate pang lanced through her. She winced, looking up from the hold he had on the hilt to his eyes. The upright position of the blade blocked a portion of his face.

“There was that.” Reminded, her voice lowered to a murmur. “I'm sure Rhett's told you that I'm not a fan of violence anyway.”

“He didn't mention it.” Christian lowered the blade an inch at a time, until the tip hovered just beneath her chin.

She was positive that Christian wouldn't ever mean to distress her, but staring down the glinting steel put a sudden ache in her stomach. Not wanting to touch it, she swallowed down a knot of unease.

It's just Christian. He doesn't know how much I hate these things.

While they stared at each other, with the storm growing in intensity outside, Christian touched the tip of the sword against her skin. A light rest of cold, hard steel. Evelyn flinched at the contact.

“...can you move that, please? It makes me uncomfortable.” She half expected him to say it was a lesson. Like the one Rhett taught her that night in the hotel room when he stalked her.

“And it should make you uncomfortable. You've caused me more trouble than you realize.” His eyes, usually blue as a summer sky, turned flinty.

Shock froze Evelyn in place. Thunder pounded the night as if a great hammer was trying to crack through the heavens.

Any second, she expected Christian to laugh and withdraw the blade. This was some awful joke, a twisted version of a reality she didn't recognize. She didn't understand the displeased look on his face, didn't—couldn't—comprehend the antagonistic nuance of his mood. It took her several agonizing, long minutes to realize he was serious. Christian wouldn't lower the blade until he'd said what he came to say, or did what he came to do.

She licked her lips, suddenly nervous.

“I don't understand. What's going on, Christian? What's this about?” She couldn't detect any crack in his metaphorical armor, no weak spot or vulnerable angle.

“You're going to come with me, that's what this is about. Don't even think of screaming or calling out for Rhett. He's been detained. Start walking toward the front doors.” He kicked his chin that direction without ever taking his eyes off her.

Her first instinct was to do exactly that. Call out for Rhett. “What do you mean he's been detained?”

Christian said nothing.

Mind racing with implications and suggestions, all of them ugly and unbelievable, she took her first step. Christian kept the blade uncomfortably close to her throat, moving the tip so he could stay at her side instead of in front of her.

“Have you been working with the other Templars this whole time--” The idea bloomed into place when no other ready answers presented themselves. Christian cut her off.

“Be quiet. Don't ask questions.” He spoke low. No nonsense.

Frantic to make sense of it all, she took another cautious step. Surely he hadn't done something to Rhett. And where were her sisters? Dracht? Dragar? Had Christian turned traitor against his own family? Questions raced through her mind while she tried to figure out what to do.

Instinct dictated that if she allowed him to get her away from the stronghold, she might never get a chance to escape. She couldn't let him just walk out the door with her without putting up some kind of fight.

On the other hand, her rational half refused to accept that Christian meant her any real harm. He'd spent hours protecting her, keeping her safe. And yet here he was, sword at her throat, indicating he meant to take her away.

Impossible.

The options at her disposal, when she considered them, seemed dismal and bleak.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Rhett's voice, deadly and low, came from behind them.

The instant she recognized who it belonged to, she pitched away from Christian, using the distraction to put some distance between them. The tip of the blade nicked her skin, a small wound well worth the risk of freedom. Stumbling in the sand, she fell to a knee and twisted in time to see Rhett, wet with rain, blood streaming down from his hairline, stalking Christian.

He had a sword in his hand.

Scrambling back, she found the edge of the pit and climbed out onto the tile.

Christian, forced to face off with his brother rather than go after her, took up a defensive posture. Lips thin, he narrowed his eyes.

“Don't tell me the other Templars turned you. I know you're smarter than to believe the junk they were spewing,” Rhett said. Like a predator, he circled until he'd put himself between his brother and her.

“They were just a tool, good only for their fanaticism and ability to track the girls down. It allowed me to monitor their moves and not draw suspicion onto myself.” Christian tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword. “You weren't supposed to see this.”

“See what? What were you going to do with her? Christian, what in God's name are you doing?” Rhett jerked his head to remove wet strands of hair from his vision.

“There are a lot of things you don't understand. Things I can't tell you. We--”

“That's bullshit, Christian. You're my brother. You can tell me anything.”

“I can't tell you this. I won't.”

“That's your choice. I can't help you if you don't confide in me.”

“I didn't ask for your help.” A muscle twitched at the corner of Christian's eye.

Rhett spat a wad of blood into the sand. His discontent seemed to increase with Christian's latest answer.

“Who jumped me outside?” Rhett demanded.

“Is he dead?”

“He would have been if you hadn't taken the clip out of my gun. Why don't you put the sword down.” Rhett made a short gesture with his blade.

Christian ignored the request. His posture became more predatory, matching the slow stalk Rhett made over the sand. Preparing to take it to the next level.

Lurching to her feet, Evelyn watched the brothers with increasing horror. Suddenly, the confusion over how the Templars stayed so close on their tail clicked into place. Christian had been with she and Rhett almost the whole time. He'd turned them in. Kept track of every move, every detail. Had he even been the one to send her the text message? He'd delivered her belongings to her, had access to her phone.

Oh God.

She darted a look from one face to another. Christian, always hard to read, was not any easier to dissect now. She couldn't tell if he felt remorse, anger, frustration—nothing. Rhett appeared controlled, steely, hyper-focused.

They faced off in the middle of the sand pit, circling, circling, swords held out in front of them. She knew she should probably run. Get away while she could. But Rhett might need her and she couldn't seem to move anyway. Locked in place, all she could do was watch with her breath in her throat.

Outside, the storm picked up intensity, rain hammering the roof and the dome.

“I'm not letting you take her anywhere,” Rhett said, the words a clear warning.

“You don't have a choice.”

Christian lunged forward, moving in to attack.

Chapter Fifteen

Hidden in the shadows of an alley between a vacant laundromat and an empty bookstore, Dracht regarded the house across the street. It was an older, white clapboard home with a wrap around porch and freshly painted eaves. The interior had long been stripped of everything, even carpet, the windows shuttered from the inside. Its location in a rough part of town made it less than desirable to use in rescue situations, but it worked beautifully for this.

Crouched next to his father, he heard the other Knights check in over the headset while he squinted through the torrential downpour for movement.

Three of the nine remaining sect members had been apprehended in the woods behind the safe house. Lookouts that Raoul had subdued before the others could be alerted. Benecio had forced one of them to call the other six in, luring them toward the trap Dragar had set in motion.

One by one, dark silhouettes crept through the night, through the rain, toward the front stairs of the house. Two split off along the side for the back and the other four came straight on, removing the front door from the hinges with a vicious kick.

While they were distracted, Dracht sprang to his feet alongside Dragar and sprinted across the street. The rush would have been quieter if the rain hadn't dampened the asphalt; his boots clapped through a few shallow puddles, drawing the attention of the last Templar about to go through the doorway.

Even in the dark, through the silvery deluge, Dracht saw the gun in the Knight's hand.

It swung wide and took aim at his father.

Dragar, possessed of decent speed and agility for his age, nevertheless couldn't dodge bullets. Dracht dropped to a knee right there on the parkway, raised his firearm, and squeezed off two shots. Instead of going for a non-fatal wound, he went for the broader target of the Templar's chest, unwilling to risk his father's life if he missed a thigh or a shoulder.

The Knight pitched back, landing half in and half out of the doorway.

“Shit,” Dracht muttered. Their cover was already blown. He could hear shouting from inside the house. A moment later, something buzzed past his ear. He hit the ground and rolled, aligning himself behind the trunk of a tree.

Dragar never stopped, taking a zig-zagging path forward, shooting at the facade of the house to keep the other Templars pinned down.

Dracht blew his cover and ran straight across the short yard for the porch. His father, shooting from somewhere to his right, had to stop and reload just as he thumped to the side of the open door. Breathing hard, holding his gun with both hands, he listened for movement. The Templars, trained as well as the rest of them, had gone totally silent. But they were there, he knew, just waiting for the right time to strike.

“We have two in custody.” Raoul's voice, out of breath, came over the headset.

Two contained, one dead.

Three down. Three to go.

In periphery, he saw Dragar lope onto the porch, bent in half to pass under the front window across from him. One on each side of the blown out doorway, Dracht made eye contact with his father. He nodded and pulled a small, round disc from the belt at his waist. Tugging the tab, he tossed it into the darkness, over the prone body blocking the threshold, and waited for the gas to smoke the Templars out.

At least here, under the awning, he didn't have to fight the rain to see. Dracht crouched down again, balanced on the balls of his feet. He didn't want to be eye to eye with anyone who might come out shooting.

As it turned out, that was exactly what happened. The first Templar barreled through the open door, stumbling on the body, gun blasting in Dracht's direction. Three bullets whizzed above his head. He knew his father couldn't fire because he risked hitting him instead of the sect member. In those spare seconds when they were forced to wait, Dracht saw Dragar gather himself and knew what he meant to do.

Dragar lunged after the Knight. Colliding, they tumbled down the stairs into the blinding rain. But Dracht had to worry about the other two who couldn't be far behind the first one.

Swinging the gun back, still crouched, he shot out the knee of the next man coming through the doorway. With a scream, the Templar crashed to the porch where Dragar had just been. His gun skittered away, falling off onto the grass.

Before Dracht could move, two bodies hurled out through the busted door frame, landing in a tangle of fists and curses.

One of them had to be Raoul. He must have cut through the house to take this last Templar by surprise.

“Freeze! Don't move!” Dracht shouted. He couldn't get a clear shot.

Raoul chopped his hand across the man's windpipe, effectively stunning him, and knocked the gun from his fingers.

Dracht plucked the weapon off the porch and pressed to a stand, stepping over them to check on the one he'd shot the knee out of. The Templar rolled around on the porch, hissing and groaning in pain.

Tucking the extra gun, Dracht snagged a pair of cuffs from his belt and secured the Knight's wrists. Satisfied he wasn't a threat any longer, he vaulted the rail to the ground.

Dragar had the last man pinned, knee in his back. From the safe house more Templars came, another few running onto the scene across the street.

“Get them all loaded into the van. Benecio! You know where to take them. Have the medic on standby.” Dragar let go of the man he had pinned when other Knights came to take over.

Dracht surveyed the scene, mouth a grim line. He holstered his weapon and met his father a few steps from the stairs. The storm raged around them, soaking his clothes through to his skin.

“That's all of them.” He glanced at the door where the prone Templar lay. Dracht wasn't happy about having to shoot one of his own.

Dragar clapped a hand to his shoulder. “You did what you had to. They made their choice, Dracht.”

“I know. I still don't like it.” He knew his father felt the same way, even if he hadn't been the one to pull the trigger. Dragar acted as a father figure to many of the Knights whose own parents had passed away.

“None of us do. I would have done the same thing if it had been you or any other in danger. It's part of the job. Come on, let's get going. I'm sure the women will be relieved to know that it's over.” Dragar clapped his shoulder once more before leading the way toward a car that had been left for them at the curb.

On the way to the stronghold, Dracht tried to call Rhett. Three times it went to voice mail. He left a message on the fourth try.

“Hey, pick up once in a while. We're on our way back. We have them all contained. See you in ten.” Dracht hung up and slouched in the passenger seat while Dragar traversed the slick looking streets of Athens. The storm pounded the landscape relentlessly, muting the colors into layers of black and gray.

At the gate, the guard let them in. Dracht, ready to be done for the evening, unfastened his seat belt while his father cruised slowly along the drive toward the building.

A strange car sat parked before the broad, sweeping staircase and Dracht peered through the gloom to try and get a better look.

“Whose car is that?” he asked.

“Can't tell. Doesn't look like anyone we know, does it?” Dragar replied, slowing to a stop twenty feet behind the vehicle. He cut the lights.

“It's hard to see through the damn weather.” Dracht flung open his door and got out. He hadn't gone three steps when the sound of a brawl hit him over the roll of thunder through the sky.

“Dragar!” Dracht broke into a run after alerting his father something was wrong. Rounding the front of the other car, he saw bodies on the ground. Four of them, broke into two halves. The whip of long, wet black hair told him one of them was Alexandra. Minna must be the other, both in lethal combat with two men who didn't look immediately familiar.

“Freeze! Put your hands where I can see them! Now!” Dracht roared his command, the gun already out of the holster.

Alexandra and Minna both took advantage of the distraction. Alex cracked a fist into her attackers nose and Minna delivered a brutal blow to a temple. Minna rolled out from under the man who held her down, taking up a defensive stance. She was muddy and disheveled and breathing like she'd just run a marathon. Her sister, less graceful but no less effective, had a harder time getting to her feet. Dracht could see the beginnings of bruises on them both even through the rain.

Dragar stalked onto the scene with his weapon leveled at the men.

“Get up! Who are you and what are you doing here?” Dragar demanded.

The men, suits soaked through, scrambled to their feet with their hands raised in surrender. They stank of government. One of them had a bloody nose.

Dracht didn't recognize either of them.

“He asked you a question!” Dracht shouted over a peal of thunder. He saw the way the men's gaze darted back and forth, as if they were weighing their options of escape or retaliation. He would have bet his entire next paycheck that both were concealing weapons under their jackets.

Why they hadn't used them on the girls were questions to be asked later.

“Hands behind your back. Right now.” Dracht drew a pair of plastic wrist cuffs from his belt and subdued one man while Dragar did the other. Each was divested of a gun from hidden holsters.

“Alexandra, Minna, what the hell is going on?” Dracht went to a different source when he got nothing from the men. He glanced over to see both women looking angry and wary.

“They just came in. We were in the office lookin' at the books Dragar said we could read, and before you know it, they tackled us and drug us outside. We managed to hold 'em off long enough not to be put in their car and then you guys showed up.” Alex, a wreck of tangled hair and wet clothes, scowled.

Minna nodded her agreement with Alexandra's assessment of the situation. “They didn't say what they wanted, they just grabbed us. Took us by surprise.”

After all the care they'd taken to make the women feel reassured and safe, this happened. Dracht was less than pleased.

“Where are Rhett and Evelyn? Christian?”

“No idea. I don't think anyone could hear us over the rain,” Alexandra said, flailing in exasperation at the downpour. The guard at the gate couldn't have heard them through the storm and his view was blocked by several trees.

Something eerie and uncomfortable slipped along Dracht's skin. One glance at his father told him he had the same inclination.

“Benecio. Contain the group you have and gather every available Templar. Get back to the stronghold immediately,” Dragar said into the headset. He yanked at the arm of the man he held, forcing him up the steps toward the double doors.

Dracht didn't have to tell Alexandra and Minna to follow. He shoved the man he held in the same direction, bulling him through the double doors. The echoing effect of the stronghold brought him a sound that chilled his blood to the bone.

A sharp clash and hiss of swords reverberated through the chamber.

***

Rhett parried Christian's thrust, twisting the blade in a counter roll that forced his brother to back-step and withdraw. The grip on the hilt of his sword was slicker than he liked, but he'd fought in worse conditions than these. It would not be a hindrance.

The blood dripping down into his eyes might be, however.

Fighting off inner dismay and frustration, he prowled the same section of sand between Christian and Evelyn. He refused to give up any ground there, wouldn't let his brother have a clear shot at the girl. That he even had to consider Christian might do her harm threatened to upset his usual steel equilibrium.

With a puff of sand kicking off the back of his boot heels, he thrust straightforward. Christian blocked, arching the blade in a half circle, taking his own sword around with it. Rhett retreated only two steps and came in at another angle, driving Christian back. They were, and always had been, well matched in the ring.

He realized that it had to be his brother who'd informed their pursuers where they would be going, and where they were staying. It made sense now, the boat finding them after Crete, the frozen bank accounts, the men in Port Said. Christian had been tipping them off all along.

Rhett couldn't fathom who 'they' were yet. It was only a matter of time though. He would have his answers come hell or high water.

With a hard clang, their blades clashed overhead. Rhett slid his down along the edge, trying to circle close to the wrist and disarm his brother. Christian saw it coming and whipped a strike at his shoulder, risking a jab in the chest for his effort.

Rhett danced back just time time; steel glinted low and to the right, barely missing his arm.

“Getting slow in your old age, brother,” Rhett taunted, never taking his eyes off him. Christian didn't take the bait, parrying forward with a flurry of fast footsteps and ringing blows of metal on metal. Rhett blocked every one, anticipating the moves. He knew he had a slight advantage of age and experience, but he didn't for a second let the knowledge distract him from the fact that Christian had become a desperate man. It leveled the playing field, because while he might anticipate his brother's moves, he couldn't predict them. Christian was likely to take risks he might not normally take.

As if Fate wanted to prove him right, Christian did something he wouldn't usually do. Between one thrust and the next, he crouched, spinning, and picked up a handful of sand. Rhett, busy avoiding the blade, only realized too late what the grabbing hand he saw in periphery meant.

A cloud of sand hit him straight in the face, blinding him, blotting out his adversary.

Evelyn's scream warned him that Christian was moving to strike.

***

Everything seemed to slow down; time, her breathing, the beat of her heart. She watched the sand hit Rhett head on and an involuntary scream ripped from her throat. It didn't take a genius to understand that he'd be blind for a few precious seconds. Time enough for someone skilled in the craft of swords to deal a killing blow.

Would Christian really kill his own brother? Evelyn, for the first time in her life, wanted to confront the violence instead of run from it. She wanted to rush out there and distract Christian, give Rhett back a fair advantage.

Christian didn't cut Rhett with the blade; he swooped in with the hilt and his fist, intent on delivering a blow to the temple. That was Evelyn's first hint that Christian didn't want to end Rhett's life. Whether that blow would have ever landed, or whether she would have helped or hindered by intruding was left up to anyone's guess. Rhett, in a surprisingly agile, intuitive counter, clanked his sword against the base of Christian's. It contacted just above the hilt, making Christian grit his teeth and grunt in pain.

She saw his blade falter and realized Rhett had struck that close to Christian's hand for a reason. It bought him a second to sweep his foot out and catch his brothers at the ankle. Christian stumbled back, off balance, while Rhett, fighting to see, charged forward. The very tip of his sword glided down Christian's and in a swift arc, Rhett twisted the weapon right out of his brother's fingers. It flew off to the side and Christian landed on his back, staring down the shining steel of Rhett's blade.

Evelyn, so tunnel visioned on the altercation, didn't realize someone else was there until Dragar's voice boomed through the room. It rivaled the thunder blazing across the sky.

“Rhett Sagan, what the devil is going on here?”

Sagan? Evelyn, even in her distress, was caught off guard by the last name. It had been Nichols on his credentials. She recalled Dragar telling her his last name was Sagan in Egypt however, and she'd never made the connection until now. Nichols was as fake as Rhett's CIA status.

Dragar and Dracht, having come in on the end of the fight, seemed uncertain who had instigated it.

Rhett never looked away from Christian's eyes. “I don't know. Christian's decided to be stubborn. He isn't talking. Get up.”

Christian slowly climbed to his feet. He and Rhett stared each other down, but Christian said nothing.

Evelyn met Rhett's eyes, just for a moment, before he herded Christian over toward Dracht and Dragar, the latter whom appeared to have aged ten years in the few minutes he'd been standing there.

Minna and Alex wore their confusion and mistrust openly. They made their way over and Evelyn hugged first one and then the other. She saw the men Dracht and Dragar had with them, men with their hands bound and injuries on their faces, and knew they had been in their own altercation with her sisters. They didn't look like Templars to her, though she couldn't have said exactly what the distinction was.

What the bloody hell was going on?

“Come on. Let's get you cleaned up,” Evelyn said to her siblings. There was nothing she could do but wait for Rhett to find her with some answers.

***

Evelyn stared at her sisters from her perch on the edge of the chair in Alexandra's bedroom. The events of the evening had left them all in varying stages of shock, disbelief and anger. Learning how her sisters had been snatched out of the office right under their very noses, she'd explained her own turn of events.

How Christian had surprised her in the sand pit, turning the sword first on her and eventually on Rhett. She had no answers over the why of it, or even who Christian worked for. Evelyn's gut instinct, after everything she'd overheard, led her to believe he wasn't involved with the other Templars.

The men were sequestered even now, trying to figure it out.

Four hours later, the rain still fell. Not the vicious lashing of earlier, but an almost delicate patter on the windows and roof. Silence had descended upon the girls, finally, and each had taken up comfortable positions to wait.

A knock on the door interrupted the contemplative mood.

“Come in,” Evelyn called, standing up from the chair.

Rhett entered first followed by Dracht and Dragar. Evelyn noticed the patriarch looked weary, as if a great weight had settled on his shoulders. All three of them were stony faced. Hard to read. Instead of inviting them out into the larger living area, they stood near one of the walls and faced the unfortunate incident head on.

“Christian and his partners insist there was only the three of them involved. We interrogated them separately without them having a chance to talk first, and they gave us very similar stories. The other two say they work for the US government,” Rhett said.

Evelyn wrung her hands before her, glancing from face to face. Gauging reaction to the news.

“Do you believe them?” she asked.

“They coulda got their 'stories' straight before they ever came here,” Alex said.

“That's the sticking point, Alex,” Dracht replied.

The deep baritone had an edge to it Evelyn hadn't heard before.

“It seems unlikely that there would only be three with how organized they are, and with what connections they seem to have. So far, the background checks have turned up exactly nothing on either of them. They refused to give us their names, so we ran their fingerprints. There isn't a match, no names attached. Christian isn't giving up much information himself, we're having to get most of it from the other two,” Dragar added. A muscle flexed in his angular, whiskered jaw.

Evelyn found Rhett staring at her when she looked at him next. She read regret, frustration, remorse and more in the long few seconds of eye contact they had.

“From the confusing, bumbling account the 'partners' gave, they, meaning the government agents, stumbled across knowledge of you by accident. We didn't have enough time to drag out exactly how, or what they'd planned to do with you when they caught up to you. We're not sure how the connections were made or who initiated contact between them and Christian. One admitted that they'd hired other people to work for them, but he insists none of them were ever told the specific details about your existence. He swears they were all three in it for themselves, that they weren't working for or with any other government,” Dracht said. “The men only used their positions to gain access to needed resources.”

“So what'll happen now? I mean, no offense to anyone, but I'm not really sure who I trust and who I don't.” Alex laid it out plain and blunt. She slapped her palms on her thighs and pushed up from the edge of the bed.

“I spoke at length with Father Valanzano before we came here. They found your box, and your scroll, and verified all the names on the list. He is much more willing to do what needs to be done to see you and your sisters safe, and agrees with the plan I've come up with,” Dragar said, taking the lead.

“What plan is that?” Minna asked.

“I think we should split you girls up until we know for sure that there's no one else involved. I give them a few days at most to make some kind of contact with Christian or to make a move on you. They will expose themselves, in one way or another, if there are more, and we'll propagate disinformation to try and draw them out of their holes.”

Evelyn felt a sliver of alarm at the thought of splitting off from her sisters after just being reunited again. She could see the wisdom in the idea though, and chewed the inside of her lip while studying Minna and Alexandra's reactions.

Minna looked perplexed and Alex was frowning.

“Each of you will come with one of us to a different location. We won't decide where we're going until we leave here and none of us will know where the other is. New phones connected to no one but us are available, giving us the ability to communicate without fear of being traced. We can stay mobile while other Knights follow instructions to lure any other members of this—group—or whatever it is, into the open. Even if nothing happens in three or four days though, I recommend keeping your distance from one another for a short while longer, just in case,” Rhett added.

“How do we know you won't do what Christian did? What if all this is part of an even more elaborate plot to get us to trust you so that we lead you straight to the Garden of Eden? Because I'd bet my favorite pair of knickers that's what they wanted us for,” Alex retorted. She paced a small spot on the floor with her hands propped on her hips.

“Your answer's standing right in front of you. If we wanted it that bad, we would have attempted to get the information from you already.” Dracht rubbed two fingertips over the edge of his goatee.

Evelyn thought his reasoning was sound. Rhett already knew he'd earned her trust, if not an answer about whether or not she would let her guard down to get involved seriously with him. When she glanced away from Rhett to Alex and Minna, she saw both of them giving her a look that was not difficult to interpret.

“Will you give us a few minutes?” she asked the men.

Dragar cut a brisk nod and turned to the door. Dracht followed with Rhett trailing. He stared a lingering moment more, gaze locked with hers, before they exited the room.

***

“It boils down to trust. Do we really trust them?” Minna asked.

The conversation had been raging for fifteen minutes.

Evelyn paced opposite Alexandra in the small bedroom, trying to work a headache out of her forehead with her fingertips.

“I can tell you that I trust Rhett implicitly. There's something more there between us. Something largely unexplored but there nevertheless. I honestly don't think he can be faking those looks he gives me or the connection I feel between us.” Evelyn finally broke down and confessed.

“What surprises me, Ev, is that you think Minna and I don't know that already. That's part of the reason why I've decided I'm in favor of this crazy scheme,” Alex said.

“How could you have known that?” Evelyn asked, astonished. She thought she'd hid that from everyone except for Rhett.

“Please, Ev. Really? You might as well have it stamped on your forehead. I got the hots for Rhett.”

“Alexandra.” Evelyn exhaled in exasperation.

“It's not that obvious, Evelyn, but it's noticeable.” Minna, always the voice of reason, tempered Alexandra's outlandish declaration.

“It has to mean somethin', Ev, because we all know how you like to keep guys at arms length.”

“You know the idea appeals to you, too, little miss innocent,” Evelyn said, stabbing an accusing look at Alexandra. I saw you in the sand pit with Dracht, her expression said.

Alex didn't have the grace to blush; she smiled devilish and unrepentant. “Hey, I make no secret I like to move around and he's got skill I intend to exploit at every opportunity. This gives me three or four days or however long to learn a little something new.”

Leave it to Alex to weasel every bit of adventure out of the entire thing.

“You sure changed your mind in a hurry,” Evelyn said.

“I believed them when they answered our questions.” Alex shrugged her eyebrows.

“I guess that means you would be going with Dragar, Minna. Are you comfortable with that?” Even as Evelyn asked, she realized she felt secure with each of her sisters in the brother's care, despite Christian's betrayal. Her only hesitation was over the split from her siblings.

“I'm comfortable with all of them. It led to misjudgment with Christian, but I think the bad seed has been culled from the group,” she replied.

Evelyn knew both her sisters well enough to know when they were telling the truth and when they were lying. Alex and Minna were being honest.

“At least we'll be able to talk whenever we want to without worry someone will be breathing down our neck,” Evelyn finally said.

“Don't look at this as an ending, Ev. Look at it as the start of a new beginning. Sure, we don't have the others with us anymore, and it sucks, but living without constantly having to worry about who's out there is almost within our reach. How long have we all wanted it? Too long.” Alex crossed the space between them and in an uncharacteristic move, tugged Evelyn into a tight hug.

Surprised, she hugged Alex and left a kiss on her cheek when she drew back. “I know, you're right. It's a lot of gear shifting lately and I'm still trying to adjust.”

Minna closed in to share affection with each of them, almost parent-like with the way she cupped Evelyn's face.

“Losing two siblings this close together has been difficult. We'll all still be adjusting a year from now,” Minna said.

Evelyn knew she was right. She smiled, though, because for the first time they were getting an honest shot at what they'd dreamed of for years. Galiana and Genevieve would never be forgotten. Only missed until they met up again.

“I guess it's time to pack our things and inform them of our decision.”

Chapter Sixteen

Rain washed the city clean, scrubbing a damp sheen over the buildings and leaving a layer of glitter on the asphalt. Even the air smelled raw and fresh, as if the entire city of Athens had undergone a thorough cleansing. It was still too dark to tell how many clouds were left in the sky or whether another storm waited its turn to be unleashed. For now the night was calm. Quiet.

Evelyn stared out the windshield of Rhett's sleek car while Alexandra and Minna's goodbyes rang in her ears. There had been promise and hope and determination in their hugs, smiles and glances. Over the course of the next few days they planned to keep in touch and communicate often.

Dragar and Dracht had been less physical in their goodbye with Rhett, though she'd detected the loyalty and affection as easily as she'd sensed the underlying, solemn acknowledgment that their lives were forever changed. Christian had much to answer for and as long as he breathed he was a threat to her and her sister's existence.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Rhett asked, breaking the silence.

“Just thinking about all this.” Few pedestrians braved the late hour, though Evelyn glimpsed two hurrying along in front of a row of storefronts as they cruised by.

“What part specifically?”

“Our homes. Whether or not your co-workers will turn up anything. My sisters. Christian.” You and I.

“We can go back to California as soon as we have a better idea if anyone else is involved. Christian will be detained, unfortunately, for as long as it takes.”

The bitter edge to his voice brought Evelyn's attention from the windows across the car to his face.

“I still don't understand how he got involved with those men so quickly,” she admitted.

“He's being close mouthed about it. But one of the others told us that Christian had been working with them for a while. Before we found you at the club.”

“How can that be?” Evelyn was still shocked that more people knew about them than she realized.

“I don't know. Maybe Christian came across the inner circle of Templars in a meeting or overheard talk about the daughters of Eve and did some research on his own. We can't be sure whether he contacted these other men or the other way around. Christian's conditioned not to talk if he doesn't want to, so we'll have to rely on the other two for any solid information.”

“I thought everyone would break under torture eventually.” Evelyn studied Rhett's profile. She cringed inside thinking about Christian undergoing any kind of torture, no matter what devious plot he'd been involved in. Secretly, she wanted Rhett to deny he would do that to his own brother. She got her wish a moment later.

“He knows we won't do that to him though. He's my brother for christ's sake. So that's to his advantage. The other two, though, are fair game. They've been consistent with their answers so far, but I have a feeling there's a lot more they aren't saying.”

The cold calculation in his tone made her shiver. She knew it was part of the interrogation process. How information was extracted when need be. It didn't make it easier to hear about or think about.

“So if those two men are agents, then they'll be missed and more will follow in their wake to find out what happened. It's unrealistic to think they didn't have families beyond their jobs in the government and I'm sure they'll press the issue when the men don't return home.”

“We'll hold both of them until they tell us what we want to know. Sometimes it takes a while to break them. If any more show up and press the issue, they'll meet an unfortunate and untimely end. The Church has a lot of pull, Evelyn, in matters like these. Father Valanzano has given his word that you're under their protection now, and I can vouch for the truth of it personally. I've known him since I was a kid.” Rhett reached out to adjust the temperature control, letting a cool jet of air filter through the vents.

He spoke so matter-of-factly about death. Yet she understood that it was either him or them, and in this world where the danger to all their lives had increased exponentially in the last few weeks, sometimes hard choices would have to be made. She didn't think for a moment that they were the first lives Rhett might be forced to take, and probably wouldn't be the last ones, either.

Instead of being repulsed, she found herself relieved that Rhett was man enough to do what needed to be done. It would have felt a little hypocritical anyway if she'd judged him for the deaths of others when she'd shot him herself. True, she hadn't tried to outright kill him, but that mattered little in the grand scheme of it all.

“Why do you think Christian waited so long to act?” she asked.

“Probably because the situation broke open so suddenly. The Templar group had you at first, but your sisters were missing, and he likely wanted to corral as many of you as he could at once. Besides that, in the beginning, he was with me all the time. I'm sure those were his men I saw skulking around in Port Said, too.” His mouth quirked in displeasure.

“So he waited, biding his time. He wanted the other group of Templars to be caught, didn't he?” she said with sudden insight.

“I'm sure. It took them out of his way. --and you know, it was Christian's idea to be in the club parking lot that night. I told you it was because we were staking out something else, but he used that same excuse on me. He planned for us to see the Templars grab you because he knew we would get involved.” Rhett grunted his discontent at being manipulated and sped onto another street. Leaving downtown Athens further and further behind.

“Do you think his men, the ones in the boat that attacked us after Crete, would have killed you if they'd succeeded in boarding the yacht?” Evelyn hated to ask the question, but she hated not knowing the answer even more.

Rhett slanted her a sharp look. “I'd like to think not, Evelyn, but I can't say for sure. Not one hundred percent. I've never known him to sell out to anyone before, to betray his own blood.”

“Do you think he would have hurt me in the pit?” Another meek question. Evelyn knew what she thought his answer would be.

He was silent for several, long seconds. “Yes. Yes, I think he would have. Push come to shove, he would have ended you right there. I have a feeling that something much larger is at stake here, and that makes men do dangerous things.”

The reply, the one she'd suspected, made her feel queasy coming from Rhett's mouth. He knew Christian better than she did after all.

“What do you think his chances are for being released?”

“Not good. He took the same oaths we did and he's broken more than I can count. He'll be extensively questioned, not that they'll get a lot more out of him than we did, and probably wind up in jail. I just wish he'd confide in us. We can't help him if we don't know what's wrong.” Rhett exhaled in quiet frustration.

“I think you must be right, though. There has to be a reason, more than just money, that he's doing this. He doesn't strike me as the type to betray his own family.” But she couldn't be positive. If Christian thought he could have immortality, he might be willing to do a lot of things she didn't think him capable of.

Throughout the ages, men had done far worse in search of the same.

“We may never know. In the pit, he said there were things I didn't understand, things he couldn't tell me. Maybe he's too embarrassed to admit that he got sucked in by his accomplices and was lured by the thought they'd all be able to live forever if they could get you girls to tell them the location of Eden. Christian's always been a pretty prideful man, so I imagine his crumbling house of cards has been a humiliating blow.”

“It wouldn't be the first time someone went to extremes to get what they wanted. There might even be a noble cause behind his thinking—“

“There isn't anything noble about kidnapping, Evelyn.” Rhett glanced sideways at her.

“No, but if he felt like he had to, then it's possible he justified it in his mind and doesn't know how to tell the rest of you. I don't know. It's confusing and I wish it was all over.”

Leaning back in the seat, she let her gaze drift out the front windshield. It was a lot to think about.

“It would be so nice to just...live for once. Without having to constantly look over my shoulder.” Struck by whimsy, she shared the thought with him.

In periphery, she saw Rhett glance across the car again.

“We'll get there, Evelyn.”

“Not if there are more people involved than the three of them. Because then it'll spread like wildfire and everyone will want a piece of what we know.” The tone of her voice took a solemn turn.

“Dracht is pretty good at dragging information out of people. He's going to interrogate both of the men one more time before he and Alexandra take off. Maybe one or the other will break.”

“Where are we going, anyway?” Evelyn and Rhett hadn't decided on a destination. They'd packed in a hurry, said goodbyes in a hurry, and walked out the door of the stronghold without looking back.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked in return.

“I haven't thought that far ahead, to be honest. As long as it's somewhere no one else can find us for a while.” The thought of spending so much private time with Rhett was undeniably appealing. Even now, the chemistry between them ebbed under the flow of their conversation. At the red light, she looked over to find him watching her.

They shared a full minute of eye contact before the light turned green, spreading the glow over the hood and in through the windshield.

“Sometimes it's best to hide in plain sight. I think we should pick a smaller city along the coast and hole up in a random hotel room. I've got places in other countries but Christian knows about them. I'd rather choose something completely random rather than risk that he's given those locations out to strangers.”

Evelyn didn't look away when he put the car into motion. The full shape of his mouth, pressed into a thoughtful line, was as appealing as the snug fit of his shirt over the breadth of his shoulders. He'd foregone the shoulder holster in public, though she knew he had a gun on him somewhere. The injury he'd sustained to his head, thankfully, hadn't been serious.

“All right. Where ever looks good, I guess.” Despite their chemistry, the natural pull between them, she knew the second her head hit the bed she would be out like a light. Maybe this time, she wouldn't be woken up by an intruder, or gunshots, or someone blowing out the door.

Maybe.

***

Sunlight slanted across her eyelids, drawing a wince and a frown across her brow. Even with her eyes closed it was bright. Sitting up, she rubbed the vestiges of sleep away and yawned. Still in her clothes—that was one habit she couldn't (wouldn't) break—she felt slightly stiff and sore.

The Kineta Bay Resort had been the second hotel they passed coming into the small town. She remembered dragging herself out of the car and into the elevator after Rhett secured them rooms under false names. Up to the fourth floor, they had a room overlooking the water and as she'd predicted, she'd barely hit the mattress in a dead slump before passing out.

Hair a mess around her face, cheeks flushed, she glanced through the room for Rhett. He wasn't hard to find.

Sitting next to the balcony doors in a chair, he had his legs stretched out onto another chair and his arms folded over his chest. A golden layer of whiskers had come in overnight, reminding her of short stalks of wheat. Instead of his customary dark colors, he had on faded jeans and a white tee shirt. Fully clothed, he looked like he hadn't slept a wink.

Of course he wouldn't. Not with the possibility of a threat hanging over their heads. She almost felt guilty for crashing like she had.

The Saronic Gulf sparkled like a broad, turquoise gem out from the sands of the beaches beyond the balcony. Shaped in a slight curve, the shoreline led to a finger of land that jutted outward, making this particular stretch seem cut off from the rest of civilization. Private, beautiful, with the sun gleaming down overhead from a cloudless blue sky.

She guessed the time to be around noon.

“You should have woken me up sooner so you could get some sleep,” she said, swinging her legs off the mattress. The one concession to not removing her clothing had been her shoes. She couldn't bring herself to tuck them under the covers last night. They sat side by side in front of the nightstand within easy reach.

He glanced over. “You needed the rest. I heard from Dracht.”

“What did he say?” Walking over, she leaned against the chair his feet rested in.

“As far as he can tell, the three worked alone. The two men, who do work for the US government, found out about you girls by accident.”

“What do you mean, by accident?” Evelyn tried and failed to come up with a way they might know about them.

“Nothing is ever as secret as it seems. They read about you in a top secret document buried in a vault they mistakenly came across while they were researching something completely different. So, though you have the scroll at the Vatican, someone else kept the knowledge of your extraordinary existence alive and passed it down through the centuries. What I'm guessing happened is that the men used their positions to unearth the secret group of Knights who've been looking for you all along and started tracking them without their knowledge.” Rhett turned his attention from the water to her.

“That way, if the Templars ever did find us, they could spring into action on a moment's notice,” she finished for him. It was disheartening to realize that their secret hadn't been such a secret at all.

“From what he says, he and his partner never told anyone else in the government about it. They compromised my brother and worked as a team once it came to light that the other Templars had you in their grasp. None of them will admit how they compromised Christian, and Christian still isn't talking.” Rhett drew his legs off the chair and stood up to stretch his back.

“Did they say what they hoped to gain?” She thought she knew. It was the same thing everyone else always wanted.

“They wanted passage into Eden. Dracht didn't get much more out of them beyond that.” Rhett exhaled and shoved a hand back through his hair while he watched her.

“I'm not really surprised. Does this mean that you, Dracht and Dragar think it's contained to just these three?” She linked her arms over her middle, all remnants of sleep seared away by the conversation.

“I don't think we can say with one-hundred percent certainty. It looks like it, though. Dracht, Dragar and I still think it's wise to let a few days pass while the other members of the order spread disinformation to try and draw anyone else out. It can't hurt, and it might even put you and your sisters minds at ease.”

“What does your gut instinct tell you, Rhett?” she asked quietly.

He looked out the window, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“That the worst is yet to come.”

***

The small town of Kineta boasted quaint buildings that, in Evelyn's estimation, were some of the most beautiful in terms of architecture in the world. She'd gotten glimpses of them as they'd pulled into the village the night before, the white structures pristine against the darkness.

From the balcony, she had a view of the beach, the curving shoreline and a few other hotels in the distance. Pretty and peaceful, she thought she could stay here for a long time and never get tired of the scenery. It made her think of her and Rhett's conversation in the kitchen back in the stronghold. There was so much to explore between them. Things she would never get to discover and learn if she killed the idea before it really took flight.

She also had the feeling, even though Rhett hadn't confided in her yet, that Christian's actions had cut him deep. Every once in a while his features took on a grim solemnity that echoed in his eyes. She wanted to be there for him like he'd been there for her.

Leaving the balcony, she stepped inside the room. Two hours ago, Rhett had showered and finally laid down to rest. On his stomach, he'd sprawled diagonal over the bed, taking up a lot of room due to his size. Fresh bandages covered his healing wounds. The jeans he'd changed into were another washed out, worn in pair. But it was his back that gained and held her attention.

Shirtless, the tawny skin stretched over the honed muscles in ways that made her want to trail her fingers across it. The tattoo of the iron cross sat square between his shoulder blades. A stray chill inched down her spine at the sight. She might not be afraid of Rhett, Dracht or Dragar any longer, but it would take her a little while to overcome the knee jerk reaction to seeing the ink.

Reaching down, she put her fingertips to the edge of the scrollwork on the cross. Just as she started to trace the outline, Rhett twisted his shoulders and snatched a hand around her wrist faster than she could draw in a startled breath.

From a dead sleep to just...deadly...in a heartbeat. That was the leonine, golden haired man who held her captivated with the narrowed, pale green of his eyes.

“I don't care if you touch me, but waking me up like that will pretty much get you this reaction every time,” he said, voice raspy from slumber.

“Didn't mean to disturb you. It was impulsive of me,” she admitted. He didn't immediately release her wrist, and she did nothing to break the contact. A moment later, his thumb brushed over the delicate underside and instead of letting go, he gave her wrist a gentle tug.

She leaned forward onto her stomach, laying at an angle to him after he rolled onto his side. The sundress, turquoise with a white floral pattern etched into the hem and around the neckline, left her legs and arms bare. It was the first time she'd felt comfortable enough not to wear jeans and to go barefoot during the daytime.

“What's on your mind?” he asked, as if he could sense that she wanted to talk.

“Whether or not I can convince Ashrael to let us into the Garden.” Evelyn had spent days thinking about it. Wondering. Planning.

Rhett cocked a brow up. “Ashrael? Oh, the Guardian?”

“Yes.”

“I thought it was against the rules.”

“It is. Unless I can convince him otherwise.” Her mouth quirked at a corner in consternation. Doubtless, Ashrael would deny her. Deny them both. Though if she informed him that their secret was out, that their lives had been in danger, and that Rhett was now her Guardian, maybe Ashrael would allow Rhett to partake of the fruit so that he could continue his role indefinitely. She might even be able to do the same for Dracht and Dragar.

“What would make him change his mind? I'm no paragon of virtue, you know,” Rhett said.

“I was thinking of telling him what happened, if he doesn't already know, and suggesting that if you ate from the Tree, it would extend your life so that you could continue providing security. The downfall, is that you'll be expected to do just that as long as you live.” She studied his eyes, which had sharpened as the conversation deepened.

He rolled up off the bed in a smooth motion and speared a hand through his hair while he paced toward the balcony.

Evelyn got to her feet, tracking his progress through the room with her eyes. It was a lot to ask, a big decision, and had bigger implications for him than simply extending their time together. She realized as she watched him that she wanted him to agree. To take the chance of a lifetime. The same kind of chance she took putting all her trust in him in the beginning.

But she also knew, in that singular moment, that she would accept whatever decision he made and make the best of it. Explore what she could, enjoy the time they had while they had it. Whether it was ten months, ten years or ten decades, there would be no turning back for her.

The knowledge made her heart flutter strangely in her chest.

Standing five feet behind him, staring at the broad, strong expanse of his back, she waited for his verdict. Even the sight of the tattoo didn't give her any hesitation.

She was in, all in, for the first time ever.

With a slow turn of his shoulders, he found her eyes. What looked like a stern expression suddenly blossomed into a rakish grin that changed the entire landscape of his face. It chased the lingering ghosts of betrayal into the shadows, leaving only determination behind.

“It's a noble cause, watching over a woman with a grandma's name who sometimes sports a rat's nest for hair.” Finishing the turn, he stalked her.

“I do not have a grandmother's name!” Laughing carefree for the first time in what felt like months, she set her palms against his chest when he bulled into her and backed her into the wall. Pinned, she didn't push him away but wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.

“Yes you do.” Blotting out the streaking sun rays, he lowered his head and kissed her.

The End

. . .

Templar's Creed

Chapter One

“So I have to say goodbye, but not for the last time. Death is just a door we step through on the path to a new beginning. Don't close it behind you; leave it wide open because someday, I'll follow you through. I'll miss you both more than I can say, more than I can ever express, and I'm sorry I have to be here on a distant beach rather than at your empty graveside. I wore white instead of black, I have daisies instead of roses, and mother nature provided the music: a gentle breeze, the crash of the waves, a noisy seagull that keeps circling overhead. It's peaceful here. My beloved sisters, until I see you again.” Evelyn Grant let the wind catch the remaining daisies from her palm and scatter them over the damp sand.

She watched a wave glide in to suck them into the foam and draw them back out to sea. Like reclaiming lost souls, calling them home.

Lifting a hand, Evelyn smeared tears off her cheeks and watched the petals until the surf pulled them under. Some still tumbled down the shoreline under a fading sunset that painted the sky orange and pink.

The impromptu eulogy was over.

In defiance of traditional formality, Evelyn had worn a white slip dress with a hem that whisked around her calves. Austere black attire didn't suit her mood or the setting. Galiana and Genevieve wouldn't want her to wallow in sorrow and somber clothing anyway. Inwardly, she mourned her sisters and would for some time to come.

It was impossible not to miss them.

Their bodies were miles away in an Athens cemetery, already laid to rest. Evelyn felt marginally better sending her siblings off with fond farewells and promises to see them again.

A pair of strong arms wrapped her up from behind. She turned a maudlin smile over her shoulder to the man who'd saved her from the same fate.

Rhett Nichols—no, Rhett Sagan—hadn't dressed any more formally than she: jeans, a black pull over shirt with short sleeves. No shoes. A thin layer of golden whiskers dusted his jawline. Shoulder length hair remained unbound and loose around the breadth of his shoulders.

He smelled like musk and masculinity.

“You know, I never met either of them, but I bet they would have loved this,” he said in a quiet voice near her ear.

“I think so. Since none of us could be at the funeral a couple days ago, I wanted to at least do this. Thanks for coming down here with me.” Evelyn looked out over the water and rested her palms on his forearms. Leaning into him, she let Rhett bear her weight.

“I wouldn't have missed it.” He squeezed her and tucked his chin over her shoulder onto her collarbone. Staring out at the rollicking ocean, he descended into comfortable silence.

Evelyn stole those moments while the sun sank below the horizon to get her emotions under control. To put everything into perspective. The last weeks had taken a toll. Exhausted, she only wanted a few days of peace and solitude before having to face reality again.

Dodging death was tedious business.

***

Christian Sagan stood against the thick wall of the dungeon in the Templar Stronghold, arms crossed over his chest. A shank of black hair fell over his frowning brow.

The only light came from a small fixture on the ceiling, the shadows too cloying to be chased away in the corners. The dungeon, a spacious twenty-by-twenty foot square, had no other amenities to speak of beyond a urinal, a free standing sink and two chairs positioned under the light.

He'd been down here for two days, held for questioning about his part in the death and disappearance of Evelyn's sisters. So far, he'd given his brother and father no information. He couldn't. The situation was too precarious, too dangerous. In a world built on trust and honor, Christian had to break those oaths to the people who mattered most.

Rhett would probably never forgive him.

Caught between a proverbial rock and a hard place, there was nothing to do but continue to deny them the information they sought.

The heavy door rattled before it opened and his brother, Dracht, stepped in.

Christian looked up from under the ridge of his brow.

Dracht, a couple inches over six feet, black hair and trimmed goatee, didn't look like he wanted to be messed with today. He closed the door with a decided bang that spelled his impatience with the procedures better than if he'd come in ranting and shouting.

Christian braced for a new onslaught of queries and demands.

“I don't know how much longer you think you can keep your silence, Christian,” Dracht said, crossing to one of the chairs. With a jarring scrape of wood on stone, he flipped it around and straddled it backwards, positioning himself blatantly between Christian and the door.

Almost daring him to try and escape.

“As long as I need to. I told you.”

“You're not just putting Evelyn and her other sisters in danger, you're putting the rest of us in danger, too. Now, you can sit there and be stubborn all you want, but I know for a fact that you wouldn't intentionally put Rhett, Dragar and I in harm's way.” Dracht layered his arms one over the other across the back of the chair, boots flat to the floor.

Rhett, their brother, and Dragar, their father, were in harm's way almost every day. The job demanded it. Knights Templar in the modern world faced real threat on a continuous basis, a fact they accepted before becoming a part of the Order.

Christian thought about arguing that point but in the end it was moot. It meant nothing in regards to the situation Dracht wanted information about.

So he chose silence. Again. Christian could feel the weight of his brother's stare even when he lowered his own gaze to the floor. To the toes of his boots. He studied them like he was interested in the make and design.

“Christian.”

Nothing. More silence.

“What is it that you think we can't help you with? Hm? This can't be about money. You've never really cared about that. It's not to climb some proverbial ladder. The highest seat you can have within the Templar order is held by our father and he is far from ready to give the position up. So...what? What kind of hold do those government agents have on you?” Dracht's baritone voice bounced off the walls of the cell.

Christian continued to study his shoes. Dracht and their father wouldn't torture him, and he knew they wouldn't let any of the other Templars torture him, either. That was an ace in the hole, an advantage he exploited at every turn. Even if they did torture him, he wouldn't—couldn't—give any ground.

Too many people had made it perfectly clear what would happen if he breathed so much as a word of his and the other agents missions.

“They're going to put you in jail. Lock you up and throw away the key. You're a danger to the girls simply because you won't confess the why of it to anyone.”

“I told you. We wanted the location of the Garden of Eden for oursel--”

“Bullshit. That's a cover story and we both know it. For god's sake, Christian.” Dracht, huffing a fed up breath, shoved off the chair and paced in front of the door.

Christian, who had spent the last two days telling the same story when he did bother to speak, fell silent.

They kept going around and around in the same circles. The same cycles. Dracht would come in and pressure him, then Dragar. Back and forth.

Rhett must have left the premises. Christian hadn't seen him since the night of the storm. The night when he'd pulled a sword on Evelyn and tried to take her from the stronghold. It wasn't that he wished Evelyn or the other girls harm. He only wanted everyone safe.

Sometimes that meant doing things others construed as malicious.

The surviving sisters—Alexandra and Minna—had escaped from the agents involved in the sordid mess with him and were probably halfway around the world by now.

As long as he kept his mouth shut, things would be fine. Or as fine as they could be with a future behind bars. He had no desire to lose his freedom. The choice, however, had been taken from him long ago.

With a snarl of disgust, Dracht stormed out of the cell.

Exhaling, Christian ran a hand through his hair—he needed a shower—and waited for Dragar.

Then the coercion would begin again.

***

Dracht stalked down the gloomy corridor with his hands balled into fists at his side. His brother didn't seem to understand the seriousness of the situation. Or he did, and there was something even more serious keeping his tongue silent.

That was the most logical conclusion he could come to after two days of pressure and interrogation. Frustrated beyond anything he'd ever known, he swept into a room at the very end, not a cell but a stone walled office, and closed the door with less force than he had a moment ago.

“Anything?” Dragar, sitting behind a plain pine desk, sat in a leather chair with a laptop open in front of him and several files beside it.

“Nothing. Just...nothing. He's not going to talk. Not today, not tomorrow.” Dracht swallowed down a knot of malcontent and slouched down to sit in a chair opposite his father. Dragar, also dark haired with silver just touching his temples at the hairline, had started to show his age in recent days.

Any man who'd just learned his son was behind a plot to kill or capture five innocent women would, he thought. And two of the women, two sisters, were dead. Just how much blood was on Christian's hands, anyway? Dracht knew his brother hadn't killed the other girls, but he'd known they were in jeopardy and had omitted telling anyone.

Had, in fact, planned to capture the surviving ones for some plot he'd yet to solidly determine. Dracht still had a hard time believing the three men—Christian and the two government agents he worked with—were the only ones involved.

Dragar exhaled and crossed his arms over his chest. He wore a vest over a short sleeved shirt of black and faded jeans that had been dark blue a hundred wash cycles ago.

“I'm going to bring Roman in and have him start with the agents tomorrow,” Dragar said with a solemn tone.

Dracht snapped a look at his father. Roman's reputation preceded him. Like Dracht, Roman had extensive knowledge in the area of information extraction. Dracht had kept the government agents they were holding from the worst of it, so far, but that would change if the men continued to stonewall them. Dracht and Dragar had been hoping to glean more information than they had so far. The agents were being as stubborn as Christian.

Roman, he knew, was also disassociated from this situation. A Templar of some renown, Roman wouldn't be affected by the limitations Dracht and Dragar found themselves under. Namely, that Christian was one of the people in custody. Which brought an obvious question to light.

“You're not going to have him question Christian, are you?” Torture of his brother, no matter his crime, Dracht could not handle.

“I'm disappointed you even have to ask me that, Dracht. Of course not. But he will lean heavily on the agents. Either they'll break and spill everything, or we'll find out that they've been telling the truth all along. I can't wait any longer for them to get tired of sitting in a cell.” Dragar rarely showed the strain his position as head of the Templar Order put him in.

Just then, Dracht heard it in his voice, saw it in the creases at the sides of his father's mouth.

“I didn't think so,” Dracht admitted. “We're all tense and tired. Bringing Roman in is a good idea. I'm too close to this case.”

“We both are. I don't want to hand the reigns over to anyone else though because then we lose control of the situation. For now, we'll see what Roman gets from the agents. This also means you can take Alexandra away and I'll be escorting Minna day after tomorrow. Rhett's already got Evelyn in a secure location.”

Alexandra and Minna, Evelyn's sisters, had been lucky enough to escape the harrowing capture by the secret sect of Templars working within their own organization. Genevieve and Galiana, two more sisters, had not been so blessed. Dracht still felt an uncomfortable shift inside when he recalled finding Genevieve hanging by her wrists in the subterranean room of a church. Her heart cut out, blood on the floor.

He was angry, too, that someone had taken her life that way. Men he'd called brother. Grown up with. Worked alongside. Men who'd deceived them all for years. Who'd kept secrets, sought the women behind their backs.

“All right. Sounds like we have things going in forward motion again. I'll go let Alexandra know we'll be leaving within the hour.” Dracht stood up and offered his hand across the desk to his father, meeting and holding his eyes.

Dragar stood up and clasped for a firm shake, nodding his head in agreement to something Dracht did not have to say aloud.

They both mourned Christian's decisions and understood that their lives would be forever changed by his actions.

Dracht exited the room and climbed the stairs with determination.

Roman would get more information from the agents than anyone else could. In the meantime, he meant to get Alexandra as far away from the stronghold as he could.

Chapter Two

Evelyn decided that Kineta, Greece, was a beautiful town. Back in their hotel room, she stood on the balcony overlooking the shoreline. Dots of white along the coastal area represented other hotels, small homes and businesses. With the onset of nightfall, lights started cropping up all over the city, giving the dark landscape a comfortable, lived in feel. This was not a thriving, pulse-pounding metropolis but a quaint, inviting shire.

A temperate breeze whipped the ends of her hair around her shoulders. One auburn strand caught across her mouth and she plucked it impatiently away. Summer was upon them, the heat waning in the evening this close to the water.

She curled her toes into the cool tile on the balcony floor, listening to Rhett moving around the room behind her. So much had happened in the short time she'd known him. He'd plucked her out of the hands of torturers, taken her on the run, brushed up her skill on how to shoot a gun. And then she'd shot him after she discovered his status as a Templar.

What irony.

At least it had only been a grazing wound on his shoulder. That's what she got for squeezing her eyes closed at the last second. A blessing in this situation. It had been one of the most terrifying moments of her life, shooting the one man she'd come to trust above all others.

“All right, I'll let Evelyn know,” Rhett said somewhere behind her in the room.

Evelyn twisted at the waist to observe him. Golden, from his mane of shoulder length hair to the color of his skin, he was a fine specimen of a man. Several inches over six feet, built broad across the shoulders and lean through the hips, he had a predatory edge about him that had attracted her from the start.

She wasn't used to men like Rhett. Most of her lovers in the past had been on the plain, almost dull side. Men who had little in common with her so she wouldn't be tempted to stay. It was easier in the end to choose ones she knew she wouldn't get too attached to.

Keeping them, falling in love, was something she'd always avoided. Immortality had its advantages. It also had its disadvantages. All of the men she dated would continue to age while she stayed the same. At some point in a long term relationship, they were bound to notice. Ask questions.

And questions of that nature were not encouraged or looked favorably upon. Evelyn couldn't confess what she was or where she was from. In the end, it had been easier to just avoid relationships longer than six months altogether.

Now she found herself in that situation with Rhett. Except she didn't want to hold back, didn't want to push him away and end it before their relationship really began.

“Let Evelyn know what?” she asked, coming into the room. Two queen beds sat against the right wall, a long dresser on the left. The furniture design was modern with an old world twist.

“That Dracht and Alexandra are on the move, finally. They were detained a couple days,” Rhett said, ending the call. He slid the phone onto the dresser and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

A favorite pose of his, she'd discovered.

After closing the french balcony doors, she crossed to one of two chairs at a small, round table and sat down. “But everything's okay? What about your father and Minna?”

“In another couple days, after they bring in someone distanced from the situation to interrogate the government agents, Dragar and Minna will leave. Everyone is doing well.”

“Are we going to stay here until then or move hotels?” she asked. Rhett had mentioned that he wanted to stay mobile when they'd first left the stronghold in Athens.

“I think we're safe to stay here another two days. If they find anything out, they'll call us.” Rhett pointedly looked at the other bed, then at her.

Evelyn refused to blush.

In Port Said, Egypt, the chemistry between them had finally hit a peak. He'd taken her with urgency and a primal kind of possession she wasn't used to. Rhett was an intense man, from his work ethic to his private affairs, and she hadn't been disappointed when it came through in his actions as a lover.

Since their arrival at the Kineta Bay Hotel, however, they had slept in separate beds. Even though they'd talked about the future, about what lie between them, there was still that newness to it all that kept them from falling into routine too quickly.

It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to sleep in his bed. She had. But she also didn't want to rush things, didn't want to get ahead of the budding thing building between them. They needed time to figure out all the dangers they faced, had to come to terms with the sudden changes life had thrown at them.

Evelyn liked the thought of nourishing a friendship. They needed a solid foundation and what better way than to build it from the ground up.

But what did she know? She'd never engaged in a long lasting anything with a man before.

Rhett crossed the room, still fully dressed, and angled across the far bed. Laying on his side, he propped his head in his hand, boots dangling off the edge of the mattress.

He was always leonine when he lounged. Like a great cat at ease. Evelyn regarded him with what she hoped was a neutral expression instead of the spark of desire he ignited inside her.

“So tell me what it's like,” he asked.

“What what's like?” Distracted, Evelyn didn't follow his train of thought.

“Eden. What's it really like?”

“Oh. It's bigger than you might think, with miles and miles of raw terrain, beautiful patches of forest, and lakes as blue as sapphires. All the colors there seem more vibrant somehow. The flowers, the green of the grass, the sunrises and sunsets. There are also plants and trees that you can't find anywhere else on earth. Stunning flora and fauna that were never replicated outside the Garden.” Evelyn spoke matter-of-factly about the place of her birth. She reminisced while she described it to him, trying to gauge his reactions and emotions. This was the first time she'd ever talked about Eden to anyone besides one of her sisters.

“It's like the paradise people refer to it, then?”

“Something like that, yes. Imagine the prettiest parks and meadows and lakes you've ever seen. There are huge valleys and deep cliffs. Times that by twenty or so and that's a good estimation of what it's like. There wasn't anything to spoil it back then, or even now. It's pristine and will remain that way even after the end.”

“The end of what?” he asked with an arched brow.

“What popular culture refers to as Armageddon. At least it's supposed to remain that way.” She watched his expressions, wondering what he thought about it all. Rhett could be difficult to read sometimes. It was probably part of his training. He didn't dismiss it out of hand, at least.

Rhett contemplated it for a long minute. And then he said, “I always figured the four horsemen were a metaphor or something.”

“Oh no. They are very much real.”

“Have you met them?”

His question startled her. “...what? Of course not. If I'd met them, we'd have a lot more to worry about than a couple government agents on our tail.”

Rhett rumbled a laugh. He smoothed his fingers over the few days growth of whiskers on his jaw. “Then how do you know they exist?”

“Because we were told the stories when we were young. Well, some of us were young at the time. I think I was fourteen or so.” How strange it felt for her to be discussing this with him. She'd spent centuries cautiously avoiding the entire subject. There were certain things she could never tell him, no matter how close they became, but this particular part was acceptable to divulge.

“So they knew all the way back then that the world would eventually end?” he asked.

“I think it was decided the second Eve gave in to the temptation of the serpent. No one can be positive, but it's my best guess.”

“Why that particular moment?”

She studied the ceiling while she contemplated her reply. Over the back of the chair, her hair spilled halfway to the floor.

“If we pick apart the semantics, it was the first act of corruption. Perhaps that was always destined to be the downfall of man. Once it happened, then it would continue to happen and grow worse and more frequent. Like today. It's all around us.”

“I don't understand why thousands of years have been allowed to pass though without retribution. Or Armageddon,” he said.

Evelyn dropped her gaze to his face. “You mean, why didn't He just wipe us off the face of the earth right away? Probably because of a thing called hope. There was always a chance we would turn things around. Also, too, because it gives our souls a chance to learn. Maybe the next time, we won't make the same mistakes.”

“The next time? So you believe in reincarnation, then?” Rhett looked dubious.

“That's what it's been known as, but yes. It's not like you have just one shot at this state of consciousness. Your soul has been other places besides here.”

He rolled up to a sitting position, and then stood. The topic must have given him too much to think about, because he started pacing back and forth over the same five foot path in front of the dresser.

Evelyn regarded him with deep interest in his feelings and thoughts. Drawing her knees up, she looped her arms around them, feet hooked on the edge of the chair.

“How can you know that? I mean, if you've been alive since the beginning, haven't ever died, then how do you know such a thing?” He sounded bemused and doubtful.

Evelyn thought it was the most endearing thing, the way his brow creased in consternation. She struggled to keep a grin off her lips.

“This is only my first beginning here. My soul has been alive before earth. I can tell by intuition that I've had another life before this one. Probably on another planet.”

Rhett scoffed. “Some of this is hard to digest, you know?”

She laughed. “I know. But is it really? When you think about it? Because mankind has come a long way. We've traveled to the moon, sent satellites to distant planets, have television and cell phones and airplanes.”

“So you think you've lived like...on Mars or something?” His brows skewed skeptically.

“Broaden your state of thinking a little more. Do you really think Adam and Eve were the first humans, period? They were the first on earth. Souls that got another shot after successes and failures in other places. Aliens aren't really aliens, Rhett. They're other descendants of different Adam and Eves. It's like how people think we're all 'brothers and sisters'. Adam and Eve were the first, but not the only humans God made. It just never got written down or passed on.”

“It obviously got passed on to someone,” he muttered with a pointed look right at her.

She couldn't help but smile that time in the face of his natural skepticism. “Remember when I told you that we'd made a deal to go forth and do good in the world? Our willingness to apologize and offer to help earned us more knowledge than most. Minna, Alexandra, Galiana, Genevieve, Eurijah—many of us were given the chance to make it better.”

“Did all of them know the same things you're telling me?” he asked. By then, he'd propped his hands on his hips while he paced.

“Yes, they all know. Or knew.” Genevieve, Galiana and Eurijah were dead now. She refused to sink back into melancholy. Instead, she focused on Rhett.

He grunted. “All right. Let's pretend I've been reincarnated. Does that mean maybe you're someone I've known before and am meeting up with again now?”

“It's not impossible, that notion, but I'm pretty sure we've never met before this.”

“...how can you know that?” He stopped pacing and leaned a shoulder, against the wall.

His question, innocent enough she knew, made her a little uncomfortable. It meant she had to face things she'd had no time to face while they'd been on the run. Confronting the truth of it startled her.

“Because I've never had a reaction to any man like I've had with you. There's just something different here. It's a new connection, not an old one.” Evelyn struggled to find the right words to explain in detail how it felt to be around him. There were no blips of deja vu, no echoes of familiarity. If they had crossed paths before now, she thought she would remember something, no matter how vague. She squirmed in her seat at the sharp way he regarded her.

“You know, I never would have suspected you'd been alive for thousands of years when I first met you. Hell, even now it's hard to believe. You don't have that sense of...what is it I'm trying to say. World weary wisdom?” He strayed from topics of connections to something else.

Evelyn rolled with it.

“That's because we've had time to adjust as things changed. It wasn't like we were plucked up from Eden and plopped down into the fifties or the eighties or something. It's easy to have a young state of mind when you are young, no matter how long you've lived. At least it's been that way for me. I won't say that I've never had times when I've been jaded or tired or something like that. But I love life, I enjoy living. Looking forward to every day makes a difference.”

“It must. I know people half my age who are as jaded as they come.”

“I always thought eating from the Tree of Life probably helped, too. Not just because it gave us immortality, but because there are other properties in the fruit that spare us deep depression and all the things that aid in becoming generally tired with things. We don't get sick, don't get diseases. I rarely have a day when I don't feel energetic and great, like I can conquer the world. It has to change my outlook, make it easier to roll with the flow.” She didn't doubt or misunderstand Rhett's skepticism.

“You're probably right.” Rhett paused and scratched at his whiskers again. “So if you do manage to get me into Eden, and I eat from the Tree of Life, I'll be the same?”

“It won't reverse your emotions or your beliefs that you've developed already. But say you have cancer? It will heal it. You won't get colds after you consume the fruit, or get the flu or anything like that. At the most, you might have an 'off' feeling day. Sleep an extra few hours. That's about it. I'm conjecturing again here. We won't know for sure until we get you in there and you eat it.” Evelyn didn't want to think about the conversation she was going to have with the Guardian at the East Gate when they arrived. Ashrael was not going to be happy to see them.

“Could there be a danger in my partaking?” he asked with a frown.

The thought hadn't dawned on her that there could be any danger, other than facing Ashrael's wrath, in Rhett consuming the fruit. She was forced to consider it now, however.

“I really can't say for sure. Nothing happened to the rest of us, but then we had permission.” She sat straighter in the chair, giving the idea more serious consideration. Evelyn wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happened to Rhett when she was only trying to extend his life.

“Either way,” he replied after a moment. “I'm willing to take the risk. If the Guardian won't let me in, can't you just go in, grab a piece of fruit, and bring it back out?”

“The Garden of Eden isn't a grocery store--”

He barked an unexpected laugh, interrupting her. She continued, a grin in her eyes.

“--and even if I could theoretically carry it out, Ashrael wouldn't let me. He's the Guardian for a reason, and for more than just keeping people out of Eden. I'm not positive the fruit wouldn't shrivel up or something.”

“So they're stingy, is what you're really saying.”

Evelyn dissolved into laughter. Rhett had a way of bringing a deep, serious subject back onto lighter footing with a quip or two. “Protective, is the word I'd chose instead.”

Rhett sank down onto the corner of one of the beds, knees apart, boots on the floor. He made a loose clasp of his fingers and rested them casually between his legs.

Evelyn glanced at the denim stretched taut across his muscular thighs and diverted her attention when a flush of heat uncurled in her stomach.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he asked in a quiet voice, like he'd caught her looking.

Damn him. Sometimes she forgot Rhett saw much more than she gave him credit for. She attempted nonchalance.

“You've got me thinking about consequences.” It was mostly the truth.

“Of?”

“You eating the fruit.”

Rhett's expression said clearly that it wasn't the answer he'd either wanted or expected.

Then he said, as nonchalant as she'd been, “There's only one way to find out.”

Chapter Three

Roman stopped at the tall, wrought iron gate blocking the driveway to the Templar Stronghold. He hadn't been back to Athens in three years and by the looks of it, nothing had changed. The guard recognized him and let him in with no trouble.

Putting the new Mustang in gear, he cruised toward the structure that stood like a sentinel against a dark sky. Pale columns decorated the front, the facade carved with depictions of war scenes. Not all of the strongholds were so archaic and memorable as this one. Roman, whose ancestors had stayed here and trained within its walls, felt a connection to this particular holding.

It didn't matter that what brought him here was interrogation and torture.

Parking in front of the sweeping stairs, he cut the engine. Reaching over into the passenger seat he grabbed the black duffel bag and exited the car. The double front doors were exactly as they were the last time he'd seen them, the engravings the same as the facade overhead.

Opening the door, he let himself inside.

The vast space didn't echo with one sound, not one voice. Not even the clang of swords from the training pit further back.

Closing the door behind him, he strode inside, looking for signs of life. With his free hand, he gave the waistband of his black jeans a short tug. Paired with black tee shirt and a belt, his attire was reminiscent of traveling comfort rather than business meeting.

“Roman. Good to have you here.” Dragar came from the direction of the office, suited up in black sans the jacket. Hair tied back into a tail, silver at his temples, the head of the Order didn't look like he'd aged a day since Roman saw him last.

He cut to the left and met Dragar halfway, hand extended to shake. “Dragar. Glad to be back. I hear you have need of my services.”

Dragar, upon closer inspection, had deeper lines at the edges of his eyes and a hollow look about his cheeks. Like he'd neglected eating and sleeping recently. Roman knew better than to think it diminished Dragar in any way. The man had always been solid as a rock.

“Actually, I do. Come in and let me get you up to speed.” After the shake, Dragar motioned toward his office and led the way there.

With the sound of their boots ringing off the floor, Roman followed him in and took a chair opposite a simple but heavy looking desk. Spartan, clean, with thick furniture, Dragar's office had a no nonsense air about it. Like the man himself.

Roman dropped the bag onto the floor near his feet and laced his fingers comfortably over the buckle of his belt. Dragar took the seat behind the desk and met his gaze directly.

“What I'm about to tell you is as top secret as it gets around here. Tell no one. Not your wife, not your brothers.”

Roman, surprised at the request, nodded. “My word none of this will pass to another.”

“A couple weeks ago, Christian and Rhett came upon a kidnapping in the parking lot of a popular club here in Athens. What we didn't know at the time, was that Christian led Rhett there, knowing an attempt would be made.” Dragar paused to let it sink in.

For the first time, Roman realized this case was closer to the Templars than usual. More personal. He'd known Dragar, Dracht, Rhett and Christian his whole life. Would have given his life to protect any one of them. He nodded for Dragar to continue.

“Rhett managed to get the license plate off the van and caught up with it a couple days later, parked at a church. When he investigated, he discovered a select group of Templars, acting on their own merit, had captured a girl and were torturing her in the basement. You see, back at the club, another woman had been murdered by the same sect.”

Roman sat forward, frowning. “Wait, what? Templars, murdering and torturing women?”

“Yes. They did not have the permission of the Church. In fact, we later found out that Father Valanzano had no knowledge of their actions whatsoever and did not condone it.”

“I guess not,” Roman said, immediately disgusted. He might be an expert in torture and interrogation, but he didn't use the tactics on innocent victims. “What the hell were they doing?”

“This will be difficult at first to believe,” Dragar said, and it sounded like a warning.

Roman shifted in the seat, both curious and a little wary. This was not the way these meetings usually went. “I've seen some pretty unbelievable things in my time.”

“This...sect...of Templars, came into some information passed down through the generations. They believed that several of the original daughters of Eve--”

“Wait, you mean Eve as in Adam and Eve?”

“Yes. That they were still alive, roaming the earth, passing a plague of evil after being bitten by the serpent in the Garden.” Dragar paused again.

Roman couldn't stop the snort. “Seriously. That's the biggest bunch of bull--”

“We discovered that they do exist and a handful are—were—still alive.” Dragar laid out the truth of it in a careful, neutral tone.

Roman was so shocked that he said nothing at all. Daughters of Eve? Real women born at the beginning of time? His mind rejected the idea out of hand. Impossible. Unbelievable. His silence gave Dragar the opportunity to continue.

“Rhett extracted the woman in the basement, Evelyn is her name, and they went on the run. They were attacked several times, forcing them to cross the Mediterranean to Egypt. Rhett believed that the Templars had put a tracer on her. And they did. What none of us knew, was that Evelyn and her surviving three sisters had been hunted by this sect of Knights for centuries. Evelyn happened to catch a glimpse of Rhett's tattoo in Port Said and fled. When he caught up to her in the markets, she shot him.”

Roman shoved up out of the chair, incredulous. Rhett was like a brother to him. In more than just the Templar name. “Rhett's dead?”

Dragar held up a hand even before he made it all the way to his feet. “No, it was just a graze thankfully. What we also didn't know, was that Christian had been a part of the attacks, leading an entirely different group after them.”

Roman wasn't sure which thing was more disturbing; Rhett being shot by a supposed immortal, or Christian turning on his brothers. There had to be something more to it all.

“Go on,” he encouraged Dragar, sure the man was about to exonerate his son from any wrong doing.

“Rhett managed to find Evelyn after she went on the run from him, and we rounded up the other sisters, who had been taken by the rogue sect of Templars. We held the men, gained confessions, and after we thought it was all taken care of, Christian intercedes and attempts to take Evelyn right out of the stronghold here. Needless to say, Rhett was having none of that. So to round the story down, we've got two government agents in custody here, along with Christian, and I suspect there's more to the story than the agents aren't saying. We need you to extract whatever you can.”

“What about Christian?” Roman asked. He couldn't torture someone he'd considered a brother all his life.

“Try the agents first. We can't locate any information on them at all. Their prints come up with nothing in the system.” Dragar stood up as well. “You have access to all the resources you need. Valanzano has given the order that the women are under our protection.”

“So it's been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt their story is real?” Roman still had a hard time believing it.

“Absolutely. I'll tell you about the box and the names later on,” Dragar promised.

“Which government do these agents work for, and have they compromised the information to anyone else?” Roman asked.

“That's what we need you to find out. The agents say they discovered knowledge by accident, going through top secret files looking for something else. They swear this is contained to themselves and Christian, but we need to be sure.”

“You have my word, Dragar, that I will get to the bottom of it.” Roman knew many of the small details had been left out, but he had more than enough to get started. He left the room, bag in hand, determined to find some answers.

***

Twenty-four hours later, Roman stood in front of the viewing window that looked into the cell containing one of the agents. The man, Drew Cornell, had finally been identified after Roman called in a favor to a friend in the CIA. Facial recognition, fingerprints—everything else had failed.

But he'd gotten the answers he sought by pulling a few strings, and now he stood here with a black bag in his hand, ready to do business. Inside was information he needed along with traditional tools of the trade. Roman hoped he wouldn't have to resort to violence if only because he wanted an expedient track to the truth. Interrogation by torture could sometimes take days. He was going to lean on Drew's emotional psyche, use things that were more precious, perhaps, than fingers and toes.

Drew Cornell sat in a metal chair, hands bound in his lap, one knee bouncing restlessly. He resembled a desperate man with shifty eyes, wrinkled suit, and skewed hair. Three days in the hole had started to wear on the agent's nerves.

Dressed in black, Roman had styled his hair back, shaved his jaw clean, and shed his shoulder holster before coming down. He wanted Drew to fixate on the bag and what it might contain.

Grasping the doorknob, Roman swept inside and closed the door behind him. His boots made dull thuds on the cement floor when he walked over to stand six feet or so in front of the chair. When he dropped the bag, it landed with a heavy clank of steel.

Drew darted a wary look at the duffel bag.

That was exactly the way Roman wanted him. Wary.

“Drew, I'm Roman,” he said straightaway. Drew, thinking himself clever no doubt by not giving over his name, knowing he couldn't be easily traced by fingerprints and facial recognition, looked startled. He said nothing, but he'd already given himself away.

“It's my understanding that we need to discuss this situation with you, your co-worker, and Christian.”

“There's nothing more to discuss. I've already told the others that it was just the three of us and no one else was involved,” Drew said. He glanced at the bag again, a quick jerk of his eyes.

Roman allowed a full minute of silence stretch between them. The cell was cool to the point of being cold, the stone walls dank, dark. For someone like Drew, trained in these situations, the depressing subterranean room wouldn't have the same psychological effect as it might on someone not used to it. That didn't mean Roman couldn't use the isolated cell to his advantage. The bag, which Drew kept looking at, added another threat layer atop the fact that he didn't know Roman at all. Or what Roman was capable of.

He let all these variables sink in for sixty seconds. Drew grew more shifty in the seat. Subtle, little telling ticks of his eyes, his fingers, his feet.

Roman noticed it all. Instead of going at Drew like a bull with a red flag waved in front of it, he remained patient. Using the toe of his boot, he scooted the bag closer. It hissed along the concrete floor, luring Drew's gaze right to it. Roman crouched down when he was just out of arms reach of the chair and unzipped the bag. The noise seemed ominous and louder than it should have.

Drew twitched. A muscle in his jaw tightened and released.

From within the bag, Roman drew a manilla envelope. Nothing was written on the front. No indication what might be inside. Beyond, where the bag gaped, the available light glinted off metal, capped syringes and other instruments of torture that promised a painful end to Drew's stubbornness.

With smooth, controlled motions, Roman opened the manilla envelope and withdrew just one thing. He kept the eight-by-eleven paper turned toward himself rather than Drew.

“Are you absolutely sure that we know all there is to know? Think about your answer before you speak, Drew, because if I have to waste my time taking the other route, only to find there is more to the story, you will lose more than a few body parts.” Roman delivered his ultimatum with quiet, controlled confidence. He turned the paper around so Drew could see it.

There in black and white, was a recent photocopy of Drew's wife and three daughters leaving elementary school. They looked happy, unaware. Oblivious that their lives might be in danger.

Drew sucked in a surprised breath.

“Unless you tell me the whole story, everything I need to know, we'll take out the oldest one first. They'll send a digital copy of her murder to me, which I'll make you watch, so you can see that you were ultimately responsible for your daughter's death. Then we'll take the second oldest, if you still resist, and finally, the last.” Roman watched Drew's reactions with hawkish intent.

Sweat ran in rivulets down his forehead and his fingers had laced together so hard his knuckles were white. He looked more nervous now, less sure of himself. Roman knew Drew was trying to decide how viable a threat Roman was to his family and whether or not he would really resort to murder to get what he wanted. Drew must have believed he would do exactly as he said he would do, because the agent broke without any more threats having to be delivered.

“Yes, there's more. Don't let anyone hurt them. They're innocent,” Drew said, looking from the photograph of his family to Roman's eyes.

Roman smiled and carefully replaced the picture into the envelope, which went into the bag. He zipped it closed in silence, punctuating that Drew had made the right choice.

The daughters would never have been murdered for this cause, because the Templars did not kill the innocent. All they needed was for Drew to believe they would, and he did.

“They won't be harmed as long as you start talking,” Roman said, pressing to a stand. He stood close, forcing Drew to look up while he started his confession.

“The US government has known about the DOE for a long time--”

“Daughters of Eve?” Roman interrupted for clarification.

“Yes. Or, I should say, that a faction of men who control the government have known. They're the ones that pull all the strings, who fund the research. They're the ones that pay Thom and I to chase down any leads.”

“Thom is your partner?” The agent they were holding in another room.

“Yes.” Drew made a slight face at giving away his partner's name so easily.

“Who are these men exactly?” Roman asked. He didn't have to worry about remembering all the details; there was a camera in the room recording it as it happened.

“Some of the richest men on earth. Bankers, like that.” Drew licked his lips.

“All right. So how did they know about the girls?” Roman inquired next. He could get names, if the agent knew them, later.

“I don't know how they knew. I'm telling the truth,” Drew said with haste. Then added, “Thom and I took over for two other agents who were reassigned four years ago. We knew then about the group within your group, the Templars who were hunting the DOE. So we watched them, followed where they went, logged their calls. We had a plan already in place when, if they ever found them.”

“At what point did you make contact with Christian, and why did you choose him to use as your inside man here?” Roman asked.

Drew looked away for the first time. He seemed nervous about the question, hesitating to answer.

“Drew?”

“We researched all of you. The regular Templars. Christian was the man with the most to lose.”

Roman suppressed an instant surge of unease. “What do you mean?”

“Christian has a son. He's six. The thing is—he's not under Templar protection. We figured Christian didn't know about him for a while, and then didn't tell anyone when he learned the truth. So we were able to get access to the child and his mother and use them to convince Christian to help us when the DOE were located and captured.”

The news rocked Roman. Many of the Templars had family, it was a way of life, how they kept the Knights so close knit. But the wives and children were all under heavy protection provided by the Church, their identities all but impossible to discover from the outside. Christian must have gotten a woman pregnant without realizing until long after the boy had been born.

It explained so many things.

Careful not to let any emotion show, Roman encouraged Drew to go on. “So you compromised his son and he fed you information when he discovered the sect of Templars had located the girls. How far did his involvement go?”

“We only intended for him to get the girls and transfer them to us. Then we were instructed to kill him.”

“I'm guessing Christian wasn't informed of that.” Roman resisted the urge to glance toward the viewing window. He knew Dragar was watching.

Drew's lips twisted with his sardonic reply. “Of course not. He was told his child would be returned unharmed and that would be the end of it.”

“What did these men plan to do with the women when they had them?” Roman crossed his arms over his chest, feet spaced just so for better balance.

“They didn't lay out all their plans,” Drew said. He was sweating profusely.

“You have to have some idea of how far they're willing to go to retrieve them,” Roman pressed.

Drew laughed and licked his lips. “How far will they go? All the way. They've got power, money, military, and every resource you can think of at their fingertips. You people have just started a war they intend to win.”

Chapter Four

Evelyn stared up at the dark ceiling of the hotel room. On her back, one arm cocked up behind her head, she studied the way the shadows slanted across the paint from the moonlight filtering in past the balcony doors. It had to be past midnight and yet, she couldn't sleep. It was hard to when she knew Rhett was in the other bed. She argued with herself that they'd already slept together in Egypt, it didn't matter if she crawled in beside him to rest. Saying good night earlier had been awkward; she knew he wanted to find a way to invite her in, or invite himself into her bed, but neither found the right words.

They knew they wanted to try a relationship, yet rushing headlong, forcing situations, didn't feel comfortable. There would never be time to get to know each other like normal couples did, no time to go on dates and discover all their particular idiosyncrasies. Already they'd faced danger and death together, been on the run. The harrowing ordeals they'd survived together made them close on a level that had nothing to do with romance. A bond forged in the sheer act of trying to stay alive.

It didn't mean she didn't think about the rest of it though.

Looming out of the gloom, Rhett surprised her by leaning over her bed. As if she'd conjured him by thought, by will. There was just enough light to see the bristly layer of his golden whiskers, the gleam in his pale green eyes. Because of the danger, he, like she, still slept fully clothed. The only concession were the shoes Evelyn left by the side of the bed. She couldn't stand tucking tennis shoes under the covers.

Lifting a hand, she threaded her fingers through the mane of his shoulder length hair. Planting palms on either side of her head, he stared down at her and she wondered if the same things she'd been thinking were running through his mind.

“Can't sleep?” she whispered.

“Not really. Doesn't look like you can, either.”

“Too much to think about.” It wasn't a lie.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not tonight.” Even quieter. She wanted to touch him, to explore the contours of his shoulders, the veins in his arms. His mouth on hers. Like he'd read the desire in her eyes, he lowered his head until their lips brushed once, twice. The lingering scent of raspberry tea toyed with her senses as much as the warmth and texture of his kiss did.

With his tongue, he asked for entrance. A glide against the seam of her mouth, and she let him in. The sensual strokes he lathed left to right took her breath away. Tightening her fingers in his hair, she applied pressure to bring him even closer.

She thought it was her name he murmured between one angle change and another.

The jarring chime of a cell phone broke the spell and she blinked her lashes open, startled. Who was calling at this time of night?

Rhett uttered a curse and stood upright, raking a hand through his hair. “It better be important.”

Evelyn sat up and shoved the covers off her legs while he answered the phone.

“Yeah?” He all but barked into the receiver. One hand settled on his hip, knee cocked out.

She became aware of the change in him by degrees, the haze of his kiss clearing away when she realized tension had made his shoulders tight.

“What's wrong?” she asked, even though he was on the phone.

“Right. What else did he say? Are you positive?” Rhett said. He turned away from the dresser and paced the path at the end of both beds, stalking like an unsettled lion.

Conditioned to react to the smallest signs of trouble after everything that had happened in Athens and Egypt, Evelyn scrambled out of bed and put her shoes on. From the nightstand that sat between the beds, she snatched her I.D., small fold of cash and the new cell phones Dragar had given them before they left. All of it went into the pocket of her jeans.

With a crisp snap, Rhett set the phone on the dresser. Pivoting, he went to the bag of his things in the bottom of the closet and crouched to root around through it.

“Rhett, what's goin--”

“Just a minute, Evelyn.” The gruff rasp of his voice betrayed new tension that hadn't been there before.

When he stood up, he had a folded map in his hands. The white rectangle stood out in the gloom. Snapping it open, Rhett laid it on the bed and flicked on the lamp over the nightstand. Bending, he put his finger on a point and followed some line, a highway she thought, further north.

“Rhett...” His silence scared her.

“Pack up, be ready to leave here in five minutes.”

“But what's--”

“Just do it, please.”

The tension in Rhett's voice galvanized her into action. From the bed she went to the dresser and pulled out the few things she'd unpacked from her bag. Yanking the nondescript duffel off the floor of the closet, she shoved them in and added two t-shirts she took from hangers. The paranoia that had kept her from getting too comfortable here served her well now that they apparently needed to be on the move again. She couldn't fathom what information he'd received and the not knowing put knots in her stomach.

In the five minute time frame he'd given her, Evelyn had every personal aspect packed. Rhett gathered up the map and packed it along with the few personal items he'd left on the dresser that didn't go on his person.

“Remember when you asked me what my gut instinct said?” he asked.

“And you told me you thought the worst was yet to come.”

“Well. It's coming.”

***

Taking a tight turn, running against a red light, Rhett downshifted with a coordinated press of the clutch and a smooth shift of the stick. Made for this kind of driving, the sleek vehicle hugged the corners like latex on voluptuous curves, and accelerated with enough velocity to make the city a blur out Evelyn's window. Empty of traffic, the long avenues of asphalt glowed under streetlamps lined up in front of shops that wouldn't open again until sunrise. The tires ate up another two miles like it was nothing, sending them to the outskirts of town and then onto a winding road that took them into the foothills.

Evelyn hadn't asked about the phone call back in the hotel. There hadn't been much time after packing and checking out. Rhett, single minded and intent, only wanted them away from the hotel and on the move. Arms crossed over her front, she regarded the black landscape with a pensive frown, wondering where he was taking her.

A half hour later, after two turns onto smaller side roads, Rhett pulled the car off a beaten path that was smoother than it should have been considering it was all dirt. Trees grew thicker here, a few of the heavy branches long enough to scrape the doors of the car. The forest opened up into a clearing where she was shocked to see two other vehicles waiting.

“...who is that and why are we meeting them in the middle of nowhere?”

“Your sisters, my brother and father, and we're out here because it's a gray zone,” he replied and braked to a stop. Rather than cut the engine, he left it running and glanced across the car. “Let's go.”

“Wait—I thought we were--” But Rhett disembarked and Evelyn undid her seat belt. Following him out of the car, she saw her sisters, Dracht and Dragar exit the others. Each engine idled as if this meeting was meant to be as quick as they could make it.

“Hey guys,” Alexandra greeted them.

“Hi.” Minna added hers, leaning against the trunk.

“What's going on and what's a gray area?” Evelyn forewent standard hellos in favor of questions.

“We can't be tracked or overheard here,” Dragar answered. “It's a blind spot for satellites for another four hours.”

Evelyn glanced up at the night sky, then down to the others as they gathered in a loose circle. The balmy evening felt close against her skin as if a bank of thunderheads were nearby. Nothing but the stars and a sliver of the moon shone overhead.

“Why do we have to worry about what satellites are doing?” she asked with growing dread.

“I'm going to bring you all up to speed at the same time,” Dragar replied, taking the lead like he usually did. He was the head of the Order, the one with the most information. Like Dracht and Rhett, he wore dark clothing that blended with the evening. Dark hair pulled back into a severe tail at his nape, he had a neatly trimmed goatee and eyes so dark they looked like chips of obsidian.

Dracht, Dragar's son and Rhett's brother, was his mirror image.

“An interrogator had some success with one of the agents earlier today. He discovered that there are a faction of men, powerful men with broad connections and dangerous resources, who have known about your existence for a very long time. They've plotted and planned for the day someone found you and compromised Christian to get an inside track to the group of Templars that kidnapped you in Athens.”

Evelyn frowned and glanced at Rhett. His instinct had apparently been right on.

“Well isn't that wonderful,” Alexandra said with a derisive snort. The tomboy stood with her hip cocked out, arms over her chest. Like Evelyn, she wore jeans and a tee shirt for easy maneuverability. The long, dark mane of her hair fell loose around her shoulders.

“This is going to make what the Templars did look like child's play,” Dracht added.

“Yeah. They'll stop at nothing to get what they want, and what they want, is you.” Rhett pointedly looked at each surviving sister.

“But wasn't that just like the Templars, though? I mean they froze my bank account and put tracers on me,” Evelyn said. She didn't immediately see how it could be so much worse.

Rhett made eye contact. “They've got the DoD, the CIA, and every other agency, known and not known, involved.”

“If they had them involved, and it's so easy for them to track us down, then why don't they have us already?” she asked.

“They didn't want to draw that much attention to their motivations and movements at first. That's why they used the Templars to locate you, doing their dirty work for them, and why they compromised Christian to take you after they'd rounded you all up. Now they'll bring out every shred of technology they have. Hunters, mercenaries, the best trackers in the world. The whole deal,” Dragar said. “They underestimated us the first time, but they won't make the same mistake twice.”

Evelyn had a glimpse of their future: running, always looking over their shoulder, changing hotels and cottages and foreign locations every other night. Days, weeks, years of never feeling secure or safe. It made her feel small and vulnerable in ways she didn't like.

“So...what do we do? Stay on the run? Hope they don't find us again? Where do we go? All the airports, train stations, big cities with cameras—any time we go near a populated place, we run the risk of them finding us,” she said, more than a little frustrated.

“There is only one place we can go to keep you safe.” Rhett looked displeased and edgy.

“Where?” Evelyn frowned, scrolling through all the possible scenarios. Nowhere, eventually, would be out of reach. Systematically, they would be hunted until they were caught.

Or killed. Like Genevieve and Galiana. Like too many other sisters over the centuries.

Rhett never looked away when he said, “Eden.”

***

Eden. That sacred place was supposed to be the locale of last resort. The sanctuary they retreated to when there was no place left to hide. Had they come to that point already, so suddenly?

Evelyn wasn't prepared to cut herself off from humanity. From Rhett. Taking him there to appeal to the Guardian of the East Gate, Ashrael, for a piece of the fruit from the Tree of Life to extend his life was a long shot.

But he wouldn't be allowed to go in and live there with them.

Minna, the diminutive woman with delicate Asian features and Alexandra, the wild one of the siblings, had both been born there, too. One look their way told Evelyn that the thought sat ill with them as well. Minna wore a disconcerted frown and Alexandra looked angry.

“We can't go back to Eden. There's no one else there. Maybe we can just make new identities--” Evelyn began.

“It'll only work for a little while, Evelyn,” Rhett said, interrupting her with a gentle hand to her shoulder. “They'll get desperate when they realize we've taken you away. I wouldn't put it past them to create an event that will coerce the world's population into asking to be chipped, and then it'll be over.”

Evelyn shrugged his hand off and stalked in the middle of the circle, looking at Dragar, Dracht, her sisters. “So we just find a remote place off the grid and live. What's so hard about that? If we don't live in a place where we need to be chipped--”

“We won't be able to even buy food. You'll pay for your groceries with the chip, get your medical treatment, have all your records on file there, and any other tiny detail about your life on a piece of material the size of a grain of rice. Once they've got the majority of the population done, they'll be able to use their super computers and satellites to pin down the location of anyone who doesn't have it. Narrow it right down to a square foot of land anywhere on earth. There will be no place to hide,” Dragar said. Solemn, jaw tight, he delivered his news with grim confidence.

Evelyn turned a slow circle. Around, around, studying each face. She saw the truth of it in Rhett's eyes, in Dracht's. Dragars. And she saw Minna's expression turn bleak, saw Alexandra tilt her face to the sky and exhale. Not quite defeat, but something like it. Alexandra, the one who usually fought to the teeth to keep her freedom.

Facing Dragar, appealing to his leadership, she said, “Then why don't we find a way to convince them they don't want what we have. What if we pass word back through their agents to tell them that the fruit will make them sick? That they can't get into Eden with or without us?”

It was a last, desperate attempt to set the world back on a familiar axis. Stop the crazy, out of control spin this meeting had put it into. Desperation made her bold, aggressive.

“Do you think they will just take your word for it? Besides the desire for possible immortality, the location of Eden has other political and religious implications that they will want to manipulate. Playing it 'safe' is a thing of the past for them, Evelyn. They'll come full on now, whatever the risk and the consequence, to get what they want.” Dragar did not seem convinced anything she had to pass on would make any difference.

“You don't have to stay forever. Maybe wait twenty, thirty years and try again. With any luck, they won't pass the knowledge on to other men who will try and seek the same thing.” Dracht added. Doubt lingered in his voice.

“How can they have so much control over people? Why have they been allowed to tag us like sheep, herd us around here and there at their whim? We have every right to live our lives without the fear of being hunted into the ground.” Her frustrations manifested into a rant. It was one thing to recognize they would one day have to return to Eden, and another to be forced to go before she was ready.

She faced Rhett, next, pleading with her eyes. Appealing to his connection with her to help find a way around it. Twenty or thirty years was nothing for her, but it meant the end of everything they wanted to try together.

He jammed his hands on his hips, maintaining eye contact.

“They're right, Evelyn. When you think about all the angles, the motivations, they're right,” Minna said behind her.

Evelyn didn't look away from Rhett. She felt the others, all of them, staring at her.

“I think he's right,” Rhett said. “When it comes down to a matter of life or death, your life or death, Eden is the only answer left.”

***

“We need to get rid of all the phones, the cars. Everything. They've probably hacked into the Church's files and found out who, what and where we got all our new electronics from.” Dragar pivoted around, stalking to the car he'd drove there with Minna.

Evelyn felt like a fish out of water. Gaping, words all stuck in her throat, nothing but exasperated puffs of air escaping. She stared at Rhett almost accusingly and he gave her a hard look that promised they'd talk about it later.

“Well, we can't walk to Eden,” Alexandra said. “I mean we could, but we'd have to swim, too, and I don't think any of us are in that good of shape.”

Evelyn brushed Alexandra's sarcasm off. She was used to it after all these years. With growing unease, she watched Dracht and Rhett start dragging things out of the cars.

“You mean we have to leave behind everything?” she asked. They were in the middle of nowhere. Walking back to any kind of civilization would take hours as it was.

“We need to know where we're going. Which direction. We can take the cars only as far as the outskirts of the first town we come to and then we have to ditch them,” Dracht said.

“I thought the phones were secure, couldn't be traced?” Evelyn asked, digging her own phone out of her jeans.

“Not by normal means, but they can if they've pinpointed our seller. All they have to do is lock on to the signal. Same with the cars. These aren't untraceable.” Rhett tossed his phone into the center between the idling vehicles.

Dracht followed suit, along with Dragar. Alexandra groaned and flipped hers in. Minna set it down near the others.

It seemed that there was no other recourse than to go along with Dragar's suggestion. Brooding, irritable, Evelyn finally got around to answering Dracht's request to know where they needed to go.

“Egypt. We're going back to Egypt,” she said, drawing a glance from everyone around the circle. It was the first time they'd ever given any kind of hint of the location of Eden.

Rhett used the heel of his boot to crush the phones into tiny bits of unrecognizable plastic.

“We split up from here then, and meet there,” Dragar said.

Each of the Templars would have a sister with them to guide the way to Eden. No maps needed to be drawn or taken with them.

“Wouldn't it be safer to stay together?” Evelyn asked. She hated parting off from Alex and Minna especially now that their once secure mode of communication was laying in tiny splinters on the ground.

“It's like before, Ev, when we didn't want to make a big target out of ourselves,” Alexandra said.

“Everything electronic needs to go in.” Dracht pointedly looked at Alexandra.

The tomboy exhaled her frustration and got into the backseat of the car she'd arrived in with Dracht. Taking the netbook out of her bag, she tossed it into the busted fray of phones.

Rhett cracked the case with the first stomp, and shattered it with the second. “All we have left is our clothes, money and weapons. We'll dump the car when we get out of the foothills. Everyone ready to go? We need to be far away from here when the satellite goes live again.”

Evelyn still wasn't convinced splitting up was the right answer. What about the old adage safety in numbers? She hugged Alex first, then Minna. Their displeasure was as palpable as her own.

“Don't worry Evelyn, we'll be all right.” Minna palmed Evelyn's cheek in a motherly way and turned back to Dragar's car.

Alexandra split off for Dracht's.

“We'll see you in Eden,” Evelyn said.

After transferring another black bag from Dracht's trunk to the back seat of their car, Rhett shook hands with his brother and father and climbed into the driver's side.

Evelyn followed Rhett and slid into the passenger seat, unhappy with the turn of events. While Rhett spun the tires and fishtailed them out of the clearing, she stared up at the sky out her window.

It felt like a big, all seeing eye stared down, marking their every move.

***

“So explain to me how they'll be able to find us now that we've gotten rid of all the electronics,” Evelyn asked Rhett, staring balefully out the window. She guessed they had three hours or so of darkness left.

“See, it's like this. I'm conjecturing here? But I'm probably not far off. Since their agents haven't checked in for three days, they know they've been compromised. I have no doubt they were tracking both of them and Christian, too. They knew about the stronghold. Once they discover we've split up, taking you with us, they immediately set up a perimeter. Right away they engage all the security cameras in every public place they can and trace us to the last possible location that we used these cars and the cell phones. I'm sure they can find the hotel we stayed at in Kineta and from there they map out how many miles in any direction we can go in a specific amount of time, and close the net from there. Our pictures have been sent to every police station, all the airports, everywhere. They'll tighten the noose until we can't move far in any direction without being spotted. Get it? That's why we're going to get rid of this car in short order.”

Inwardly, she railed at technology. At men and women with enough power to wield it for nefarious purposes. Cameras, cell phones, tracking devices. They were everywhere. On street corners, in space, inside vehicles. For the 'safety and security' of the citizens. In her opinion, security had never felt so suffocating.

Rhett made a fine example of just how precarious their situation really was. She expected to see police cars come hurtling from offshoot roads and intersections any second.

“What are we going to do after we ditch the car? Get a taxi to the coastline?” she asked next, not wanting to hear anymore about how advanced the world's spying powers had become.

“Cabs have on board cameras. Considering the area they've probably localized us to, it might take a super computer maybe a half hour of filtering images to land on ours. We might be able to stay ahead of them, but not by much.”

“...is it really that bad, Rhett?” Evelyn couldn't wrap her mind around it. The night felt so normal beyond the confines of the car. Peaceful, asleep, waiting for daybreak that would urge sleepy denizens from their beds and into their regular schedules. She couldn't detect anything nefarious out there, nothing that could home in on them and threaten their right to exist. Yet goosebumps decorated the skin of her arms, spreading an icy chill through her bones. It was out there. They were out there.

A shiver raced down her spine at the look Rhett threw her across the car. It said better than words that yes, it really was that bad.

“We're going to skirt the edges of the smallest towns and look for someone willing to trade their car with this one. That way, if they do lock on, they'll be following a stranger and wasting time while we head to Isthmia.”

Evelyn knew they were heading west, away from Athens. She didn't have to be told he wanted to avoid the entire area around the stronghold. “Why Isthmia?”

“It's small and we'll have a better chance of hiring a boat from a private owner rather than a big company that will want identification and credit cards. Lacking all that, we'll steal one.”

She snapped a look sideways. This was Rhett, getting done what needed to be done.

For an hour they drove on what seemed like every back road there was toward Isthmia. Rhett drove fast in places he knew there were less likely to be police, only slowing when they passed a few clusters of homes tucked into the scenery, visible by porch lights glowing through the trees like fat fireflies.

She wondered what directions Dracht and Alexandra were heading, and whether Dragar and Minna were already on the water somewhere.

Nestled into the foothill, surrounded by trees, they came upon a gas station. Illuminated by strong overhead lamps, it glowed like a beacon in the darkness. It was the kind with a small convenience store inside and a broad, overhead canopy protecting the pumps. Even at this late hour there were customers inside, their vehicles dotting the parking lot. Rhett pulled in and veered away from the front of the store itself to a parking spot cloistered in shadows.

Out of the range of any cameras, she guessed.

“Stay here,” Rhett said, putting the car in park. He reached across her and opened the glove compartment. From it he took a pink slip, already signed. Twisting, he got into the bag in the back seat, the one transferred over from Dracht's car, and took out a black billfold, a Denver Broncos baseball cap, and a gun. Tucking the latter into the back of his waistband, he put the billfold in a front pocket, slapped the hat on his head and got out.

She watched him approach the store from the sidewalk, stopping at a payphone sequestered under a lamp with a flickering bulb. Pretending to look in the phone book, Rhett kept a low profile. He resembled any lost tourist searching for directions.

Evelyn tried to be as inconspicuous as Rhett when she glanced through the parking lot for anything suspicious.

A trucker exited the convenience store first and angled toward a big rig parked off on the opposite side of the lot. If Rhett noticed, Evelyn couldn't tell. He looked engrossed in finding a number.

Several minutes later, a young man swept through the doors, coffee steaming in one hand, keys in the other. College aged, he wore oversized pants with a plain white tee shirt sloppily tucked in. A pair of clear glasses on invisible frames sat high on the bridge of his nose. Of Asian descent, he was built whipcord thin with black hair sticking up at odd angles, obviously the design of fingers and styling gel.

He turned Rhett's way on the sidewalk and the only car that could have been his was a compact two door Eclipse in gunmetal gray. It appeared less than five years old with shaded windows and custom wheels. Evelyn wasn't a car aficionado, but she knew Rhett's BMW was probably twice as expensive and a year or two newer. All the Templars drove the same kind, vehicles provided for transportation anywhere they needed to go.

Rhett broke away from the phone and engaged the man. He seemed to speak quick and to the point, snapping out the pink slip for the guy to see. Evelyn wished she could hear what he was saying over the idling engine.

The young man looked over to their car, obviously hesitant. And why shouldn't he be? A stranger approaching in the wee hours of the morning, wanting to do a car trade. He shook his head. Took a step back.

Rhett took one forward and made a gesture of appeal with his empty hand.

If nothing else, Evelyn could read their body language with little trouble.

The young man had a sudden change of heart. He nodded enthusiastically and started marching over with Rhett at his side. What the hell had Rhett said to sway him so thoroughly? Anticipating them, she reaching into the back and grabbed the three bags—his, hers and the new one—and lugged them into her lap before opening her door.

She got out just as the two arrived.

The man with the coffee stared at her like he felt sorry for her. Evelyn smiled and inclined her head in silent hello, curiosity eating her alive. She glanced at Rhett. He wasn't looking at her but pointing out details that only cemented the deal.

“Twenty-four thousand miles, brand new tires, bullet proof glass--”

“Whoa, no shit? Bullet proof glass?” the man asked.

“It's got all the bells and whistles, no body damage, everything works like we just drove it off the lot. You have a pen? I'll sign right now.” Rhett laid the pink slip on the hood of the car.

“Dude, you've got a deal. Pen in my car, be right back.” The man grinned like it was Christmas after checking out the interior and walked back to his car. Using the remote on his keychain, he unlocked the doors, opened the passenger side, and rifled around. When he returned he extended a pen between two fingers.

Rhett signed the car over with a few sharp strokes, handed the slip to the young man, and took a card out of his wallet.

Evelyn caught a glimpse of the fake CIA stamp. Rhett really knew how to use those to his advantage, she thought wryly.

The young man, impressed and swayed by the show of authority, took the card, pink slip and exchanged keys with Rhett.

“Remember. Not a word if anyone comes asking,” Rhett warned him.

“I swear. Won't say a thing,” he promised with a specific look at Evelyn.

Was she dying? An alien? Missus Claus? Subduing her inner sarcasm, she headed toward the Eclipse in Rhett's wake.

Once they were inside, doors closed and windows up, Evelyn half turned in her seat with an accusation ripe on her tongue.

Rhett beat her to the proverbial punch. “I told him you were in the witness protection program and we were on the run. Made him think he was doing a good deed for the day. Never mind he got a hell of an upgrade out of the deal besides his promised silence.”

Jamming the key into the ignition, he turned the engine over. Eminem, Lose Yourself, blared from the speakers. The heavy beat vibrated her seat.

Rhett reached over to turn the volume down enough to have a conversation. Spinning the wheel, he sped out of the lot and back onto the familiar, lonely road.

“I thought for a minute you told him the truth,” she said, snapping the buckle into place.

“You should know better. I'm not above using whatever means I have to—anything but that. Why don't you try and get some rest? We've got about an hour before we come to the interchange.”

“I'll try.” Thoughtful, she slouched down and closed her eyes.

A moment later, Rhett turned the music up. The rhythmic melody helped blot out the terrors and the tragedies and before she knew it, Evelyn fell asleep.

Chapter Five

Christian stared balefully at the two-way viewing window. Meals had come gone, the hours ticking away while he languished in his subterranean cell. He didn't know whether it was night or day beyond the confines of the stronghold or how long it had been since Roman had visited him. Time all but stood still down here, with no windows to mark the rise and descent of the sun.

An edgy restlessness forced him to pace the cell like it was a cage—and for all intents and purposes, it was. A growing feeling of being trapped kept him awake when he should be sleeping, skewing his inner clock off kilter.

The reflection the window bounced back mocked him; he looked well rested, sharp eyed, intent. All while the heavy slabs of concrete on all sides reminded him he was a prisoner. He wasn't used to so much inactivity, and he couldn't get his mind off his son.

Where did they have him now? Christian didn't know. Hadn't ever known. Probably would have died not knowing.

He went to the door and banged on it.

No one answered.

He banged again. Nothing.

“Dad! I know you can hear me. I need you to send someone to find my son.” With all the Templar's resources, they should be able to dig up something.

He got no reply.

Instead of pacing, he sank to the floor and started doing push-ups. It helped focus his mind to keep his body busy.

On the count of fifty-eight, he heard the key in the lock. By the time he popped nimbly to his feet, Roman stood in the doorway.

“Can I trust you not to do something stupid if I don't cuff your hands while we leave?” Roman asked.

“Leave? Where are we going?” Christian drug a hand through his tousled hair.

“Dragar wants me to move you. I had to make sure it was stocked to see us through a week or two.” Roman arched a brow.

Christian held his hands up, palms out, to keep Roman from advancing on him and applying restraints. “Look, I'm not going try and out maneuver you. This is still my family. Did Dragar--”

“We'll talk on the way. For now, we need to go.” Roman held the door, indicating Christian go first.

Glad to be out of the cell for any reason, he stalked into the hallway. Roman was right on his heels.

Up on the main floor, Christian headed for the door. He heard no one moving around in the stronghold and wondered if the rest went ahead of them.

On the way off the grounds, Christian also noticed that the usual guard at the gate was missing. They rarely ever allowed the entrance to the stronghold to go unsupervised.

“Where is--”

“I can't tell you all the details. I've been instructed not to, for everyone's sake. All you need to know for now is that we're going to the sanctuary.” Roman drove with purpose through the city, keeping a sharp eye on the side and rear view mirrors.

The sanctuary was also a stronghold, but one only a few Templars knew about. Everyone in Christian's family, Roman, one or two other Knights. Even Father Valanzano didn't know its location.

“Do you have some information? What did you find out, Roman? C'mon, you have to give me something.”

“You remember when we were kids? When your father had one of his hunches?” Roman asked, glancing sidelong before returning his attention to the road.

“Yeah, I remember.” Dragar's gut instinct wasn't something to ignore or be messed with. Time and again it had proven correct and on occasion, had spared a few Templar's their lives. Christian wondered what kind of gut instinct made his father take this route.

“Well, he's got one. I happen to agree with him, so we're moving you—and myself—to the sanctuary.”

“Are the rest of them waiting there?”

Silence.

Christian exhaled a breath of frustration. Maybe his father would deign to visit him when they arrived.

***

Twelve miles past the very outskirts of Athens, Dragar cut across the countryside taking the smallest, most nondescript roads he could. Beside him in the seat, Minna had hardly said two words the whole time. Petite, quiet, self contained, she never complained, whined or questioned his decisions. Although he ran the entire Order of Templars, Dragar was not a man of many words. He didn't know how to strike up conversation with her, felt awkward trying to make small talk when he needed to concentrate on staying alert.

Just as the sky started changing from black velvet to pewter, he spotted an older Toyota Landcruiser parked at the edge of someone's property. Putting on the brakes, he pulled over and glanced back through the windshield to assess it. The body had a few minor dents but the tires looked relatively new.

The asking price painted on the window translated into four thousand American dollars.

“I'm going to inquire. I'll be right back.” Dragar met Minna's eyes. She nodded.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He left the engine running and got out. Even though the hour was early, if the owners really wanted to sell, they wouldn't complain. On the way past the vehicle, he took a look inside; the interior seemed well kept, almost new. He continued to the door and knocked.

He knocked again a few minutes later when no one answered.

Finally, the door cracked open and an elderly lady peered around the corner through the screen.

In fluent Greek, Dragar explained that he wanted to purchase the car, if it was running, and did not offer her less like most people would have. She gave him no trouble, shuffling around the house in her nightdress to get the paperwork and sign it over.

Dragar paid in cash, hurrying the transaction along as quickly as he could without making the lady nervous. Keys in hand, he drove the Landcruiser off the property and pulled in front of the standard issue BMW. Sliding the gear into park, he let the engine idle to warm it up and got out with the intention of asking Minna to follow him in the BMW.

He discovered Minna already behind the wheel.

“Follow me about a mile and we'll dump this one in the woods,” he said, ducking his head down to see her through the window.

“I'm right behind you.” Minna made eye contact, ready to go.

Dragar tapped the roof twice and jogged back to the Landcruiser. It handled well and drove smoothly.

Pulling over at a vacant spot alongside the road where the trees grew thick, he cut the engine and got out. He gestured for Minna to back the car into the brush, guiding her with hand signals. In broad daylight someone would be able to see it, but all he cared about was ditching it for now. If anyone came looking, they would spend a few hours or a whole day in the wrong location while he and Minna put more distance between them.

Minna transferred herself to the passenger seat of the Landcruiser after parking the car. Efficient, quick, no nonsense.

Dragar got behind the wheel, turning them out onto the road once more.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled into a mom and pop style restaurant that catered to truckers and parked alongside the building. He knew this chain had bathrooms accessed by doors outside for the truckers as well as ones inside for dine-in customers.

“Gonna hit the hea—do you need to use the restrooms? I'll just be a moment.” He turned the engine off and slid the keys from the ignition. Dragar was uncomfortable letting her out of his sight for the five minutes it would take to do his business, but it might look suspicious if someone saw her go in with him.

“Yes, I'll meet you back here.” Minna undid her seat belt and got out.

Dragar made sure she got into the woman's restroom before he went into the men's. The yellowish tiles felt sticky under the soles of his boots. Two moths beat relentlessly at the domed light overhead, bouncing off only to swoop in again. At least the urinals were decently clean.

A sudden flush alerted him to company, and he glanced over his shoulder while he zipped up his fly. A tall, broad shouldered man exited a stall and headed to one of two free standing sinks. Dragar washed his hands in the sink next to him with deft scrubs under water that wouldn't get hot. Wary of everyone, he kept the man in periphery until he stepped out the door.

The Landcruiser was still empty, so he scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary while he waited on the curb for Minna. A semi pulled out and another pulled in. Two men walked across the asphalt with take out food in their hands along with tall cups of coffee.

Behind him, the door opened. Dragar tensed, alert for an unexpected attack. The patron lit up a cigarette and stepped around him, mumbling about horses and racetracks and money.

Once the man reached the roadway and stuck his thumb out, Dragar relaxed. He glanced at his watch then over at the door to the women's room. He didn't want to rush her.

After another five minutes, however, he grew concerned.

Stepping over, he used a knuckle to knock on the door. If there were other women in there, they would think he was simply her husband. “Minna? We should get back on the road.”

He got no immediate reply.

“Minna?” He spoke louder, closer to the crack of the door. One hand slipped behind him where the gun rested at the small of his back under the cover of his shirt.

No answer.

Without knocking or announcing his intention, Dragar swung the door open, and stuck his head in. No special care had been taken to differentiate this restroom from the men's. The tiles were still yellow, the light over head throwing off a watery, mustard colored glow.

The bathroom looked empty. What the hell? He checked every stall and found no one.

“Minna?” Raising his voice an octave, he exited the bathrooms and stalked around the side of the building, making sure his weapon was concealed. Maybe she'd gone inside to get coffee or something to eat.

The interior of the restaurant, gloomy for comfort's sake with old wooden furniture and booths that badly needed updating, boasted a full length counter. Stools lined up at the edge, most of them empty, a few of them occupied, none by a petite woman with Asian accented features.

“Excuse me, sir, can I help you?” a waitress asked in fluent Greek. She had dark hair upswept into an out of date beehive held in place by tiny pins.

“I'm looking for my wife. She's about this tall, dark hair, probably came in about five minutes ago.” Dragar held his hand up around his chest to indicate Minna's height, matching the waitresses accent flawlessly.

“No one came in looking like that, Sir. Only truckers so far this morning.”

Alarm rippled through him. He stalked past the waitress, found the bathrooms, and physically checked them himself. Coming out, he said nothing as he scanned the interior, looking for Minna, finding nothing but truckers and a stray couple pretending like they weren't staring at him.

Outside, Dragar thoroughly searched the parking lot, the vehicles, the trucks. He asked every single person he came across and they all looked bemused, blank.

No one had seen her.

Minna was gone.

***

“So, where you headed to?” The truck driver, speaking decent, understandable English, glanced across the interior of the cab.

“Israel,” Minna said, cupping her hands in her lap. Every now and then she checked the large, rectangular side mirror for signs of the Landcruiser. Finding a sympathetic ear to her plight had been easy and quick at the restaurant.

“What's in Israel?” he asked.

Minna looked across the cab; the driver appeared to be in his late forties, medium build, decent physical shape for a job that kept him sitting for too many hours in a day. He had kind eyes that resonated with harmless curiosity.

“A solution,” she replied, uncaring if it sounded cryptic.

“A solution to what? I don't mean to pry little lady, but you don't seem to be the typical wandering student trying to find out what her life really means.” He shifted gears and reached for a pack of cigarettes tucked into the dash.

Minna said nothing about the smoke. It was his truck and she was lucky he'd taken her under his wing before Dragar discovered her.

“An injustice visited upon my family. The closer you can get me to Rafina, the better.” To encourage him, she waited until he was watching the road again, cigarette lit, to produce a few bills large enough to make his eyes widen when he glanced back over.

“I'll do better than that. I'll take you straight there myself.” The smoke bobbed between his lips and he had to readjust his position on the road when he swerved across the double line.

Minna tucked the bills into the spot his cigarette pack came from and propped her feet up on the dash. She'd taken the money from one of the black bags Dragar brought with them when they left the stronghold.

While the sun rose above the horizon, she calmly made her plans as mile after mile fell under the wheels of the truck. Deceiving Dragar, who had her best interest in mind, did not please her. But after their meeting in the clearing she understood that the time had come to take the matter of wordly decline into her own hands. When it became clear that she and her sisters would have nowhere to hide, she knew she had to follow through on the promise she'd given so many centuries ago. The promise all the sisters had made. Humanity had hit the point of no return with its surveillance, technology, spying, murdering, wars and deconstruction of basic moral values. Powerful men and women of the age had taken their greed and lust for dominance too far. The restrictions, control tactics, outright disinformation, thieving and desire to mark, brand, or chip every living thing that moved proved too much even for her.

It was not a decision she made lightly or without strain on her conscious. She'd known this time would come eventually. Maybe she'd been hoping for reprieve or intervention. But there was none. And now she and her sisters were faced with either extinction or a life like a freakshow, hidden from the rest of the world to be poked, prodded, questioned and studied by scientists, religious factions and all manner of other curious personalities who thought they knew better than the rest of the population what was good for them.

True and honest freedom was a dream only for the naïve. She felt obligated to follow through with the cleansing that must take place. A cleansing not of her devising, but one she would set in motion with a heavy heart and a lot of regret.

She loved so many things about the progress of man—and loathed that it had gotten so out of hand. If there was a future left for any survivors, all she could hope for was a new beginning based on mutual respect and some semblance of peace.

It wasn't too much to ask for.

Chapter Six

The stillness woke Evelyn from a dreamless sleep. Opening her eyes, she twitched in the seat when she realized Rhett's door was open and he wasn't inside the car.

“Rhett?” Fumbling with the buckle, she yanked and tugged, blinking away cobwebs and confusion.

“I'm right here. Don't worry.” His voice drifted in from just outside somewhere.

Evelyn couldn't see him but was reassured at the casual inflection of his reply. The sun was halfway up beyond the horizon, spreading fingers of orange and pink across the sparkling surface of the water.

“Why are we stopped?” It didn't dawn on her until then that maybe he was relieving himself on the side of the road.

“The interchange is up ahead. Saw some flashing lights and wanted to take a look.”

Evelyn opened the door and got out after freeing herself. Feeling rumpled and disoriented, she looked across the roof of the car to find him with a pair of black binoculars at his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

“Flashing lights?”

“I wanted to see if there were any strange check points or other anomalies. So far I don't see anything but what looks like the last stages of a wreck they're clearing off the road.”

“Do you think they have enough man power to cover every highway?” she asked, squinting into the dawning day. Everything looked normal to her.

“They'll saturate the area with personnel, put them at all the big junctures because they know, at some point, we'll run out of back roads to take. Same thing at the airports and every other mode of public transportation. But no, they won't be able to cover every single on and off ramp or every inch of highway. You want to stretch your legs for a minute?” He lowered the binoculars and leaned in the car to set them in the back seat.

“Yes, thanks. I must have slept longer than I thought.” She stayed close to the car, arching her back while she exercised some feeling into her legs.

“Bout an hour and a half. There are a couple bottles of water in the bag.” He drank from one that he'd perched on the hood of the car.

“I'll get one after we get going again. It seems so peaceful. I could almost believe that none of this was happening, that we weren't on the run again.”

“Yeah. Almost.” Rhett grunted, finished the water, and tossed the bottle into the back. He slid behind the wheel and closed his door.

She did a couple squats for good measure and got back inside.

While he pulled them onto the highway, she yawned and reached behind her for a bottle, rooting around a front pocket rather than the inside, where the weapons were. Finding one, she twisted the cap off and had a long few swallows. It soothed the subtle scratch of her throat.

The further they wound down out of the foothills, the more homes and structures started to dot the landscape. Rhett had a knack for taking the streets and thoroughfares that had the least traffic and activity, always finding a route around the heart of any town. Two of the less populated streets they needed to take to get past the interchange were blocked, and Rhett frowned while he swung the car around for the main artery that passed beneath the highway.

“Don't like that those were blocked off,” he muttered half under his breath.

“They're probably just doing--”

“Shit.” Rhett put the brakes on hard enough that the car behind them honked. It was still early enough that only a smattering of vehicles traversed the roads.

“What?” she glanced behind them.

“There's a check point up here.” For a few tense moments, Rhett seemed to consider his options. “Hold on.”

Evelyn had heard that from him before. Right when he'd flew through a busy intersection at a red light doing about ninety.

Slowly, he made a U-turn and cruised the other direction, glancing in the rear view mirror every few seconds.

“Do you think it was them?” she asked, twisting around in the seat to see for herself. Nothing looked out of the ordinary except what appeared to be a construction zone with wooden horses and men with stop signs to help guide traffic.

“See the black SUVs parked alongside the road, outside the narrow lane they're forcing all the cars into? That's not part of any road crew or local police.” He looked in his rear view and side mirrors.

She saw the SUVs he was talking about, one with its doors wide open. There were three; two on the left, one on the right.

“How could they have known we'd come this way?” Dismayed, she turned back around.

“Remember the net I told you about? If they located a signal from the phone in Kineta, then it's logical that they'd put up blockades along the interstate that runs past it.” At the red light, he idled with impatient glances at the cross traffic and his mirrors.

“Is there another way to get around them to reach the coast you want to set off from?” The light seemed to be taking forever to change.

“Shit. Shit.” The light was still red but Rhett punched the gas; tires barked and smoke spewed up from the friction of rubber on asphalt.

Evelyn screamed when a semi coming from her right hit the brakes, sending the huge truck skidding and sliding right for them. She jammed her hands out against the door and the dashboard, bracing for impact. The car jerked forward just as the bumper of the truck made contact. Rhett recovered control of the fishtailing Eclipse and rocketed them through the intersection.

This was the second close call in a car she'd had with Rhett. Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs and she shot a look behind them to see what had made him take such extreme, evasive action. The semi flipped over onto its side and, metal screeching like nails on chalkboard, crashed into a corner store. Through the smoke and the chaos, she saw two of the SUVs coming straight on, veering around other cars sitting at haphazard angles after stopping for the accident.

“How did they know this was us?” Disbelief made her voice pitch high.

“Because we pulled out of line and turned around. But we had no choice. They've got our photos. We would have been marked immediately and detained.” He took a hard turn at the next left.

“Where are we going to go? They're probably on the radios already.”

“Shh. Just hang on. We won't go down easy.”

***

“Dracht?”

“Yes, Alex?”

“I need to pee.”

He barked a laugh despite the dire circumstances of their situation. “Can you hold it another fifteen minutes?”

She exhaled elaborately, like she just wasn't sure she could do that. “I guess so. But if I tell ya to pull over, just do it and don't ask questions.”

“How good can you aim?”

Alex brushed a long piece of dark hair over her shoulder and eyed Dracht suspiciously. “I'm a girl, you do realize that, right?”

His lips twitched at the corners. “I remember. There's an old coffee can behind the seat. If I find a secluded enough spot, you can use that in the absence of a restroom.”

The truck, a broken down piece of junk if Alex had ever seen one, had a decent running engine going for it and a slew of crap behind the seat belonging to the former owner. Dracht hadn't wasted time trying to negotiate at that hour of the morning; the truck had been the best shot at a different vehicle and Dracht showed his prowess in hot wiring when he decided to take it. Tacked to the tree in the yard where the truck had been parked, Dracht had left an envelope with several thousand dollars in it to cover the loss. Alex thought that was pretty generous considering she wouldn't have paid a hot red cent for it.

Twisting around in the seat, sneering playfully across the truck at him, she rooted through spark plug wires, random wrenches and sockets, greasy towels, several funnels, old shirts and fishing gear for the coffee can.

“I don't know how you saw anything back here with all this junk. Oh, here it is.” The rust red color caught her eye. Pulling it out of the mess, she brought it with her to the front and plopped it on the bench seat between them. Alex loathed seat belts and hadn't been at all distressed to learn that the one on the passenger's side was broken.

C'est la vie.

“We should be coming up on the edge of Nia Makri in about twenty minutes. There's a small, private dock there and we'll grab one of the boats and go,” he said.

“Aren't you afraid the owner will call in the theft? Won't that tip them off?” Alex asked, looking away from the striking scenery to Dracht. The dark colors he wore complimented his dark coloring, the trimmed goatee on his chin.

“I'll try and rent one first, but if it comes down to it, we'll have no choice but to 'borrow' one. We can't fly out of here. I'm sure every single airfield is being watched or will be shortly. It's a lot less trouble to check flights than it is every boat that comes and goes along the shoreline.” He shot out over a small hill; the water stretched beyond the coastline, blue and pristine as a freshly cut gem.

Nestled into the landscape were white dots representing houses and businesses. Dracht stayed to the back roads, the truck chugging along with persistent growls and snarls.

One of Alexandra's knees started bouncing restlessly, a sure sign her bladder was becoming more insistent. Dracht must have noticed because he rolled the truck into the next gas station they came to. Two doors outside with a man and woman symbol on them indicated the bathrooms were there instead of inside. Dracht idled the vehicle right next to the sidewalk just a handful of steps from the doors themselves. Few customers were around.

“If you hear me honk the horn, get your butt back out here right away.”

“Yes sir. I'll be right back.” Climbing out, she had to close the door twice before it stuck. Aiming for the women's room, she went inside after a cursory check to make sure it was empty. Five minutes later she returned and hopped back in.

“That's better. Don't feel like I'm going to float away.”

“We'll stop at another one closer to the docks and pick up some food.” He glanced away from the parking lot that he'd been scrutinizing, put the truck in gear, and sped out of the parking lot heading east.

“Sounds good to me.” Alexandra studied the scenery out her window. It dawned on her that this was probably the last time she would see Greece for a very long time. Bitter about her circumstance, she propped a boot against the cracked dashboard. She wasn't ready to die, that was for sure, and though she loved the place of her birth, she'd become accustomed to the very things that now jeopardized her life.

Technology.

She loved learning programs and hacking into databases and figuring out new systems. It challenged her mind. Not huge on television, she adored movies, especially epic masterpieces with expansive soundtracks and extraordinary special effects. Adjusting to the changes that came with each decade, she couldn't imagine having all of it ripped away for a life living off the land.

No phones, no movies, no computers. Eden, as beautiful, peaceful and safe as it was, lacked another commodity that Alexandra had learned to crave: people.

Evelyn and Minna could only keep her occupied for so long.

“You all right, Alexandra?” Dracht's voice, with its baritone timbre, resonated in the cab.

“Yeah. Just thinkin' about going back. I mean, I know we have to. I can see the writing on the wall already. You guys are right. They're gonna find us and then it'll be years of captivity and torture and we don't need that.”

“I feel a 'but' in there somewhere,” he said.

“Well, like...when you don't know what you're missin', then you don't miss it. That make sense?”

He nodded, darting looks in both mirrors, keeping a sharp eye out despite the conversation.

“So we've learned to acclimate all this time. We had Eden first and Eden was great. Then we left and the societies popped up. New cities, change, and eventually boats. Cars, airplanes. It made traveling the world so much faster and convenient. We might have come from nothing, but to go back to nothing after all this—it's almost like being born naked, learning to wear clothes and appreciate all they can do for you—then having them stripped away permanently. You feel lost, cold, exposed.”

“I can understand that. Mostly.”

“We'll have had all this interaction, the travel, moving around with so many new things to see and experience. Eden has that on a geographic level.” She rubbed her forehead.

“There is nothing there but natural landscape?” he asked.

“My siblings didn't build their crude stone homes until we were exiled. Eden is pristine, untouched. It's never too hot, never too cold—except up in the mountains—and there are plenty of places to take cover during rainstorms.”

“There are mountains in Eden?” He stopped at a sign, looked both ways, and pressed the gas pedal.

The truck sputtered, coughed and died.

Dracht cursed under his breath. He turned the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

***

“Are you sure I can't do anything else for you?” The truck driver, whose named turned out to be Pete, stabbed out his eighteenth cigarette in an ashtray overloaded with crooked cigarette butts.

Minna glanced across the smoky cab. She had given her name as Miriam in case he ran across a checkpoint and got questioned.

“You've done more than enough. Thank you, Pete.” Minna reached over to touch his arm in gratitude, smiled, and climbed down to the ground. Before she closed the heavy door, she waved. The action felt deceptively cheery.

“Take care now,” he bellowed. Then he reached for a new pack of cigarettes to start the chain smoking process all over again.

Minna banged the door shut and turned away from the truck. Pete had taken a more direct route to the coast, missing the busiest inner city Athens traffic with roads skimming the perimeter. She'd seen no checkpoints along the way, for which she'd been thankful.

With blocks of businesses in every direction, she paused to take stock; the docks of Rafina sat perhaps a half mile east. She'd requested to be dropped off this far from her destination because she had a few things she needed to get before finding passage across the channel.

The truck lurched back into the sparse flow of traffic just as Minna struck out at a brisk pace along the sidewalk. Here the air smelled salty, the breeze carrying aromatic scents from restaurants and cafes scattered between taller structures intended for city and private commercial business. The town itself, what she'd seen so far, had an archaic European charm, the architecture flattering against the rugged terrain. She'd lived here for eight months back in a time before airplanes, before cars. Less than fifty houses had nestled into the rocky landscape and the only buildings for business were the bakery and shoe smith.

Much had changed since then.

She found a small secondhand store after obtaining coffee and two bagels, paid with more of the cash she'd taken out of Dracht's bag. Keeping a keen eye out, she consumed her breakfast with more haste than she usually liked to eat, drained the steamy black brew, and tossed the trash away.

The interior of Daphne's was an assault on the senses; rounders stuffed with clothes made it all but impossible to navigate and the dim atmosphere wasn't relieved even with jaundiced lamplight spilling down from three chandeliers hanging from a wood beam ceiling. Charmingly eccentric, there were more clothes on decorative shelves lining the walls and a collection of used shoes packed in cubbies along the length of the counter. Odds and ends fit anywhere there was an inch of space to hold them. A fresh spring scent, probably from a time-release spritzer, warred with the musty tang of old linen and tweed. She experienced an odd pang of nostalgia and remorse at the thought of stores like this vanishing forever.

“Can I help you find something?” The flawless, heavily accented Greek came from an elderly woman with a severely wrinkled face and white hair. She stood behind the long counter, only her shoulders and head visible.

In perfect Greek, Minna said, “Do you carry scarves and handbags?”

The old woman stepped up onto a step stool to make herself taller and pointed over the hoards of clothing to a skein of scarves all hanging from a steel ring hooked into the wall.

“Thank you.” Minna squeezed between rounders and searched through the scarves. She wanted a longer one, not too colorful, not too thick. She found a cream color in silk with frayed ends and a handbag made of artificial alligator skin. The size appealed rather than the design. Picking out a few shirts, she added that to her purchases along with one pair of gray slacks and another pair of jeans.

A few surreptitious glances at the corners of the shop turned up no video cameras. If the old woman had them, she'd hidden them well.

After paying, Minna rolled the clothing and put it into the bag. She looped the scarf around her head in a way that obscured her hair and part of her face but still looked fashionable.

Leaving the store with goodbyes fading on the air, she headed for the docks, alert for anything unusual. The people she passed, even the tourists, nodded or said hello. Sometimes in Greek, sometimes in halting English.

Minna returned the greetings politely, drawing no undue attention to herself. At a fruit stand, she procured several apples, a few oranges and a bag of grapes to put into her purse along with the clothes. The bottle of water she held in her hand and sipped from while she waited at a red light to cross the intersection. On the other side, beyond a half block of shops, were the docks.

A police car pulled up alongside the curb she stood next to, waiting for the light to turn. She saw it in periphery and at first thought she'd been spotted. Staying calm, she casually turned her head to pretend to look along the avenue the other direction, fiddling with the cap to her water. Tension drew lines across her shoulders that she eased by rolling them as if the heat of the day was getting to her.

The light turned and the police car cruised through, on its way somewhere else.

Minna breathed a quiet sigh of relief and crossed to the other side. Tossing the empty bottle into a trash can along the way, she headed for the docks, panning a look along the boats in the berths. Men and women climbed on and off several of them, busy with maintenance and other boat owner responsibilities.

One couple, with a decent sized vessel, not too large and not too small, had a sign advertising day trips. The man, middle aged with a shock of blonde hair, seemed brisk and businesslike even though he wore beach shorts and a tank top. Petite and athletic, the woman with him sported a pixie bob of dark hair pulled into a ponytail. She too wore shorts and a tank top.

After another cursory check of available boats, Minna thought they seemed like the best place to start.

“Excuse me?” she asked in English after the short walk to the vessel. It bobbed and swayed on the water.

The man glanced up and broke into a broad grin, hopping down from the boat to the dock. He replied in English as well without any other accent. “Hello. What can we do for you?”

American transplants, Minna thought. Working for some company here to 'get away from it all'. Or maybe they even owned the boat, going into business for themselves. She couldn't blame them. The area was stunning and high tourist volume made for good revenue.

“I need passage to Israel--”

“Oh, I'm sorry Ma'am, we don't go out that far. Just to Crete and all the islands between.” He offered up another jocular grin and pointed to a larger boat six slips down. “Murphy there, on the Belladonna, he can take you to Israel.”

Minna glanced in the direction of the gesture. She didn't see 'Murphy' anywhere, though the boat looked well kept and in good condition. Larger than the one she stood in front of, she wondered if they would have to take on more passengers to make the trip worth while for the operator. The less people the better in case someone caught up with them on the water.

She looked back at the blonde man. “I'll pay you three times your asking price for a day trip to Crete. Cash.”

The man, startled, didn't at first know what to say. Then he boomed a laugh and held out his hand to seal the deal with a shake. “Absolutely. When do you want to leave?”

“Today. As soon as possible, if you please.” Minna shook his hand.

“Will an hour suffice?”

“An hour will be perfect.”

***

The speed limit couldn't have been more than forty, but Rhett was doing at least eighty. Evelyn gripped the door and the dashboard so hard her knuckles turned white. He careened around a corner and swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid a bakery truck reversing onto the street from an alleyway.

“Get the hell out of the way!” Rhett shouted. Too late; he threaded the Eclipse through panicked drivers, horns screaming, barely missing collisions with two of them.

Evelyn thought her heart was going to pound right out of her chest. Breathing too erratic to speak, she watched the near misses out the side window.

Up ahead, the next stoplight was blessedly green. Thank god. She didn't think she could handle running another red. One of the black SUVs pulled into the intersection ahead, blocking a good portion of it. The driver and passenger got out, bringing their automatic weapons up like they meant to fire.

“RHETT!”

“I see it, I see it! Get down!”

She ducked down as far as the space would allow. The small, compact car didn't allow her much room to maneuver. They weren't really designed with car chases in mind.

The chatter of weapons overlaid shouting that she couldn't understand, all coming from outside somewhere. Rhett zig-zagged the car in a wild figure S that crashed her into the door, the console and the seat.

Were they shooting at them with the intent to kill?

“Hold on, holdon!” Rhett spat his warning out a few seconds before the car impacted something solid.

She heard metal screech, a bumper give and brakes of other vehicles trying to avoid the mayhem. Jostled, her shoulder crashed off the dashboard. Against her better judgment, she poked her head up to take a look. Rhett had grazed the SUV, scattering the men with guns who had been firing at them.

“Why are they shooting at us?” she demanded. “I thought they needed us alive to get the information they want?”

“They were shooting at the tires.” Speaking through clenched teeth, he tore around a corner, and another. A terrible noise came from somewhere near the wheel well on his side of the car.

“What is that?” she asked, resettling in the seat now that they weren't being openly shot at. Every time she got in a vehicle with Rhett, bad things happened.

“Car damage. Not going to last long. We need to ditch out.”

“Ditch out where? They're probably right behind us.” She wrenched a look over her shoulder.

Sure enough, the SUV barreled into sight.

“They're back the—”

“I see it, Evelyn,” he said, the words brisk and clipped.

Yanking the wounded Eclipse into a driveway, he swooped down into an underground garage, plunging them from broad daylight into the dark. Sparks flew up out the back when the exhaust banged against the concrete. Driving far too fast for the close confines, he sped around and around the levels.

Evelyn thought he was crazy. Wouldn't this just trap them here? She didn't ask. The other thing she'd learned about Rhett, was that he usually had a plan.

Near an elevator shaft, he pulled into a parking spot between two other cars and cut the engine. He didn't even bother to take the keys out of the ignition.

“Let's move it.” He reached back to snag all three bags and opened the door to get out.

Evelyn scrambled out her side, running around the back of the car while listening for the SUV elsewhere in the garage.

She didn't hear any screeching wheels or roaring engine. Not yet.

Rhett jammed his finger on the button to call the elevator, then glanced behind them and yanked open the stairwell door instead. “Go, go, go.”

She ran in ahead of him and took the stairs as fast as she dared to without breaking her neck. Down, spiraling one level to another, breath short in her throat. The ends of her hair bounced on her back and sweat beaded her brow. Stress and tension tied her stomach into a painful knot.

“What level are we going in on?” she asked.

“All the way to the first floor,” he replied with a terse edge to the words. He didn't even sound out of breath.

At the next landing, a door with a large number 1 opened under her hand. Breaking into a calmer, slower stride when she stepped into the hallway, she waited for Rhett to step out behind her.

He walked quick despite not wanting to attract undue attention and she half walked, half trotted to keep up.

The hotel, whose name she never saw due to the hectic pace, kept their establishment clean though the signs of age were present in the design and the slightly worn tread on the carpet leading past the doors of guest rooms.

Rhett stopped at the juncture at the end of that corridor and turned right.

“Where are we going?” she asked, getting her bearings.

“The kitchen. Stay close.”

The kitchen? Cooks and chefs and prep people were surely there working the lunch hour. He was going to draw all kinds of unwanted attention.

After another two turns, Rhett shouldered in past a set of swinging doors like he owned the place, chin notched an inch with confidence.

Eight or nine people stopped what they were doing when he barged through the doors, dressed in black with three bags hanging from his hands. They stared.

Evelyn saw the frowns and looks of concern from just behind Rhett's arm.

From a pocket, or somewhere, he flashed what looked to be a badge and made a loud announcement in flawless Greek in a tone that sent chills down Evelyn's spine.

“There's a bomb in the building. Use the front exits. Now!”

A collective clank of utensils and pots hitting counters and the floor came as the workers scattered for the same doors they just came through. Jabbering and shouting, they stampeded down the hallway toward the foyer and main entrance.

Rhett stuffed the wallet with the shield away and ran through the kitchen for the back doors. The aggressive command in his voice and actions assured that none of the chefs or kitchen workers would disobey and follow them out.

Evelyn stayed at his heels, making no eye contact with anyone they passed.

Fleeing out into the daylight just as alarms sounded in the hotel, Rhett led her across a short parking lot and over a hip high, concrete wall. No hurdler by any extreme, she nevertheless planted a palm and vaulted it with little trouble. On the other side, she crouched down when he did. In his wake, she scuttled along the wall and turned into a narrow space between two neighboring buildings.

In the distance, sirens broke the silence.

Exiting the alley into another parking lot, Rhett marched between rows of parked cars until he came to a newer mini van.

“Go around to the passenger side,” he instructed her while getting into one of the bags. Taking out a set of picks, he unlocked the door in less than thirty seconds.

No alarm went off.

Evelyn climbed inside as sirens grew even louder behind them, closer to the hotel.

Rhett tossed the bags in the back after stashing the lock picks and reached under the dash to hotwire the van.

“Was all this part of your training?” she asked, fastening the seat belt because god knew that they were likely to be in some other car chase or close call accident with Rhett driving. Evelyn found herself surprised that they'd managed to ditch the SUV—for now.

“It pays to know how in times like these. Not the first car I've ever taken, won't be the last.” The engine turned over and he wasted no time speeding out of the parking lot onto the street.

“It makes me wonder what else you can do.” She'd wondered often.

Rhett slanted her a devilish grin that answered most, if not all, of her questions.

Away from the other hotel, he changed lanes, cutting someone off. The driver laid on his horn. Rhett paid no attention.

She remembered him telling her that once they'd been pinpointed, then a perimeter was set up according to how many miles they could or could not travel in all directions. The bastards would probably try and seal the city off. Evelyn wasn't even sure where they were, only that the town was moderately sized and to the north of the main interstate. Did these people have enough manpower to totally block every road in and out?

Would they set up checkpoints like they'd done at the last one?

Or would the fake bomb scare keep them busy enough that she and Rhett could slip through their net?

Cutting through her thoughts was a sound that she couldn't at first place, but that made her blood run cold when she recognized it: helicopter blades.

Chapter Seven

“Here, let me take a look.” Alexandra took the initiative and jumped out of the truck.

“You know about engines?” he asked, getting out anyway.

“A little bit.” Alexandra understated her ability because she always did. Even with computers or electronics anything like that. Finding the latch, she popped the hood. It creaked when she lifted it and hooked the metal arm into the slot to hold it up.

“Just full of surprises, aren't you?” Dracht played lookout while she fiddled with wires and tried to see deeper into the engine for possible problems.

Alex cut a grin no one could see since her head was bent forward. “Jealous?”

He laughed. “Why would I be jealous of a slip of a thing like you? Now if you could best me in arm wrestling, or--”

“Hey, just name the time and place and we'll throw down.” She hadn't earned the name of heathen from Evelyn for no reason.

“I just might.”

“Here's the problem. Just a loose wire. Man, they all need to be replaced in the worst way.” Fingers greasy and black, she leaned out of the hood and slammed it closed. Alex wiped her hands on her jeans and hopped back into the truck.

“All we need is for this piece to get us to the docks. Not far now.” Dracht scanned the road both ways before he got in and tried the engine.

It turned over after a stutter and pop.

“You're handy in a tight spot.” After checking the rearview mirror, he swerved them onto the blacktop.

“Maybe one day you can teach me that neat hotwire trick.” Grinning, she reached behind the seat to search for one of the towels she'd seen earlier. Unlucky for her, there was no hand cleaner back there with the rest of the junk. With deft motions, she smeared the muck off her fingers.

“Don't hold your breath.” Dracht snorted, sticking to the outskirts of the city. The truck sounded like an angry, injured bear, but it took them where they wanted to go.

“Hey look, a deli. Why don't we stop quick. Never know when we'll get to load up like this again.” Alexandra's stomach snarled and complained about lack of sustenance. And who was she kidding? The food in Eden, mostly fruit and vegetables because she wouldn't kill animals to eat them, was outstanding, but it wasn't like there were delis on every corner with hoagies to sink your teeth into. Done with the towel, she tossed it negligently behind the seat.

“Might want to put a hat on before you go in. Order for us both and I'll keep watch out here.” Dracht saw the renovated shop and parked a few yards from the door against the curb.

Alexandra rooted around his bag for the hat and put it on her head when she found it. Red and gold with SF embroidered on the front. A wallet sat atop a few folded clothes and she got into it without asking. She didn't have any money of her own—it was all in a bank she couldn't access any longer.

“There's cash in the—I see you found it.” Dracht chuckled, though he never stopped scanning their surroundings. Ahead, behind, side to side. Always attentive.

“Of course I did. What do you want?”

“Anything with turkey on it. Get two.” He put the truck into park and let the engine idle.

“Be right back. Don't go anywhere.” She shut the door just as he snorted and shot an amused look sideways.

Alex kept her face tilted down on her way to the deli doors and used the side of her body to push in. Four people sat at tables, two couples with food already in front of them, and two more stood at the counter deciding what to eat. It was the kind of in-and-out deli meant to encourage people to take the food with them and go, rather than eat in. The tables were small and spare, lined up against walls whose only decoration were fake plants in baskets.

Stepping up behind the customers at the counter, she eyeballed the menu and toyed with the bills in her hand. Tucked into the left corner, high above the counter, a television ran through the upcoming weather and a few ads for shows. Laughter ran low in the background, mingling with the usual sounds of a working delicatessen.

“Well, if I order the pastrami, can I have half of it on rye and the other on sourdough?” the girl in line asked.

“That counts as two separate sandwiches.”

“I don't see why you can't just charge me for the one, because it's the same thing, just on two different types of bread,” the girl argued.

Alexandra bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making snarky comments. She understood Greek as well as her sisters. Understood all languages for that matter.

“I'm not paying for two when I'm only ordering one.” Stubborn, the chick drew a line in the proverbial sand.

The man behind her and in front of Alex sighed.

Two workers, also behind the counter, looked uncertain and wary about the unfolding situation. Alex smiled at one who made eye contact with her, proving she had no intentions of giving the cashier a hard time when it was her turn to order.

The worker stared, then frowned.

Alex wondered if she had a grease streak on her face. She knew she had it on her jeans and there was more in the creases of her knuckles, under her short nails. Just about to ask him why he was looking at her like that, he glanced up at the TV.

She followed suit. There on the screen was a still shot of her face, not quite straight on but from a slight angle. The vivid blue color of her eyes was hard to mistake coupled with her black hair, straight nose and bow shaped mouth. A ticker tape caption said she was a wanted, dangerous criminal with terrorist connections and to call a particular number if spotted. She could just bet that it wouldn't go to the local authorities at all. It would go straight to the bastards hunting them down.

Alex darted a look back at the worker, who was staring at her again. Maybe he couldn't decide if it was really her. Should she wait around and find out? If she left suddenly, that would only increase his suspicion. Moving her gaze away from him, she stared at the back of the customer's head in front of her.

The irate girl at the counter finally got her way; the cashier agreed to make a special deal for her. Just today.

In periphery, Alex saw the other employee murmur to his partner and slink off toward the back of the deli. Damn. That couldn't be good.

Pivoting, Alex headed for the door, bumping into someone else coming in on her way out. She made eye contact with Dracht through the windshield and was impressed how fast, just with a look, that he took in the whole situation.

Barely in the truck, he bolted away from the curb, cutting another car off. Tires bit against pavement and a horn blared.

“What happened?” he asked.

“They've got me on the TV already! Can you believe that? I think it was at the stronghold. Probably Christian snapped me when I wasn't paying attention.” Alex took off the cap and threw it on the seat. The side mirror had a crack in it but worked well enough to show her that so far, no suspect cars had picked up their tail.

“They're desperate to keep us in the country because they know we'll be like needles in a haystack if we slip past the borders.” He snarled displeasure, wheeling into a right turn, pushing the truck to its limits.

“If that kid calls that number, they're gonna know we were here--”

“And that we're probably heading for the docks. Shit.” He spat a curse. “Which also means that they'll be stopping every vessel leaving this part of the coastline.”

“Can we get someone to lie for us? How much money do you have?”

“We can't risk it. Money doesn't mean anything against a threat with guns and search warrants.” He pulled onto another street and gunned the engine; it backfired and died.

Alexandra, for the first time, felt the suffocating sensation of an invisible noose around her neck. Tightening. Cutting off her air. She kicked the floorboard of the truck in frustration while Dracht pulled it over to the curb.

Throwing it into park, he didn't waste time; snatching the bags and the cap, he jerked his head toward her door to indicate he wanted her to get out and got out himself.

Climbing down to the sidewalk, she slammed the door and fell in at his side. He handed her the cap back he'd rescued off the seat and she put it on.

Taking the first alley between a laundromat and a used bookstore, he led her away from the truck and the deli. Cutting through a parking lot and around a line of dumpsters, he aimed for the back of a hotel. Located in an old, white washed building, the establishment could have used some repair and a little paint.

Alexandra hid her surprise when he used a back access door after someone else exited, playing off like he was a customer and had every right to be there. Dracht ushered her in and Alex found herself standing at the end of a long hallway with doors branching off left and right. There were stairs both directions and Dracht turned her toward them.

“Up to the third floor.” Without waiting, he took the stairs by twos.

Alexandra jogged up them at his side. The interior had an old world feel she attributed to the age of the building rather than the paint or décor.

“I don't hear any sirens yet,” she said as they crested the third floor and stepped out into the hallway. Rust red carpet stretched down the corridor, the center where most people walked thin and faded.

“And you might not. They know sirens will tell us where they are, and when they've arrived on the scene. If they were smart, they'd come in silent.” He stalked to a door that didn't have a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on it and knocked in a crisp, businesslike manner.

Whatever else Alex might have said about sirens and silence fell under the pressing weight of a new question. “...what are you doing?”

“Yes?” someone answered on the other side of the door without opening it.

“Wrong room, apologies,” Dracht said. He found another some distance down and knocked again. “We're going to hide out here until the initial wave of interest has passed. They'll be expecting us to flee the city—so we do what they don't expect and sit under their noses.”

No one answered on the other side of the new door. He set down the bags and took out something small, rectangular and thin. It fit between the frame and the lock and in another few seconds, the door swung inward. Dracht picked up the bags and entered with caution. He swiveled looks left and right through the room, obviously looking for occupants who had been asleep or distracted.

It was empty.

“Put the sign on the door for me, will you?” he asked, setting the bags on a single queen with sage green and rust red covers.

A small room by hotel standards, it had one dresser, an older television, a view of a parking lot beyond heavy hanging rust red drapes and a tiny bathroom that needed updating.

Alexandra would be the last to complain; it was a place to stay for the moment out of direct line of fire. She put the sign on the door and closed it, affixing the chain so a maid couldn't barge in on them. Walking across the room, she parted the curtain to look out into the parking lot. No police cars, no government looking vehicles. Yet.

“What do we do if they discover we're stayin' here?” she asked, letting the curtain slide back into place. A sliver of mid-day light slanted into the room, curtailing the need to snap on lamplight. She glanced at Dracht.

At a few inches over six feet, he seemed to fill the room with his size and presence.

“If it's the maids, we pretend we have the wrong room and find another empty one. If they contact the manager, then we'll have to find another hotel. The smaller, less known the better. I think we'll be all right for today though. The parking lot here is less than half full and there are probably a handful of more up to date businesses close by. It'll be dumb luck if they rent this room for tonight.” He packed away the blank, dark card he'd used to get in and stood up.

“We leaving in the morning?” she asked.

“Depends. We'll see if there's anything more on the news, check the morning paper. Staying out of sight right now works in our favor.”

“I'm going to go stir crazy in here with no computer.” She couldn't even tell if the place had wi-fi. Maybe a computer wouldn't work even if she could get her hands on one.

“We'll sit for a half an hour then go down and grab something to eat. Then we should get some sleep while we can.” He took the gun out of the waistband of his pants and set it on the dresser.

“You don't snore, do you?” Sleeping in the same bed as Dracht didn't bother her. He'd earned a level of trust over the course of the week.

He smiled devilishly. “Probably not any louder than you do.”

***

“This is going to get ugly in a hurry if they somehow saw us take this van.” Rhett heard the helicopter at the same time she did. He changed lanes and stayed right at the speed limit.

Evelyn didn't think she could be anymore stressed or tense. “What do you think they'll do? They won't shoot at us, will they?”

He glanced across the minivan like he could feel the fear resonating in her voice.

“Not to kill, just to disable. Remember, they want information more than anything else.” He took a right and sped up, following behind three other vehicles toward a red light.

“But what if they miss?”

“They're not trained to miss.”

“What about you?” Evelyn thought she knew the answer before she asked. Rhett, if it came down to it, no matter who he worked for or with, was expendable.

“Don't worry about me. Let's see if they follow.” He went left at the light, ducking his head to glance out the windshield.

As far as Evelyn could tell, the helicopter was circling back in the area they'd just left. She wrenched around in her seat, glimpsing it in the air. “I see it. It's shiny black--”

“Solid black? Or like with lines separating the paint?” he asked.

“No, no lines. Just solid black.”

“That's them instead of the local authority. We're going to have to find another place to launch. They got lucky that time, but they don't have the manpower to cover every dock in the country.”

Evelyn saw the helicopter swoop away from the direction of the hotel—and toward them. It panned out of view and she twisted the other way, peering between the seats out the back window.

“It's coming...”

“They don't know this is us. Not yet. If we get all erratic, drive crazy, then we'll draw them right to us.” He put another block between them and the hotel.

“Rhett, where in the world are we going to go? They'll know we're somewhere close by. What if the person who owns this van reports it stolen?” She sat back straight in her seat when the helicopter didn't seem to be zoning in on them, only widening the circle it made in the sky.

“Then they'll try and find it just to check and see if we were the ones who stole it.” He hooked a right and another left, always steering away from the direction of the hotel. “As to what we're going to do, we're going to find someone to take us to Ithsmia.”

She saw him looking for something specific on the sides of the road while he drove, hawkish and intent as he'd ever been. Evelyn's heart rate had only just started to settle down after the close call with the SUVs and the semi.

Without warning, he cut across a lane of traffic and pulled into the parking lot of a florist shop. Steering into a space, he left the engine idling and made eye contact with her.

“Stay here. Lock the doors and honk if anyone even looks like they're trouble. I'll only be a minute.”

“But Rhett, I--”

“I'll only be a minute,” he assured her. Like he found her irresistible right then, he leaned over and planted a hard kiss on her mouth.

Then he opened the door and got out.

Evelyn touched her lips where the warmth and tickle of whiskers remained. She locked the doors like he told her and kept a sharp eye out around them. Between the tops of two buildings, she could see the helicopter still circling over the spot Rhett had caused a diversion. As long as it didn't come this way again.

Rhett emerged out the front doors of the shop a few minutes later. Trailing him was a tall young man, impossibly thin, with wire rimmed glasses and a serious expression. Rhett came to the car and opened the door, turning the engine off but leaving the keys in the ignition.

“Let's go,” he said, grabbing the bags next.

Evelyn didn't ask or argue. She got out and followed Rhett and the young man over to the delivery van. White, with a painted on spray of flowers and the florist name on the side, it was roomy enough to fit her and Rhett.

The employee opened up the back doors and gestured them inside, sliding a surreptitious look at Evelyn, then beyond her to the street.

Rhett must have used the same witness protection story he'd used on the last guy.

“Thanks for helping us out,” Evelyn said in fluent Greek.

“Anything I can do to help.” Sober and studious, he nodded.

Evelyn and Rhett tucked themselves between black cone shapes that held bouquets and arrangements upright and a half wall behind the front seat with holes dotting the front for single flower displays.

“Remember, if you come to a check point, just act normal. If they insist on searching, let them,” Rhett told the employee.

The young man nodded and closed the back doors, dousing them into temporary gloom.

“Do you trust him not to call and turn us in?” Evelyn asked, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“I gave him a pretty hefty incentive to do as I asked.” Rhett couldn't make as small of a package as she could, so he stretched his legs out and rested the bags on his thighs.

Evelyn eyed him past her shoulder as the employee got in and started the van. She could smell remnants of flowers all around them.

“And you used the witness protection story?” she asked, whispering so the driver couldn't hear her.

“Mhm. He bought it hook, line and sinker. Seems like a good kid. Didn't see any video cameras in there, either.”

“Maybe, finally, we'll get a break.”

“It's about damn time.”

***

Alexandra stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Skin pink from a hot shower, black hair sticking to her shoulders and back, she thought she looked ridiculously wholesome and more like a college student than a woman on the run. Her teeth shined when she pulled her lips back to check them; Dracht had gone down to get food from the restaurant and she'd used the toothbrush packed in her bag to give them a judicious scrubbing after they ate.

She had a thing about going to sleep with gunk in her gums.

Leaving the toothbrush to dry on the stained sink top, she toweled the rest of the water off her body and found fresh jeans and a new shirt to pull on. Plain, white, short sleeved. Socks, too, and shoes but those were out by the closet. She'd taken advantage at the chance to fill her belly and wash the day's grime away, but she wondered if she'd be able to actually sleep. It was still the middle of the afternoon, the sun bleeding through the cracks in the curtains, and she wasn't used to napping randomly. She supposed she should be more tired than she felt after staying up to talk to Dracht while he drove them away from the blind clearing in the foothills.

He'd gotten a shower before her, brisk and efficient and never letting his guard down—he'd refused to totally close the door to the bathroom so he could hear if anyone tried to get inside. She couldn't help but admire his dedication and perseverance.

Out in the room, she discovered him standing near the window finishing off a bottle of water. In those moments when she caught him unaware, she studied his profile. Strong jaw, masculine brow, full mouth and a goatee lining his chin. He wore his dark hair loose, foregoing a brush to negligently drag his fingers through for style. To look at him, Dracht reminded her of the Templars from centuries past; big, broad, powerful and tough as steel.

She wouldn't have ever expected to find any as honorable and upstanding as Dracht and his brethren. Her skeptic view was undergoing a metamorphosis the longer she knew them.

He turned right then and caught her staring.

Alex wasn't the type to stammer and blush; she smiled and said, “I thought you'd be asleep by now.”

“Not yet. We should both try though while we have the time.” He tossed the water bottle away and snatched his gun off the tiny table. He was fully dressed down to his boots, belt and weapon.

Alexandra put her tennis shoes on first and flopped onto the mattress. It squeaked. “I thought a full belly and a hot shower would make me sleepy.”

Dracht laid back on 'his' side with more care than she had, leaving the gun right by his head on the nightstand. “Maybe if you close your eyes.”

“I'm tryin'.” No she wasn't. She was staring up at the ceiling, trying not to dwell on the fact that she was going home. Going back to Eden. The more she thought about it, the more she didn't want to go.

Wiggling her shoulders into the bed, she arched a hand back behind her head and crossed her ankles over each other. Less than five minutes later, even as she was thinking she wouldn't ever sink into dreams, she succumbed to sleep.

Chapter Eight

After an hour searching the truck stop and surrounding area, after questioning every driver in sight, Dragar gave up and got back into the Landcruiser. His mood wavered between confusion and fury. Confusion that she'd seemed to vanish into thin air, and fury that he'd let her slip out of his grasp. It was his job to protect her, and he couldn't even find her.

How the hell had this happened.

He knew she and Alexandra were adept at self defense, and he'd been right there in the bathroom, close enough to hear any struggle or fight. Either the agents had crept up on them unaware, or she'd done the unthinkable; ditched out because she didn't intend to go back.

Those seemed like the only possible solutions.

A thorough check turned up no one who even remotely resembled government agents, and he'd even questioned some of the truckers, all who said they hadn't seen a thing.

One minute Minna had been there, the next she was gone.

Grinding his molars, he drove back into Athens via every short cut and back street he knew. Parking a half mile away on a knoll, he took the binoculars from his bag and stood in front of the vehicle to bring the stronghold into view. As he suspected, the structure had been seized. Black SUVs sat out front of the gate and more were up near the steps leading to the front doors.

At least he'd had the foresight to have Roman move Christian out of the stronghold and into another, secure location only a few of them knew about. The agents had been left behind with enough food and water to see them through for a week. Dragar, unwilling to risk anymore Templar lives, had dispersed the remaining Knights.

Good thing he'd taken the precaution.

It wasn't often he failed in his missions and it sat ill with him now that he'd lost track of Minna. He should have never let her out of his sight. With contact severed between he and the other two groups, Dragar had no way to meet up with them on the road or catch up at the gate leading to Eden.

Or whatever it was they had to go through to get there.

Cursing under his breath, he got back into the Landcruiser, put the binoculars on the seat beside him, and wheeled away from the site. He couldn't decide if Father Valanzano's phone lines would be compromised but he suspected so. Nothing was ever that secure if people had the right connections. He also didn't want anyone listening in to realize he'd lost Minna.

Maybe they'd snatched her right out from under his nose.

But it did her, nor him, any good to confront the people with the SUVs and get himself captured.

Making a decision, he sped along the back roads, avoiding all main intersections and business districts, toward the sanctuary. Dragar took care to make sure he was not followed; once he was within three miles of the stronghold, he switched back, sped through narrow alleys and made hard turns at the last second to lose any possible tail.

He was getting paranoid in his old age.

There was a good chance that if Dracht or Rhett had trouble, they would phone the sanctuary as a last resort. He intended to be there to intercept their call and pass on the information that one of the sisters was missing.

***

In the dark, cool interior of the florist's van, Evelyn dripped sweat like they were sitting in an oven instead of a car. For twenty minutes, the employee drove them along the route Rhett had specified. So far, they hadn't been stopped. The sound of the helicopter faded not long after leaving the area of the hotel and every time she leaned forward to peek out the front windshield, she saw nothing alarming or startling.

No black SUVs, no blockades, no armed men.

She judged their position to be right around the interstate again, a few miles down from the last place they tried to cross. Once they got past there, some of her tension would ease. Not all, but some. The close call shook her up more than she wanted to admit.

Beside her, Rhett was a solid wall of silence and concentration. A gun rested across his thigh. He'd systematically checked all the other weapons with determination she was becoming used to.

Evelyn marveled over his preparations, the way he carefully arranged other items she couldn't see inside the black bag.

“You have money on you, right?” he asked, too quiet to be heard by the driver.

“Yes. What I had on me and what you gave me earlier.” About four thousand dollars all together, she estimated. Rhett hadn't taken the time to count it out. He'd simply sliced the bills down the middle and handed her half.

“Remember, if anything happens, I'll distract and you get the hell away from here.”

She frowned. “I'm not going anywhere--”

“Evelyn,” he said, a warning in his voice. “You take a gun, an extra clip, and get away. There's enough money to get you into a car, or a hotel room. Something.”

“I think it's better if we stay together--” He cut her argument off with nothing more than a hard stare.

Evelyn refused to wither under it. She stared back, inwardly loathing this part of the process. Who was she kidding? She didn't like any of it.

“Sir?” the driver said from the front seat.

“Yeah?” Rhett answered without looking away from her.

“They're stopping the cars up here.”

“How far?” Rhett snapped a look forward, shifting his attention.

“About a quarter mile up.”

“What else do you see?” Rhett got into the bag and withdrew three more guns. Two he laid right on her lap. “The safetys are on.”

“Uh...looks like a random checkpoint? They're pulling over some cars, not others.”

“Any black SUVs or other out of the ordinary looking vehicles?” Rhett asked, leaning forward to get a glimpse out the front window.

“What are those tank like cars called? Hummers? Two of those and a few unmarked sedans, by the look of it. Undercover something or others, I bet.”

Evelyn, steeling herself, picked up one and tucked it into the front waistband of her jeans. The other she palmed, accustoming herself to the feel of the grip again. A bead of sweat slithered over the edge of her lip and across the seam of her mouth.

“Just act normal, like it's an every day delivery. If they ask to look in the van, stall them as long as you can. If they find us, pretend you had no idea we were in here and tell them you were driving where ever on personal business, not for the florist's shop,” Rhett added. “If they make you open the back doors, dive out of the way immediately after you do.”

“Why not say I'm going to pick up some flowers we're out of?” the driver asked.

“Because they'll check your story, and if you can't back it up, they'll bust you. This way, you're just a victim instead of an accomplice.”

The driver grew silent when he heard that.

“How much farther now?” Rhett didn't let the silence linger long.

“About eight more cars and we'll be there.”

Evelyn pressed her spine against the side of the van, licking the salty bead of sweat off her skin. She longed for the peace of the Kineta hotel room. For a little while, she'd been able to believe all would be right with the world.

“Okay, there's a guy in dark shades walking back to each car, asking the drivers something through the window,” the driver reported.

“Thanks. Don't say anything more now. If they see your mouth moving with no passenger, and no phone, they'll get suspicious faster. Leave the window down so I can hear what they say.” Rhett gathered himself into a crouched position that didn't expose him to anyone's view.

Evelyn met his eyes and held them. She could read his thoughts as well as if he was speaking aloud: If they take me down, get away. Don't stay behind.

She gave no promises in return, couldn't force herself to agree. He thinned his lips in displeasure.

The van inched forward, tires cracking over debris on the asphalt.

A moment later, a man's voice drifted in, Greek flowing quick and free from his tongue. “Has anyone stopped you to ask for a ride today?”

“No one,” the driver said in an airy tone. “What's going on?”

“Have you seen these people?” The sound of paper crinkled as it passed from one hand to another.

Evelyn sucked in a silent breath of air. Pictures of them, it had to be.

“No sir, I haven't.” The sound of paper trading hands came again.

Several seconds ticked off an imaginary clock. Evelyn felt the weight of each one like individual anvils, pressing her shoulders down.

“Do you mind if we check the van? Just a cursory inspection and then you can be on your way.”

“Oh, sure. I have to use the key on the keychain—do you want me to pull over up here or just get out now?” the driver asked.

The second Rhett heard the request to search the van he tucked the extra gun in his hand in his waistband and fished out two odd, black cylindrical objects from the bag. He set those down and tugged out a wide, mesh belt of black that he strapped around his waist. More of the cylindrical grenades and several extra clips of ammunition sat in easily accessible pouches.

Panic started to creep through Evelyn's system. A confrontation was coming, no way around it now. Violence, face to face combat, made her nauseous. She glanced at Rhett. The quickness with which he prepared suggested he must have performed hours of training under strict time constraints. Here she could barely move, barely breathe, and he was busy prepping for war.

Picking up the two cylinders on the ground, he met her eyes and whispered, “Flash bangs. Bright and noisy but not lethal. It'll buy us a few seconds of surprise. While I pin them down, you run. No arguments, Evelyn.”

She wanted to do just that. Argue with him. Over Rhett's instructions, she heard the officer say, “No, you can just get out here and do it.”

Pulling her feet under her, Evelyn mimicked Rhett's crouch. The butt of a gun dug into her ribs, the other a solid weight in her hand. The pep talks started, an inner monologue of self encouragement and reassurance.

You can do this. Don't freeze. Don't panic.

Not today. Today she was going to fight her way free with Rhett. She wouldn't leave him behind no matter how mad it made him.

Keys rattled in the lock of the back doors. Evelyn swiveled to face them.

Rhett, a half foot in front of her, looked ready to take on a whole army. Ready to do whatever it took to protect her.

She licked her lips as one door swung open.

Rhett didn't wait for the second. He yanked the pin with his teeth in one device and tossed it out into the open. Right after, he tugged the pin on the next and threw that, too. The first exploded with a shattering bang and a flash of light, causing a sudden flurry of shouts and screams.

The second added to the chaos times ten.

Rhett hesitated only long enough for the second flash-bang to go off; then he was on the move, both guns in hand, launching out the back onto the asphalt.

Evelyn exited right on his heels, coughing when she passed through a lingering cloud of smoke that was already dissipating on the air. The closed door had protected her from the flash of light and most of the noise, but her ears still rang with the concussion.

People were cowering and running for cover in all directions. Cars that had been waiting behind them backed up, frantic to get away. Too frantic; some hit the cars behind them, causing a cacophony of curses and blaring horns to add to the disruption. Evelyn didn't see the driver or the officer in her dash through the street for the far sidewalk.

Any second she expected to feel someone tackle her or shoot her. Making the curb, she stepped up and turned with the gun raised, ready to cover for Rhett. He was right in the middle of throwing another grenade like a quarterback throws a hail mary; it pitched far down the street toward the cluster of Hummers.

People were still running, hiding, screaming. Rhett, a one man army, wreaked utter havoc on what had been a normal work day for law abiding citizens. Even while the grenade arched through the air, he turned to follow her, boots pounding the pavement. He shot her a hot look that put her into motion.

The third grenade sounded five times louder than the other two. It startled her as she ran but she didn't look back.

“Move it, Evelyn!” Rhett shouted behind her.

She cut up between two buildings, a tiny alley with debris everywhere and a few crates sitting in crooked stacks close to the wall. Dodging them, she picked up speed, hearing screams and horns and other mayhem behind her.

Bursting out of the alley, another street straight ahead, she glanced left and right. Looking for the best place to run. Panicked citizens rushed for cover, diving into stores, under cars, and around corners out of sight. Some just looked startled, as if they wondered whether there was a shootout or something more sinister at work.

Before she made a decision where to go, she heard the telltale clink-clank of a grenade. Rhett swarmed her from behind, pushing her into the street, forcing her to run forward. He covered her while the flash-bang went off somewhere up the road. Even from this distance it made her ears ring.

She wondered if the agents had found them already or if Rhett was just clearing the way.

He rushed her to a sleek looking street bike the owner abandoned in a hurry. Picking it up off the ground, he swung a leg over. She needed no extra encouragement to do the same. He tucked his gun, turned the key that was still in the ignition and shot them forward with gear shifting skill as honed as his weaponry training.

Evelyn hung on with one hand and kept the gun down at her side with the other, breathing so hard that her chest hurt. He veered them onto another street, dodging running citizens, shoulders hunched forward. She bounced on the back when he swerved off the street and into a driveway leading to a park, going right over the grass at a diagonal angle.

Sirens blared through the afternoon and she wrenched a look over her shoulder. One of the Hummers careened around a corner and two other police vehicles shot past it, one turning the other direction.

“Rhett!”

“I hear it.” He didn't look back.

Shooting through a yellow light, he braked hard and turned left, accelerating so fast the sting of the wind made her eyes water. Gun or no gun, she wrapped both arms because she feared she might fall off if she didn't. Finger off the trigger, she grit her teeth when he swerved up onto a sidewalk, scattering people everywhere, and rattled down a set of concrete stairs leading to another level.

Overhead, a helicopter, the shiny black one that looked like a flying bug, cut straight across the street fifty feet ahead. Rhett's evasive maneuvers kicked in immediately: his whole body tensed and he hit the brakes hard. The bike fishtailed, smoke peeling up off the pavement.

Evelyn yelped in surprise, arm clutched around him like a vise.

Swerving right, he headed into a parking lot, zig-zagged between cars, and aimed for a sprawling set of city buildings that spanned an entire block.

The chop-chop-chop of rotor blades overhead reverberated through Evelyn's bones. She glanced up. A helicopter, sleek and black like the SUVs, sliced through the air on their tail.

“Are they going to shoot?” The wind tore the words out of her mouth.

Rhett didn't answer. He entered the maze of city buildings at death defying speed, hitting the brakes hard enough to slam her against his body. They veered into a narrow pass-through between two of the tallest structures. Shadowy from lack of light, she understood why he chose it; the helicopter couldn't follow them in and flying overhead to keep them in view would be difficult to say the least.

Coming to a full stop, he shouted, “Get off!”

“...what? I'm not leaving you--”

“Evelyn, get the hell off the bike. Now!”

Grinding her teeth, she unwrapped her arms and flung her leg over the back.

Rhett jumped off and dumped the bike. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her into a run. Several doors led off the narrow pass-through into each separate building. He stopped to yank on a doorknob.

Locked.

“Why are we going inside? Rhett? Won't they just trap us in there?” Out of breath, she followed to another door. That one opened under his hand.

“Distractions, Evelyn. We need more distractions.” Stepping into an employee lounge, he slowed their pace to a brisk walk. They exited into a series of long hallways branching off three different directions.

He took the one straight ahead that seemed to empty into a much larger, enclosed area.

Evelyn thought it was a city business of some kind, perhaps for registrations and court hearings. Plaques on the walls gave directions to different floors. The place had an overall clinical appearance—shiny linoleum floors, boring paint, ugly accents in nickel plate that smelled as stale as it felt.

So far, they hadn't seen anyone else. That changed when they drew close to the other, large room. She could see people milling about everywhere, waiting for their turn in a line at a long desk whose purpose she couldn't discern. Information, payments, sign-ups. It could be anything.

Rhett didn't hesitate; letting go of her hand, he ripped a flash-bang out of his belt, yanked the pin and tossed it in. It hit the floor with a clank and rolled, drawing several people's attention.

Evelyn shrank back, ducking closer to the wall. She tried to block her ears with her hands but the gun made it difficult. With a quick flick of her thumb, she made sure the safety was on and tucked it into her waistband.

The pop-bang sent people screaming in all directions. A few even ran their way but most stampeded in one general flow toward the front of the building. Rhett snagged her hand and ran into the melee, sinking right into the chaos, flowing out the smoked glass doors with at least eighty other people.

Evelyn bounced off bodies like a pin-ball, managing to stay on her feet with Rhett providing counter-balance and support. The sun blinded her temporarily when they hit the sidewalk and she let the tether of their hands guide her.

Sirens blared at both ends of the street and the helicopter circled like a metal vulture picking over its prey. Officers shouted to no avail, running into the mayhem with their guns drawn.

Evelyn caught glimpses of it all while she ran with Rhett away from the scene, blending in with the panicked crowd who wouldn't calm down until they were well away from the unexpected terror.

It gave them good cover, hid their rush to hide.

They came within ten feet of one of the officers and passed right by without being noticed. If the officer had seen the belt around Rhett's waist, the game would have been up. The frenzy proved a successful distraction.

Thirty feet ahead, police vehicles sat in a haphazard array in the street. One of the black Hummers had been abandoned in the fray, doors standing open. Jogging between two police cars, Rhett guided her to it.

“Get in. Hurry up.” He let her go and hopped up into the driver's seat.

Shocked that he would consider taking this, of all things, she ran around the front and got in. The military design came with several kinds of radios, scanners and other equipment that she didn't recognize.

Rhett closed his door and put the Hummer into gear. The driver had left in such a hurry that the engine was still running.

Risking being seen by any number of personnel, he drove them away, taking the first turn he came to. Reaching over, he flicked on one of the radios.

“Look and see what kind of weapons or anything they have in the back, would you?” he asked.

A blitz of static preceded a man's voice on the radio. “Subjects possibly inside, may have taken hostages. Proceed with caution. Cordon off a ten block area and set up new check points in case they found a way out.”

“They don't think we ran out with the crowd, do they?” she asked, twisting around the seat to look in the back. There was another seat and a broad space behind it.

“They won't leave any option out, but thinking we might still be in there with hostages will slow them down considerably.”

“Not when they realize someone stole one of their cars.” The tension ebbed and flowed out of her voice.

“It could have been anyone. A rebel angry at the system, someone in desperate need--”

“Yeah, us,” she interjected with a scoff. The intense situation demanded a release valve of some sort. When she glanced back at him, she saw the flicker of a grin in the rear view mirror.

“What's back there?” he asked, back to business.

“I don't know what I'm looking at. I see a few black bags like the one you carry behind the seat but I can't see inside them and I can't reach them.”

“All right. That's good.”

“What are we going to do now?” She edged back into her seat and faced forward.

“Try to get past their check point before they realize it's us.”

***

Rhett took every major highway, driving right in plain sight, heading south toward Isthmia. Instead of skulking around on the back roads, they shot toward their destination as brazenly as any other motorist. They passed the interchange and for the first time, Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief. No matter what else, they were finally past that obstacle. Although she needed a drink and had to use the restroom in a ferocious way, she said nothing. Rhett didn't seem the type to get angry about that when they were under the gun, but she didn't want to add more pressure to an already volatile situation.

It seemed impossible to her that it was a couple hours past lunch, on the same day they'd met up with the others in the clearing in the foothills. An entire year could have fit itself between then and now.

On the radio, Rhett had picked up several more blips of information. They'd swarmed the building and announced their discoveries across all channels.

Basement clear.

Fourth floor clear.

First floor clear.

Second and third to go.

No reports of the missing Hummer had come in yet.

Several miles outside of Ithsmia, Rhett pulled off the main thoroughfare and cruised into the city via the outskirts. The ocean spread out before them, blue and inviting, the breeze salty and warm.

It took her a few minutes to realize Rhett wasn't aiming straight for the shore but into an area that she would have described as less than desirable. The rows of apartment style buildings, crowded close in this specific area, needed more than paint and a patch job to fix them.

“What are you doing?” she asked when she couldn't stand it any longer.

“Covering our ass.” He pulled over to the curb with apartments on both sides. “Leave your door open.”

Evelyn glanced across the Hummer at him with a frown. When he got out, she did too. At the back of the vehicle, Rhett opened it up and took out two of the bags. He didn't check the contents, just grabbed them and set them on the ground. After taking his belt off, he stowed it inside one then reached over and disarmed her. The guns both went in with his belt. He zipped the bag closed, picked it up, and started walking away.

Both doors were open and the engine still idled. They could be at the docks in a matter of minutes in the Hummer. On foot it would take longer. Evelyn paced alongside him, staring at his profile, unclear what his intent was.

“In about an hour, probably less, someone will steal it. I'm sure there's a tracking device on it, so those bastards will be led in the opposite direction while we shove off from the coastline.” He didn't look at her, just kept walking.

Evelyn hadn't thought about tracking devices. Maybe they had sent someone to follow the Hummer already, prepared to take it back from whoever stole it.

“Do you think they're onto us yet?” she asked.

“Hard to say. They're distracted and frantic. I'm sure they know it's missing, but if they think we're still inside that building with possible hostages, they'll concentrate there first. Every lead will be explored, no doubt about that. I'm just hedging my bets that a missing Hummer with all that chaos and fleeing people will be farther down on their list for a little while.”

Evelyn followed him through back alleys and behind businesses toward the docks. On foot, Rhett tried to stick to the shadows and the least visible places he could. When he asked her if she needed to stop for a bathroom break, she could have hugged him. While she took care of that, Rhett got them food to go. He'd chosen a small restaurant to make their stop.

As soon as they had their orders, they set off for the docks again.

Not trusting that chaos wouldn't break out any second, she ate on the way. Rhett actually chuckled at her.

“Learning fast, aren't you?” he asked.

“Well you keep saying how we have to take advantage of the time while we have it. I notice you aren't eating though.” She bit into her broiled chicken sandwich, stepping around a pothole in the sidewalk.

“I need another few minutes to come down off the adrenaline rush or the food'll make me sick.”

“You must have been through a lot of--” Mid-sentence, she felt a bee sting sensation in the middle of her back. Not even a full second later, in periphery, she saw Rhett drop everything and yank a gun from his waistband, spinning around with it raised.

He looked fuzzy, strange. His movements reminded her of someone underwater, not quite in control. She dropped her food and slumped to a knee, reaching a hand up behind her. Whatever hit her, she couldn't reach it.

Did bees live by the water?

Could a bee sting through her shirt?

Questions swirled around her mind while a gunshot cracked through her consciousness. A scream built in the back of her throat and she had to put a hand on the concrete to prevent herself from taking a header into it.

Then she was down there anyway, not quite recalling if she'd fallen or tripped, the world spinning and spinning and growing black around the edges.

“Rhett?” She tried to speak. Couldn't tell if she did or if it was just the desire to. Temple to the ground, she saw everything sideways: the dirty base where the wall met the sidewalk, a gum wrapper, half of a brick, Rhett's boot. She blinked to no avail.

The blackness swooped in and claimed her.

Chapter Nine

Haifa, Israel, bustled with late afternoon activity. The city had the same, ancient feel on her skin as certain places in Greece. It felt like home. Domes and spires and other architectural wonders decorated buildings, offset by pristine landscaping that accentuated the surroundings, built to draw the eye.

Minna, after departing the vessel that carried her across the Mediterranean from Crete, hired a car and driver to ferry her to Jersualem. It was less hassle, and faster, than trying to take the train. Ensconced in the back seat, she regarded the landscape out the windows and discouraged conversation with the driver so that she didn't have to answer too many questions about her visit. Her past. Whatever might come up.

News spilled out of the radio between music and she caught up on the headlines while the driver skillfully put miles under the tires as quickly as he could. The bonus she'd offered him to get her there in good time gave him something to look forward to.

In modest slacks and a linen button down shirt of pink, with the cream scarf draped over her head and under her chin, she could have passed for any tourist in for a visit.

Being here reminded her of centuries past, when the first murder of one of her sisters took place. Back when Jerusalem had been at war, when the Templars rode the land with their symbols brazenly marked on their tunics and swords. She had developed a deep seated loathing for the Knights when she realized their intent was to eradicate the daughters of Eve from the earth. Like the rest of her sisters, she couldn't comprehend the aggression, the hate.

Now, after Dragar and the current help from the modern Knights, things were a lot clearer. Suspicion was the catalyst for many unfortunate events in history, whether there was truth behind it or not, and although she didn't see eye to eye with the separate sect of Templars who had hunted them, she finally understood their reasons. Paranoia and fear made men, and women, do desperate things.

Forgiveness was supposed to be in her genes, had been a strong trait of her personality all her life, but she didn't know if she could ever forgive the men who had so brutally killed her innocent sisters.

These thoughts consumed her while her ride closed the distance on Jerusalem. When they reached the outskirts, it brought a smile to her face no matter how many devastating things had happened here. There was an underlying tranquility despite the political upheaval she leeched from the ancient city. No matter how many wars or bombs or battles had or would be fought here, Minna felt the spiritual pull of the rocky terrain, the cobbled pathways and old structures as if it were a stepping stone to heaven itself.

Paying the driver after he dropped her off at a cafe, Minna bought a local paper and a cup of coffee, careful to keep a low profile. She couldn't rent a car because they would ask for too many forms of identification that she didn't have, and didn't want to use. But there were tours to the Dead Sea by private parties and she memorized two of the numbers to call to arrange it. If one didn't work out, the other probably would. With dusk closing in, she would have to wait until tomorrow to depart.

That left her to find somewhere to spend the night out of the public eye. Not a difficult task for a girl who'd spent the youngest years of her life living off the landscape.

***

The Dead Sea stretched out before her, a glistening pool of blue with solidified chunks of salt lining the shore. Foothills and mountains rimmed the body of water, adding a jagged silhouette against the horizon. Heat beat down from a sun propped up in a cloudless sky.

Minna took it all in with a deep breath of familiarity. The last time she had been here, the terrain looked much the same, yet different. No signs of life other than the water had been visible back then, no resorts dotting the landscape. No people, few animals. The heavy salinity level of the Dead Sea made it impossible for it to sustain life either within the water or without.

Now, several hotels and spa type establishments nestled right up to the edge of the Sea. The tour she'd rented a ride on held eight sightseeing passengers plus the two guides. They drove the fifteen miles in a somewhat abused van that nevertheless got them where they needed to go in good time. The visitors, all of them from out of the country, were a chatty bunch: two Germans, three American college students, a couple from Britain, twin sisters hailing from Japan and herself.

During the ride, she'd made small talk with all of them, gently deflecting questions that got too personal. Once they were on the ground, Minna pretended to explore and examine the unusual salt deposits while separating herself from the group. With care, she worked her way over a particularly rough patch of ground and along the front of a sharp edged foothill with pocked caves facing the water.

Several times she checked to make sure no one was watching. Even if the others discovered which one she'd went into, and came back to check for themselves, they would never find what she was looking for.

Still, she took precautions before entering through the narrow mouth of a cave. Many people had been here before her, and thousands would come after. As dark as it was, she could still see the worn places on the rock where hands had smoothed the stone down and remnants of tourists remained in other places: a dropped pen cap, a skinny scrap of paper, the signature Bill H. was here written on the wall with a Sharpie marker.

Minna pressed deeper, squeezing past a jutting piece of rock that nearly cut the rest of the cave off from the front. A large boned person would have extreme difficulty overcoming that obstacle. But she was petite and slender and stretched her hand up to elongate her ribs to fit. Gloomier still back here, where the light from the mouth didn't bleed through as thoroughly, the cave widened out again and branched off in two directions; left, and right. Setting a hand to the wall, she followed it by feel rather than sight when she sank into the deeper recess of the fork to the right. She'd brought along a small pen sized flashlight but didn't need it.

An array of scratches and gouges marred the surface of the rock and she read them like braille, fingertips rising and dipping, skimming with increasing familiarity. All of a sudden, her hand sank into nothing. The hole, three feet wide, didn't stop her moving forward. When she felt cool stone again, she counted three steps and stopped. Turning to face the wall, she rose up on her tiptoes, arm stretched above her, following a scratched guide up to a set of indentations roughly three inches deep. There was no pattern to them, and they were not the only ones in the wall. The depression to the left of the center was almost too high for her to stick her thumb into and push.

Nimble, she stretched until she felt the small rock give.

A hiss slithered through the confines of the dark cave.

Minna stepped back to the dark hole and flattened her palms on a piece of rock lining the bottom of the big gouge. She had to use all her weight to make it slide down the five inches she needed. It rumbled and gave her trouble.

After all, it hadn't been touched in two thousand years.

Sweating with exertion, she lifted her palms off after it sank the required depth. To the left, where the rock had been, was a slit in the stone the width of a manilla envelope and four inches high. Her fingers came into contact with a leather encased object and carefully, she withdrew it.

Minna couldn't see, but her mind's eye provided details as if a light was shining right down on the book she removed. The spine and cover consisted of worn leather bearing symbols and runes. It cracked and dust billowed up when she opened it. Coughing, she waved at the air in front of her face.

When her hand came down, it settled on a stiff, leather page. Catching the edge, she turned five more pages before halting. Skimming again, her fingertips encountered several smaller discs of clay surrounding a larger one nestled into niches in the leather. The small ones were the size of half dollars, the large one the size of a tea cup plate. On the surface of each, depictions of different things lurked.

The sun.

Insects.

Ripples, like water.

The large disc had myriad symbols; stars, the earth, the moon, the ocean and flames.

Minna paused when her hand moved back to the smaller disc depicting the sun. Once she cracked the seal, there was no going back. There would be no replacing this disc, although she didn't think they would need to when the time came, and no hiding the phenomenon from any person on earth.

If she took this step, she could never reverse the consequences. Not just from the population, but from the Guardian.

Her thoughts turned to the Garden. Green, beautiful, vast. Waterfalls spilled over high cliffs and short ones alike, making pools at the bottom as clear as bathwater. Palms and oaks and redwoods all owned space there, sometimes together, sometimes in their own groves. There were trees unlike any other humans had set eyes on as well.

Trees she sometimes missed seeing.

But did she miss that perfect tranquility so much she was willing to give up this life to have it? Perhaps if there had been other people inhabiting Eden, too. When they went back, there would be only three. Conversely, it was no kind of life being hunted into the ground.

She glanced down as if she could see the disc in the dark. Tracing the outline, she weighed her decision one more time.

Tranquility, or companionship. Safety, or stimulation.

Life, or death.

Picking up the disc, she held it between her fingers.

The snap echoed much louder in her ears than it did in the cave.

Chapter Ten

An hour after the break of the seal in the cave, Alexandra popped her eyes open to see the ceiling of the hotel room. She had slept most of yesterday afternoon and early evening away, leaving her restless and pacing all night. Dracht had come and gone in bed, sleeping in short shifts that she noticed as a hazy kind of afterthought between dreams. When they were both awake, they wiled away the hours planning where to go from here. How to get out of the city and across the Mediterranean.

Gauging by the sunlight streaming in through the windows, there was a handful of hours left in the day. So far they'd been lucky that the hotel hadn't rented this particular room to anyone else. Flinging her legs over the side of the mattress, she rubbed sleep out of her eyes and stood up.

Dracht sat in a chair by the window, rolling the cap on and off a bottle of water. He glanced over. “Feel refreshed?”

“Better than I was yesterday before we slept at all,” she admitted with a yawn. “Think we're safe enough to start making our way through the city to the coastline again?”

“Probably. I think we should go when dark falls. It'll hide our movements.”

Alex stepped over to the window and peeled the curtain further back to look outside. She squinted while her eyes adjusted to the light change. There were no suspicious people lurking around the hotel, no strange vehicles in the parking lot.

“Sounds good to me,” she said and let the curtain fall back into place.

“Will you be all right up here while I go down and grab us some food and another couple waters to take with us?” Dracht asked, rising up out of the chair. He set the bottle on the table with a thump.

“You know it, big guy. Get me two waters, will ya?”

He tugged a piece of her hair when he walked by. “I'll think about it. See you in ten.”

“I'll pack up while you're gone.” She swatted at his hand and missed when he snatched it away. Alexandra would have bet ten years off her life she wouldn't have ever had this kind of relationship—budding friendship—with a Templar.

At the door, Dracht winked and let himself out.

Alex hit the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and started packing up what little she'd left on the counter. Toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush. Dracht didn't have any personal belongings out at all. In less than ten minutes she was done, bag by the door, face splashed with cold water and hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Dracht returned exactly when he said he would, hands full of bags and drinks. Using his boot to close the door, he shuffled off a bag to her so he could throw the locks and follow her to the table near the window.

She ate her hamburger and fries with more relish than she might have a month ago. Man, she would miss the hell out of french fries. Dipping one in a gob of ketchup, she jammed it in her mouth and was just about to speak around it when the sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains doused to a strange color like pewter.

Dracht threw down his food and was up on his feet, gun in hand, before Alex could even set down her burger.

Was someone about to come through the window? They would have had to scale the side of the building to do that, which wasn't out of reach of determined men. Almost choking, chewing and swallowing painfully, she got up and sought out the extra gun for herself.

Dracht stood to the side of the split in the curtains, then peered through the opening with a stunned, perplexed expression. The pewter dimmed further, as if someone had pulled the plug on the sun, sinking the room into a deep gray gloom.

“What in the mother of god...” Dracht lowered his weapon, nose to the window, staring up at something she couldn't see.

“What is it? What'd they do?” She checked the clip on the gun and crowded him; if it was safe for Dracht to be looking out, it was safe for her to.

For three full seconds, Alexandra didn't comprehend what she was seeing. The sun had turned black. Light that filtered through looked like the twilight time in the early morning when mist clung to the treetops. Darker, though, spreading out through the atmosphere and over the earth as an eerie gray film.

It was one of the creepiest things Alexandra had ever seen.

When her brain caught up with itself, when realization hit, she accidentally dropped the gun and gasped. The weapon hit the toe of her boot and landed on the floor.

“Oh, oh no.” It couldn't be.

“What is that, Alexandra? I've never seen the sun do that before, not even during a full eclipse.” Dracht stared at the sky with the same look Alex figured she'd been wearing a moment before.

“Someone's broken one of the seals.” Alexandra let that sink in. Really sink in. Stepping away from the window, forgetting about the gun, she tried to figure out what was going on.

“What seal? What are you talking about?” He twisted his shoulders and head around to see her but didn't leave the window.

“I'm talking about the apocalypse, Dracht. Armageddon.”

***

Evelyn flinched at the strong odor searing through her nostrils. She turned her head away only to have it come again, more potent than before. Coming to with a snap, she opened her eyes. A man stood in front of her waving a small white stick under her nose. The details were still hazy while her mind tried to catch up with the sudden return to consciousness.

Jerking upright, she tried to raise her hands in defense but realized her wrists were secured to the cushioned arm of a wingback chair. When her vision cleared, a gentleman with sharp features, jet black hair and green eyes came into view. He wore a strict suit of black offset by an ivory shirt and ice blue tie.

“Good, you're awake,” he said, returning to the corner of a large, polished desk where he took a seat on the edge. Tossing down the stick, he wiped his fingers on a damp cloth and regarded her like she was a bug under a pin.

More details filtered in: a large, round shaped office with windows arching around one entire side. Floor to ceiling, they let in an enormous amount of sunlight. A potted ficus sat near a set of cherry bookcases filled with tomes whose spines she couldn't read but that looked expensive and detailed nevertheless. She took all that in with her first scan of the room.

With a twitch of clarity, she finally remembered how she got here.

“Where's Rhett?” she asked, swerving her attention back to the well dressed man.

“Don't worry about Rhett right now. How are you feeling?” A considerate tone accompanied his question.

“I'm not saying anything else until I know he's okay.” If these were her kidnappers, the elite of the elite, they had her up high somewhere in a room far removed from the one the sect of Templars kept her in.

“He's fine. A little angry at being detained, but fine. I'm Roth Bryant. You are?” He tilted his head forward in anticipation of her name.

Evelyn licked her lips and tested the strength of the rope that bound her to the chair. Thin but strong and somehow soft. It didn't chafe her skin like the ones the Templars used. A pleasant scent hung in the air, over riding the clinical sting the smelling salts left behind.

“I want to see him.” The cleanliness and professional state of the room felt bizarre in accordance with how she was being detained and held for questioning. As scary as the underground room beneath the church had been, there was something psychologically sinister about this she couldn't put her finger on.

It seemed too...normal. It infringed on the belief that public places were relatively safe and that nothing bad could happen in such a bright, well lit room.

The man, Roth, considered her request. After a full thirty seconds, he pushed to a stand and crossed to her chair.

Evelyn immediately recoiled, expecting to be struck. All he did was turn her chair a quarter degree to the right. He was strong under the monkey suit that probably cost as much as the down payment on a small mortgage.

A large flatscreen television sat flush against the paneled wall and Roth reached for a remote that sat on a stand a few feet below it. Depressing a button, he brought the TV to life. Scrolling through a menu made of roman numerals, he chose VIII and the screen went from blue to a shot of an enclosed room with steel walls and a chair with Rhett sitting in it. Stripped to the waist, bandages ripped off the two bullet wounds on his shoulder and side, he looked like he'd already been worked over two or three times.

Bruises marked his face, his chest, his arms.

Fury replaced the disorientation and confusion. She sat forward like that might help her assess his condition better. He was conscious and staring at something across the room from him that was out of camera angle range.

“Rhett! What have you done to him? I demand you release him.” Evelyn found her tongue, finally, and glared at Roth.

“We all know why we're here, don't we?” Roth asked in a conversational tone. He didn't look at the TV, but at her. “So let's save everyone time and heartache and cut to the chase. All my bosses want is the location of Eden. You give us that, and we'll release both of you.”

Evelyn didn't believe him. Release both of them? These men might not believe what the Templar sect had, that she and her sisters were spreading evil over the earth, but she knew the location and that made her dangerous. These men wouldn't risk her leaving here to spread the word elsewhere.

“I'm not telling you anything.” She maintained eye contact with Roth.

“I think you should consider your answer again.” He never raised his voice, didn't openly threaten her.

Yet she felt threatened anyway. Shifting in the seat, she glanced briefly at the TV then back to Roth. “I don't have anything to say.”

He tilted his head forward an inch. “Are you positive?”

Calm, cool and collected, Roth regarded her in a way that made her skin crawl. It was the impassive, determined gleam in his green eyes, so different from the blatant hate of the Templar sect, that told her this man was capable of anything.

She said nothing.

Roth set the remote down and pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of his suit jacket. Pressing one number, he waited only a moment for someone to answer.

“Hammer the wound on the top of his shoulder.”

Evelyn, eyes widening, snapped a look to the monitor. Someone entered the line of the camera in front of Rhett, a tire iron in his hand. Rhett watched him with wary, cold eyes, his expression giving nothing else away.

“No!” A scream ripped from her throat when she saw the stranger in the room lift the tire iron and bring it down hard on the gunshot wound she had given him in an alley in Egypt. She had only taken a chunk out of the top of his shoulder instead of shooting him straight through. When the iron hit it, fresh blood burst from the wound and Rhett jerked back in the chair, releasing a shout of pain. It lanced straight through her, that sound. Rhett, who'd done so much, risked so much, was now suffering because of her refusal to speak.

How far would she let it go? How far would they go?

All the way. She knew it without having to be told that they would do whatever it took to get what they wanted.

Roth lowered the phone. “Now then. Where. Is. Eden?”

Evelyn couldn't look away from the monitor. Fear ate at her insides like a live animal, gnawing and shredding, creating new wounds of her own. If she led Roth on a wild goose chase across the world, searching in vain for Eden in places it didn't exist, how would he extract his vengeance? It might buy her time to think of a way to get her and Rhett out of here, but if she failed to free them, and Roth discovered she'd lied, she knew he would force her to watch something even more horrible happen to Rhett.

“If you thought the last injury was bad, it'll be nothing compared to what I'll do to him next,” Roth informed her.

His informal, conversational tone infuriated her. Grated on her nerves. Every muscle in her body ached with tension at the thought of Roth getting on his phone to order another heinous crime against Rhett.

Roth lifted the phone to his ear again. “Take a--”

“No! Wait!” Evelyn shouted at the top of her lungs when Roth got impatient and started to order another strike. “I need a piece--”

Her words faded when the orange glow streaming through the windows suddenly turned gray. Different than when clouds moved in front of the sun, different than the eerie pall of an eclipse. This was bizarre, unnatural, strange.

Roth must have thought so, too, because he looked startled when he glanced at the windows the same time she did. The sun was too high to see from the office but the rays it cast down were proof enough that some event was happening with it.

“What the hell is that?” Roth stalked to the tall windows and looked out. Looked up.

Evelyn couldn't leave the chair. She watched shock and confusion cross Roth's face.

“What's going on? Why is the whole day so gray out there?” she asked. A tickle of memory teased her senses, ancient and primordial, something she couldn't grasp onto to understand as stressed out as she was.

She needed to see the sun.

“It's black. The sun is...black,” he said. The cool, collected gentleman fled in favor of growing disbelief and bewildered fear.

The sun is black. Black sun, red moon. The apocalypse.

“Let me up, let me see it! ROTH!” She shouted at him, jerking her body in the chair to try and move it. Loosen the ties on her arms. Something. She couldn't just sit here.

Roth stared upwards as if angels themselves were descending from heaven, mouth moving with silent words of awe, shock.

In the hallway outside the doors to Roth's office, Evelyn heard running feet. Urgent whispers. People were noticing, of course they were noticing—no one in the world would miss it. Evelyn knew that either Ashrael or one of her sisters had broken a seal. They all knew the location, knew what to do if the time came. It was one of the other reasons they'd been allowed to leave Eden, marked, sent on a mission to make good in the world.

If, when, all the signs came that signaled the imminent downfall of mankind, they were to break the Sixth seal. Evelyn wouldn't have thought they were to that point quite yet. Yes, wars were erupting all over the middle east. Humans were increasingly greedy, hungry for power any way they could obtain it, even if it meant lying, cheating or stealing from their fellow man. Governments were perilously close to either forcing or coercing the people to insert a chip that would track them where ever they went.

No place on the face of the planet would be safe. Your life would not be your own. Everything you ever did, ever thought, ever experienced would be saved and processed by people whose only motivation was to corral and contain and control you. Of course the guise was that it was for your own good, a precaution, a speedier way to exist. Nothing was ever fast enough anymore, from the ATM machine to the fast food restaurant to the connection to the internet.

Soon, humans would be rushing around at mach three, barely time to breathe, complaining everything was still too slow.

And wasn't she even guilty of some of that? Her reasons for not wanting to return to Eden were because she'd become used to and addicted to the incessant stream of stimulation provided by television, radios, computers and the millions of people who lived here with her. Life was convenient these days, something to do always at her fingertips; games, music, travel, conversations by telephone and streaming video. A glut of overindulgence awaited around every corner. She had become just one more product of the millennium, another body paying taxes, mind warped by a continual onslaught of infomercials and disinformation coming from every possible direction.

Discerning the truth in the twenty-first century was like trying to count every star in a midnight sky; impossible.

The thought of going back to Eden, without its telephone poles and electric grids and special effect movies and chili-cheese fries seemed dreadfully boring.

Despite all that, the sharp downward spiral, Evelyn still thought there was a glimmer of hope out there. She'd seen it first hand; the teacher staying past the school hour to help a child in need, volunteers in hospitals and shelters and food lines, someone stopping to help another with a flat tire, a bill paid by an anonymous donor to an elderly citizen whose heat was about to be shut off in the dead of a brutal winter, firefighters and policemen risking their lives on a daily basis, the military men and women fighting in honor of their country. She'd seen the people at barbecues and fairgrounds and beaches all with their smiling faces tilted to the sun, basking not in the heat but the sheer joy of living.

For those moments, only being alive mattered.

There was still something here left to save. Humanity was not at its end. Somewhere there was a middle ground, a peace between commerce and nature.

Rough hands on the binds at her wrists startled her back to reality. Roth used a pocket knife to slice through the ropes.

“Do you know what this is? Did you or your sisters do something between the time you left the stronghold and the time we caught you? Did you?” he demanded.

Yanked to her feet, she stumbled when her legs threatened to give out. They were asleep from too much time in the chair. She thought Roth might have entered a state of denial on the heels of his awe and fear. The unknown had a way of affecting people strangely.

“I don't know what's going on, just let me see.” Evelyn didn't need to see; she knew this was nothing normal. At the window, she touched her temple to the cool glass and slanted a look up toward the sun. It looked wrapped in fine, black cloth with brackish rays streaming down.

Someone had definitely broken a seal. Living as long as she had, with so little change in the earth itself regarding cosmic disasters, seeing the sun like that shocked her. She could imagine the panic that must slowly be gripping the populations of the earth as they realized something catastrophic was happening.

Not even Roth's admission that he'd known she was at the stronghold or his guess that she, Alex or Minna might have set this off could shake her from her fixation with the sun.

What she did know, was that they had to get to Eden as soon as possible. With the mark on her wrist, she was safe from certain kinds of death during the apocalypse, but she could still drown or burn to death, among other things.

Snapping a look away from the window, she met Roth's gaze. “I can tell you that I didn't do this. But it's an undeniable sign. Do you have family? Children, parents, a wife? Brothers and sisters? If you value their life along with your own, then you need to let Rhett and I go. I might be able to stop this before it's too late—I can't do it locked in a room tied down to a chair.”

Roth's composure fled. He frowned, then yanked her close, almost nose to nose, by her arm. “Do you think I'm stupid? Maybe this is a trick you're capable of in times of dire need, hm? Maybe you and your sisters have a gift for making biblical type events happen--”

“Are you crazy? We're not capable of magic,” she shouted. “That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, that someone could just snap their fingers and make the sun go black. Tonight, the moon will turn red. It's part of the prophecy, just like what's happening with the sun. Chaos is going to break out shortly, is probably starting already. If I can't get where I need to go, there will be no stopping this.”

“You're taking us with you. The hell if I'm just letting you walk out that door after all this time and effort. We need several hours to gather our families--”

“What? You actually believe I'm going to waltz you somewhere safe? There is nowhere safe!” It was half truth, half lie; once the apocalypse was too far advanced, nowhere on earth would be safe. But all who made it past the gates of Eden would survive. The thought of tainting that sacred place with men like Roth and his ilk, people who had helped advance the world to what it was today, turned her stomach. She'd rather die than be stuck in Eden with only them.

Out in the hallways, she could hear the panic escalating. The situation outside was not righting or fixing itself and tonight, after the sun sank below the horizon, the red moon would rise and edge the panic into pandemonium.

Evelyn stood her ground against Roth, breathing fast and shallow, refusing to glance at the television to see how Rhett was doing. If she didn't press upon Roth to release her, right now, Rhett wasn't going to make it anyway. It might already be too late, but she had to try.

Roth, after several minutes of tense, silent internal debate, shook his head. “You, nor he, are going anywhere. Your little ploy about stopping this in time is just a desperate attempt to gain freedom. We'll see if a red moon rises. If it does, we'll decide what to do then.”

“If you wait that long, you won't like what comes next.”

Chapter Eleven

The sanctuary was a deceiving bit of property. It sat on a cliff overlooking the ocean, but the majority of the stronghold wasn't above ground—it was beneath it. There were no gates and no guards to bypass, only a long drive on a road posted Private Property. Trees crowded the pathway after two curves, then broke away to expose a rather modest structure built of stone.

Less than a thousand square feet, the building resembled a maintenance shed more than it resembled a home, with no windows anywhere on the four walls. Security was tight, with cameras angling in from five different positions, all invisible to the naked eye unless one knew where they were hiding.

A steel enforced door was the only way in or out. To open it required a key for the lock, a long sequence of numbers for the keypad, and the correct thumbprint for the thumb scan.

Inside was an elevator shaft and a stone spiral stairway beyond another door that needed to be opened the same way as the first one. The elevator only worked with a correct sequence on the keypad.

After a two flight descent, the elevator doors slid back to reveal a subterranean home. A large room with polished floors, rugged walls and a high, jagged ceiling sported updated, modern furniture in earth tones that complimented the design. Three bedrooms, an office and an interrogation room were located off the living area. A galley style kitchen sat to the right with a view of the elevator and stairway door.

The biggest draw of the sanctuary was the ceiling to floor windows along one entire wall. Cut out of the cliff face, it overlooked a commanding view of the ocean. Bulletproof and all but impossible to breach with the treacherous rocks below, the panes allowed copious amounts of light to pour in unabated.

Dragar had found Roman stirring a drink in the kitchen when he'd arrived and they'd wasted no time getting down to brass tacks.

“She what?” Roman queried, looking shocked.

“Disappeared. I don't know what happened to her. One second she was in the restroom next to me at a truck stop, the next she was gone.” Dragar rattled ice around his glass. Christian was in the interrogation room, asleep. He let him have his rest for now.

The debate about Minna went on for several hours before Dragar finally woke his son. They had an extensive discussion where Dragar leaned on the young man regarding honor and his commitment to the cause.

He did not mention where his brothers were, or that the daughters of Eve were with them. Dragar especially did not announce Minna's disappearance.

After dinner, Dragar checked the supplies in the large storeroom off the kitchen. They kept three months worth of food here at all times and Roman had added to that as he'd asked. Eight more flats of bottled water were stacked against the wall and the shelves were full. If they needed to stay down here for an extended stay, they were ready to go.

Their routine settled into an easy blend of sleep, exercise—rope skipping, free weights, a rowing machine—and keeping up on current events. The fifty-three inch flatscreen blared news from all over the world.

What none of them could have predicted or imagined, was the wane of sunlight one afternoon, as if clouds blanketed the sky, turning the whole day gray. It drew all three men to the enormous windows, where they saw it was nothing as innocuous as a brewing storm.

“My God,” Roman breathed, hands flat against the glass.

“What the hell?” Christian stared at the anomaly with confusion.

Dragar said nothing at all. It did not take superior powers of deduction to understand this was more than a solar flare or a simple eclipse. He suspected he was not the only one wondering at the coincidence of the daughters of Eve's existence coming to the fore in conjunction with this event.

What he did know was that he had two other sons out there, unreachable by phone or any other device, exposed to the chaos that was surely coming.

***

“Armageddon? Are you kidding me?” Dracht faced Alexandra while the full effect of the black light filled their hotel room.

“I wouldn't ever kid about something like that.” She could hear people starting to come out of their rooms in the hallway. A distant squeal of brakes heralded a crack and crash when one car bashed into another.

The chaos was starting.

People didn't know what they were seeing, and those who did were about to react in unimaginable ways. From crying to panicking to mayhem.

“Why is it happening now? Does this have to do with you and your sisters?” Dracht looked out the window again.

“It's been in the prophecies forever but it doesn't have to do with me and my sisters specifically. We knew it would happen someday—but I have to be honest, I didn't expect it this soon. We all know where the seals are, and part of our mission here wasn't just to spread goodwill among men. When we saw all the signs of humankind's demise, we were supposed to begin the apocalypse. We all had the power to, but none of us ever thought we would be the ones to break the first seal. The Guardian of the East Gate has the power and so do several other Guardians walking the earth. It could be one of them. Maybe it really is time.” She realized that while she'd rambled, she had slung her bag over her shoulder in preparation to leave.

Dracht left the window, leaving the bottle on the table. He bent to pick up the gun she'd dropped, dark eyes serious and sharp. “So what you're saying is that the End has begun.”

She nodded and took the gun when he handed it to her.

“Is there no way to stop it?” he asked.

“It depends. I mean, it isn't like they rehearse this, you know? It's not a play or a game. But, it's possible Evelyn or Minna decided that the world had devolved to the point of breaking a seal. Especially with all that's gone on lately. Humans have hovered on the brink for a long time but with genetically modified food and clones and wars and famine and now the slow spread of chipping—it could be that one of them thought the scales had been tipped. If you ask some people, we've been in decline for a lot longer than the last decade. If it is Ev or Minna, and I got there before too many more seals were broken, then maybe we can stop it. Maybe. Once the first seal is broken, the Guardians are alerted. If the second seal goes, thousands of people will die--”

“What's the second seal?” Dracht asked, clear strain in his voice.

“The first is the black sun, red moon. Tonight, when the sun sinks below the horizon, a red moon will rise. The second seal will release a plague, and the third seal will bring rain. Rain like in the time of Noah, though the entire earth won't be covered. Those are all smaller seals of the Sixth Seal itself, like precursors. If the Sixth Seal itself is broken—it's bad news. Earthquakes and epic storms and volcanoes erupting. Hell on earth. Breaking the Sixth Seal is step one. Then it's the First through the Fifth Seals to call up the Horsemen and if they break them all, the apocalypse will be unstoppable.”

“So these are smaller seals that belong with the Sixth,” Dracht said, as if he needed to get his facts straight. He had his hands up, gesturing to an invisible main seal and others around it.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Are there other seals that belong with the other main ones? The First, Second--”

“No, no. The Sixth Seal is the only one with separate, smaller seals.”

“And there will be no place left on earth to hide if all the seals are broken?” A muscle twitched in Dracht's jaw.

“No place on earth. We would be safe in Eden, though. We've always known we'd end up back there one day. It will be the place those who survive it start over.”

“But I thought you just said no place on earth--”

“Dracht,” she said, taking a step closer. “It's difficult to explain. Eden is here, but...not here. And we're wasting time talking when I should be leaving.”

“I'm not letting you go by yourself.” He grew defensive, posture stiffening.

“You don't have a choice.”

Chapter Twelve

Minna couldn't see the weak fingers of light penetrating the front of the cave from her spot along the right fork, but she knew the sun must have gone black by now. Three hours had passed since she'd broken the seal. More than enough time to set things in motion. She was sure the tour van had already left, ferrying the frightened people back to Jerusalem. With her back leaning against the opposite wall, she stared into the blackness and contemplated her next move.

Tonight, a red moon would rise, keeping the population in upheaval. Tomorrow, she should break the next seal, releasing a plague that would blanket the earth as thoroughly as any mighty rain shower. And that was the final seal in the set of the Sixth. Rain. An inescapable deluge accompanied by fierce storms that were really nothing compared to what would be unleashed with the destruction of the Sixth Seal itself.

Making it back to Eden would be a harrowing, dangerous journey.

If anyone was up to it though, she was.

Minna had been ready her whole life.

Stepping forward, she touched the wall beside the hole and followed it back toward the main cave entrance. Gray light filtered in through the opening, making it seem as if darkness was ready to settle over the land. Squeezing past the protruding piece of rock, she made her way to the mouth of the cave and stepped out.

The Dead Sea looked like an iron plate, the sky like blackened silver. And the sun, oh, the sun. Dipped in ink, the rays it radiated turned the landscape into a monochrome theme that looked as foreign as it felt. If death itself could have colored the world, this is what she imagined it would look like. Bleak, dismal, uninviting. Even in the darkest throes of night, stars dressed the sky and the moon hung like a fat silver coin, casting down an ethereal glow that many poets had immortalized in verse and song.

But this. This did not belong.

Retracing her steps, she found the spot she left the van and other tourists behind. Both were gone. Not one person left in sight.

It was just as well. The next stage would be uglier than the first.

***

“What, exactly, comes next?” Roth demanded, hustling her away from the window back to the chair. He all but shoved her down to sit.

Evelyn sank down into the seat, getting a glimpse of Rhett on the monitor. He looked like he was managing the pain, features twisted into a grimace. Blood flowed in thin streams from the opened wound over his chest and down his abdomen. Back to Roth, Evelyn frowned.

“The only thing I'll tell you is that you won't want any of your loved ones to be outside when it hits.”

Roth backhanded her across the face.

Evelyn yelped, head snapping to the right. The event outside had changed Roth's entire demeanor. They didn't like it so much when their own were threatened or put in danger.

He leaned in, closer, enunciating each word. “What comes next?”

“Release Rhett and I'll tell you. Only when you show me proof that he's left the building and is out on the street.” She stared Roth down, hating how she felt the gust of his breath on her chin.

Beyond the door, several people shouted. One woman screamed. The situation continued to deteriorate at a rapid pace. The sound of running feet intensified and without warning, someone burst through Roth's office door. A man in a suit, wild eyed, tie askew.

In those few seconds when Roth started in surprise and glanced at the intrusion, Evelyn knew she had to act. Her loathing of violence and confrontation took a back seat to survival. To Rhett's survival.

Bringing up a foot, she kicked Roth square in the crotch with enough force to rock her chair back. It was a dirty shot and she knew it, but she lacked any weapons and was at a disadvantage both in height and weight. Roth doubled forward while his co-worker screamed for him to get out, and Evelyn exploited her first strike by bringing up her knee hard under Roth's chin.

It snapped his head back, pitched his whole body into the wall behind him. The monitor tilted and almost fell. His co-worker, too stunned and scared to help or hinder, ran back out of the office, leaving the door open in his wake.

Evelyn jumped out of the chair and ran for it. Swinging into the hallway, she bolted to the left, running the same direction everyone else was running. She even pushed a few people out of her way, adding to the chaos, searching frantically for a flight of stairs instead of the elevator. Rhett had to be somewhere in the building, and from what she recalled of the room he was in, there had been no windows, no other light other than the one glaring down from overhead attached to the ceiling.

Perhaps a basement. A ground floor conference room stripped of its usual furniture—no, it had been too clinical, too clean. Too cold.

Like Roth.

Spotting a door to her right at the end of the hallway adjacent to the elevator bank, she ran to it and jerked it open. One glance back the way she came gave her no clue whether Roth had recovered and had left his office. Too many people scattered here and there, one office to the next, creating an effective shield.

Taking the stairs at a quick clip, encountering several other employees racing downward, she counted three floors when she glimpsed an emergency lever next to a door leading into that level.

Pull in the event of a fire. Next to it, in a niche in the wall, was a fire extinguisher.

Acting on impulse, waiting until the landing was empty of people, she flipped open the clear cover and pulled it.

Sirens blared through the building, loud enough to shoot a tingle down her spine. Sprinklers overhead turned on with a hiss, spitting water over her, over the stairs. She held onto the banister so she wouldn't slip.

With any luck, all the doors in the building would unlock automatically and Rhett would have a chance to get out.

Bursting out into what looked like a lobby, Evelyn paused a second to get her bearings. Marble floors led deeper into the structure from the bank of doors across the front and a high, domed ceiling arched over an information desk where security scrambled to keep the flow of people moving out, not in. There were so many bodies running every which way, no one noticed her cut through the crowd for a hallway on the opposite side of the foyer. There were several octopus-like thoroughfares leading off different directions.

Trying to find Rhett in all this mess was like hunting the proverbial needle in a haystack. When someone grabbed her arm from behind, she screamed and swung a fist around, not about to be contained now that she'd gotten free.

Little Miss I Hate Confrontations was doing an awful lot of it all of a sudden.

Dripping wet, Rhett caught her fist in his palm. “It's me. Let's get out of here.”

“Rhett!” Evelyn hugged him, half laughing half sobbing against his chest. Somehow he'd found a shirt to pull on—it wasn't his own, the fit was too snug across the shoulders—and had jammed something soft up under it to cover the bleeding injury. His face seemed paler than she remembered and he twitched when she held him tight.

With one arm, he hugged her quick and hard. A whoosh of warm breath crossed her skin before his lips touched down on her throat. Then he disengaged and used her elbow to guide her along the hallway toward the back of the building. “Too many security people in the front. What the hell is going on? Did you set off the alarms? Why is everyone so panicked?”

“Someone broke one of the seals. You'll see when we get outside. It's going to be pandemonium, so be prepared. Are you all right? I saw them hit you with the tire iron.” Out of breath, she ran beside him and followed through a side exit straight into a parking lot.

“What seals? Don't worry about me, I'm fine.” Confronted with the strange, gray day, Rhett speared a look up at the sky, squinting like he expected to see the sun at normal strength. He didn't stop moving, tugging her along with him toward the rows of vehicles. His expression moved through several stages of startled disbelief and shock. That he was in pain from the tire iron was obvious when he winced or hissed.

“The start of the apocalypse,” she informed him, warily checking the parking lot and surrounding area for signs of security guards or Roth himself. The guards were as freaked out as everyone else, a thing that currently worked in their favor.

Rhett shot her a startled look. “Are you kidding me? Who—why? I mean, why right now? That's really coincidental.”

“Could be one of my sisters or the—Rhett, can we get out of here? I can tell you on the way.” The sounds of panic filling the streets, people running everywhere, unnerved her.

“Where are we going? To Eden still?” He released her and stalked through the cars, looking for one that suited him.

“No, to the docks, where you're going to help me get a boat so I can leave Greece.”

When he found an unlocked one, he got inside and hot wired it like he had the last one.

Evelyn climbed into the passenger seat, expecting to be grabbed at any second or darted with another tranquilizer.

Revving the engine, Rhett tore out of the lot, forced to brake often and shout at passersby who ran pell mell through the streets, heedless of cars or traffic lights or anything else but the anomaly in the sky.

“That sounds like a singular venture to me,” he finally said when he'd hit an open patch of road.

“It is. You can't go with me where I need to be, Rhett.”

“Bullshit. It's not safe, especially not now, and I don't care what's there, I'm coming with you.”

“It's not allowed--”

“Well, you bringing me into Eden isn't supposed to be allowed either,” he pointed out, shooting her a hot look across the car.

“That's different. This is--”

“How is it different?” He made a hard right turn.

Evelyn flung a hand against the door to prevent herself knocking into it. A woman ran right out in front of them and she yelped, sure Rhett was going to mow her down.

“Get the hell out of the way!” he shouted against the windshield, managing to maneuver around the pedestrian at the last second.

“I think there's a good reason to convince the Guardian to let you enter Eden. For our safety, to protect us on a long term basis. There's no good reason at all to show you where the seals are kept. None. You think people want to know where Eden is? Imagine what they would do if they knew where the seals were.”

“You don't have to show me the exact location, but I'm going with you as far as I can. You're not getting on that boat by yourself,” he said. He grit his teeth so hard she could hear it across the car.

And so they were at another proverbial standoff, the friction between them as hot as it had ever been. Evelyn stared out the front window at the chaos that grew worse with every minute that passed. More people were becoming aware that the problem wasn't going away. Instinct whispered in places reserved for superstition that their lives could be in mortal danger.

Many of them were. Millions upon millions would not survive the coming judgment.

Dodging bodies, cars and bikes, Rhett drove them in the direction of the docks. Downtown Athens, bathed in what looked like liquid ash, had never seen hysteria like this.

It was only the beginning.

She thought they had perhaps a half hour until sunset but it was difficult to tell. Feeling around her pockets, she realized the money Rhett had given her was still there. She might need that when they got to the docks. If she had to, she would simply take a boat—but who would drive it? Evelyn knew next to nothing about navigation. Whether she would be able to talk anyone into taking her across the Mediterranean remained to be seen.

Rhett pulled into a parking lot facing the marina and cut the engine. Boats moored to the docks bobbed on gentle waves while people rushed around like crazed ants on a hive that had just been attacked. Some were shoving off, heading out to sea, others abandoned their vessels for home or higher ground.

Evelyn got out of the car and closed the door. Rhett was right on her heels.

She could feel a showdown coming on.

“Where are we going? You're going to have to tell me at some point,” he said, walking brisk and determined beside her.

“Rhett--”

“Don't start, Evelyn. Just tell me where we're going. This one looks good.” Rhett steered them to the third yacht in the slip to their right.

It reminded her of the Selena Marie in size and function.

He didn't even bother to see if anyone else was on board, or search for an owner. Yanking the cloth out from under his tee shirt, he tossed the bloody thing on the deck and started making preparations to depart. Rhett handled himself like he was familiar enough with boating to get them where they needed to go.

Standing on the dock, Evelyn considered her options. She really didn't want to be parted from Rhett at a time like this. But rules were rules and if she wanted to save his life, if she wanted to try and prevent any other seals from being broken, she couldn't take him with her to Israel.

Maybe she should just forget the seals and take him to Eden and plead with Ashrael to let him in. That left all their family unaccounted for; her sisters, his brothers and father and others she might not know about. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Surely he had some. Neither of them would be happy if they saved only themselves and left everyone else to their fate.

Besides that, she was not the type to give up and give in. There was still something left to fight for here. And, whether she liked it or not, she had to trust someone in all this, and who better than Rhett?

Time and again he'd put his life on the line for her.

Knowing the location of the seals would put him in grave danger. Leaving him here while she fled across the Mediterranean would leave him in even greater danger.

Back and forth went her thoughts. A cacophony of noise—shouts, crying, begging—didn't interrupt the indecisive volley.

The gray began sinking into a darker hue, as if an enormous cloud of black fog were covering the earth. It startled her out of her thoughts, the sheer eerie feel of it, and she glanced out past the boats. Night time would not be the same as other nights on earth. This blackness would be more complete somehow, less expansive.

Like a suffocating bubble.

“We're going to Israel,” she announced and hopped on board the yacht.

Her decision had been made.

***

“The hell I don't have a choice. Look at it outside. Not just the sun, the panic in the streets. I'm sure you're adept at self defense, but that's too much mayhem to risk. We're a better team together than we are apart.” Dracht argued his point with grim determination.

Alexandra knew it was the truth when she heard it. Even the two of them would have a difficult time of it getting from there to Israel. The sounds of unease and hysteria bled through the door, through the windows, and into their room. Always the one to take risks quicker than her sisters, she slung the bag over her shoulder and gave Dracht a curt nod.

Sometimes, you just had to do what you had to do. Dracht knowing the location of the seals seemed less perilous than them facing the repercussions of doing nothing. Dracht had skills she didn't, was bigger, stronger and knew his way around weaponry. He also had a survival instinct to match her own.

He was coming with her, no matter the consequences.

The alternative was to stand there and die.

“Let's go then. Pack what water we have left. We need to get to the docks before the boats are all gone or someone else steals them.” Taking a plane, which would get them there much faster, wasn't an option with the sky looking as bleak as a widow at a funeral. She'd bet every commercial flight in the air would be making an emergency landing as soon as they were able.

Dracht didn't celebrate his victory; he loaded up his bag and tucked the guns into his waistband.

Things packed, they left the hotel room less than five minutes later. The hallways were filled with confused, fear ridden people. Alexandra didn't stop to answer any questions from anyone or discuss the strange event going on in the sky. They would have to figure it out for themselves.

Hovering at Dracht's flank, she followed him down the stairwell and into the streets.

“One thing I do know,” Dracht said, cutting to the right.

“What's that?” she asked, scanning their surroundings in the pall of the waning day.

“We're not going to have to worry about our other friends. They'll be too busy trying to secure their family and loved ones.” He seemed sure about this.

Alexandra felt torn. The cabal would either take the route Dracht suggested or double their efforts to find her and her sisters.

One glance around her at the running bodies and mass confusion made her realize Dracht was probably right. The hectic scene assured that even if they did come looking, they would have a hell of a time finding them.

“Feel up to a run? We'll probably get to the docks faster on foot at this point,” Dracht asked, breaking into a steady jog.

“You're right. It's only a couple miles anyway, if that.” Alexandra, a lover of exercise and good health, fell into step at Dracht's side.

And they were not the only ones running. Citizens fled into the streets to stare at the sky, blocking traffic, causing accidents, only to run into a business or a hotel or a home in hopes they could call someone to give them some answers.

Alexandra wondered what the media was saying about it all. Were they still even on the air, or had the anchors abandoned their posts to seek shelter?

Rounding a corner, they came face to face with a mob. Looters with half their faces covered by scarves had banded together to raid whatever businesses they could. It was a wild array of young and old, eyes frantic and round, some narrowed to calculating slits.

How fast civility turned to greed and desperation.

Dracht, to her surprise, didn't stop jogging. “We're going to go right through them. Just act like you don't care what they're doing and they should leave us alone. They've got bigger fish to fry here.”

“Don't we all,” she said with no little amount of sarcasm.

Dracht left the sidewalk and jogged into the street. Alexandra followed. She saw he was steering them away from the front of the shops being raided where the volatility level was high. Traffic had come to a stop a block back, the drivers going around to other streets that were not filled with bodies.

An increasingly difficult thing to find, she thought, with so many people on the move.

A sudden yank of the bag on her shoulder jerked her off her feet. Because she'd been holding on to it so tight, and had been between one jogging step and the next, she got pulled off balance and landed with a thump on her back. The wind whooshed painfully out of her lungs and she gasped, wheezing in a startled breath.

The looter gave her no pause, no question, no second glance. All Alexandra saw was a flicker of motion and something dark before the looter cried out and went crashing to the ground.

A moment later, Dracht, looking as angry as she'd ever seen him, hovered above her.

Eyes watery from the pain, she tried to speak, finding it difficult after having the wind knocked out of her.

“Got to get up, Alex. It's too dangerous to be in the middle of the street.” He scooped her up off the ground like she weighed nothing.

Tough, hard as nails Alexandra had difficulty gaining her feet. Not a woman prone to displays of weakness, she clapped a hand against her chest and forced a breath in. Staggering at his side, she let him weave her through the throng while her vision blurred at the edges.

Maybe it was the after effect of falling.

She couldn't tell, could hardly breathe.

“You all right? Alex?” Dracht hustled her around a parked car and back into the street. He tossed a concerned look at her.

“Yeah, yeah. Hard to...catch my...breath.” It was coming back gasp by gasp.

“It's getting darker. Or whatever this is. We need to hurry,” he said, leading her past another clog of looters who only seemed intent on their target rather than fleeing citizens.

A ball of fire erupted when something whipped through a shop window; heat blazed outward, a lick of flame shooting halfway across the street less than five yards ahead.

For the second time, Alexandra found herself on the ground. Face down this time, cheek scraped on the asphalt, skin tingling from the heat.

Dracht spat curses in two languages, on the ground with her, the bags laying haphazardly at their sides.

“What was that?” Alexandra turned her head the other way, trying to see. She saw others on the ground, some getting up, others vaulting the bodies like hurdles. Mentally, she checked her body for burns and didn't feel any.

Small favors.

“Home made bomb. Little molotov, probably. Things are devolving quickly. We need to get to the marina.” Dracht lurched to his feet and took her with him. He shouldered both bags and kept her hand in his.

The tether felt unusually nice. She ran with him around the flaming store, grateful to have come out of that with just a few scrapes and bruises. Dracht didn't look worse for wear; likely, he'd seen the incendiary get thrown and had taken them down just in time to avoid an uncomfortable injury from flying debris.

At the juncture of the next intersection, Dracht pulled her to the corner of a building and unzipped one of the bags. Tugging out a bottle of water, he took off the cap and offered it to her.

“Here. See if this helps while I scope out the next block.”

“Thanks.” She took the bottle and had a drink. Choking on the first swallow, she got another few down without trouble.

A mother and her three children ran past, the kids faces masks of terror. Two girls were not far behind, holding hands, frantically looking left and right as if they'd lost someone. Smoke curled into the darkening sky, making it that much harder to see.

Bringing her attention back to Dracht, she capped the bottle, saving as much water as she could in case they needed it later.

“What's it look like?” she asked.

He had his head wrenched around the corner, muscles flexing along his throat.

“Like the last one. You ready? The longer we wait, the harder it will probably be to get past.”

“Ready.” She tucked the bottle back into the bag. In the distance, she heard sirens. It surprised her.

“They're probably going to try and lock the city down, assert a curfew once night falls,” Dracht said.

“I'm kind of surprised the police or the military functions at a time like this.”

“It's what they're trained for, though I don't think the fabric will hold together if daylight comes tomorrow and something else happens.”

Alexandra knew what might happen. Dracht craned a look around at her for her silence.

They locked gazes. In periphery, blurs of bodies and color and light made a peculiar backdrop to their frozen moment.

“Should I start taking guesses or are you going to tell me?”

“Plague. The plague is next.”

Chapter Thirteen

Black sun, red moon. Minna couldn't have appreciated the odd beauty of a red moon if she hadn't witnessed it with her own eyes. The advent of night erased most of the strange, gray atmosphere, leaving an almost normal looking canopy overhead. Almost.

With the sun on the other side of the earth, it left a clear shot of the moon that didn't look smaller for its discoloration, but bigger. To Minna, more of the detail could be seen than in its pale guise. Weirdly, most of the stars were missing. Only here or there did she see a sporadic twinkle, a glimmer, a wink. An odd sense of being enclosed and encapsulated could not be escaped.

She wondered what the people of the world were thinking, feeling, doing. Out here, sitting on a rock outside the cave overlooking the Dead Sea, everything was silent. There were no people anywhere in the vicinity.

It gave her a lot of time to contemplate the rest of the seals. Of what might happen if she decided not to break them. This was no simple game, no whim to be exercised at will and then retreated from. Once the first seal was broken, the rest were meant to follow.

She wondered if Ashrael or another Guardian would show up if the plague wasn't released tomorrow. Would they break them in her stead?

Her second thoughts, she knew, were a normal part of the process. Grieving for the things that would be lost, the people, the souls, made her wish she could offer the planet up another opportunity. Even now she mourned the process taking place even while she marveled at it, existing in perpetual contradiction over what she knew she needed to do over what she wanted to do.

This first seal would not be the hardest. Releasing a plague and the rain, would be. And after that, the Sixth Seal itself. Those catastrophes would bring unaccountable death and destruction. Certainly today there had been some. Car accidents, suicides, victims of crime from panicked citizens stocking up for the end of the world.

The events tomorrow would make the ones of today wither in comparison.

***

Out on the open water, Evelyn eyed the plethora of ships, boats, canoes and sailboats with no small amount of wonder. Panic had driven people out onto the ocean in droves, some paddling frantically for god knew where, likely to wind up going in circles if they had no navigation aid. The further they got from the mainland, the more the number of vessels dwindled, until there was nothing but the sea and the uncomfortable sky.

Through the red moon night, Rhett had pushed the yacht to its ultimate limit, driving forward relentlessly on a path of least resistance. He only allowed her to take the wheel once while he slept, a three hour power nap that seemed to provide plenty of energy for him to get up and get right back to work.

Rhett was as intent as she'd ever seen him, always planning, always plotting, always preparing. Refueling on one of the small islands had been an exercise in danger and frustration, which he circumvented by siphoning gas from cars in the parking lot near the docks. With the chaos in full swing, no one bothered to stop him.

Dawn brought with it the same ashen sky, the familiar pewter hue that felt so cloistering against the skin.

The owners, whoever they were, kept the galley stocked with drinks and a supply of canned and packaged food that kept them both hydrated and fed. Rhett ate with the same no nonsense style she'd come to expect from him, shoveling in mouthfuls of room temperature stew straight from the can. Several times they passed other boaters on their way in different directions; none stopped to talk or even try to make contact.

Everyone had somewhere they wanted to be. Home, family, loved ones were the only focus.

With Rhett in control they made excellent time, the onboard radar tracking their progress toward land.

Wind whipped, she pulled a piece of hair away from her face and made her way into the steering room where Rhett stared out the windows, grip tight on the wheel.

She knew it wasn't fear of losing control of the boat that made his knuckles white under his skin, but the unknown.

Any second, the sky could turn even darker with a swarm of insects bent on slithering into every crevice, every nook and cranny available. A moving, chitinous cloud of sticky-legged, winged beasts.

He glanced over like he felt her there, rather than heard her, and gave her a tight smile.

“How long do you think we have?” he asked.

“I don't know. I wish I could guess with any accuracy. Damn it, I wish we all had our phones.”

“Do the Guardians have them too?” His sandy colored brows skewed at the thought.

Evelyn chuckled and leaned a hip against one of the seats. “Uh...no. No, they don't need phones.”

“So you can talk to them in your head—telepathy or something?” Out here, he didn't need to be so vigilant about crashing into another boat, so he gave her more of his attention for longer stretches of time. Any other vessels looked like tiny blips of white in the gray, too far for now to be any kind of threat.

“No, no. We can only talk to them face to face. My sisters and I don't have that capability, either. If we had our cell phones, though, I could try to talk them out of it if they were the ones breaking the seals.” Telepathy would have come in handy right about then.

The drone of the engine purred along under their conversation. Evelyn, with a rare moment to study Rhett, did so. Rugged with his whiskers heavily layered over his jaw, he looked like he'd been accosted, beat up, drug through a gutter and more tired than she'd seen him in a while. His wounds were all superficial and even the one on his shoulder had stopped weeping overnight.

Yet he continued to exude confidence and a lust for life that defied imagination considering the situation they were facing. He pushed himself to the limit and beyond, demanding obedience from his body and mind, never once breaking down or freaking out or any other myriad emotional overtures some men might have made.

Far from infallible, impatient to the point of obnoxiousness sometimes, he wore his badges of imperfection with perfect ease.

“You're staring,” he said without accusation.

“Yes I am.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking that it's going to be an utter shame to lose you just when I found you. Before we've even had time to really know one another at all.”

“Oh, I think I know you pretty well,” he said with a surprisingly jocular tone.

Evelyn arched a brow and cupped her hand over the back of the chair to put more weight into her lean. “Is that so?

His attempt to suppress his grin at her wry question was ill concealed. “That's so. Would you like me to demonstrate just how well I know you?”

She wouldn't have thought her grim thoughts could be derailed, or that amusement would flare as bright as it did. Rhett had always had a talent for catching her off guard though.

“Yes.”

“I know you're stronger than you think you are, and that you're not as strong as you wish you were.”

Evelyn chewed over that, bemused. “Does that mean you think I'm weak?”

“Not at all.”

“What else?”

“I know you're a little bit of a dreamer, you're tenacious, stubborn, hard headed--”

“Those last couple are pretty much the same,” she interrupted with a droll smile.

“Let me finish.”

“Okay, okay.” She showed her palms in surrender.

“Tireless, afraid of confrontation, insecure without your sisters--”

“Hey, wait just--”

“Insecure without your sisters,” he repeated, insisting.

Evelyn bit the inside of her lip.

“Willing to take risks, kind-hearted, prone to flippant remarks when you're stressed and you have to have the last kiss—and the last word.” He looked momentarily smug.

She stepped around the chair to his side and rested her hand on the small of his back. An almost reverent touch while she stared up into his face.

He met her eyes and held them, then asked quietly, “Aren't you going to tell me what you know about me?”

“I know you're strong, smart, fast, sly, cunning, impatient, curt when you're under pressure, controlled during the same, good with weapons, compassionate, willing to risk your life for what you believe in, and one hell of a protector.” Evelyn didn't have time to be shocked at how easy all that poured out.

He half turned to cup her chin with his fingers and brought his face closer.

“Do you know what else I know about you?”

“What?”

“You're in love with me.”

***

In another boat, miles behind Evelyn and Rhett, Alexandra stared out at the dismal day with her arms crossed over her chest.

Stealing the boat had proven no problem for Dracht and they had made their escape from the docks as the mayhem built to a mighty crescendo. He insisted she sleep for the first leg and though she'd argued with him, she went out like a light the second she got into a prone position.

Dracht had spent an hour marveling over the red moon before he too forced himself to rest.

Alexandra had taken the wheel and steered them on the heading he provided, thoughtful through the night about their circumstance. Several times the engine had stalled out for no reason that she could discern, slowing their flight down considerably. Dracht managed to restart it every time and get them moving forward again.

Morning brought with it the depressing iron sky, and she found herself looking deep into the distance, as deep as the gloom would allow her, for signs of the pestilence.

Dracht scrounged up a minimal amount of food and water from below deck, insisting she have the lionshare.

Alexandra refused to take it, of course, leaving it sit there for another time. They still had water in their bags that she sipped from instead of drained, like she wanted to.

“So, I think we should make a plan, just in case,” she said out of the blue. Dracht was at the wheel this time when she sprung the topic on him.

“What plan is that?” He swerved a curious look her way.

“If we see it coming, I think we cut the engine, drop anchor, and bolt ourselves below deck until it passes.” She arched a brow.

“I was thinking of doing the same thing. It would help if we knew when whoever has the seal might break it, and where the pestilence starts first. It'll move in a swarm, right?”

“You'd think so? I mean, I've never witnessed this before. No one has. Not of this magnitude. Couldn't tell ya where it manifests, either. Maybe out of the blue.”

“That's reassuring,” he muttered. “How long do you think it'll last?”

“If we get there in time. If,” She wanted there to be less doubt in her voice than there was. “Then we won't have to worry about how long it'll last. Otherwise? I don't know. We'll be watching out the windows so we'll see it come and go.”

“What if it doesn't 'go', though? What if it covers everything until the next event—what was that one again?” he asked. Whiskers spread out from his neatly trimmed goatee, covering his jaw. He'd had no time to shave or even think about that kind of personal detail.

Alexandra pulled her attention back in from the slate colored surface of the water. “That'll be a bad thing. Because the next seal is rain. It might wash the bugs off, but we're going to have a difficult time moving around after a few days. I mean, it's gonna come down.”

“Well, we just have to get there before the seal is broken.”

They were going as fast as the boat would allow them to. Looking at the map spread out over the wall, Alexandra judged they had about eight hours until docking in Israel. Time was not on their side right now, not with the boat acting up and cutting out at random.

“Maybe we should lock ourselves in here instead. Blow through the swarm if it comes so we can keep going. I mean, we could end up dying down below if we just sit there and wait it out,” she said.

Dracht seemed to consider it. “If we can't see, we run the risk of running aground...but you're right. We're taking a big risk thinking the pestilence might pass before the rain so we can keep going. It's a crapshoot either way.”

Alex grunted. And wasn't that the truth? They could be in trouble no matter what decision they made. In her mind, they had to keep moving at all costs. The more she thought about it, the more she thought that was the right thing to do. Waiting it out was safer short term, not long term.

“I'll go find some towels or blankets or something to block all the crevices.” Alexandra left the cabin and jogged through the first deck rooms, finding several towels and a thin shawl. The material had the scent of its owner's perfume worked into the fine threads. Something musky, floral and faintly spicy. She wondered where they were, what predicament they'd found themselves in with the advent of the black sun.

“Alexandra!”

Dracht's voice, urgent and loud, cut through her thoughts. She broke into a run, bursting out into the corridor leading to the upper deck. Taking the stairs by two, she charged into the steering room, wildly looking out the broad windows at the gloomy sea.

“What, what?” She didn't need Dracht to point it out; in the distance loomed a roiling, enormous cloud blacker than the pewter day around it. She might have thought it was a dark storm system if it didn't move like it swallowed everything in its path. Spilling over and around itself, spreading as far as the eye could see in either direction along the horizon.

“Oh crap.” She spun around, slammed the door, and dropped to her knees to stuff a towel along the crack.

“Hurry,” he said behind her, voice tight.

“I'm hurryin'!” Standing up, she checked the rest of the door frame, finding the fittings flush and relatively sealed. After that she went to every window and pressed the locks into place. Along the back wall there was a tiny bathroom and she checked it, too. The small, oval window was open to the elements and a vent in the ceiling could cause problems.

After closing and locking the window, she climbed onto the commode lid and jammed the shawl up into the vent. She hoped the little bastards couldn't eat through the material too quick. Maybe the perfume would deter them.

Climbing down, she exited into the main room to see Dracht writing coordinates and other numbers on a scrap of yellow notebook paper.

The cloud of black had closed the distance by half already. For a weird, scary moment, Alexandra had the thought that the swarm might hit the boat and simply tip it over. A bug tidal wave that got its strength in sheer numbers.

Ridiculous. Her imagination was running away with itself.

“What are you doing?” she asked Dracht, just to break the silence.

“Writing down this exact heading. There aren't anymore islands on the map that I can see, so if we don't veer off this course, we should arrive at the docks without running aground.”

He glanced out the windows to the right.

Alexandra palmed her cheeks, eyes widening at the sheer hoard heading their way. So thick, so dense, that it cast a shadow down over the water. There wasn't any sunlight, only the gray veil, but it cast a shadow nevertheless.

“Alex.”

She snapped a look at Dracht.

“The bags.” He glanced around the floor at their feet.

She did too and realized what he meant; the bags containing the water were on the lower deck. Rushing to the door, she yanked the towels out and pulled it open.

“You're not going to make it.”

“Yes I am.” She ran out, leaping the entire staircase. Landing hard on her feet, she caught her balance with a hand and shot forward through the small living area. Straight-arming the glass door, she knocked it out of her way.

A loud, collective buzz hit her ears. It resonated over the water, sinister and promising. Darting to the bags, she grabbed them up by the straps. Turning, she got a straight on view of the swarm.

Alexandra froze in shock. It obliterated everything. The sky, the water. Anything in its path. She couldn't quite make out the individual shape of the insects, and she wasn't sticking around to find out.

Tearing inside, she ran like her feet were on fire, a chill sliding down her spine when Dracht started shouting for her.

He was just coming through the door like he meant to go find her when she hit the landing.

“Inside!” he demanded. After she ran in, he slammed the door closed.

Dropping the bags to gather the towels once more, she stuffed them into the crack. Breathing a sigh of relief, she stood up.

Back at the wheel, elbows locked and fists tight on the wheel, Dracht braced his feet apart like he too thought the swarm was going to rock the boat.

She thought she heard a whisper of a prayer leave his lips as the cloud of black broke over the bow, pushing the boat with enough force to sway the balance.

Alexandra hung onto whatever she could, bracing her hips and her hands.

The insects swallowed the boat into their midst, some hitting the windshield, others clinging to the railings—anything they could lock their sticky legs around.

Unimaginably huge, as long as her palm and shaped half like a wasp, half like a mantis, they were solid black with wicked hooks on their legs. She wouldn't have ever thought a bug could look so menacing. They emitted a strange hum, probably unheard if just one or two were buzzing around, but loud enough to almost overtake the growl of the engine as a whole.

They crack-smack-crashed over the deck, the seats, the fixtures.

Alex couldn't look away from the windows. The bugs slip-slid on and off, some sticking simply due to the weight of others holding them down. Whenever the boat lifted up and came down on a low swell, a few fell off. Others always replaced them. She heard their mandibles chewing-ticking-clicking and she clapped her hands over her ears to block it out.

There were not many things that had the capacity to freak her out, but she was edging toward panic at the suffocating feeling of being entombed by bugs.

***

Minna spent the earliest hours of the morning sitting with her back against the cave wall, just around the corner from the main entrance. To her right was the hole where the seals were kept, the book open to the page of the Sixth. At what she judged to be sunrise, when the red moon had gone down and the gray sky replaced it, she picked up the pestilence seal and snapped it.

How strange that it was the only sound in the cave. She couldn't hear the lap of water from the Dead Sea from here, only the shallow rise and fall of her breathing. The utter isolation seemed at odds to her with what must be going on elsewhere, almost like it wasn't happening at all. If she hadn't seen the black sun herself, if the day outside looked normal instead of a bubble of dismal silver, she might not believe the seals were working.

Down to the last bottle of water she'd brought, she unscrewed the cap and had a drink. Her thoughts wandered often to her sisters. Alex and Evelyn. How were they doing? Had they made it to Eden? Curious, she wished she could be in contact with them to know they were okay.

Three hours later, a bizarre hum that hadn't been there before woke her. She sat up, spine straight, listening.

Louder, closer.

The pestilence had arrived.

Chapter Fourteen

You're in love with me. The words bounced off the walls of the room and the windows of the steering room.

Evelyn stared up at Rhett with shocked, round eyes.

“How did you come to that conclusion?” It was all she thought to say.

“The tone of your voice when you gave me your 'list'. The things on your list. And you have this reverent look in your eyes I'm not sure I really deserve.” He glanced out at the water quick, checking, before looking back down at her face.

Evelyn tried to suss out her feelings for Rhett. Every time she thought she had a moment to breathe, to examine things, something else happened. She knew she wanted to give them a go, that she wanted to spend time with him. To the extent she was willing to risk the Guardian's wrath to take him to Eden.

Could it be love this soon? She'd been so careful with her heart. In all these years, she'd never fully given it away to anyone. If she felt herself getting close to someone she'd dated, she left. When she'd shot him in the alley in Egypt, it had devastated her. More than willingly wounding him, his betrayal had cut deep. She wanted to believe in him—and she did. Now that they were past the awkward stages of their meeting, she trusted and believed him.

Before she said anything to confirm or deny it, he bent his head and brushed his mouth over hers. Light, tender. Knowing.

A beep interfered, coming from the console. Rhett broke his mouth away, glanced down at it, then looked up. There ahead, was land.

“We're here.”

Evelyn let her hands fall away from him and found a pair of binoculars hanging on the wall. Putting them to her eyes, she adjusted the focus to bring the coastline into better view. The strange state of the sky made the landscape look distant, faded. She realized they were actually much closer to land than she first thought they were.

The Port of Ashdod in sight, she began to guide him in.

“Stay to the right. One of the boats looks like it's come loose from it's mooring. Other than that, I can't tell much of anything else. Many of the boats are gone.” She didn't notice any mayhem on the docks themselves, but that didn't mean there wasn't any.

“As long as there's a spot to berth her,” Rhett said.

They went straight into the main marina—why not—and Rhett motored the yacht into a vacant slip. Cutting the motor, he led her out of the steering room, down the lower deck, and helped her onto the dock.

“Where do we need to go?” he asked, taking possession of her hand while they jogged away from the boat. There were only two others in slips along the way. The rest were eerily empty.

“We need a car. We're going to the Dead Sea.” Evelyn pointed out a parking lot reserved for boat owners. Five or six vehicles ranging from a Volkswagon Bug to a Jeep were parked as if the drivers had disembarked in a hurry.

Rhett didn't question her or interrogate about their destination. Cutting over a triangle of manicured grass, he towed her toward the cars.

Deeper into the city, beyond the marina and into the streets, people existed in a state of panic and mayhem. The two ends of the spectrum in which humans divided themselves were extreme; some, arms loaded with goods and supplies, seemed to have a definite plan. Others wandered and cried, expecting someone else to come along and fix the problem for them. Then there were those that had left civility and honor behind, pillaging stores and even passersby for anything they could get their hands on. As in Greece, the situation had deteriorated rapidly.

Evelyn caught glimpses of it while Rhett looked for a suitable car. Two had broken back passenger windows and he chose one of those. A late model BMW with the stereo system and other accessories ripped out.

“This one.” The doors were already unlocked due to the theft. He climbed into the driver's side and went to work on the wires.

Evelyn claimed the passenger seat and started pointing even as he turned the engine over. “I'll tell you exactly what roads to take. It doesn't look like they've cordoned any off yet.”

“They're probably too busy with everything else to worry about that.” The roads in Ashdod were less clogged with bodies than in Greece, at least here by the water, which made for a quick transition from coastline to the middle of the city.

Violence or fear or desperation painted itself on the faces of those rushing from one place to another, pleading with their God for answers or cursing him in the same breath. Others ran aimlessly, hands on their heads, crying or shouting or praying. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to go, even if it was just in circles.

The police were not out in force, at least not on this particular street, nor did Evelyn see any military vehicles present down intersections they passed.

Two blocks further, after many stops and starts, three black helicopters cut through the gray sky on their way somewhere else.

Rhett peered up out the windshield after a moment of palpable tension. “...I'll bet they're taking the officials somewhere safe. Underground bunkers or something.”

“You're probably right. For a second there, I thought it was them coming after us again.” She tracked the black helicopters warily until they were out of sight.

“They have an immediate problem to deal with before they think about picking up where they left off. Too much chaos. It works in our favor for now.” He made a right turn when she directed him to and with an open stretch of road, he gunned the engine.

Still in the city, they were moving out of the high rise areas and into a more modest yet affluent district.

A father, three children clinging to his pants leg, desperately trying to load luggage into a van, suddenly glanced at the sky. It was one of those stark, unexpected moments that Evelyn caught like a snapshot. His concern turned to horror.

Frowning, she wrenched her neck, pressed her cheek to the window, and looked back in the same direction. An obliterating cloud of black hit the coastline, pouring over the marina and the docks.

“...RHETT!”

She must have surprised him because he hit the brakes hard enough to throw her forward in the seat. The belt caught with a snap, preventing her from taking a header into the dashboard.

“What is it?”

“It's coming. Either drive a lot faster or we have to get out and take cover! Right now!”

“How long do we have?”

“I don't know. Thirty seconds? Go, go!”

“Thirty seconds?”

“It's swarming the marina, all the boats--”

The car shot forward with a bark of tires, veering around screaming, terrified people who had also just caught a glimpse of the pestilence overtaking the city.

“Faster, Rhett, we have to--”

“I'm going as fast as I can!” He swerved to miss a van that backed out of a driveway. Horns blared, no one wanting to give way. Rhett tromped the gas and took the next corner too fast, back end swinging around almost out of control.

The front of the swarm caught up to them. Against the windows, she heard the first telltale clink-clank of hard carapaces make contact.

“They're almost on us. Wait! Go right!--You're going the wrong way!” Distracted, she realized she'd failed to give Rhett the rest of the directions.

Her warning fell on deaf ears. Millions of milling, buzzing insects enveloped the car like a tidal wave.

People who didn't get out of the way in time were blanketed in seconds, arms beating uselessly at the air, their screams cut off when the bugs invaded their mouths.

Evelyn gagged at the sight; a moment later, she saw nothing as the insects piled up on her window.

“The back window, the back window!” Rhett shouted.

She turned around with a gasp—and flew into a spastic fit when one of the hideous creatures landed on her cheek. Prickly, sticky legs scratched her skin. The wings buzzed and a strange hiss emanated from somewhere.

“Get it OFFgetitoff!”

More bugs dove in the broken back window. Evelyn did battle while he shouted at her to cover it with something. She slapped and swung and thrashed to get them off her.

Most of the swarm simply spilled over and beyond, blanketing buildings, parked cars, people—anything and everything. Nothing was safe, not even plants or animals.

Pitching herself over the seat, she landed with a thump, squishing a bug beneath her. It felt harder than it should have, like its skin was armor, and she screamed when another tickled her cheek with its prickly legs.

“Evelyn!” Rhett sounded impatient and pissed off.

Did he not see she was busy?

Climbing onto her knees after defeating the bug on her face, she swept her hands along the floorboards, looking for something, anything to cover the window. Making contact with an accordion folded window protector, she yanked it open and smashed it over the grapefruit sized hole in the back window.

Several other bugs were inside, heckling Rhett, who cursed and smashed them where they landed. He'd turned the wipers on, which kept brushing the bugs off the windshield.

Countless thousands got crushed under the tires. It sounded to her like they were driving over a minefield of shattered glass. The deluge of insects were so thick Evelyn couldn't see a foot past the car in any direction. She held the cover over the hole while the car swerved in the street.

Rhett spat several more curses under his breath.

Evelyn wasn't sure she wanted to ask what the problem was. A body smothered in bugs loomed out of the black cloud and banged against the window. Screaming—a man's scream she recognized—he bounced off the vehicle and flew backwards out of sight once more.

“Which way? Which way?” Rhett shouted from the front.

She tried to see buildings or street signs—anything that might tell her where they were. Disoriented by the rippling tide, she couldn't tell if he needed to go left at the intersection or not.

“I can't tell. There's too—wait, go left here!” She got a glimpse of the shape of a structure she recognized. Finally.

Rhett stomped the gas and turned, narrowly avoiding another car swooping and swerving on the road.

“Take this about four blocks and go right.”

Speeding up, he shot down the street. Bugs peeled away from the car; others clung tenaciously with their legs until the wind or the wipers battered them off. Navigating around debris, he made the last turn and pegged the speedometer past fifty.

The landscape behind them wore a glistening coat of black, as if the inanimate objects had come alive but had no shape or definition, just a skin that continually shifted and slithered.

Buildings, light poles, people. The swarm did not discriminate what it covered.

A woman's monotone voice giving directions to Jerusalem came over the speakers. It startled a gasp out of Evelyn.

“Here, I got it,” Rhett said from the front, turning down the volume. “GPS. Didn't see it before now.”

“That's exactly the best way to go from here, now that we're out of the city.” One bug managed to squeeze past the perimeter of the blockade and she used her knee to nail it to the door. “Though I think you should avoid downtown Jerusalem and take a southern route around. If we get in the middle of all those buildings, we'll just get stuck and covered again.”

“Got it.”

Evelyn could hear him fiddling with the GPS buttons over the crack of hard carapaces under the tires. Out of breath like she'd run a marathon, she determinedly plugged the hole, meeting Rhett's eyes in the rear view mirror.

“Gonna be all right. We'll get there soon,” he said.

“I know. What are we going to do about getting out of the car?” There were still hundreds of thousands of bugs in the air. Not all had landed on the ground. Exposing themselves even for five minutes could be dangerous, possibly deadly.

“Figure it out when we get there.”

***

“I don't want to call Father Valanzano in case someone has his phone tapped. Even though we have scramblers on the lines, they've probably got the technology to track us down if they really want to.” Dragar thrust a hand through his hair, pacing in the kitchen.

To a man, they had stared in awe and wonder at the switch from the black sun to the red moon and back again.

“There's about a thousand theologians on television, making their own guesses.” Roman flipped to another channel.

News anchors, wide-eyed and breathless, reported from around the world. Pandemonium on unthinkable levels had broken out everywhere. Scenes of looting, panic and upheaval had become as common as breathing overnight.

Gray light spilled in the windows, blanketing the living area of the sanctuary. Occasionally, Christian stopped to stare out, hands leaning on the panes, head shaking over one thought or another.

Dragar had half a mind to ask him what he was thinking, but didn't want to get into another argument about trying to find his son. It was difficult for him to sit back and do nothing, but rationally, he knew their best bet for survival was right here.

They didn't even know what continent the agents were keeping Christian's son on.

“They'll debate it until they're blue in the face,” Dragar muttered.

“I'm almost surprised the reporters are willing to leave their families to do any reporting,” Roman added.

“...hey. What's that?” Christian's posture at the window took on one of alarm.

Dragar set down his glass of water and approached the windows. Roman turned off the TV and joined them.

Far off on the gloomy horizon, something darker appeared. Dragar squinted, trying to make it out. Thunderclouds didn't move in such an eerie, roiling way. They were not ships or planes.

It wasn't until the mass drew closer to Greece, covering the entire Mediterranean, that Dragar knew. He stalked away from the windows toward the phone.

“Where are you going?” Roman asked.

“To call Father Valanzano. No one's going to be listening in with all that going on outside. The tribulation has begun.”

Chapter Fifteen

Alexandra didn't know if they'd gone ten miles or a hundred. Sometimes visibility cleared enough to see fifty yards or so across the water in any direction, which was really no help without landmarks or other visual signs to guide them.

The entire vessel crawled with inky insects.

Dracht kept rechecking his heading against the instruments on the panel, making what adjustments he needed to.

An hour and a half after the swarm hit them, the engine sputtered and died.

Alexandra rushed to the panel where Dracht looked over the gauges. He spat a vivid curse that did not reassure her.

“...what the hell are we going to do? We have to go out in it to get to the engine,” she pointed out.

“No kidding.” He hit the edge of the wheel with his palm and stalked away, raking a hand through his hair. “I'm going to have to cover myself as well as I can and see what's wrong with the engine.”

“You can't go out there. If they bring you down, I can't fight them off and drag you back up the stairs here.” Yet they couldn't just sit there indefinitely. On the other hand—if they were stuck, and the rains came, there was no better place to be than on the boat.

“If we sit here, they'll find a way in. We'll float off course by god knows how many miles and risk running aground. Barring all that, if this continues, we'll run out of fresh water and then we'll really be in trouble.” Dracht glared out the windows, hands on his hips.

Alexandra paced back and forth. Dehydration was their most serious issue besides the swarm. “Well. We haven't checked the whole boat for extra water supplies. If you have to go down to check the engines, maybe do a quick search for that, too. But I say give it an hour and try the engine again from up here.”

“There's probably clean water for at least a day, unless the people hadn't gotten around to refilling all their tanks.” Dracht opened the door to the bathroom to check for infestation, found nothing apparently, and went in to start opening the few cupboards to search them. A moment later he came out, empty handed.

“For now, I guess, we're just sitting ducks.” Alexandra didn't like the thought of floating aimlessly on the ocean. Without the engine grinding beneath them, she could hear the tick-click-click of the bugs industriously trying to get in.

“Yeah, well. Let's hope the damn things get interested in something else and buzz off.” Dracht thumped against the console and stared balefully out at the swarm.

***

From gray, to black. Minna stood five feet from the mouth of the cave, wrapped in gloom, watching the hoard descend on the Dead Sea. Inside, protected from the initial onslaught, she could only hear the sinister hiss of their wings and the drone of millions of bodies as they converged on the land.

She wondered whether she should break the third seal, and then the Sixth, before the bugs could crawl inside and find her. Already she could see them milling on the rock at the opening, twisting and turning and gathering.

Soon, very soon, they would swarm through the cave, over her, and then it would be too late to complete her final tasks.

Before she turned away, she noticed something peculiar.

The thick flux of insects at the entrance weren't coming any further in. There was nothing preventing them, nothing in their way. Just uneven walls of rock that proved no serious obstacle.

Yet, they did not come. Minna stood transfixed, watching them cover every inch of ground beyond the cave, without coming in. Perhaps it was a reprieve. A chance to give her time to do what she needed to do. What she was supposed to do. What she, and all the rest of her sisters, had promised to do when the time came.

Sinking deeper into the cave, Minna retreated from the buzzing swarm to feel her way to the book of seals.

To the third seal. The seal of rain.

One more before the Sixth seal itself.

***

Evelyn caught glimpses of Jerusalem in snips; smothered structures old and new, countless accidents on highways, lumps on the ground that she knew had once been a person. Wide scale mass hysteria as the pestilence wreaked havoc over the earth.

Rhett proved himself to be a worthy driver in times of crisis, avoiding blocked intersections with the help of the GPS, navigating the terrain of insects with ruthless determination.

On the radio, frantic newscasters spilled news in bursts of drama that, for once, were not overcooked or over exaggerated.

In every city, looting and killing and suicide were at all time highs. Governments, those who understood the implications in time, had taken cover in their billion dollar bunkers while the rest of the population was left to rot on the surface. Military organization had fallen apart at the seams, personnel scattering to be with their families when the realization hit that there was no way to win this war. Be with loved ones, pray, do unto others as you would have done unto you.

Every possible theologian, religious leader, media personality and diplomat the stations could get to phone in with thoughts and suppositions had been lined up for hours. She heard a humility in men and women's voices she'd never heard on the broadcasts before, a dawning realization that things were not quite as they seemed.

Humans were not in control, could not battle such extreme elements no matter how great the technology. Not this time. The world had seen pockets of isolated incidents with devastating earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanoes. Small warning signs that humans were fairly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

One far out personality thundered that humans were getting what they deserved—after all, hadn't we been warned global warming could have devastating effects?

“Yes, because global warming is the reason trillions of bugs just appeared out of thin air. Ass.” Rhett snapped the radio off with a grunt of disgust.

If the situation had been any less dire, Evelyn might have laughed.

“We're about ten minutes out,” he warned.

“Maybe I can use this windshield protector to help cover my head.” A glance along the floorboards provided nothing in the way of help. No extra sweaters, towels, nothing to drape herself in so the insects didn't overwhelm her. Just the windshield visor she held over the hole in the glass.

“I'll give you my shirt. I really wish you'd just let me go with you,” he said for the tenth time.

“You can't.”

“It's not like I'm going to remember where the hell this is, much less where they are, or even want to come back and mess with it.” He stabbed a somewhat sarcastic look at her in the rear view mirror.

In times of duress, Rhett resorted to cynical wisecracks that breached the doom threatening to swallow her whole. Without ridicule, he added levity to hopeless situations and showed her that they were not so hopeless after all.

“I'll be all right. Really. I know just where to go,” she said.

“That doesn't make me feel a lot better. I can tell you one thing though—if you're not back in fifteen minutes? I'm coming for you whether you like it or not.”

What else could he do? Rhett couldn't go to Eden on his own, and even if she explained how to expose the Gate, the Guardian wouldn't let him in. Rhett was as vulnerable as the rest of humanity and that he was so hell bent on sticking by her side touched her.

“All right.” She wouldn't argue. A warm, blossoming feeling in her chest resonated with overtones of love. His selfless dedication and unshakable protectiveness made her feel cared for, like some precious commodity he would fight and die for.

He'd been right. She was in love with him.

The car came to a stop at the end of the last road. He put it in park and left the engine idling, windshield wipers swishing insects out of the way. Ahead, Evelyn could see spare glimpses of the Dead Sea, understood by the terrain they were where they needed to be.

Rhett peeled his shirt up over his head and handed it back over the seat. The wound on top of his shoulder had scabbed over, the blood dried and dark against his golden skin.

“Here. Use this to cover your head, then shield it with that thing.” He ticked his chin at the visor.

Finding herself in a conundrum, she leaned toward him without taking her hands off the shield that blocked the hole in the window.

“Put it on, will you? If I move my hands--”

“I got it.” He twisted in the seat and leaned back to slide the shirt over her shoulders, leaving the hem around her face and throat. Pulling the material snug, he tucked it as best he could into her collar.

“Thanks.” She held still while he worked, taking mental inventory of all the places the insects might gain entrance to skin: the short sleeves of her shirt, the hem of her pants, even the waistband if they were determined enough. Her face was open season. There wasn't anything she could do about it if she wanted to see where she was going.

“That good?” he asked.

“Perfect. I'll try to be back here in fifteen minutes. Just depends who I find in there.” Ashrael would not be talked down out of his mission if that's who was breaking the seals.

Rhett didn't seem happy about the entire thing. At all.

Counting to three, Evelyn prepared herself and yanked the shield away from the window. Bugs flickered in, buzzing too close to her ear.

She realized too late that she'd just left Rhett with no way to cover the hole. Opening the door, she barreled out into the writhing, swirling mass. Immediately she felt them cling and clutch and land everywhere.

Behind her, Rhett closed the door. What he did about the window she couldn't say. She didn't dare look back. Forward, onward, cursing silently when a bug crawled across her lips.

She ran forward, disgusted at the crunch underfoot, using the shield more as an impromptu swatter than something to cover her head with. On the bare skin of her arms, they tickled and pinched and skittered, creeping her out to the point she wanted to scream.

The thought of one inside her mouth prevented her from doing so.

Running over the ground, she headed for the edge of the foothills that climbed into short cliffs facing the water. The Dead Sea was all but unrecognizable in this state, though she could smell the salt on the air, hear the lap of water among the hissing buzz. The going became rough and treacherous the closer she got to the cave. Many of them pocked the surface of the cliffs, black holes leading in.

Behind her, the blare of the BMW's horn startled her. She stumbled, caught her balance, and kept going. Rhett must be in trouble. Too far now to turn around, she picked up the pace. The only way to get back to Rhett was to go forward and deal with the seals.

No one else was around, no signs of life anywhere along the edge of the sea. No campers or wanderers—no one.

Ahead, she saw the correct formation of rock near the cave she needed and angled up toward it. Her clothes were heavy, covered in bugs, her arms itching madly from their legs. At least, she consoled herself, nothing felt like it bit her. Using the shield, she swatted it out ahead of her, muffling a scream when another bug tried to crawl up her nose.

Bursting into the mouth of the cave, she brushed at her body with the shield.

“Ashrael? Minna? Alex? It's Evelyn.” Calling out, her voice bouncing back on the rock, she noticed a strange thing. The insects peeled off of their own accord, or flew off in some cases, at a rate much faster than she swatted. In seconds she was free of them. Not one crawled anywhere on her body when she patted herself down.

What was that about?

“Evelyn! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Eden.” Minna's voice floated from the black depths of the cave. She appeared after squeezing past the jutting piece of stone that nearly blocked the back.

“Minna! I knew it had to be one of you. Or Ashrael. You didn't break the rain seal, did you? Minna? Where's Dragar?” She hugged her sister after dropping the shield, forgetting the bugs—and the distant blare of the horn—for now.

Evelyn knew by the look on her sister's face that the last and final seal before the big one had been snapped.

“It's done. And I had to leave him behind,” Minna said with remorse in her voice for whatever duplicity she'd perpetrated on the eldest Templar.

“Oh no. What about the Sixth Seal?” The one that would rain fire and brimstone, literally, down around their heads. Evelyn held her breath. The moment stretched like taffy, tension making her shoulders tight. She wasn't sure the situation was reversible even now, with three seals broken, but with the Sixth she was almost positive there would be no turning back. Almost. The Guardian of the East Gate would have the answers.

She would have to question Minna about Dragar later.

“It's not done yet. In the morning, maybe tomorrow evening,” Minna said.

Evelyn guessed there was an hour or two of daylight, if she could consider it that, left before nightfall. “Don't break it, Minna. Maybe there's still a way to stop the process. We can't prevent the rain, but we can go to Eden and appeal to Ashrael. He'll know what to do. We can salvage this.”

“You know as well as I do that the imminent signs of downfall have been around us for years. The second we discovered we couldn't move around the country at all, that we would be traced where ever we went? That was the moment I knew Ashrael meant when he said to rely on instinct.” Minna stated her case quietly.

“No, no,” she countered, grabbing Minna lightly by the shoulders. There was just enough gray light to see her sister's eyes. Minna had always been the rock in the group, the oldest of the daughters yet living, the one the rest of them looked to during times of crisis. Evelyn understood the why of it, she knew mankind hovered on the brink—had been for years—but she couldn't give up yet. Now that push had come to shove, she wanted to fight for it.

“Evelyn, it's already begun. There's no stopping it now.”

“We don't know that for sure. It's what we've always surmised. The pestilence and the rain will take thousands, maybe millions, but it won't take everyone. If you break the Sixth, it'll wipe out half the population if not more.” Evelyn urged Minna to reconsider. She licked her lips, desperate to change her sister's mind.

“The only thing that will have changed is that some people will have become more humble. But the march toward domination and control? It will continue. When they recover—and they all will eventually—we'll pick right back up where we left off. You know this is true, Evelyn.” Minna chided her with a knowing look.

A niggling whisper argued that Minna was right. If they turned back the tide, humans would not have learned enough of a lesson. A different voice insisted that enough of the survivors would take the hint and make the changes they needed to. People would find the right path from the chaos, at least for a while. The struggle for power would be tempered by those who remembered this event and the warning it contained.

“This is a big wake up call, Minna. Look at what's going on. We've driven through the cities, seen firsthand what they're suffering. And they are suffering. Those who believe have to watch those who don't race through the stages of disbelief, understanding and fear. I have to believe compassion will rise out of the ashes, that humans will realize we shouldn't be fighting each other, that we're all too dependent on technology, that science shouldn't rule mother nature. There is beauty in the old ways, too, and moderation is the key in all things. They deserve a chance, we deserve a chance to make it better.” Impassioned, Evelyn searched Minna's eyes.

“It's not up for us to decide any longer. Three seals have been broken--”

“That's why we have to get to Eden. Ashrael will know what to do. He'll help us,” Evelyn said, recognizing the moment her sister capitulated.

“And what if he doesn't? What if he says that this was supposed to happen? That it was the plan all along?”

“Then there's nothing we can do, but at least we know we tried. C'mon, Minna. We have to get to Eden before the other Guardians arrive and break the Sixth Seal—and all the others—themselves.”

Minna broke eye contact and looked deeper into the cave. “I have to close the stone. We can't leave it open.”

“Go then. Hurry.”

Minna stepped away, squeezing through the narrow space between the rock and the wall, disappearing from sight.

Evelyn eyed the mouth of the cave where, to her amazement, the bugs gathered but did not come in. The whole ground looked alive, the air not as choked with tiny bodies over the water as it had been. Maybe the worst had passed.

In the distance, she heard the scream of the horn. It made her heart race.

“Minna hurry!”

“I'm coming.” Minna's voice echoed through the tunnel. A rumble of stone shook the walls before the slender woman sidled through the narrow space to Evelyn's side.

“Let's go.” Evelyn picked up the shield that she'd dropped and bolted out into the open. She ran with single minded determination, swatting and flailing the bugs out of the way. And she'd been right in thinking there weren't as many in the air anymore—she could see farther and not as many covered her as quickly as the last time.

Behind her, she heard Minna squeak and swat and knew her sister fought the bugs as hard as she did. They made good time over the precarious path to the car, better than Evelyn going the other direction, and all of a sudden the BMW came into view, horn blasting, Rhett stretched over the seat with his foot against the wheel, his hands over the hole in the back window. There weren't as many insects on it as when they'd pulled in.

Not nearly as many. Shocked at being able to see the paint, at how the insects came close and veered away, she ran around to the passenger seat with Minna on her heels. Wrenching open the door the same time her sister did, Evelyn fell into the front seat while Minna took the back.

“Why are you laying on the horn like that? I thought something was wrong,” Evelyn said, slamming her door shut. She unwrapped Rhett's shirt from around her head and set it on the seat between them.

“They don't like the noise. Where's my father?” He glanced at Minna and retreated to his seat, throwing the idling engine into gear. With impatient yanks, he put his shirt back on, pausing to pick a bug out of the folds and kill it.

“I had to leave him behind,” Minna said.

“What do you mean, leave him behind? I don't think he would have just let you walk off alone.”

“He didn't. I knew I couldn't bring him with me, so I caught a ride with a trucker and left while he was in the bathroom.”

Rhett muttered what sounded like a curse under his breath.

“Where are we going? What about the seals?” He reversed them and spun the car around like any stunt driver might, shooting them forward away from the Dead Sea and the caves.

“The rain seal has been broken but not the Sixth. We have a little time. What's the fastest way to Philae, Egypt from here?”

Chapter Sixteen

“Does it seem like it's letting up a little?” Alexandra stared at the ceiling of the steering room. Sitting on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, she lolled her head back against the cabinet and exhaled. Three hours and nothing. No cessation in the bugs, no restart of the motor. Dracht had tried several times to turn it over. He needed to go down and get his hands on the thing. They both knew it, and both avoided it.

“I can't tell,” he said from where he leaned on the opposite wall, one boot crossed over the other.

“Are you looking?” she asked.

“Yes. It's the same as it was the last time you asked.”

“Hey, maybe they have one of those blow up boats on here. The safety raft or something. If we get desperate and the engine never starts back up, we should take that.”

“It leaves us exposed to the insec--”

“I mean if it lets up. Or if the rains come. Night can't be far away now.” Any thought of arriving in Israel today had been abandoned when the boat quit working.

“Maybe a half hour. It's hard to tell.” Dracht, arms hooked casually over his chest, stared out the window.

“Have you ever thought of doin' anything else besides this?” she asked out of the blue.

“Besides being a Templar?”

“Yeah. I mean, how is it they get all the generations to go along with it?” It baffled her.

“What's not to like? We get to travel extensively, see the world, have what we need at our disposal to get the job done. Both my brothers always liked that aspect.”

“I just thought maybe one of you'd want to go off on your own. You know. Some people do that. Start up a business from a hobby—do you have a hobby?” She looked across the cabin at his profile.

“I have several hobbies, as you call them, most revolving around my work. Swordsmanship is one of them. I like training.” He glanced at her.

“Huh. But like...other things.”

“What kind of other things?”

“Wood working, reading, canoeing, hiking...like that.” She arched a brow.

“I've been on a few climbing expeditions in my time. I like to travel. History interests me.”

“But you're kind of all about the training, aren't you?” she asked, sensing Dracht was not a man who spent too much time in idle pursuits. His outside interests, like the climbing, were probably all physically intensive.

“Of course. I like the challenge of competition. What about you?”

Alexandra quirked her lips. Just past Dracht's head out the window, something moved. Something not the bugs, that she could see only as a vague shadow that was also not the encroaching advent of night. It moved too quick for that. All thoughts of extra-curricular activities fled.

“What's that?” She frowned and lurched to her feet.

“What's what?” Dracht wrenched a look around behind him.

A high shadow slanted across the cabin just as she realized what it was. The boat, a much larger one than they were currently in, slammed into them broadside. The drone of the engine had gone unheard over the buzz of insects and conversation.

Their yacht flipped up onto its side, throwing her hard against the console and the windows—which shattered a moment later. Covering her head to protect it from shards of glass, she felt a band of steel around her waist that she recognized as Dracht's arm. He hauled her to the floor as the fishing trawler bowled right over them, pushing the back end of the boat around and all the way over upside down.

She hit the ceiling—now the floor—with a thump. Dracht lay half over her, grunting either from pain or exertion. Water flooded in, pushing at her hip and legs with unimaginable velocity. Alexandra panicked, thinking she wouldn't be able to get to the windows or the door and swim out.

Dracht had other ideas. Against the rushing stream, he jack-kicked a boot at the remaining shards of glass, bugs streaming in with debris picked up from the floor.

“Take a breath, take a deep breath—we're going out!” he shouted, tugging her with him against the current.

Sucking in a lungful of air, she submerged when he did. Combined with Dracht's strength, using the console to push against with her feet, she squirmed through the jagged hole and into the open ocean. Several slivers of glass gouged into her skin.

It was the least of her worries right now.

Dracht towed her like she weighed nothing, legs kicking, free arm slicing through the water. His strength was surprising, the hold on her arm firm but not crushing. She sputtered and gasped when they broke the surface.

“Why did they ram us?” she shouted. The trawler that hit them didn't appear to be stopping. It churned on, hardly taking any damage from what she could see. None of the insects were on the water itself, staying several yards above the surface. Which left them worry free—for now—about that at least.

“They might not have seen us until too late. Look at it out here,” Dracht said with a jerk of his head to flip his hair from his eyes. “You stay here. I'm going to go back and see if I can find an emergency flotation device.”

“You're not going back there, Dracht! What if it starts sinking and pulls you under with it? No.” Alexandra had horrifying visions of him going under and never surfacing.

He shot her an impatient look and enunciated his next words. “Alex. We're going to die of exposure out here much faster or get taken down by sharks. I don't know about you, but I'm bleeding in several places. Now stay here.”

“Dracht!” Too late. She watched him swim back toward the capsized boat, take a deep breath, and go under. Startled by something black and slippery on the water, she slapped at it, yelping, only to realize it was her hair.

Treading water, she cast her gaze far and wide, taking in the ocean from this level. The waves were low swells that lifted and set her down gently. Ten feet above the water, the swarm all but obliterated the gray sky, a hissing, buzzing noise competing with the lap of the current against the boat's hull.

Alex felt vulnerable. Exposed. Even when she'd been held captive by the rogue Templars, there hadn't been this vast sense of helplessness. She and Dracht couldn't turn the boat back over, the one that hit them was already gone from sight, and she couldn't discern which direction had the closest shoreline. Turkey should be the nearest, but which way was it? Disoriented, she spit a mouthful of water and concentrated instead on Dracht.

How long had it been? A minute? How long would she wait until she went after him?

“Dracht!” His name floated over the water. Useless.

There was no answer. Nothing but the eerie, monochrome day and the thousands of insects that seemed never ending.

She realized the swarm didn't seem as thick as it had before; more of the darkening sky became visible in snatches.

“Dracht!” Swinging her attention to the boat, she searched the water for him. No sign. At least a minute had gone by. Maybe a minute and a half. A chill that had nothing to do with their predicament or the weather raced down her spine.

Another half minute, and she was going after him. To hell with it. Hyper-focused, she tried to will Dracht to the surface. A surreal quality painted itself over the scene, as if she might wake up from the beginning of the nightmare any second now. It didn't feel real anymore, like all this was happening to someone else.

To the side of the capsized boat, something burst up from the depths, bumblebee yellow in color, and burst open on the surface. A life raft.

But where was Dracht? She started swimming toward the raft while it inflated, spitting out another mouthful of water.

He broke the surface a moment later, dragging in great lungfuls of air.

“I thought you weren't going to make it,” she railed at him, angry that he'd worried her to the extent she was about to risk her own life to save him.

“When are you ever going to trust that faith you have in me you refuse to acknowledge?” He grasped the side of the raft and hauled himself with no small amount of struggle over into the bottom.

Alex grabbed the rope circling the craft on the other end and clasped her hand in his when he reached for her. Dracht hauled her in with almost too much ease. She thought about his comment, realizing silently that she did have faith in him. And after everything, she trusted him more than anyone else except her sisters.

Flopping onto her back, out of breath, she stared at the sky. She could see patches of it in the thinning swarm.

“I thought you'd drowned.” To her surprise, he laughed.

“I'm harder to get rid of than that. Feel up to rowing?” From a net attached to the interior wall of the raft, Dracht pulled a fold up oar. It took a tug and two snaps to make full size.

Alexandra rolled over and scooted to the opposite end, fishing out the second oar. There were only two, and she took the extra precaution of attaching the wrist strap so she didn't accidentally drop it.

Sitting on her knees, uncomfortable in soaked jeans, she surveyed the ocean with the oar across her thighs. “Do you have any idea which way we're supposed to go?”

“No. Any directional sense I had went out the window when the boat rammed and flipped us over.”

Everything looked the same in all directions to Alex. “The bugs are starting to thin though. That's something.”

Overhead, ever larger swaths of sky were visible. Alexandra considered the remains of the swarm to be stragglers, and lucky for them, the stragglers had no interest in something that close to the water.

“At the very least. I don't think I want to know when the rains might come.” Dracht stuck his oar in the water and started rowing.

Alex matched him, digging in and pulling to get them going forward. “Me either.”

Where, to what country, time would only tell.

***

Every street, every highway, every patch of land they passed wore a blanket of insects. The GPS directed them on the most expedient route through Israel, taking them past cities buried in black. Minna expressed her shock at the entirety of the coverage with small noises from the back seat. She covered the hole in the window with the windshield protector to keep the bugs out.

A half hour into their trip, just as the sky moved from gray to black, the swarm came to an end. It trickled and thinned until only a few buzzed onto some far location Evelyn couldn't begin to guess at. The ones that remained dealt more destruction by chewing through foliage, material, anything that wasn't steel or metal or hard plastic. Sometimes, even people.

The survivors they saw all had the same stunned looks on their faces. Some flashed by in cars going the other direction and once a military type vehicle blew past them for some unknown destination. In the heart of the cities people moved much slower than the panicked pace she saw in Greece. Those that dared to surface from their hidey-holes found nightmares and scenes of horror awaiting them. Evelyn caught glimpses of their faces while they drove past, moved by their plight, their obvious distress.

Children sobbed right alongside the parents.

Rhett had to get inventive to obtain gas when the stations themselves proved to be empty. He siphoned from other vehicles on roads with little to no traffic or signs of life, filling the tank and securing the plastic tubing he'd found in the trunk for later.

They had a long way to go.

Between towns, at a lonely truck stop with a convenience store attached, they found food remnants on wrecked shelves from looters who hadn't had time to take everything yet.

Evelyn ate vienna sausages, a kosher pickle and split barbecue corn nuts with Minna. It wasn't much, but it took the pangs away.

Rhett consumed his portion of beef jerky and dried banana chips without complaint.

Walking over the thick layer of bugs proved to be the harder part of finding sustenance—they wanted to cling and crawl up shoes and pantlegs. Evelyn found it much easier to fend them off this way however than when they smothered her whole.

This she could deal with.

Passing through Be'er Sheeva, the city as buried as all the rest, they stocked up on water they found at a last stop gas station and set off through the desert landscape.

A red moon rose, like it had last night, the stars seeming smaller somehow, less visible. Evelyn hated the enclosed sensation that came along with nightfall, an unusual occurrence when the nights had always seemed so expansive and limitless. They might has well have been in a snowglobe, contained and confined.

“I don't know about anyone else,” Rhett said at one point. “But I'm just glad to be able to see.”

“It's a relief,” Evelyn admitted. “I wonder how Alexandra and Dracht are faring.”

“I don't know, but when we get into Sinai, I'm going to find someplace with a working phone and call Father Valanzano,” Rhett said.

Evelyn glanced across the car, about to protest. Then she realized how foolish that would be. Whoever the elite, the powermen of the world were, they wouldn't be listening in to any conversations.

“To see if your Dad's checked in? He's probably got Christian with him, you think?” she asked.

“I don't know. I can't imagine him leaving Christian behind though.” Rhett looked pensive and glanced in the mirror at Minna before looking at the road again.

Evelyn wondered if he blamed her for anything that might happen to his father or brother, even if Christian had put himself in a bad situation. She refrained from asking for now.

Out the windows, she stared thoughtfully at the red moon. It cast a strange glow over the slithering, shiny backs of the insects, making the terrain appear alien, foreign. The desert wasn't a desert but a living, writhing mass as far as the eye could see.

***

“Evelyn. Evelyn.”

She stirred at a gentle shake of her shoulder. Sitting upright, she blinked open her eyes. “What, where are we?”

“Cairo. I'm getting out to make a call. If you need to use the bathroom, do that before we get on the road again.” Rhett took his hand away and opened his door.

Evelyn realized she'd been asleep for hours. Darkness cloaked the city and when she twisted around to look into the back seat, she found Minna there, awake but looking out her window.

“All right. Be careful.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched, trying to get a feel for what time of the night it was. Rhett had pulled up alongside a convenience store that had been ransacked at some point before the swarm set in. At a phone booth with a shell around the receiver instead of solid glass walls, she watched him punch numbers into the keypad.

“He already got gas from an abandoned car a few miles back,” Minna said.

“I don't know how I slept through all that. Did you get any rest?” she asked, glancing back again. Minna met her eyes.

“Not yet. I will on the next leg, maybe. The store has restrooms, I'm sure. Do you want to go in?”

“Might as well. We're here.” The pressure on her bladder, insistent already, would only get worse. She opened her door and braced herself for the prickly trip across the layer of bugs into the convenience store. Rhett watched them instead of facing the wall, alert, speaking too low into the receiver for her to make out any words.

At least the phones still worked.

Front windows blown out, shelves teetering at angles, the store looked a wreck. Picking her way over debris, she made her way through the mess toward the back where a sign indicated mens and ladies rooms. So far she saw no people, no bodies. The layer of insects ceased several feet into the building, giving them a clear shot to the back. On the way, Minna spotted packages of raisins and pastries that she gathered up to take with them.

“There might be more behind that shelf,” Minna said, indicating a toppled rack. “We'll look when we come back out.”

“What I wouldn't give for a grilled chicken salad.” Evelyn pushed open the door and peered inside the bathroom before committing to going in.

It looked clear.

And it dawned on her that she hadn't seen nor heard other people since awakening in the parking lot. There had been survivors risking the elements in every other city they'd passed. Maybe the citizens self imposed a curfew. She didn't think for a minute that the entire population had fled—where else would they go?

Back at the sink a few minutes later, Evelyn stared into the mirror while she washed her hands. Hollow cheeks, haunted eyes, hair a tangle around her head. Minna's reflection right next to her didn't have the same stricken look, but her sister seemed more withdrawn than usual. Suffering silently, perhaps, the consequences of her actions.

A bump at the door drew her from introspective thoughts and after throwing the towelette away, she opened it, expecting to see Rhett waiting impatiently there.

Instead a man, skin bitten to shreds, a lower eyelid drooping like someone yanked it out of place, stood there staring at her. Evelyn had no time to react before he snatched her around the throat with a hand that looked like it had gone through a meat grinder.

She grabbed his wrist with both hands and wrenched herself backward.

“Tell me how to get out of here!” he shouted.

The bugs had done a number on him. Even his hair looked frayed and half eaten at the ends. He didn't seem to know how to get out of the store without facing the wrath of the insects.

Yet the creatures hadn't done the same thing to she or Rhett or Minna. Not to this degree.

Minna came out of nowhere, landing a hard kick to his midsection and then an uppercut to his jaw that sent him staggering across the short hall, through the men's door and onto his back.

“Come on,” Minna said, grabbing Evelyn by the arm.

“What happened to him? Why does he look like that and we don't?” Evelyn asked, forgetting the food on the counter.

“I don't know. Right now it doesn't matter.”

They navigated the store much more quickly than they had going in. Hearing the man shout and struggle to get to his feet motivated them to hustle.

Crunching over the insects, Evelyn jogged through the front doors and out onto the front walk, Minna right behind her. When she glanced back, the man stood at the edge of the bug line, sobbing, tearing at his hair and his face. He looked terrified.

The bugs grew agitated with him near and started swarming over the floor toward his feet, forcing him to scramble away. Overhead, the convenience store light went on the fritz; two of the letters of the store name burned out.

“What's going on?” Rhett said, stalking around the corner.

“I don't know. There's a man in there and--”

“We should go,” Minna said. She herded Evelyn toward Rhett and they all retreated to the car.

Evelyn climbed in and slammed her door, punching down the lock with her fist. She felt Rhett stab her with a curious look while he started the car.

“The bugs attacked him differently than they did us. I don't understand it. He was all chewed up and bloody and when he tried to get past the line of bugs in there, they went after him.”

“What the hell?” Rhett frowned, confused.

Out of nowhere, a violent boom of thunder shook the car, shook the very earth, rattling windows as if a ten-point on the Richter scale just struck. A drop of rain hit the windshield. Another.

And then the heavens opened up and the deluge came down.

Chapter Seventeen

Alexandra became aware of the atmospheric change when she paused rowing to catch her breath. Glancing up, she realized she couldn't see any stars or the eerie, red moon. It was so dark still that she couldn't make out the reason those landmarks were obscured.

Differentiating between cloud cover and the night canopy was impossible.

Face tilted up, a drop of rain splattered on her cheek. Right after, a thunderous jolt ripped through the sky, unleashing a torrent that fell so hard, so fast, they accumulated a half inch of water in the bottom of the raft in under a minute. She felt it splashing up against her legs.

Concerns of sinking, again, overrode the dilemma of being lost on the ocean without knowing whether they were rowing in circles or toward land.

“We're going to have to bail water out, or we're going under,” Dracht shouted.

“With what? There is nothing! It's coming down too fast to bail.” Lightning streaked overhead, terrifyingly bright and vicious. Thunder followed less than a second behind it and Alex swore she could feel the vibration of it straight to her very bones.

This wasn't just any storm. It was a powerhouse of fury, hammering the earth with spikes of rain that started to sting against the skin.

As good of shape as she was in, her shoulder muscles burned from the incessant rowing. None of that mattered when she stabbed the oar into the ocean and put all her strength behind each stroke. Realistically, she knew it wasn't going to help. The rain came down relentlessly, up to her ankles, her calves, lapping at her thighs. So much rain that she could barely see Dracht across the three feet of raft that separated them.

Already the bottom of the raft sagged under the extra weight and battering downpour. During a strobe of lightning, she saw Dracht with one of his boots in his hands, frantically scooping rainwater out of the bottom to dump it over the side. He scooped, bailed. Scooped, bailed.

At first she thought he might be onto something. Even if they could both use their shoes, if they bailed as fast as they could, they were still going to sink.

It was inevitable. Undeniable. Inescapable. The only thing they bought with it was a little more time. They couldn't row and bail, which meant the raft made no progress toward shore. Any shore.

Realizing the futility, Dracht stopped bailing. Alexandra stopped rowing. They stared at each other in the darkness, faces dripping, chests heaving for breath. Every time the lightning raced through the sky she caught a glimpse of his eyes. She read the same frustration she felt, understood his impotent anger. Alexandra had the irrational urge to beat at the raft with the oar, to scream at the heavens about the unfairness of it all.

The deviation from self control was a shock to her system. Any time life had thrown an obstacle at her, she'd found a way to deal with it or cope. Never before had she felt so useless regarding her own immediate future. Fighting greedy cabals was one thing; fighting this was another.

“What if we fold the raft into itself? If we can get enough water out, maybe we can bring the two sides together and lash them with the rope. It'll be like one of those banana boats, we'll have to straddle it, but we'll stay afloat rather than sink. What do you think?” Dracht shouted over the storm.

Dracht's ingenuity brought her mental rantings up short. Here she'd been lamenting their situation and he'd been thinking of a way around it. That was usually her talent. Her mind worked over his plan, and she found few flaws with it. What they ended up with wouldn't be anything beautiful, wouldn't win any prizes, but it was a shot at staying alive.

“Hurry, Alex. What do you think?” he urged. The raft was filling faster.

“Yes! Let's try it!” Sliding her hand out of the wrist strap, she tossed the oar into the middle of the raft. Yanking off one of her hiking boots, leaving the soaked sock on her foot, she started using it to scoop water out.

Five minutes later, with both of them bailing for all they were worth, Alexandra realized they were only holding steady. The level didn't rise—but neither did it fall. They were purging what fell.

“It's not enough. Get into the water, let's tip it over!” Dracht shouted a moment later. He too must have realized it wasn't going to work.

Alexandra struggled to put her shoe back on, grabbed the oar, and was about to slip into the water when Dracht stopped her.

“No. Wait. Grab your side, get the rope, and on the count of three, lurch my way. I'll sink this side at the same time. I don't think we'll be able to flip it if we're outside. Too much water in here.” He gestured while he shouted over the raging thunder.

“Okay!” She saw immediately what he was going for. Wrapping her fingers in the rope, holding onto the oar with the other, she listened for the countdown.

“One. Two. Three!”

Alexandra threw all her weight to the other side. The rope threatened to scrape off the skin of her fingers when the raft didn't want to flip at first. Dracht went into the water, flooding that side, and finally they went over with a splash. She wound up under it, treading water. Dracht surfaced under there with her where they had a little shelter from the rain.

Small, riotous waves lapped at her chin.

“All right. Now we have to pull the sides together. Might be easier to just do it from under here and spare ourselves the rain right now,” he said.

“Bring the sides in and tie them off. I can hold both while you do it—I don't have a knife to cut the rope though.” She'd lost everything when the yacht sank.

“There's a release at one end.” He dropped the oar and let it float on the surface.

Alex released hers as well. She needed both hands for this. Dracht grunted when he pulled one side in, forcing the raft to buckle down the middle. Alex drug her side toward him, muscles straining, legs thrashing underwater to give her the leverage she needed.

Dracht popped the catch on the rope and wound it through the loops on the sides, almost like tying a shoe; back and forth, yanking and pulling and struggling.

Alex did her part by holding the sides together as he went, sure at any second the pressure was going to rip her arms right out of their sockets.

When he was done, there was no room to stay beneath. Alexandra grabbed the oars and ducked under, swimming to the outer side. Surfacing, she spit water out of her mouth. The raft bowed up in the center, listing slightly to one side. But it was floating and in no threat of being sunk by too much rain. It ran off the second it hit the surface.

The plan worked.

Now to get atop it.

That was definitely going to be difficult.

Dracht came up beside her, blowing out a breath. “I'm going to go around the other side and hold it down while you climb on. Once you get up there, you're going to have to lean one way while I get on so we don't flip it over.”

“All right, I got it.” She nodded her understanding.

A moment later she heard him shout from across the raft. With nowhere to put the oars, she let them float, confident they could retrieve them when they were settled. Hands slipping over the rubbery surface, she tried to find something to hold onto. The top of the boat had been the bottom and there was nothing to hook onto. Yanking her side down, she toed a foot onto the lip and hauled herself up, mounting it almost like she might a horse. With less grace to be sure. She grabbed for one of the oars.

“I'm up!”

“Lean to the other side!” he shouted.

Alex worried she might slip right off. It was so slick beneath her that it felt like she might slide off anyway. Leaning, using her other leg to anchor atop it, she felt Dracht lurch himself up and over. He flopped like a landed fish first, an ingenious idea, then swung his leg over and waited until she'd straightened to grab his own oar.

Against the odds, they were on it. The lopsided tilt wasn't comfortable, and a strong wave might throw them right over, but they were finally out of the water and not in immediate danger of sinking. Legs straddled, she dipped her oar in and started rowing.

Above them, the ferocity of the storm increased.

***

First bugs, now rain. The windshield wipers madly swiped away water on the highest speed available. Evelyn still couldn't see. Between the pitch black night, the absolute barrage of rain, visibility dropped to less than two feet beyond the bumper.

Holding onto the dashboard with both hands, Evelyn squinted.

“I can't see a thing.”

“You're not the only one.” Rhett muttered under his breath, driving at a snail's pace.

The rain pelted the ground so hard that out her side window, Evelyn could see the insects pop up off the ground like they were frying on a griddle. Their slight weight was no match for the driving needles.

They managed to get out onto the main street after leaving the convenience store and had gone maybe three blocks, by her estimation. So far, they hadn't seen another person either driving or out on the street. Evelyn couldn't blame the population for seeking surcease inside from the elements.

“What did Father Valanzano say?” she asked, glancing at the GPS which was miraculously still working.

“He said he'd been in touch with Dragar. Roman and Christian are with him at another safe house in Athens. They're riding it out the last Valanzano heard,” Rhett said.

“Did he say anything about all this?” Evelyn asked, gesturing indicatively at the unfolding nightmare around them.

“Of course he did. He picked my brain but I didn't really give him too much information. Doesn't matter who's listening in, there's only so much I'm going to say on the phone. I told them to prepare for the worst.”

“As you should have,” Minna added from the back seat.

“If we can just get to Ashrael, I know he'll help us fix it. If the Sixth Seal isn't broken, then these storms should pass and nature will get back to normal.” Evelyn heard the doubt in her own voice. She didn't know anything for sure other than Ashrael would at least hear them out when they got there.

She hung all her hopes and dreams on the Guardian and her faith in his abilities was enormous. Ashrael, always the understanding and compassionate one where the girls were concerned. Which didn't mean he was a push over by any stretch of the imagination. A more honor driven soul she'd never met. Ashrael's defense of the Garden, of all things sacred, was legendary.

“I don't think anything will ever get back to the normal we all once knew,” Rhett said, making a cautious right turn. The headlights shined off several cars through the downpour that blocked the road.

“Shit. We're going to have to go around.” Rhett craned looks all around out the windows.

Minna did the same, scanning the night for an alternative.

“Look, there's a driveway to a parking lot that might have an exit on the other side.” Evelyn spotted the way in and pointed to it.

Rhett swung the BMW into the driveway and cruised through the lot. Cars sat in spaces, either abandoned or forgotten by their owners. Lights from surrounding buildings illuminated the rain, turning it silver and yellow. Rhett navigated the lot and pulled out the other driveway, bypassing the cars left in the road from an accident.

Over compensating, the front wheel struck the curb and bounced off. The tires splashed through a heavy layer of water that had started to collect on all the roads. Deeper in some places than others, he slowed to cruise through puddles that would shortly become small lakes.

“Look. There's the sign for the highway. If we can get on it, I think we'll have an easier time,” he said. The sign, in two languages, was clear of insects from the rain.

The storms were good for something after all.

Rhett swerved them onto the ramp, accelerated to twenty miles an hour, and headed south toward Aswan.

***

The torque on her torso from centering balance on the modified raft became a torturous, unbearable pain. She had to lean forward at an angle while rowing, straining her spine, her thighs, her neck. Alexandra, never a whiner or complainer, suddenly sat up and dropped her chin to her chest. Laying the oar over her thighs, she sat there in the unrelenting rain, praying for patience. For more strength. For a throat full of saliva to swallow.

She needed water.

Her tongue felt swollen and strange. Letting go of the oar, she cupped her hands together and caught a puddle in her palms. The small swallows she pulled in were heaven.

“You alright?” Dracht asked behind her.

She could feel him still straining, still dragging the oar through the water. He sat at least a foot behind her on the awkward raft. She nodded, lying. Alexandra didn't feel all right at all.

The seriousness of their situation, the pain she was in, the brutal weather—it hit a pinnacle, testing her faith in herself, her beliefs, challenging what she knew about her own strength and tenacity. She was not a quitter. She did not give up or give in without a fight.

Right at that moment, she wasn't sure she could drag the oar through the water another time or keep herself on the raft because sinking into the water would just be easier. She'd rather float than endure another second of searing, burning, aching pain.

The raft shifted dangerously, causing her to wobble warily. For all her adamant thought of dumping herself in, she recognized her instinct to stay out of the water.

Suddenly, Dracht was right behind her, thighs parted around her hips, strong arms encircling her in a bear hug. He spoke quietly, right next to her ear.

“I know it hurts. Burns. I feel it, too. And I know it seems hopeless—we can't see, have no idea where the hell we are, and there's little chance anyone will find us. I know. But I also know we're going to get through it. Somewhere, there's an end to the upheaval. It's not death.”

Shocked at his astute perception, Alex didn't fight off the hold around her body, didn't shake him away. The timbre of his voice was pleasant in her ear and his heat a welcome sensation along the length of her back. She dared to relax, bowing her spine into him, letting him bear some of her weight.

He accepted her in, holding her tighter, balancing the raft for them both. She hated her moment of weakness, but Dracht did not exploit the knowledge. He knew what a rough and tumble, self-assured person she was and that he only offered comfort in her time of personal crisis raised her respect for him exponentially.

Dracht gave the Templar name the honor it deserved. Selfless, driven, determined. He was all those things and more.

“Thanks.” The humble bit of gratitude barely penetrated the sudden howl of the wind. It blew at them from the west, driving the rain sideways. She hunched up a shoulder against it and ducked her head further.

“You're welcome. We'll get through it together.”

***

The drive south to Aswan took forever. At least to Evelyn. The rain created hazardous conditions, sometimes making the road so slick she thought they were going to crash. Rhett, forced to increase the speed lest it take them a month to arrive, did his best to keep them safe. There was a narrow escape with hydroplaning, a near miss with another car, and times when the storm lashed the rain so hard they couldn't see at all.

Bugs that couldn't lift off and flee the onslaught, drowned. Millions of little black bodies floated in puddles or got pounded into the ground. The clouds that filled the sky obliterated the black sun to the point it still felt like midnight even when high noon rolled around.

Evelyn took a stab at driving so Rhett could rest, and Minna took over for her when she grew too tired to see. All three were aware of the flooding going on out in the desert and three times they had to divert around swamped sections of highway because it was under water.

At one abandoned gas station along the way, which thankfully had gas left in the pumps, a TV blared non stop with news from all over the world. They saw chaos and hysteria in every city, the newscasters shouting into their microphones, expressions stunned. One anchor broke down and cried. Half the time the feed got interrupted by a blitz of static from the weather, recovering slowly until the picture came back in. Everyone had an opinion about the phenomenon the world was experiencing, ranging from global warming to biblical Armageddon to aliens bent on disorder to make it easier to take over Earth.

Through one day and into another, with Rhett taking the wheel more than she or her sister, they finally reached the outskirts of Aswan. Cloaked in rain, the buildings scrubbed free of insects, the city looked almost normal. All except the water that buried whole streets, creeping toward intersections and municipal buildings that wouldn't withstand another day of storms without seeing significant damage.

People braved the weather now that the threat of the swarm was negated and Rhett maneuvered through cars trying to get in or out of the city. Every face that Evelyn saw wore the same terror, the same fear of the unknown. Many, she knew, cowered inside their homes, too afraid to come out.

South of Aswan, they found a parking lot attached to a boat rental business right on the Nile.

Evelyn climbed out of the car, achy and stiff from so many hours on the road. She didn't care about the pounding rain or thunder that sounded like repeat cannon shots. Tilting her face up, she let the deluge wash over her and ran her fingers through her hair. Tangled, messy, she'd had no comb or brush to work through the strands since...she couldn't remember when.

The water in the lot stood ankle deep, indicating they were on higher ground. Lower slopes in the city were all but buried.

“Where is it we have to go? I mean, what are we looking for here?” Rhett asked from the other side of the vehicle.

Minna was already scouting boat possibilities to cross the river in.

Evelyn read skepticism on Rhett's face and couldn't really blame him. Nothing about the surrounding terrain resembled what normal people's perception of Eden was.

“We have to go across to Agilka—rennamed Philae after they moved the Temple of Isis there,” she said, pointing across the Nile.

“Moved the temple?” he asked, following Minna toward the short docks stretching along the edge of the water.

“It used to be on another island—one that's buried underwater now after the dam was built.”

“They moved a temple? How do you do that?” He scanned the options and stalked toward one unimpressive little boat bobbing in a slip.

“Stone by stone. It was a painstaking process. Really amazing, if you ask me,” Evelyn said, shadowing him. She saw no one else either in the parking lot or on the docks. Boats looked like they had been tied off in a hurry, some about to come loose of their moorings.

Minna returned from examining two other, larger vessels with a box of cherry Hi-C and a bottle of peach tea. “Thirsty?”

“I'll share the tea with you?” Evelyn suggested to Minna, taking the bottle out of her hand.

Minna agreed and walked the box of Hi-C to Rhett.

The look on his face might have struck Evelyn as comedic any other time.

“Thanks.” He took it nevertheless and sucked down the contents in a few swallows.

Evelyn doused the dryness in her throat and handed off the tea to Minna. “Are we taking that boat over? Do we need to bail it out?”

Streamlined and sleek, the speed boat had four seats by the driver and several more up in the front where cushions lined the bow. It didn't look fancy or elaborate but it would get the job done.

“As long as the engine runs.” Rhett jumped in and slogged through water toward the driver's seat.

Evelyn followed, searching out the ignition to see if luck would finally be with them and a key would be hanging out. Except she saw no ignition and certainly no key. Just a small keypad with Start and Stop buttons.

“Can you start the motor manually?” Evelyn asked, utterly clueless about the intricate workings of boats. Any kind except canoes or rowboats.

“We don't need a key. See this keypad here?” he asked, pointing to it with a finger.

“Yes. Is that like the kind on cars where you press a number to get in?”

“Exactly like that.”

“We don't have the sequence.”

Rhett slung sopping strands of hair back out of his face. “See, when they come off the line, they're pre-set with a number the owner can use until he picks a new one for himself. A lot of times no one bothers to reset it. If we're lucky, the bilge pump will start working and drain the water out.”

Minna watched around Evelyn's shoulder, one hand braced against the seat.

“We could use a little luck right about now.” Evelyn held her breath when Rhett jabbed at the buttons.

1, 2, 3, 4. He pushed the Start button.

Nothing happened.

“Oh no--”

He pushed the Start button again and the motor cranked to life. “We'll give it a few minutes to get some of the water out.”

Evelyn released the pent up breath, nodded at Rhett, and followed Minna to the seats in the front. Her shoes were so wet and heavy they felt like slabs of concrete.

Rhett cast off the rope some minutes later while the bilge continued to pump. Back at the wheel, he swerved the boat out onto the Nile. The water looked black, like a rippling jewel, snaking its way through the gray landscape. Islands dotted the river, some quite large, some small. Evelyn pointed out Philae and Rhett put them on a direct course.

A man, his wife and two children scrambled into a smaller boat than their own just as they pulled up to the docks on the west side of the island. Scared, battling the weather like everyone else, they only gave the three of them startled, fearful looks before rowing toward the main shoreline. Evelyn watched them go with her hand shielding her eyes from the sideways rain, face turned away from the brunt of the wind.

After Rhett cut the engine and tied the boat, Evelyn climbed out, with his help, onto the dock. Minna set off across the sopping ground for the temple that rose like a monolith against the angry sky.

“I still don't get what we're doing here. We're on an island in the middle of the Nile. This is the fabled Eden?” Rhett asked near her ear.

Over a volley of thunder, she said, “No, this is just the gateway. Even though they moved the temple itself, it didn't disturb passage into the East Gate. Ashrael waited until the move was complete and reshaped the access so we could enter. It'll be safe here for centuries, protected by the Egyptian government, a perfect and secure gateway.”

“Unless the island sinks again.”

Evelyn craned a dry look over her shoulder.

He arched his brows as if to say, I'm just saying.

One would never guess the site had been rebuilt one stone at a time for how natural it looked against the landscape, as if it had been built there so many thousands of years before instead of on an island all but underwater in the Nile.

Ahead, the east and west set of colonnades sat parallel to each other, a wide berth between them. At the end sat the majestic pylons, carved with intricate hieroglyphics. A doorway sat right in the middle. It looked miniscule compared to the giant pieces of stone surrounding it.

The west set of colonnades had many more columns than did the east, and it was where Minna headed. Evelyn followed with Rhett right at her back.

Rows and rows of columns, each as richly engraved as the next, sat equally spaced apart and supported a slab overhead that helped block out some of the rain. Minna came to a stop next to one in particular.

“This is where you need to follow exactly in our footsteps,” Evelyn told Rhett over her shoulder. “Don't go around the other way or bypass any of the columns.”

“All right.” He sounded perplexed.

Minna glanced back and after Evelyn nodded, she began. The winding, serpentine path she walked encompassed many of the columns. Weaving, they worked one end to the other, sometimes cutting up right through the middle in figure-eight patterns around the damp stone.

Evelyn glanced back to make sure Rhett was right behind her. She knew this routine by heart, could have completed this walk blindfold. Touching a few of the stones, she let her fingers trail over the carvings until one fell away for another.

At the end of the colonnades, Minna rounded a final one and made way for the cutout doorway in the center of the skyscraper pylons. Evelyn felt the strange shift in the air that always came in this part of the transition. Like a balloon pressed against the body, a tightness that didn't hurt or annoy, but that couldn't be ignored.

The storm raged overhead, releasing a fresh round of spiking, spearing rain. Like it wanted to nail its captives to the ground by their clothes and their skin. Thunder boomed, lightning lit up a gloomy sky.

Minna stepped up to and through the door, turning her head to look back.

Evelyn reached for Rhett's hand when it was their turn, leading him right to the edge. She heard his breath catch in his throat and tugged him through to the other side.

The violent whip of the wind, streaks of lightning and pounding rain faded. From the gloom, a new day dawned, spreading out before them as fresh as the beginning of spring. Several acres of sweet, green grass stood between the pylons behind them and a new gate before them. A gate so commanding and detailed it made the pylons look droll and unimpressive. Three stories high, it boasted swooping, baroque style arches of stone. Filigree veins of gold wove through carvings of vines, grapes, leaves, animals and other flora both known and unknown on Earth.

A vibrant sun shone down from a blue sky and wisps of clouds scudded along toward some distant destination. The temperature was neither too hot nor too cold. Flowers of white, yellow, pink, fushia, lavender and colors in between sprouted up from the base of the stone and beyond.

Thousands of acres of ethereal land stretched as far as the eye could see. Trees familiar and not swayed and rustled in a faint breeze. Some of the terrain was hilly, some spattered with large rocks, and a meandering stream burbled to the east. The colors were straight from a Monet painting; inviting, surreal, decadent. It seemed impossible that just behind them, through the pylon doorway, such fury battered the earth.

No wrought iron or wood gate stood in their way to cross through the arches to that wonderland of nature.

Evelyn saw the wonder and disbelief on Rhett's face, hair and clothes stuck to his body, skin as wet as if he'd just stepped out of the bath. That particular moment of Rhett's understanding and revelation would stay with her for all time.

“It's stunning,” he said, voice nothing more than a murmur.

“Yes, it is,” Evelyn agreed. She looked away when Minna touched her arm, finding her sister with a bemused, troubled frown on her brow.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Ashrael.”

Evelyn snapped a look around the land before the East Gate. She'd been so distracted she hadn't realized Ashrael wasn't standing right there like he always was, ready to greet them with some witty retort.

“Ashrael?” She called out. Maybe he didn't feel them coming.

Nothing.

“What's wrong? Maybe he's just inside there somewhere?” Rhett said with a gesture to the gate.

Evelyn shook her head. “No. Ash is always here. He knows when someone arrives. They would never leave the Gate untended.” She called out again. “Ash! Where are you?”

Still nothing.

Impossibly, the Guardian of the East Gate was gone.

Chapter Eighteen

“So what does it mean if the Guardian is gone?” Rhett asked. “Is there a specific significance if he's missing?”

Evelyn looked at her sister to find Minna with a bemused, slightly alarmed expression on her face. She knew what Minna was thinking because the same tickle of fear made her nerves stretch taut.

“Girls?” he prompted.

“The only reason he would be gone from here is if Armageddon has started,” Minna replied, glancing from Evelyn to Rhett.

“But you said you didn't break the Sixth seal itself--”

“That must mean that once one seal is broken, any seal, the process is irreversible. We'd hoped we could stop the progression—or that Ashrael could,” Evelyn said, picking up where Minna left off.

Rhett shook rainwater out of his hair and approached the broad gate. Ten cars could be lined up, side by side, underneath the arch. Hundreds of people could pass through at a time if need be.

“Wait, Rhett. I don't think it's a good idea for you to pass through yet.” Minna held out a cautionary palm to prevent him from crossing into Eden itself.

He stopped right at the edge, scanning the landscape with a razor sharp gaze that swung back to Evelyn. “My father and brothers are back there. If you really think there's no chance at all to reverse it, I should return. Dracht can get in here with Alex—Dragar and Christian don't even know where it is.”

Minna lowered her hand.

Evelyn stared at Rhett, more exhausted suddenly than she could remember feeling in a long time. Soaked to the bone, hungry, thirsty, needing sleep, the last thing she wanted to contemplate was the thought of losing Rhett for good. She'd already lost two sisters in a short amount of time and now the earth was under siege, possibly about to undergo the worst string of catastrophes it had ever seen. Alexandra was still out there somewhere, too, and Evelyn had no way of knowing whether her sister was safe or in peril.

She could die like Galiana or Genevieve.

All she and Minna had to do was step through the East Gate to be protected. None of the violence would touch them here, any of them, as long as they stayed within the expansive confines of Eden. Whether there would be any backlash taking Rhett in there with them she couldn't guess.

Nothing might happen. And something awful could. Ashrael would have been able to guide them, give them direction and advice. He wasn't here so the decisions had to be made between the three of them.

She felt Rhett and Minna watching her, waiting.

A temperate breeze toyed with the ends of her wet hair and the edges of her clothes, irresistibly peaceful and luring.

They could enter Eden and live out their lives in harmony, safe from mortal dangers and concerns. But at what emotional and psychological cost? Was it worth it if they had to live every day knowing they didn't at least try to help those they loved? What about the rest of humanity?

On the other hand, if Armageddon had really begun beyond the pylons, or was about to begin, their chances of finding anyone they knew were remote to impossible. If they went back, they were all but forfeiting their lives.

“What are you thinking, Evelyn?” Rhett asked.

“Our chances of surviving it are slim to none, Rhett. What we just went through?” She gestured with a hand toward the pylon doorway. “That will seem mild compared to what's coming. The odds of finding them when the power goes out, when we can't stand upright for the devastation of the earthquakes, when volcanoes erupt all over the world, will be astronomical. Phones won't work, roads will be devastated, mayhem on an unimaginable level will occur. We'll be relegated to walking, open and exposed to the elements. If we stay here, we'll survive it. All three of us. We'll survive and maybe Alex and Dracht if they make it in time. I just don't know if any of us can live like that knowing we didn't do everything we could to save the rest of them.”

“We don't even know if Rhett can enter Eden without Ashrael,” Minna added.

Rhett never wavered his attention from Evelyn while she talked. When she was done, he thrust both hands back through his hair and paced an agitated circle. Locking his fingers behind his head, he stared up at the placid sky, clothes drooping from the weight of the rain.

Evelyn fretted over what he was thinking, what conclusions he might come to. Nothing about what she wanted with him—or wanted to try with him—had changed. What changed was the circumstances of their world and the situation they found themselves in.

Distantly, birds trilled happy songs. Leaves whispered and rustled. The sun felt warm and healing.

Rhett dropped his arms and curved a path toward her. Bracing his hands on each of her shoulders, he met and held her eyes.

Evelyn knew what was coming even before he spoke.

“My job was to get you to safety. You and Minna once we joined up with her. If I can't get into Eden with you, it's pointless for me to stay here. I'm better served doing what I can out there,” he cocked his head toward the tall pylons.

She knew he was right. Despite the pang in her heart, she knew she couldn't expect Rhett to languish here in the space between the doorway to earth and the Gate to Eden. A handful of acres—beautiful, yes—with nothing but grass, a few colorful plants and several trees for company. Rhett was a man made for action, to accomplish things, to help people. Not pace a paradise cage.

He was crazy though, if he thought she was staying behind. She would rather draw her last breath fighting at his side than wander Eden alone.

“I understand. But I'm coming with you.”

His jaw tightened. “You can't. You and Minna are safe right here, and this is where you're staying. Every minute we waste here is another minute I could be doing something out there.”

“I'm not staying here,” Evelyn insisted. Calm, in control, sure of her decision.

“It serves no purpose for me to be the only human in Eden,” Minna added, indicating she wasn't staying behind either.

Rhett dropped his hands from Evelyn and slanted Minna an irritable look. “You're both staying and that's final.”

“Actually, I think they will be going with you,” a familiar voice said behind them.

Evelyn swung around to see a tall, well built man swathed in elaborate leather armor standing ten feet away. Dark haired, gray eyed, skin subtly bronze, Ashrael exuded a commanding presence like that of a warrior either just returned victorious from a battle or ready to embark on one. He was soaked in all the places water could reach.

The timbre and resonance of his speech had a way of sliding beneath the skin all the way to the bone.

“Hello, girls.”

***

All of the siblings had known Ashrael their entire lives. There wasn't one sister who didn't adore him. He treated them like any beloved Uncle might, protective and willing to listen whenever they wanted to speak. Every time they returned to the East Gate, Ashrael could be counted upon to be there.

Until now.

Evelyn and Minna engulfed him in an embrace that could be called nothing less than affectionate. He stood a shade under seven feet, which meant their cheeks only reached his chest. The palpable waves of his power radiated around him, unmistakable. Evelyn was used to the awesome presence all the Guardians projected. She knew Rhett would be much more susceptible to it.

“We didn't know what to think when we arrived to find you missing. Where have you been?” Evelyn asked.

He squeezed them both and set them back to look them over. Only his eyes showed his return affection. It slipped away at her question, leaving Ashrael with a serious, somber expression.

“I had to go to the cave. When you and Minna left, another presence invaded that sacred place.” He looked over their heads straight at Rhett.

Rhett held up his hands, palms out, a sign of innocence or surrender. “I didn't go in anywhere. I only drove Evelyn there.”

“Ashrael, this is Rhett Nich—Sagan.” Frowning, Evelyn made introductions.

“I know who he is. Rhett.” Ashrael inclined his head and did not offer his hand to shake.

Rhett didn't offer his, either. “Ashrael.”

“That can't be. I made sure no one followed me. I spent days there, scouring the landscape,” Minna said. “I would have seen anyone lurking nearby.”

Strapped to Ashrael's hip from a leather belt was a sword. The Templar swords were elaborate with their hilts and carvings, but this one outclassed them by miles. Silver, gold and steel made up the design, with inch thick bands of worn gray leather wrapping the hilt. Ashrael rested his hand on the pommel, still regarding Rhett.

“They didn't breach the cave until after you left, Minna, and you wouldn't have seen them anyway because they didn't want to be seen,” Ashrael said.

“Who was it?” Evelyn asked, imagining the crafty cabal who had captured her and Rhett to somehow have tracked them there. Ashrael turned his intuitive gaze on her.

“Servants of the Fallen. They oozed out of their hiding places the second the sun turned black and were drawn to the cave because they could feel the power of the seals.”

“Who are they?” Rhett asked, in a tone that suggested he already knew but wanted confirmation anyway.

Evelyn and Minna both knew—their expressions waned simultaneously.

“Offspring of my brethren, who were cast down and left to wait for the time of the tribulation. We would have fought them alongside the followers of the Beast—but they present a new, unexpected problem.”

“What problem, Ashrael?” Evelyn didn't like where the whole conversation was going.

“They have stolen the Book of Seals.”

Evelyn couldn't recall a time, ever, that she heard Minna gasp like that. A different kind of fear slithered through Evelyn's system. Rhett beat her to the next obvious question.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, Rhett, that the Fallen will use the remaining Seals to precipitate a war the kind the world has never seen. They have hidden the Seals in remote places to make them harder to recover and have left guards to watch over them.”

“Why aren't you doing something about it if you know where they are?” Rhett said.

Ashrael paced toward the wide entrance to Eden. There was an inherent fluidity and grace in the way he moved. He kept his eyes on Rhett the whole time. “Because that's what they want me to do. They want to call down my brothers, extract their revenge upon us before they call upon the Four Horsemen and begin the final battle.”

“I'd think that's a good thing. Get rid of them, get the seals back. Less to fight later,” Rhett said, rubbing his thumb into his palm. A thoughtful action.

“There are only so many Guardians roaming the earth, and they in no way match the number of the Fallen. All my brothers will not be unleashed until the last Seal is broken. What are you doing here, may I ask?” Ashrael directed the question at Rhett. Coming to a stop at the front of the archway, he crossed his arms over the leather armor, disregarding his soaked clothing otherwise.

Evelyn was quick to step in. “I brought him, Ashrael.”

“What for?” he asked.

After the news just delivered, it seemed selfish and trivial to want what they'd originally come for. She licked her lips and twisted her fingers together.

“I wanted to get your permission to let him have a piece of fruit from the Tree of Life.” She came right out with it. They didn't have time for tepid leadins.

“Because you're involved and want him to live a longer life with you?” Ashrael asked, astutely summing up the situation. He looked between Rhett and Evelyn in an assessing, blatant manner.

“...yes. But there's more. I'm sure you know Galiana and Genevieve were murdered recently.” Using that terminology cut Evelyn to the core. But it was what it was, and she would do everything in her power to see this through to the end she and Rhett had discussed.

Ashrael's expression waned and he inclined his head in the affirmative. He always knew when one of the sisters passed. Once, when Galiana's twin had been murdered, Evelyn asked Ashrael why he or one of the other Guardians hadn't intervened.

He'd explained it wasn't his decision when to call souls home, that he couldn't exploit his position to make miraculous saves. If Ashrael had the gift of foresight, he wasn't allowed to use it to spare them the Hunting. It was part of the human process, he'd said, as much as he loathed to see it. These misconceptions, the greed, the lust for power and control helped contribute to the Fall. He didn't outright say it was destiny, but he might as well have.

“And you know the Templars were the ones hunting us. It was a secret sect within the group, not the Templars on a whole. Rhett pulled me out of their grasp and we've been on the run ever since. The Templars weren't the only ones who wanted the information we have—a group of powerful men knew we existed and came after us once the Templar sect was taken down.”

“I'm aware. Go on,” he encouraged.

“The Church appointed Rhett, Dracht and Dragar our Guardians, to protect us from this kind of thing so we can continue doing the work we've been doing all along. I realize what an utter irony it is,” she admitted. “But there are no better men for the task. Eating the fruit would extend their lives so that we didn't have to keep worrying about whether their eventual replacements would exploit us.” Evelyn watched Ashrael consider her appeals. He was a hard man to read in circumstances such as these.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rhett and Minna also regarding Ashrael, waiting on his reply. This affected all of them. It was a life changing event for mortal men and a change for the sisters to formally accept that they would need protection from now on.

If Armageddon didn't get them first.

Ashrael switched a look to Rhett. Studying. Contemplating.

“The gift of immortality is not given lightly, nor without consequence. What would you do to have it?” he asked Rhett.

“Anything I had to,” Rhett replied.

“And your life, would you risk it?”

“Ashrael...” Evelyn interrupted. Ashrael held up a hand to silence her, staring at Rhett.

“I would,” Rhett said.

This was not how Evelyn imagined it would go. The men, gazes locked, were making plans without consulting her.

“What about the lives of your father and brothers?”

“Brothers?” Rhett asked, stressing the plural.

“Yes, both of your brothers. I'm aware of the situation with Christian.”

“I can speak for them all when I say they would take the same risks,” Rhett said after a brief hesitation.

“If I allow you to partake of the fruit it means you commit to this job until you die. You understand this?” Ashrael asked, pressing the seriousness of the issue.

“I understand. I can still speak for the others and say they would agree.”

“If you abandon your role, any of you, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”

“I don't foresee any of us doing that.” Rhett didn't seem perturbed by the threat.

Ashrael paced before the archway, Rhett still pinned under his gaze. “The gift also does not come without effort on your part. You need to bring your brothers and father here as soon as you can. There will be a forty-eight hour cessation in the storms and rain to make travel easier—although I cannot guarantee that the Servants of the Fallen will not begin breaking the Seals. If they do, the world situation will deteriorate dramatically and swiftly, far beyond what you've already witnessed.”

“And the chances of getting my family back here in time will be all but impossible,” Rhett finished for him.

Ashrael inclined his head.

“Why haven't they broken them already? Why split them up and wait?” Rhett asked.

“The Seals were not meant to be broken all at the same time. There is a delay between the summoning and the actual event, and there needs to be a 'rest' after each to give the elements time to do what they were meant to. Breaking all of them at one time would result in a cataclysmic episode that nothing, not even the Fallen, would survive. They know this. Splitting the Seals up provides them with assurance that they will be harder to recover firstly, and secondly, there will be no chance of them all breaking at the same time. There is always the psychological factor to consider as well.”

“What, for the population?” Rhett guessed.

“They thrive on pain. Fear. And they have waited a very long time to extract their revenge. They feed off the negative energy and breaking the seals slowly, forcing humans to endure each change, prolongs the panic, the mayhem. They're in control right now and relishing every blessed second of it. This also gives them time to amass their army. Bring the soldiers to the front line, as it were.” Ashrael showed little emotion over the turn of events, but his distaste was palpable on the air.

“You think I have two days to recover my family before they begin breaking seals again?” Rhett asked.

“We, we have two days to recover your family,” Evelyn asserted. Rhett sliced a sharp look her way.

“That's my best guess. They'll break the Sixth Seal next before anything else, they have to, so you will have fair warning when the earthquakes start.”

“Then I'd better get moving.” Rhett stalked toward Evelyn and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Stay here. You don't need to be out there if it all goes bad.”

Evelyn wrapped her arms around him. “I'm not staying here, Rhett. I'm coming with you.”

“No.” He set her back and drew his hand over her hair, staring at her eyes. “It's just too dangerous. You'll slow me down.”

She arched a brow. “What if something happens and I can help you?”

“I'm coming, too,” Minna added.

Rhett exhaled in apparent frustration. “I need at least one of you to stay here—look, Alex is with Dracht, she knows how to get in. Dragar and Christian don't. I had phone contact with them not long before we got here, so all I have to do is tell them where to come. But I need someone to take them through the colonnades in case they show up before I do.”

Minna considered it. “I'll stay here then and watch for them.”

Her sister was always the voice of reason. Evelyn wasn't surprised she decided to stay behind to help out in what way she could here. But she was going with him. Period.

“Rhett. I'm not staying here. Minna's got this end covered. Let me come with you. I might not have her and Alex's talents but I do have a few of my own.” Evelyn argued her point, fingers curled into his shirt.

He grabbed her up by the outside of her arms, a gentle grasp that propelled her toward the pylon door. “Let's go. There's no time to waste.”

Chapter Nineteen

Forty-eight hours. The thought raced through Rhett's head while he guided Evelyn through the tall doorway and back into the real world. He resisted looking back at Eden, at the enormous gate and beyond that called to him like nothing else ever had. Everything that he was, what made him a man, what made him Rhett, demanded he take Evelyn back there and live out a life of promised peace that was inherent, he suspected, with that sacred place. On primal levels, instinctual levels, he knew nothing would ever harm them there.

The second they were through the doorway, the sunshine vanished. An overcast, brooding sky obliterated the black sun, casting a pall all its own over the water-drenched landscape. It was such a stark difference from the warm haven with its sweet smelling grass and chirping birds that again, he fought the urge to turn around and leave here.

At least the rain had stopped as Ashrael promised. The earth seemed at a standstill; nothing moved except rivulets of water draining away from the high ground. A funeral type pall cast a great hush through the atmosphere, a silent, indrawn breath of expectation.

It made the skin on his arms prickle with goosebumps and he felt them on Evelyn's when he skimmed his palm down to claim her hand. The look on her face mirrored exactly what he felt inside.

“We need to hurry.” Rhett took off at a run with her, boots sloshing over the saturated ground. Most of the rain had run off into the Nile though huge puddles remained. Splashing through them rather than bother to go around, they passed through the center of the east and west colonnades, around several other ancient stone structures to the dock where the boat waited. He considered searching the island for a maintenance office or other modern building—there had to be one somewhere, he thought—but that would waste valuable time.

Helping her into the boat, he jumped in behind her and cut away to the keypad.

“So what's the plan? Where are we going?” Evelyn asked, plopping down into the seat across from him.

“We're going back across to the mainland and find the first gas station or convenience store in sight. They'll have a phone somewhere. I don't want to risk trying houses because people might think we're attacking them and fight back.” The engine rolled over and he steered them away from the island, zooming through the rollicking water toward the shoreline. The two inches of water in the bottom stayed there. He didn't waste time bothering with the bilge pump again.

“What if the phones are out, Rhett? We can't drive all the way back to the coast and take another boat to Greece. It'll take three and a half days at least.”

“I know.” Rhett understood they had to make contact by phone as soon as possible. Retrieving them from the safe house would take too long. Besides going, there was the trip back to consider. It would take as long to return as it did to go.

“What's the plan if that happens? If the phone service is out?”

“Let's worry about that when we have to.” He gave her a grim smile that didn't feel as encouraging as he wished it did.

Gliding into the same dock they left from, Rhett pulled the boat into a slip, cut the engine and tied the boat off. The sound of running feet pounding on wood surprised him just when he reached for Evelyn's hand to help her out.

He looked up in time to see a group of eight or so men running down the docks. Their eyes were wild, clothes and hair wet, words babbling out of their mouths at such a high rate of speed he couldn't decipher it. Stripped of his weapons during the interrogation, he had no gun in case they needed it. He hoped they wouldn't.

The group must have seen them pull in, because they headed right for them. Rhett yanked Evelyn behind him, feet braced apart on the boat for better balance.

A young man, no more than eighteen or nineteen Rhett guessed, gestured at the boat, shouting and screaming. He wanted Rhett to drive him somewhere—no drive all of them somewhere.

“You can take the boat! We want off,” Rhett countered in the same language, speaking slowly so he would be understood.

“No! No you take us!”

“We're getting off right here--”

“You take us!” The youth reached under his sopping, overlarge shirt and pulled a gun out.

Rhett found himself staring down the muzzle from a distance of less than four feet.

The young man's companions, ranging in age from teens to mid-fifties, ranted and rambled and made furious gestures.

They must have tried to take one of the other boats and had no success finding keys. There were too many buildings close by they could have been taking shelter in this whole time, waiting, afraid to go anywhere else because one never knew when the earth was going to start in again with an event more devastating than the last.

It didn't really matter the whys and hows, it only mattered that the boy had the gun. Rhett considered luring him into the vessel and overpowering him, but any one of his buddies might have a weapon and even if they didn't, eight men against one wasn't a fair fight in anyone's world. He had Evelyn to consider, too. Silently, he cursed a blue streak.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked, grinding his teeth in frustration. He needed a phone and he needed it now.

“Five miles,” the youth demanded, pointing south with the hand not holding the gun. “You take us now!”

Rhett's best estimate put the delay of the phone call at an hour, perhaps an hour and a half. Those were minutes he didn't really want to waste. But he had little choice and no bargaining tool to use against them. If he refused, the men were so agitated they might shoot them both.

Shielding Evelyn, he jerked his head for the men to get in.

***

The sudden cessation of rain woke Alex from a dead sleep. Instead of twitching upright, she opened her eyes slowly, bringing the stormy, strange day into view. Behind her she felt Dracht, muscles flexing and tensing while he rowed. They had worked into an exhaustive routine of paddling for hours, until their arm sockets burned and their bodies screamed for release.

After hydrating themselves with rainwater cupped in their palms, Alex sank into Dracht and he held her while she slept. Only once did she slump forward instead of against him. She had expected Dracht to sag against her when it was his turn to rest, but he'd laid back, head lolling with the current of the sea.

She wasn't sure if this was the end of their second day or their third, though her stomach was protesting the lack of food with severe hunger pangs that made her weaker by the hour.

While the rain stopping was a blessing it was also a curse; their fresh water source was now gone. That put their time limit on living at an extreme disadvantage.

“You feeling all right?” Dracht asked at her ear, taking a break from the rowing.

“Little rested. You?” she asked, voice just a murmur.

“Hanging in there.” It was his standard answer.

Alexandra knew that even if he was in distress he probably wouldn't tell her, just to keep her from worrying.

Her body protested when she straightened away from his heat and got a better look around them at the gloomy sky. The thunderheads were still thick and dark, rolling through the atmosphere at a steady pace.

“What comes after this?” Dracht asked.

“Well. If the next seal is broken, then we'll have this again times ten, plus earthquakes like we've never seen, volcanoes erupting all over the world. Like that.”

“So we just have to wait it out?”

“Pretty much, Dracht. There's no way to tell--” Mid sentence, something ahead in the water made her squint. She realized it wasn't in the water, precisely, but...

“LAND! Dracht! I see land!” It looked grainy, like an old photograph, barely discernible.

“I see it! Row!” His oar splashed into the water.

Alexandra picked hers up off her lap and fumbled with it. Turning it around, she clapped the end into the tide and rowed for all she was worth. The more the clouds moved, the more she realized they were closer than she thought. Shapes began to emerge, little by little. The outline grew sharper instead of hazier.

Behind her, Dracht grunted, putting all his strength behind each pull.

“We're not that far out,” he said.

“I know. We'll make it.” Even if her arms fell completely off, she wouldn't stop until they got there. This was their chance to get off the ocean.

It took them three hours of grueling, gut wrenching rowing until they drew close to the shore. In another hour, maybe less, night would fall. A small bay made the approach easier. Instead of huge docks, they rowed right up onto the shore, through the lapping waves, until Alexandra slid off onto the sandy beach. Her legs felt like they were stuck in a straddling position and she cried out when she tried to straighten them. Stiff joints, aching back, rigid neck.

She felt like she'd been hit by a truck.

Dracht suffered too, groaning and stumbling after throwing down his oar. He stretched his legs and glanced around like he was trying to see where exactly they'd landed.

Alexandra had no idea, not yet. There were buildings further to the west still partly obscured by the low hanging clouds. It took her more than fifteen minutes to be able to stand upright without severe stabs of pain running through her back and hamstrings.

“Any idea where we are?” she asked. Dracht had the same issues with his body she did. Being forced into the same position for so many days took its toll.

Standing bent over with his hands on his thighs after another bout of stretching, he looked around. Insects covered the shore and up into the shrubs, clustered into groups that were most dead from drowning. Straightening, he gestured toward a low sandbar.

“Let's go up there and see what we can see. I can't tell yet,” he said.

Alexandra followed him up the slight slope, inwardly groaning at the pressure it put on her already overworked muscles. Not the type to complain, she crested the rise the same time Dracht did. A city stretched out over relatively flat landscape and a few signs that she could barely make out alerted her to their location.

“Egypt,” Dracht said at the same time.

“We're in the right place. Thank God. We need to get hold of a car and get on the road. It's gonna be a day and a half drive down to Aswan.” Her shoes were sopping wet and uncomfortable to walk in, but she trudged along the sandbar with Dracht toward civilization, wondering what they would find when they got there.

***

Stuck on the other side of Rhett, between him and the edge of the boat, Evelyn regarded the group of men with assessing, wary eyes. They looked close to frenzy, eyes wild even as they launched onto the water, babbling about the end of the world. Some of them prayed, some cried, others tore at their hair. They talked about family, life, death.

There was nothing anyone could say to take their fear away, and Evelyn didn't try. Carrying the knowledge around that she did made it somewhat easier to cope. These men only understood what they saw going on around them and they weren't the only ones freaking out.

Rhett, jaw clenched tight, steered them down the Nile at a good clip.

More people were out now, some near the banks, others fleeing to cars or on foot to places she couldn't guess. Relatives, mosques, grocery stores looking for food and water. Soon, night time would make everything that much darker. Already the looming clouds covered most of the gloomy rays of the black sun but the advent of evening made it harder to function simply because it was so hard to see.

One hand on Rhett's back, the muscles stirring under her palm as he drove, she looked from the group to him. His face a mask of intensity, jaw clenched tight, he reminded her of a man set on a grim mission that he took no pleasure in. The stubble on his jaw had grown out considerably, giving him a rugged, gritty look. Hair loose around his shoulders, he reminded her of a mythical warrior on his way to war. His effort to save his family while guarding her was just one of the reasons she loved him.

The thought hit her like a sledgehammer when it came of its own accord.

He'd told her so on the boat, informing her of that which he saw and she didn't. Rhett had seen the signs before she allowed herself to understand them. It seemed impossible in such a a short time yet she couldn't imagine feeling any other way. He'd earned her trust, her faith, her loyalty. This was a man who deserved it.

The young man with the gun pointed it at the edge of the water, toward a set of rickety docks that didn't look like they would hold too much weight before collapsing. No other boats were tied to the anchors.

Rhett steered them toward it, pulling in at a crawl until they were flush with the wooden planks. This, Evelyn knew, was the dangerous part. Would the young man shoot them or let them go? They'd delivered on their end of the deal, but he was highly agitated, waving the weapon around, teeth bared, face a mask of distress.

Once the boat stopped they all clambered out, including the man with the gun, who didn't so much as wave it their way. None gave thanks; they simply hit the dock running, shoes grinding dead insects beneath them.

Everywhere there were reminders.

Evelyn couldn't see any buildings from here, not over the low rise of terrain arching up from the water's edge. In this particular spot there were no trees, only bristly looking grass and plants that sat clustered together between hard packed spots of sand.

“Are we staying?” she asked, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I'm not sure where this is exactly,” Rhett said, scanning the landscape with his eyes. “But if we leave here it could be another fifteen minutes or half hour before we find a dock that looks worth pulling into. Might as well give this one a try. C'mon.”

He shut the motor down and grasped her hand, pulling her up onto the dock.

Nimble and light footed, she hopped onto the creaky planks and ran with him up the sandy rise. The flat desert spread out before them, doused in murky gray shadows. A handful of buildings—a gas station, a seedy motel, souvenir shop and market—crowded close together past a parking lot without asphalt, where six or seven cars waited for owners who had either fled the scene or who were hiding out in one of the buildings, too afraid to come out. Water puddled in low points and depressions but the rest had been sucked straight into the arid ground or had run off into the Nile.

Homes were further out, square shaped structures she could just make out in the distance. This was a stop over between bigger cities, an outpost for tourists who deviated off the main highway that cut a snaking line a half-mile out. She could see the blacktop, an artery for motorists still taking cover. No cars moved toward or away from them.

The group of men they'd given a ride to bypassed the buildings completely, running pell-mell toward the highway like their feet were on fire. Even as Rhett tugged her into motion, she watched them cross it and continue toward a group of homes that must be where their relatives lived. Their desperation to reach their destination sent chills down her spine.

“This way.” Rhett said, pulling her toward the gas station.

The first obvious spot to check for a phone.

As the countdown began toward full dark, she ran with him over the rugged ground, stomping bugs under her soles, hair flying out like a banner behind her. The wind from the boat ride had dried it thoroughly along with her clothes.

Rhett searched the outside of the decrepit gas station first. The structure needed paint, a new sign and new concrete sidewalks. Stuck to the east facing wall, a public phone jutted out with the curving shell protecting it from most of the elements. He went right for it, dropping her hand at the last second to pluck the receiver out of the cradle.

Evelyn held her breath. The phones had to work.

He put it to his ear, and tapped the steel tongue that served to hold the receiver in place. Right away his mouth pressed into a thin line. He tapped it again, then jabbed his finger onto a few buttons.

“Shit.” He spat a curse into the receiver and clapped it into the holder.

“Nothing?”

“Not even a hiss of static. Could just be out of order. Let's try inside.” He took her hand again and led her around to the front doors. Smoked glass, with stickers and advertisements in Arabic lettering, they proved to be unlocked when he yanked one.

Following him inside, staying close to his flank, Evelyn saw the store had been ransacked between one event and the other. Ransacked but not destroyed. There was still food on the shelves; random canned goods, packages of pastries, bags of nuts, seeds and trail mix. A motley assortment of fruit bars and beef jerky littered boxes of cereal and candy bars all jumbled together on one shelf. It looked like the raiders had gone for mostly canned meat or stew since that section had been obliterated. Nothing remained.

Evelyn snatched two granola bars and a package of trail mix on their way by, thankful that even way out here in the middle of almost nowhere that something familiar from home could be found.

He let her go when they rounded the service counter and she took the opportunity to eat one of the granola bars, chewing quickly while he picked up a telephone under the cash register.

“Let's hope there's a dial tone,” she said between bites. The other granola bar she saved for Rhett.

“And it works,” he said a moment later with the receiver at his ear. “Let's hope I can call out of the country on it.”

She hadn't thought of that. Some businesses restricted calls to local locations to save on the bill. There really wasn't any reason for employees to be dialing foreign countries.

“It won't go through.” He snarled his frustration.

Outside, the eerie gray descended into all out black. Night had fallen.

Chapter Twenty

Holding her breath, Alexandra crouched next to Dracht behind a dumpster. The city had come alive in the aftermath of the torrential rains that left huge sections of the streets under water. The commercialization of the landscape trapped it there between buildings and parking garages, hotels and restaurants. Other parts were damp but drier and easier to navigate.

Creeping into the outskirts, they dodged people where ever they could but as far as Alexandra could see, no one cared they were there. The people who'd come out of hiding were buzzing around like bees from a knocked down hive, rushing here, rushing there. Even though night had fallen, they bustled on whatever business sent them from their homes to begin with.

All they wanted was a car. So far, too many people had been around the ones they'd found empty in lots or along the street. People would notice if they busted a window, though Alex wasn't sure they would care.

A fight turned into a melee drove them behind the dumpster to wait it out. Dracht wasn't in any mood to enter the fray or try to find a way around it and she didn't blame him. She didn't feel up to kicking butt right now, either. He'd spotted a smaller parking lot with a handful of cars in it belonging to an apartment building—on the other side of the hundred person brawl.

She waited, listening to punches being thrown, heads hitting pavement, screams of rage and whimpers of pain. For all she knew it could have started with someone trying to steal a car.

No wonder Dracht was being so careful. Weaponless, they only had their wits and their hands to defend themselves. Dracht, she knew, was no slouch in that department by a long shot. Against a handful of men, she would put her odds on him winning. On two dozen or more it was suicide.

“Go, come on. Right now.” Dracht snatched her hand and lurched to his feet with no more warning than that.

Snapped out of her mental wandering, she followed him up and winced at the searing pain lancing through her thigh muscles. The crouching hadn't done her any good. Breaking into a run with him leading, they aimed for a low fence that she could have hurdled any other time. Tonight she had to climb over, hopping on a foot until she got her balance back.

They cut through what looked like a schoolyard, around a swing set and circumvented the fight. Once they'd crossed the street, they skulked toward the parking lot of the apartment building. He tested the door of every car parked there. Locked, locked, locked—open.

Alex ran to the passenger side when she saw the door give way in his hand and got into the mini van. In its former days, the black vinyl seats and utilitarian dashboard had probably been appealing on a mental institution transport level; for comfort, it sucked. The ripped carpet on the floorboards peeled up to expose metal underneath and the visors were smudged with fingerprints and grease.

It was easy to hotwire however, and Dracht got them moving in less than a minute.

“That standard Templar training?” she quipped, trying to rub feeling back into her legs.

“Would you be surprised to learn that it is? As you can see, you never know when the talent might come in handy,” he retorted, grinding over fallen plaster to get them through the lot and onto another street that wasn't filled with bodies pummeling each other. Only one headlight worked, spearing a beam through the growing darkness.

“What else can you do?” Alex found it easier to fill the time with questions that weren't hard to answer.

“Anything you want me to.” His tone did not boast arrogance or conceit; Dracht, self-confident, believed he could do whatever he put his mind to.

That's how Alexandra regarded him, as capable and steady. Rock solid. She eyed him across the van while he maneuvered them out of the heart of the city, bypassing streets filled with water.

For one moment, he met and held her gaze. His eyes were deep and dark yet Alex didn't misunderstand the blatant protectiveness harbored there.

She curled a smile that he glanced at before looking ahead to the road.

“Which direction?” he asked.

“South. Just head south.”

***

“It won't go through, or it's not working at all?” Evelyn asked.

“It's working, they've just got it blocked to prevent employees from calling long distance.”

“I wonder if there's a code we can punch in, like an over ride.”

“There's nothing taped to the phone, which defeats the purpose of keeping the employees out anyway.” He picked the phone up and looked beneath.

Nothing.

Evelyn glanced away toward the back of the store. “What about the office? There should be another phone in there. If that one's blocked too, then maybe there's a code somewhere the employees wouldn't think to look.”

“Let's try it.” Rhett dropped the receiver into the cradle and led her through the debris field of sunglasses, visors, gumballs and postcards toward a short hallway leading off the main room.

One led to the restrooms, the other into the office.

All the lights were still on and working, giving them plenty of light to see the small space set up with an old metal desk, a crooked folding chair, three filing cabinets and a framed picture of King Tut on the wall.

The top of the desk looked like someone had been interrupted in the midst of running numbers; three accounting books sat open with a calculator next to them, the pen used to fill in the blank spots left right on the page. An old desktop computer, screen blank and dark, filled an entire corner. And a phone, with a rolodex built into the body, waited for use next to the accounting books.

Rhett went over and plucked the handset up. “Dial tone.”

Standing on the other side of the desk, Evelyn waited to see if the call connected when he punched the numbers in. She knew it hadn't when frustration crossed his face. Coming around, she started opening the drawers.

“Look through the rolodex there. Might be scribbled at the corner of one card. I'll look in here.”

“We don't have a lot of time, Evelyn.”

“Five minutes.” She rifled through the drawers, lifting papers, opening smaller account books. He rifled through the rolodex, flicking cards one after the other.

“Here, I bet this is it!” The manager, or owner, or whoever ran the place, had scribbled a two digit code at the top of a paper with a list of other numbers and names that meant nothing to her.

Rhett took the paper from her and tapped in the two numbers before adding the rest.

Thirty seconds went by.

“Dad! It's me. Yes. Listen I—no wait, just listen for a second.”

Evelyn slid the drawer closed and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. Something went their way. She knew Dragar and Christian, along with some other Templar named Roman were at a different safe house or stronghold in Athens.

“Here's what you need to do, we don't have a lot of time. Bring Christian with you to The Temple of Isis on Philae. Just the two of-- no, no. Don't bring Roman. Just you two. Trust me, no one else can get where we're going. When I say hurry, I mean drop everything and leave right now.”

Rhett's urgency made her skin break out in goosebumps.

“That's right. I love you, too.” He hung up the phone.

Evelyn twitched unexpectedly hearing those three words come out of his mouth. They weren't directed at her but it didn't matter. His obvious affection for his father touched her as much as if he'd said the same thing straight to her face. It showed her a deeper side that she'd suspected lived there all along.

“Are they on their way?” she asked, clearing the husk out of her voice.

Rhett looked up, pale green eyes sharp, assessing as they'd ever been. “Yes. He's just bringing Christian with him. We need to get back to Philae and wait, hope Dracht and Alexandra show up at some point.”

“If Dracht is anything like you, I know they'll get back all right.” Her faith in the brothers ran strong.

Rhett closed the foot of space between them, cupped her cheek with a rough palm, and bent to kiss her lips. Just a touch down, a brush of warmth before it was gone. It left promises in its wake that encouraged her.

“We need to get back.”

In a strange office, in a strange town, with the world in chaos around them, she wouldn't have imagined she could be distracted by a pair of eyes and a gentle kiss. She nodded once and stepped back to let him out from behind the desk. It was time to go.

Now it was up to fate and a bit of luck to deliver their family to the Temple.

***

“Rhett insisted I am to only bring Christian with me. Stay here, Roman, for as long as you can. There's food and water to last you until we find out what's going on. I'll call as soon as I'm able.” Dragar packed water bottles, jerky, trail mix and granola bars into a small backpack.

Christian did the same.

“Good luck, gentlemen. It looks nasty out there,” Roman said.

The advent of the storms and the rain hadn't surprised any of them. Not after the eerie situation with the sun, the moon and the swarm. But it had cast a pall over the three, watching one event happen after another. Knowing there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Dragar was deeply concerned for Dracht and Rhett, and he knew Christian's preoccupation was over the same. Whatever betrayals he'd committed did not transcend blood.

Dragar shook Roman's hand after Christian, and with a final word of goodbye, they left to battle their way to Egypt.

Chapter Twenty-One

When the van broke down for the second time, Dracht ditched it on the side of the road. They were just outside of a small, nondescript town. Alexandra paced alongside him until they reached the outskirts, scraping her long hair back into a loose knot. Pieces stuck out here or there and she didn't care. The mass was off her neck, allowing the tepid breeze to dry the sweat on her nape. Her thighs protested walking, muscles seizing and bunching. It was nothing compared to the stabbing pain in her spine, causing her to hunch her shoulders forward to relieve it. What she wouldn't give for a long soak in a hot tub.

Night had come and gone hours ago, the darkness lifting only a few shades to gray. The desert stretched far and wide with cities randomly interspersed along the highway, and they'd found food, water and gas without too much trouble. More and more people were coming out of their homes, out of their businesses or hotels now that the rain had stopped and the swarm was either gone or in layers on the ground. None of the them bothered her or Dracht, too busy dealing with their own personal crisis.

In the lot of what she thought was a Doctor's office, they found a newer Mustang, cherry red, with a full tank of gas and good tread on the tires. Shockingly, the doors were unlocked. Three minutes later they were on the road with several hundred horses galloping under the hood. With no one to monitor their speed, no one to care how fast they drove the endless, empty miles, he pegged the speedometer out at ninety and scrolled through radio stations to catch up on the news.

More chaos, looting, rioting, murdering. Thousands—no millions possibly dead or missing. Citizens of the world were encouraged to keep the peace, remain calm, and wait for further instruction.

She thought it was telling that scripture from every walk of life got the air time between each newscast. No ads played, no announcements for elections or new cars or discount wars at favorite stores. The information poured out in Arabic but also in other languages; English, Japanese, German. It was like the airwaves had all merged into one. Alexandra translated some of it for Dracht, at least in the languages he didn't understand. It helped kill time.

Out the windows of the Mustang, she kept watch for signs that the Sixth Seal had been broken.

***

“What do we do if they don't make it?” Evelyn asked as they stood between the east and west colonnades of the Temple of Isis. The trip along the Nile had, for a change, been uneventful.

Rhett stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the ground instead of their surroundings.

“We'll go on with our original plan. There's nothing else we can do. Right?”

“Not really. How long do you think it'll take them to get here from Greece?” She wanted an estimate if all went reasonably well for Dragar and Christian.

“If they can get hold of a boat, and I'm sure they can, then it's a matter of crossing the Mediterranean without anything going wrong between here and there. Then there's the drive here. Maybe three days?”

“That's really pushing it.”

“Nothing else we can do, Evelyn. Can't stop time.” Rhett met her eyes before pacing a slow circle around her.

“Did you really mean all that? About speaking for your father and brother?”

“Yes. Christian—well, we'll all have some things to work out. Dad told me there's another element involved. It'll go easier if I know he did it because he was forced to, not because he wanted to.”

“You've known him your whole life. What does your gut instinct tell you?” she asked, following his languid path with her eyes.

“That he didn't want to be doing what he was doing and felt he had no other choice. He's never, ever broken any of our covenants before. I also think he was frustrated and knew he was in over his head.”

“Maybe his heart is blacker than you realize. Or maybe you've suspected all along but like the good brother that you are, you chose to turn a blind eye,” someone said.

Evelyn whipped a look toward the edge of the colonnades when the strange voice broke into their conversation. In periphery she saw Rhett do the same.

Like Ashrael, this man was tall. Six-six at least. He wore leather armor the color of charcoal, the breastplate carved with a scene of battle. In the shape of fish scales, the leather tapered over his shoulders and decorated the outside of bracers he wore on his forearms. The pieces on his thighs were all separate, protecting major muscle mass only, his boots ending in a wicked point with arcane carvings cut into the arch. A wide belt encircled his waist from which hung a sword in its elaborate sheath. Another, located right above it, didn't seem quite as long but was surely just as lethal. Black hair hung to his shoulders, cut blunt and straight, gray eyes almost mocking in his regard of them.

Evelyn recognized him for reasons more than his armor and the craftmanship of the sword. He reeked of malevolence and mayhem. The same eerie, powerful presence exuded from him as it did Ashrael.

Her skin prickled with unease.

He was a Servant of the Fallen.

One glance at Rhett told her he suffered no misconception about what they were facing.

“What, nothing to say? And here I've been looking forward to making the acquaintance of a Templar for so long.” The stranger bowed his head to accompany his condescending quip.

“How did you find us?” The question popped out before she could stop it. Ashrael's presence at the East Gate prevented any Fallen from entering Eden—unless he lost a direct battle with them—as well as humans who might stumble in. None ever had in the history of man thanks to the precautions they had taken. She worried the Fallen would amass here and attack Ashrael and destroy the one sanctuary that would remain when Armageddon swept the earth.

“Once a seal is broken, it is easy for us to hone in on the source,” the Servant said. He pulled his sword slowly from the sheath with a hiss of steel. “While my brethren were busy with other things, I followed you, knowing you would lead us to the East Gate at last.”

Evelyn knew she couldn't grab Rhett and run through the colonnades to the doorway. The Servant would follow, remember the key and the path, and tell all the others. The battle Ashrael talked about would come straight to him.

That left fighting the Fallen hand to hand. Armored, unusually tall and strong with at least two weapons on him, he held a distinct advantage over her Templar. She glanced at Rhett; he seemed as intent as she'd ever seen him, pale green eyes sharp on the Servant, posture defensive without being aggressive—yet.

“What I would like you to do, is tell me how to get in. I know there is some kind of protection in place.” The Servant raised the sword to point at Evelyn, then swerved to point at Rhett. “Show me, and I will spare his life.”

“Don't do it,” Rhett snapped without looking at her. He paced a stalking circle away from Evelyn, drawing the Servant's attention.

“Rhett...”

“I said no.”

The Servant didn't mock them; he slithered the other sword from its sheath and suddenly pitched it through the air. It was not as long as the one he held but a fine weapon nevertheless.

Evelyn thought it would pierce Rhett where he stood and smothered a gasp with her hands. The sword glinted as it flew end over end, thudding into the ground a half yard from Rhett's boots.

“That evens the odds a little more.” The Servant stalked toward Rhett, gripping the hilt of his sword tight.

Evelyn didn't see it that way. Rhett, tall on his own, stood shorter by a handful of inches. He was mortal; the Servant was something other, a creature with enhanced strength and the ability to heal at a much faster rate than even she and her sisters. Rhett had no armor, little sleep and several wounds still in recovery stages. While her faith was with Rhett, there could be no denying he was at a severe disadvantage.

She glanced at the colonnades while the Servant and Rhett faced off, beginning a slow circle around each other. If she ran for it while the Servant was distracted, he wouldn't be able to see which path she took. The Servant needed to be following right behind her to get the key; all the colonnades in rows confused any observer standing anywhere else.

If she could get to the pylon doors, get to Ashrael, he would help. Minna wouldn't think to come out and check for Dragar and Christian for hours and hours yet. She couldn't count on that.

A hard clang of steel on steel drew her gaze from the colonnades. Rhett deflected a first strike, lips peeled back from his teeth, muscles straining in his arms.

The battle had begun.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Under a stormy but rainless sky, the Temple of Isis flanking them on three of four sides, the Servant of the Fallen and the Templar fought for dominance.

Rhett knew he fought for more than his life; he battled for Evelyn, for Eden, for the rest of the unsuspecting humanity who had no idea how dire the situation had become.

His entire life narrowed down to this one moment; every skirmish, every training session, every trick learned from his elders would be put to the test. The ability to think on his feet, to overcome odds stacked against him, all of it landed him here at the pinnacle, faced off with an adversary who had just as much motivation to win.

Arcing the sword down, he brought the Servant's with him and made a bold move; he stomped a boot across the arcane blade, hoping to snap the hilt out of the Servant's hand. He felt the steel sing under the assault—but the Servant did not let go. It wobbled in the man's grasp just before Rhett got backhanded.

Spinning out, he stayed in a crouch, hearing the Servant's blade whistle a few inches above his head. Evelyn's scream confirmed the close call. He lashed his sword out for a leg, skittering to the left like a crab, forcing the Servant to dance back out of range or take a hit where the armor separated to allow his knee to bend.

Rhett popped to his feet while the Servant recovered. He didn't give him long to gather his wits or a strategy plan; shuffle-stepping, he kicked up a wad of dead insects with his boot, aiming for the eyes. The Servant twitched his head but not in time; the mud-bug mass splatted against his face. Rhett understood the Servant's abilities enough to know he would likely strike right now, when he figured Rhett would advance.

Sure enough, the long sword sliced through the air at waist level. Out of harms way, Rhett waited until just after the lethal strike to lunge forward, stabbing for the soft spot between the head and shoulders where the armor offered a gap of vulnerability. A grunt and a splash of red told him he'd succeeded.

Before he could turn out of range, he felt a strong leg sweep his calves; a second later he stared up at the sky, air whooshing out of his lungs. Without thinking, he rolled quickly to the left. Hearing the sword thud into the ground where he'd just been, Rhett angled up to his feet already swinging, coming around with a backhand that landed on armor straight across the Servant's back. He knew it wouldn't cut or slice, only knock his adversary off balance.

The Servant's sword came slicing around to ward off another possible attack, missing his arm by inches. Rhett swerved out, letting the blade pass by. While the motion was still going, Rhett parried forward, relentless, driving the Servant back with sheer fearlessness. Right in his face, shouting at the top of his lungs, cracking the sword against the Servant's with a flurry of overhand attacks.

The immortal had little time to recover after each swing, driven back until he thumped against a stone column. Rhett, two hands on the hilt, went for a kill strike: right for the exposed throat, shoulders twisting with the power he put behind it.

Mid-swing, the Servant kicked him in the stomach. His strike fell short when he pitched backward onto the ground. The sword flew out of his hand. He saw the intent on the Servant's face and rolled left, scrambled right, scooted backward at three hard slashes from the blade. One after the other, driving forward like he'd driven the Servant back earlier.

Except now he'd lost his weapon. Under his palms he felt the carapaces of the swarm snap and break. A tickle-sharp sensation he would remember long after this was over. One of the vivid, surreal details of war that stayed with a man far beyond its time.

His adversary cocked his elbows, the blade aiming for his head, and lunged.

Rhett forced himself to be still for a breath of a second. He wanted the Servant to think he was caught off guard, wanted him to be distracted by the initial thought of a win. At the last possible moment, he turned his head. The sword sank into the ground right next to his ear.

Close. Close.

While the blade was stuck, Rhett snapped a hard kick against the Servant's wrist. He heard the vibration rattle down the length of steel just before the immortal's hand flew away from the sword. Grabbing the hilt over his shoulder, a strange reach-and-yank, he dislodged it from the ground and, still sitting, stabbed it forward when the Servant came in to attack. The timing couldn't have been more precise if they'd rehearsed it through millenia.

Unfortunately, from a sitting position, his trajectory was off.

The tip of the sword contacted the armor, bouncing the Servant back but it didn't deliver a killing wound. Rhett missed the break in the armor between the stomach and the hips.

Shit.

With a slap of his hand, the immortal drove the blade away from his stomach. Rhett's arms shifted with it. He couldn't be in a worse position.

The Servant struck out with a heavy boot, kicking him in the head. Stunned, he landed with his cheek in the mud, in the dead bugs, the sword laying out at an angle from his body.

Around him time slowed down. He heard the gentle wind, the creak of the Servant's armor, felt the pressure of the boot on his ear. In the distance, Evelyn screamed. Screamed with the fervor of someone about to watch a loved one die.

The immortal reached down to grab the sword out of his hands. Rhett knew what it meant. Knew the Servant would add more pressure to the boot on his head and stab him straight through the neck. Instead of fight the man for the sword, Rhett let go with one hand and swung it back, grabbing for the curve in the armor near the Servant's neck. A blind reach since he couldn't lift his head to look.

With the immortal bent over at such an angle, Rhett found purchase and gave a mighty pull. The yank combined with the precarious lean threw the immortal off balance.

For one blessed second, the sword hung suspended in the air while the Servant pitched forward, boot scraping off Rhett's head in an attempt to catch his footing.

Rhett felt skin give way, felt hair get yanked out of his scalp.

In that distracting moment, he drew his boot up and planted it in the middle of the Servant's body, throwing him up and over and onto the ground. Aware the immortal would wind up rolling, Rhett didn't shoot to his feet. He used the immortal's weight against him.

Snagging the elaborate hilt, he yanked as the Servant made contact with the earth, ripping the weapon out of his hand. Head pounding, Rhett staggered to a stand, bringing the sword up, and thrust the blade down toward the Servant's neck.

Missing the thrust by a half inch, the immortal rolled to his feet.

Rhett tugged the tip of the blade up out of the wet ground when he missed and swung sideways with all his strength. The length of the sword had good reach; the Servant's head toppled off, landing with a plop in a puddle.

Out of breath, ears ringing, the taste of blood in his mouth, Rhett surveyed the carnage as if from a distance. Arms wrapped him up from behind, soft arms belonging to a soft body, and he slung a hand around her shoulders.

Hugging Evelyn to him, he bent to kiss the top of her head, feeling her fear, the shiver of her breath from her lungs.

“It'll be okay,” he reassured her. He only hoped he was right.

***

The Temple of Isis loomed against the moody sky. Alexandra, never so happy to see it, walked alongside Dracht toward the entrance to the east and west colonnades. The last leg of their journey had gone better than their first. The only trouble was finding gas, food, clean water and a boat to cross the Nile in. Between them they managed all of it in a timely manner.

Alexandra wondered if Dracht felt as drained as she did. The snatches of sleep between driving shifts weren't enough to rejuvenate all her energy. Dracht, to her, seemed tireless. Somewhere, he held a reserve of strength that he continually drew upon through each experience and situation, coming out the other side on top. Alexandra couldn't help but be impressed. It wasn't the first time she thought so.

Besides all that, she was relieved to be here without the affects of the Sixth Seal breaking loose around them. Fraught with concern the whole trip, they were finally here, a stone's throw from Eden.

Dracht didn't question her about their location. He hadn't asked any questions for miles.

What did trip them both up was a large puddle of blood on the ground. Alexandra knew he saw it the same time she did, situated between the long colonnades.

Breaking into a jog, Dracht approached, crouching down with more agility than she could muster at the moment. Holding her side with a hand, just above her hip bone, she looked down when she got there.

“This is fairly recent,” Dracht said. He stood up and searched around the area, finding another spot where more blood, less than the other puddle, stained the ground.

Alarm coursed through her at the sight of it. Immediately she wondered if Rhett had turned on her sister after all, at the very last second. Then dismissed it from her mind. Rhett couldn't be that good of an actor. His affection for Evelyn was as real as the dead bugs crunching under the soles of her shoes.

“I don't see where anyone drug a body or anything,” she added, searching around the area for signs of a corpse. “Let's just get to the East Gate and see what Ashrael knows.”

“Lead on.” Dracht continued to search while she led him to a spot in the east set of colonnades.

“You have to follow exactly where I lead. No short cuts or anything.” Scraping her hair back, she tied the dark mane into a loose knot, securing it with a few clever twists and nothing more. He loomed at her back, a warm presence she'd become used to.

Alexandra, like her sisters, knew the key by heart. She could have walked it blindfold as easily as any of her siblings. Weaving in and out of the columns, she took him closer to the end until they emerged near the tall door between the enormous pylons.

She glanced back to see if he could feel the pressure in the air, that strange prickle that alerted the senses to something supernatural. A frown marred his brow, expression pensive. She met his eyes and nodded to acknowledge what he was feeling wasn't out of the ordinary. Reaching back, she took his hand.

The palm, lined with callouses from sword practice, engulfed her own. Alex led him forward, passing through the thick portal that didn't lead deeper into the temple but into an entirely different looking day. The shivering warp lasted only a second; when it fell away they faced the East Gate, sun shining bright and mellow from a blue sky. Gone were the thunderclouds and solemnity; here green grass spread out in all directions, plants and flowers dotting the ground in patches against the base of the Gate.

Ashrael was there, where he was supposed to be, as well as Minna, Rhett and Evelyn. Her sisters looked as ragged as she did, their hair in messy tangles, clothes wrinkled and askew. Rhett had blood on his shirt, his whiskers layered as thick as Dracht's on his jaw. The men looked gritty, hardened.

When Evelyn saw her she came over and Alex hugged her. One armed, smooching her cheek with relief. She did the same to Minna while the men greeted each other in a much more subtle manner.

“It's been a while, Alexandra,” Ashrael said.

“Yeah it has. You're lookin' goo--” Alex caught sight of a headless body off to the side, between the pylons and the East Gate. She couldn't really comprehend what she was seeing; the corpse was so out of place in this peaceful setting. A black smear, something sinister marring its pristine surroundings. The leather armor, just the feel of it hit her all wrong.

A Servant of the Fallen.

“He followed Evelyn and Rhett back from the cave and confronted them outside,” Ashrael explained. His armor had smears of blood all down the front that she hadn't seen thanks to the other distractions.

“Won't that start a war, Ashrael, you killing one of theirs?” She turned her face up to his, concerned.

“I didn't kill him. Rhett did.”

“What?” Shocked, Alexandra looked at Rhett. He was in one piece, not missing any arms or legs. A mortal man defeating a Servant of the Fallen was an impressive feat.

Rhett nodded once to confirm it was true.

“You must be Dracht,” Ashrael said, taking stock of the man. He did not offer his hand.

“I am. Who are the Servants of the Fallen?” Dracht was still staring at Ashrael with a considering frown.

Alexandra got caught up on what was happening at the same time Dracht did. She knew who the Servants were, what they represented, but not how it applied here.

Ashrael explained they were offspring of the Fallen, warriors gathered into an army waiting for one purpose. Children, yes, but not like any other children on earth.

“The rest we'll discuss when your father and brother get here,” Ashrael said, walking through the wide mouth of the Gate. From the other side, leaning against the wall, he picked up four swords and brought them back with him.

Gleaming, they looked new. The hilts were ornately carved as Ashrael's own sword, with gold lining the silver detail. Strips of leather wrapped each handle and arcane lettering marked the blade. A language long lost, symbols not seen by human men for centuries. Ashrael stabbed each one into the ground outside the gate and said nothing more about them.

“Wait, Dragar and Christian are coming?” Alex asked. She wasn't sure why or how Christian, of all people, would be allowed here. Not after his betrayal.

“Yes. And once they do, I will explain the next step on the journey.”

“What journey?” Dracht asked, frowning at Rhett and Ashrael.

“The one where we go get fruit from the tree of life and become their official Guardians,” Rhett answered.

Ashrael crossed his arms over his chest, back in front of the Gate. “That is not the journey I speak of. That is the trip you take after you and the Templars retrieve the stolen Seals from the Fallen.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ashrael would not be swayed into divulging more information until, if, Dragar and Christian arrived. He provided them with cool water, sweeter and clearer and better tasting than any left on earth, clean clothes, and bowls of fruit he carried out from Eden. The fruit were indigenous to Eden, made of round red globes, oblong peach shapes, small berries in clusters of dark blue and pink, and trough like wonders that filled a man's belly like meat. It satisfied every nutritional need; the other fruit burst on the tongue, loaded with juice, the flesh either neat to bite into or soft and buttery, all but melting in the mouth.

Obviously, Ashrael had prepared for their return after the initial group left on their mission. He encouraged them to bathe in a hidden spring behind a cluster of bushes and to sleep on the soft bed of grass when the sun finally sank, spraying the sky with orange and pink streaks. He did not let them cross through the Gate and into Eden itself, but allowed them to rest and recover in that pre-space between the pylons and the entrance.

Sleeping in Eden was a peaceful affair. The grass felt like velvet and cushioned exhausted bodies like welcoming hands. The temperature never dipped below seventy-two and didn't rise above seventy-six. A gentle breeze buffeted the trees and the skin, luring them all into the abyss of dreams.

Ashrael watched over all, seeing to their needs, attending everything except their constant barrage of questions and probing looks.

Tomorrow, if they were lucky, they would have the answers they sought.

***

The longer they waited, the more nervous Evelyn became. Every hour seemed to drag by, every minute an eternity. She and Rhett made periodic trips outside the pylons to check and see if Dragar and Christian were there. Ashrael cautioned them to have a care for any other Servants or the Fallen themselves. He thought it was unlikely that they would have spared more than one Servant following, but one could never be too sure.

She expected violent earthquakes, spewing volcanoes and horrific storms to descend any moment. Standing out between the colonnades, she stared at the gray day. Even the black sun couldn't penetrate the cloud cover. It lie like a behemoth over the earth, ready to dump a deluge down. Evelyn hated how suffocating and confining it felt. Stepping through to the East Gate was like drawing in a breath of fresh air compared to the dismal, perpetual gloom on the other side.

Her mind continued to play over the thoughts of claiming back the rest of the Seals the Fallen had stolen from the caves. She knew it wasn't only a test of the Templar's skill—though Rhett had won approval after his defeat of the Servant—but because the gift of immortality didn't come lightly. Fruit from the Tree of Life would not be handed across at whim. It had to be earned, as she and her sisters had been earning it all this time.

Christian would get a chance to redeem himself and explain why he'd done what he'd done. She still didn't believe him to be a heinous villain with greed and murder on his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Rhett asked.

She smiled. It had become a fond question of his whenever she grew too thoughtful and introspective. “I've been worried the chaos will start all over again any time, before they get here. Or that they hit a snag somewhere along the way. Looking ahead, too, to what might await us when we go search for the Seals.”

“I think he should keep you girls here.”

“What? Why?” She stared aside, aghast.

“Because. This isn't going to be an easy task no matter how you look at it. The point is to protect you--”

“No, the point right now is to prevent the apocalypse from beginning again.”

“We're used to working together. You and your sisters will complicate things.”

“We might be able to help you. We know about them, what they're capable of.”

“I've seen what they're capable of.”

“Not the Fallen themselves. They're like Ashrael, and if you think he's like fighting the Servants, you're dead wrong.”

Rhett glanced at her. “So tell me. What's different?”

“I'm not going to tell you.”

“It would help us later on.”

“It might, but we'll be there anyway, as we should be. Only we can authenticate the Seals, too, in case they try to slip fakes past you.”

“I'm sure I'd be able to tel--”

“No you wouldn't.” Petulant about him wanting to leave her behind, she stared out beyond the edges of the colonnades.

“Are you going to start?”

“Start what?”

“One of your back-and-forth sessions with me.”

“Do you have to sound so reasonable? I'm starting because suggesting we stay here is ridiculous.”

“If I sound reasonable, it's because you secretly know I'm right and don't want to admit it.”

She snorted, a sound Alexandra might have made. “That's not true at all.”

“Yes it is. So tell me.”

“Ashrael will give you a rundown before we go.” Evelyn speared a hard look sideways at him. The bastard, all gruff and rugged, was grinning. She smacked his bicep and didn't care if she bumped a wound.

“I like it when you get mouthy.”

“You just like to goad me and get a reaction.”

“That too.”

“Are you going to suggest to Ashrael that we stay here?” She suspected it.

“Yes.”

“Rhett--”

“Look, Evelyn. It's what I think is the right thing to do.” He met her eyes. “It's not that I don't want you with me—us—but it'll be safer in Eden. That's why I started this whole mess to begin with. To make sure you're safe.”

“Even if it means your own life?” She put her hands on her hips. Evelyn knew the answer before he gave a curt nod.

“That's right. That's what Guardians are for. It's like the secret service to the President. That's their job if they think his life is in immediate danger. I just prefer keeping you out of the direct line of fire if I can. It'll help me concentrate if I don't have to wonder what's going on with you.”

“I can understand that.” Conceding his point on that term, it didn't dissuade her from her own. “Alexandra and Minna have fighting skills you might need. I don't, not really, but I can be helpful in other ways.”

“I'm not arguing against anyone's prowess. It's just simpler to me to keep you here where you're already safe, in the presence of a built in Guardian until we get back.” He arched a sandy brow.

Evelyn wished the expression he wore—one of thought out consideration with a dash of challenge—didn't affect her like it did.

He opened his mouth to argue when two figures lumbered around the corner of the west colonnade from the direction of the docks.

Dragar and Christian, clothes grungy, eyes lined with dark circles, headed their way. It looked like someone had chewed Christian up and spit him back out; his shirt had several small tears at the seams and tiny puncture wounds ran along his arm from the wrist under the sleeve. Hair a wreck, mouth grim, he stalked next to Dragar who didn't look much better. The eldest Sagan's whiskers had filled in around the goatee, giving him a light beard. Evelyn could see that they'd been in fights, perhaps several, by the bruising around a cheek and on an arm.

Rhett waited for them to come to him, but Evelyn could read the relief in his eyes, his posture.

And she was glad he had the last of his immediate family accounted for. The men clasped arms and Christian greeted her with an acknowledging kind of nod. I know I screwed up. I'm sorry.

There would be time later, maybe, for explanations.

“We need to get you inside--”

“Inside where? Hello, Evelyn.” Dragar took the time out to greet her formally, despite the situation they found themselves in.

“I'm glad you both made it.” She turned to start leading them to the end of the east colonnade with Rhett bringing them behind.

“What the devil is going on, Rhett?” Christian asked.

“It's a long story. This is the way into Eden.”

“The Garden of Eden?” Christian sounded disbelieving.

“Yes,” Rhett answered, crowding Evelyn's back.

It could have been an awkward moment, considering Christian had tried to kidnap her out of the Templar stronghold back in Athens. She let it go; there was no need to hold grudges right now.

“Follow our path precisely. Don't deviate or take shortcuts,” she said over her shoulder.

“Why are we going into Eden? I really had something else I needed to be doing--”

“Christian.” Rhett's tone carried a warning that his brother heeded immediately. This was something bigger and more important, and Rhett didn't have to vocalize that to be understood.

Evelyn took that as her cue and began the intricate weaving web, steering the men through the ancient columns. The stone and earth smelled damp still from the onslaught of rain. Three quarters of the way through, the oppressive sensation hit her skin.

At the tall, square doorway, she glanced back, catching a view of all three faces. Rhett, experienced and knowing; Dragar, frowning and concerned; Christian, a mix of bewildered and confused.

She led them through the doorway, past the eerie, prickling warp of gray, into the much happier, sunnier Eden.

Behind her she heard Christian draw in a sharp breath and Dragar rumbled something incoherent and shocked. Stepping aside, she let them take the scenario in; the majestic Gate, the green, green grass, the others lounging around eating fruit and drinking water.

Dracht got up off the ground, brushed his jeans off, and went to shake his father and brother's hands.

“Son.” Dragar kept his greeting simple.

“Dad. Christian.”

Christian inclined his head curtly to his brother.

“Dragar, Christian, this is Ashrael.” Evelyn made the introductions from Rhett's side. Dragar and Christian both understood who and what Ashrael was—not that his armor and stature didn't give him away.

The men made rounds of hellos.

Dragar speared Minna with a questioning look that she only answered with a slight tilt of her head and a faint smile that promised they could talk about her leaving later.

“Before we begin,” Ashrael said after Dragar and Christian had been offered water and food. “I want to be sure Christian's loyalty is where it needs to be.”

Evelyn glanced at Rhett's brother—along with everyone else. He appeared vaguely wary of it all, perhaps awed. In a way that suggested he was trying to come to terms with the reality of where he found himself, and who he found himself with. He stepped forward at the challenge to clear his name.

“I did plan with the agents to take the sisters. Not kill them, but to deliver them to a bigger organization of elite individuals whose sole goal is to find—this—so that they may achieve immortal status by eating from the Tree of Life. That was their hope.” He swept his hand wide to encompass the Garden as this. “They kidnapped my son and threatened his life if I didn't cooperate. I thought I could deliver the girls and then lead my brethren back later, after I reacquired my son, to get them back.”

The plan had backfired.

Rhett frowned and pinned Christian with a hard look. “Son? You have no son.”

“I do. I wasn't made aware of his existence until well after he was born. The mother and I were not involved any longer so I was waiting for the right time to bring him forward. They discovered him and used him against me.”

“You should have said something.” Rhett was still frowning.

“What would you have me say, Rhett? I wasn't going to marry the girl and to bring the boy forward puts his life in jeopardy because he is not afforded the same protections our other family members get.” Christian returned a hard look to his brother.

Everyone, including Dragar, glanced between the men. Ashrael listened attentively to the exchange.

“I'm your brother. You should have told me.” Rhett glared, daring Christian to defy him. “Our code is based on trust. If you can't trust me, trust us, then who? We could have figured a way out.”

“It was too late by then. They stepped in with their blackmail and their threats. And it wasn't just my son.” Christian looked at his father and Dracht in the eyes. “It was all of you. They would have picked you off one by one until you were all gone. I had a choice—them, or you. I chose them temporarily, with the full intent of disclosure after I'd regained my son.”

Evelyn knew that if the brothers couldn't come to an agreement, if they couldn't find solid ground, Ashrael wouldn't entrust the status of Guardian to them. If Christian even wanted it. She couldn't be sure. His having a son might change everything.

“And you can see how well that worked out for you,” Rhett said, clipping the words out. Exhaling, he thrust a hand through his golden hair. “Look. We disagree about it. What's done is done though and there's nothing we can do to change it. His life is still in danger. There are other things that need our pressing attention.”

Christian relented, backing down from his anger. “You're right.”

Ashrael cut into the conversation, making eye contact with each Templar. “Rhett has spoken for each of you, but I will hear your agreements for myself. He has decided to devote his life to becoming a Guardian of the Daughters of Eve. This means, should you all succeed in your mission, that I will allow him to eat from the Tree of Life. He will become as the women here, immortal, capable of quicker healing.”

A surprised noise rippled through the men, barring Rhett, who had heard it already.

Ashrael held up his hand for silence. “I am extending the same to each of you. Dragar, Dracht and Christian. Think hard, gentleman, for it will change everything. The people you know and love will eventually die and there won't be anything you can do to stop it. Living indefinitely has its perks—and it has its downfalls. As the official Guardians, you will be expected to uphold your duties, put your life on the line for their own. All the vows you took to become Templars apply here. The same codes of conduct, civility, and moral obligation.”

“What mission?” Dracht asked.

“When Minna broke the first minor seal, the power of it called forth the Servants of the Fallen and the Fallen themselves. They have waited a very long time to provoke a war with the Guardians—us—and will not be easily deterred. Once Minna, Evelyn and Rhett left the Dead Sea they stole the Book of Seals and separated them all. The remaining Seals now reside in hidden locations all around the world, waiting to be broken. I myself cannot retrieve them. That's where you gentlemen come in. Your task will be to bring the Seals back to me. If you do not succeed, if you are too late, the fate of each Seal will have it's affect upon the world and there will be no stopping Armageddon if they break the final Seal in the set.”

The strange hush that fell over the group seemed at such odds to Evelyn with the bright, happy day that surrounded them. Birds trilled, leaves rustled and the sweet smell of grass tempted her to lie down in it and rest.

At the same time, Ashrael was telling them they had to go out and face the Fallen, some of the fiercest, most deadly warriors besides the Guardians ever to walk the Earth.

The men, all four of them, looked contemplative. Rhett had already made his decision but that didn't mean he wasn't thinking over all the implications and options one more time.

“What are the odds of us retrieving the Seals?” Dragar asked.

“Very slim. Once you get past the Servants, the Fallen will be difficult to defeat. They are as powerful as the Guardians and have a wicked repertoire of skills that stretch into the supernatural. The good news is that there should be only one Fallen guarding each Seal. If you defeat the Servants, you will have to face him.”

“I don't understand. This is your war. Why aren't you out there fighting it?” Christian asked, frowning.

“It is not our war until, and if, the final Seal is broken. The armies cannot descend before then. If we were to go fight the Fallen now, before the last events are set into motion, thousands of innocent humans will die. The Fallen understand our hands are tied and are gathering and amassing their own army. They will not be expecting us to send mortal men in our stead. This is part of your advantage.”

“What's the other part?” Rhett asked.

Ashrael turned to the four swords stuck in the ground and wrapped his hand around a hilt. Pulling it free, he held it so the blade pointed straight up. Sunlight gleamed off the polished steel.

“This. These are no regular swords. If you accept your role, your mission, these will be your methods of destruction. It can be no other way. The Fallen are not easily killed—this will make your task easier.”

“If we can get that close to begin with,” Dragar said, eyeing the swords with renewed interest.

“Rhett defeated a Servant—alone. You will be going in a group, which is why your trust in each other must be impeccable and complete. All your training, your years of fighting, battle and expertise will be put to the ultimate test. You will need to be clever, sharp, cunning, quick and deadly,” Ashrael said, lowering the blade to his side. “There are shields to go with the swords, and armor.”

“What kind of skills are we talking about?” Dragar asked.

“The Servants do not have the same power as the Fallen. They are big, and strong, and have more skill than your average warrior. As you can see by Rhett's example, they are not infallible. The Fallen can command lightning, their strikes will have the force of ten men, they are swift when they choose to be—and in this I mean they can move almost faster than the eye can follow—and they, like us, possess the capability to become invisible. That does not mean they are gone, however. Understand the difference. If you know where they are, and you strike with your sword, you will obtain a direct hit as if he was visible and breathing before you. They can also conjure beasts unlike any that currently walk the earth. Be wary of that.”

“How many direct hits does it take to kill them?” Christian asked next.

“A killing blow. Stabbing at a shoulder will do no good, even if you make it between their armor. It will help begin to incapacitate them, but you need a fatal action to kill them.” Ashrael swung the blade around in a languid circle, the steel whistling through the air.

Dragar watched the blade.

Christian stared at the ground, frowning.

Dracht stared at the sky, tonguing his teeth.

Rhett paced a small circle, face thoughtful.

“What about poisons, explosions--”

“They are immune to poisons. These swords are what will deliver lethal injury. And it would have to be quite an explosion, above or directly below them, to be effective. Ramming with cars, even tanks will not stop them. You're going to have to get in close.”

Evelyn thought it sounded impossible. Yet she could see Rhett and the others trying to work out possible plots and plans in their minds. The more she heard, the more uneasy she felt.

“I should go to the Tree of Life and get the fruit now, so it has time to take full effect,” she said. They didn't need to waste time later going to get it.

“They won't be allowed access, Evelyn, until they return,” Ashrael said.

“What? Why not?” She whirled on Ashrael.

“Because that is part of the goal. To obtain it, they have to earn it.”

“I think they have earned it,” she said, indignant.

“This is not given lightly, you know that. They could eat the fruit and obtain immortal status and decide once they are past the gate that they don't need to bother.”

“They aren't doing it just for the fruit,” she argued.

“Perhaps not.” His tone suggested it didn't matter.

“You're giving them every other advantage you can. It seems reasonable this should be granted, especially with what they're going up against.”

“I agree with Ev. I think you should let 'em, Ashrael,” Alexandra chimed in.

“Admirable, girls. I understand your positions. They will not have access until the mission is complete.”

“Is there anything else we should know?” Rhett asked, still pacing. He did not seem put off by not having the fruit before they left.

“Yes. It is not just the girls you will be Guardians over. You will be the new protectors of the Seals. Right up until the day I come for them—if you avert a full scale apocalypse now.”

“This has the feeling of being planned to me,” Dracht finally said, pinning Ashrael with a dark eyed look. “What are the odds that we, Templars, would be called up for this particular duty, one that requires great skill with swords, men who were born and bred under a code of honor unlike any other? And now to safeguard one of the most deadly secrets on earth—if we can manage to collect them from our adversary.”

“Do you mean to ask if this is destiny?” Ashrael inquired.

All eyes swung to Dracht.

“I suppose that's what I'm asking,” he said.

“Then your answer is yes.”

***

Evelyn stood with Minna while Alexandra slept at their feet. Her exhausted sibling had to have rest before anyone went anywhere.

Across the grass, she watched Rhett with his brothers and father. They had been in animated conversation for a half an hour. She didn't know if they were deciding their answer or making plans for war. Rhett's mind was made, she knew, but he couldn't get all the Seals by himself. It was an impossible task for just one man.

Ashrael had brought them all clothing for their journey and Evelyn ran her palm down the strange material along her arms. The long sleeved shirt had miniscule scales built in, so small that she couldn't see them unless she brought it right up to her nose to investigate. When she ran her palm the wrong way it chafed and tore at her skin. She didn't need to be told it was armor of some kind, a protective barrier that allowed her full range of motion without being restricted. The color of sand, it matched the pants that fit snug on her hips and thighs, tapering down into boots that felt comfortable, almost too comfortable, from the first moment she slipped her foot in.

Minna and Alexandra both wore the same.

The armor that awaited the men sat near the swords and the shields. Brown with gold trim, the sections were divided up to protect different body parts. Torso, thighs, forearms, shins. The craftsmanship was supreme, with arcane carvings circling the Templar's iron cross on the chest. Shields that matched the armor sported the Templar cross in the center.

Evelyn wanted to believe the runes and symbols decorating the armament was extra protection for the men. And the more she observed the armor and their clothing, the more Dracht's words rang in her ears.

Destiny.

Was it? Was it hers, or the Templars? Both? It caused her to question her entire existence, something she'd never done before this moment. Not quite this way. Ashrael knew things, things most humans did not. He would have known about the hunting, the murders, her capture in Athens.

He'd told her before that he was not allowed to step in to save them, that fate had to run its course. It was all part of the decline of man, or the power hungry, greedy factions that existed alongside the good and the righteous.

But she still wondered.

She knew that from the moment the fruit had been consumed in the Garden, that man was doomed. While advancing through time, humanity hurtled toward its own demise. Uncounted millions believed some cataclysmic event would take place, scrub the Earth of the sinful and wicked, perhaps giving the survivors a fresh start.

She glanced at the pylons and the tall doorway leading out of Eden. Was this the cataclysmic event? Were they about to attempt to prevent it? Maybe this was a last chance for man, a final bid to prove their worth. The Sagan men had risked their lives to protect her and her sisters, were now standing there debating saving the world. Four mortals about to embark on the greatest quest of all time.

Evelyn wondered if it really was their destiny to be here, if they'd been born to be in this time, this place, to sacrifice everything.

The circle broke apart, and she watched them approach Ashrael. Evelyn held her breath. Against the backdrop of the East Gate, with pristine Eden stretching beyond, the four Templars exchanged words with the Guardian.

Ashrael smiled in a knowing way and inclined his head.

Instead of shaking their hands and booming congratulations, he yanked the swords out of the ground and presented one to each man. Rhett, Dragar, Dracht and Christian. There were no whoops of triumph or celebration, no wild grins or boasting.

Rhett gave the sword a once over, testing the weight in his hand—then snapped a look right at her.

Purpose lurked there. Sober determination. Comprehension that this task must be done to secure any kind of future—for humanity, for them.

She mouthed, I love you.

He mouthed back. I love you, too.

The End.

. . .

The Seven Seals

Chapter One

The girl who hated confrontation, who loathed violence and fighting, prepared to go to war.

It was really mind over matter, she told herself, a determination to overcome the knee shaking, gut wrenching, breath stealing fear that crept through her body like a disease every time she faced it. Observing others engaged in battle was bad enough; squaring off with an adversary personally took it to a whole new level.

Less than three hours ago, she had watched Rhett take on a Servant of the Fallen. An offspring of those cast down, a half breed whose blood sang with the symphony of immortality. Rhett defeated the Servant while she'd stood aside, hands over her mouth, struck with horror, incapable of moving. The odds of a mortal, human man besting a Servant with just a sword and his honor were incredible. Yet Rhett had come away the victor, covered in blood, grim faced and impossibly calm.

He had not gloated, looked smug, or cheered the triumph. Every inch a Templar warrior, she could see him filing away the lessons he'd learned, the close calls that had almost cost him his life. Rhett took something of value away from every fight to apply to the next one.

If she planned on living long enough to have some kind of life with Rhett in the aftermath of all this, she needed to overcome her fears. It wasn't that she hadn't risen to the occasion when it counted, but she knew she could do better. Could be better.

Mind over matter.

At least long enough to collect the Seals the Fallen had stolen.

Evelyn Grant studied the faces of those preparing to go to battle around her: Rhett, Dracht and Christian, all brothers, all belonging to the Order of the Knights Templar, wore studious masks of intensity while they donned their armor. Golden, from his hair to his skin, eyes a pale green, Rhett stood next to his brethren, tugging on a bracer with quick yanks. Dracht, darker than Rhett, was an inch taller, a little broader and somewhat roguish when he wasn't facing down the end of the world. They both wore their hair long as opposed to Christian who styled his shorter with one shank always falling over his eyes. Christian could have passed for a door-to-door salesman if he wasn't so tall, broad and possessing that certain aggressiveness that all the brother's shared.

Their father, Dragar, resembled an older version of Dracht. He kept his hair tied back at the nape, a tinge of silver at the temples, his face only lined at the corners of his dark, dark eyes and around the edges of his mouth. He was less prone to laughter, more sober and serious, as if his position as the leader of the Knights required a businesslike demeanor.

Distressed brown leather, edged with gold, forged by immortal hands, made up the armor the Templars put on one piece at a time. Ancient carvings decorated the surface, adding texture and possibly extra protection. The armor looked wicked, with tapered scallops off the shoulder and along the thighs. Emblazoned on the breastplate was the iron cross each man of the Order had tattooed between his shoulder blades.

The Knights became more warrior-like in Evelyn's mind; fierce, resilient, cunning, willing to do whatever it took to complete their mission. These were men used to war, if not wholly comfortable with it.

Was anyone ever comfortable with war? She doubted it.

That made her feel marginally better about her own quirks.

Adjusting the cuff of her odd shirt—sand colored, with tiny little scales sewn into the material—Evelyn made final preparations along with everyone else. Ashrael had gifted each of the girls with belts for their waist along with sharp daggers in sheaths. Weapons they didn't normally carry but that might be needed. She'd noticed the blade on hers—and her sister's, she was sure—had the same carvings as the Templar's swords. Evelyn, not well versed in the use of a knife for self defense, nevertheless felt better with one strapped to her hip.

“You're not gonna freeze up out there, are ya?” Alexandra asked. The rough-around-the-edges girl with the wild mane of black hair bumped Evelyn's shoulder with her own. Fading florets of blue and purple decorated Alexandra's cheek and a temple; bruises sustained from an ordeal Evelyn had yet to hear about.

The candor and absolute shamelessness of her sister never failed to amuse her, even in times of crisis. “Not anymore than you.”

It was a little white lie. Those were forgivable.

“I never freeze up. I don't know what you're talking about.” Alex, dressed the same as Evelyn, bent down to tighten the straps of her boots.

“I did shoot Rhett, or have you forgotten?” Evelyn asked, inwardly cringing at the reminder. At the time, she'd thought he'd betrayed her in the worst of ways.

And really, she hadn't wanted to kill him. Just slow him down a little.

Alexandra, still slouched over, turned her head to look up at Evelyn. One blue eye peered past the mane of her dark hair.

Evelyn arched her brows as if to say, what?

“It's Rhett. He doesn't count,” Alex said.

“He does too count.”

“In what alternate universe?” Alex snorted and straightened.

“The point is, I didn't freeze up.”

“And you missed your mark.”

“I wasn't trying to kill him!” Evelyn hushed her words to a whisper.

“I'm just sayin'. You tend to get all...you know.”

“I'm not going to freeze up on you when it counts.” Evelyn knew that much about herself. If it came down to life or death, push come to shove, her or them or her sisters—she would do what had to be done.

It sounded good in theory and she repeated it in her head, a relentless mantra that should kick in by the time she needed it to. The pep talks had worked before.

“I know y' won't.” Alex clapped her on the shoulder like a guy might and squeezed. She wasn't the touchy-feely type, usually expressing her affection in short bursts with long pauses between.

Minna, tucking in the armor-like shirt into the back of her pants, walked over. “Don't worry about it Evelyn. Not everyone was built to be a warrior. We'll all be together and utilize what strengths we have between us when others are weak.”

The oldest surviving daughter of Eve, Minna, with her almond shaped eyes and subtle oriental flair, always had encouraging things to say. Even in the worst of times, when all other hope seemed lost, Minna could be counted on to remain optimistic and positive.

Except for a dark moment in a cave by the Dead Sea with the Sixth Seal in reach. Optimism gone, poised to send the world into another level of armageddon, it was Evelyn who convinced Minna that there was something left to save. All hope was not lost.

Strengths and weakness. Each woman had their own at different times.

Evelyn dotted a kiss against Minna's cheek in gratitude.

“Is everyone ready?” Ashrael, the Guardian of the East Gate, a towering man with black hair and gray eyes, summoned the group of seven.

Four men, three women.

Evelyn took a spot between Dracht and Rhett; the brothers, armored up, held their swords in their hands, prepared to face their destiny.

Ashrael met each of their eyes, decked out in armor of his own, sword sheathed at his hip. At a shade under seven feet, the Guardian stood taller than any of the gathered. He exuded a dominant presence, palpable on the air, an energy that spread out several yards in all directions. Mortals were especially sensitive to it.

He paced a shallow half arc in front of them. Behind him, the enormous gate to Eden arched against a blue sky and beyond, through the broad baroque contour, the fabled paradise stretched for miles. Green, lush, pristine, untouched by smog or destruction or war. It could have been the cover of any postcard or the subject of a masterpiece painting.

Overhead, the yolk yellow sun sent its warm rays across the landscape.

Every now and then, Evelyn caught a look of wonder and awe flicker over the expressions of the Templars. The once mythical Eden had taken on a breathing, living existence that couldn't be denied.

“Use every resource available. You'll need a plane, so tap the Church or whatever else you need to do. Trains, buses and other formal methods of transportation won't be running, not to mention they're a waste of time. If the telephone lines go down, it will make your task twice as difficult. I believe the Fallen will wait another day or two to break the next Seal, so you have that going for you at least,” Ashrael said.

“Will they break the Sixth seal, or begin at one?” Dragar asked.

Three lesser seals had already been broken: black sun, pestilence, rain.

“I think they'll do the Sixth first, create as much chaos as they can, wipe out hundreds of thousands of souls to make their battleground less...crowded,” Ashrael replied. “The earthquakes, volcano eruptions, tsunamis and everything else will prime the population for the coming of the Horsemen. The Fallen will summon them next, perhaps out of order.”

“Why out of order?” Rhett asked. He hefted the shield up to test its weight.

“Again, to create more chaos. They may summon War first because there's already been a pestilence. Once they summon Death, the Fourth Seal, stopping the tribulation will be much more difficult. Death is the final step before breaking Seal Five, which advances the army of the Guardians in the wake of destruction. We'll battle it out with the Fallen for the lives of the survivors.” Ashrael met and held each of their eyes, pacing languidly in front of the gate.

“So if we find Seal Five first, we'll at least prevent all out Armageddon,” Dracht said.

“Depends on your definition of Armageddon. I suspect some people in the world already believe the worst has happened,” Ashrael reasoned.

Dracht grunted.

“How do we find the Seals if you don't know where they are?” Christian asked.

“Using this.” Ashrael took a round disc from a hidden pouch on his armor. Three inches in diameter, burnished gold, with small carvings of the seals on the surface, it resembled a compass without any moving parts. Perhaps a quarter inch thick, the disc had a worn appearance, as if someone's thumb rubbed it like a good luck piece.

None of the men reached out for the object. Ashrael didn't offer it over...yet.

“Does it work like a compass?” Dracht asked. He sounded dubious.

“Whoever has possession will feel a directional pull, if you will. An internal, undeniable sense of where you need to go, where you need to be. Hold it long enough, an hour or more, and the exact location will spring to mind. I know that the closest Seal is in Jerusalem somewhere. Once you arrive in the city, this will guide you straight to it. After that, the next destination will make itself known.” Ashrael handed the disc to Rhett.

The move surprised Evelyn. She thought it would have went to Dragar, being the leader and their father, the Templar with the most experience.

Dracht's former words about destiny slipped through her mind like a whisper. She wondered if it had anything to do with that.

Rhett, hesitant at first, took the disc and automatically rubbed his thumb over the surface. Twisting at the shoulders, he glanced back at the pylons that were the portal between earth and Eden. Giving a curt nod, Rhett met Ashrael's eyes then slid the disc into a similar hidden pocket in his armor.

“The girls will be able to tell you if the discs are authentic or not. It's very possible they've had replacements made. The real one will be close by somewhere if you do get your hands on the wrong Seal. Just trust the locator.” Ashrael folded his arms over his chest, regarding them one by one.

“If we're too late and they break the Fifth Seal?” Christian asked Ashrael, affixing a final buckle at the side of his armor.

“Drop everything and get back to Eden as quickly as you can.”

†

“How do you feel?” Rhett asked.

Evelyn looked at the tall door between the pylons. “A little nervous.”

“It's part of preparing. Everyone's probably feeling jittery.”

“Are you?” she asked. Rhett's expression gave nothing away. As usual he seemed stoic, sure of himself, confident. Get the job done, get in and get out—and get home.

If there was a home left to come back to.

“I have anticipation nerves.” He met her eyes.

“I'd never know it. You seem as calm as still water all the time.”

“Not all the time.” He arched a brow. “You have to remember that we've done a lot of things in our time as Templars. Which is pretty much our whole life. This is a huge step up from that, but it still resonates the same. We have a job to do—so we'll do it.”

Evelyn marveled over his calm acceptance of everything. Eden, the struggle to get here, and now leaving on a quest that might take one or more of their lives. She'd never met men so dedicated to their cause, adjusting to change with as much ease as some people breathed. She wondered over their training, what kind of tasks Rhett had performed to become so seasoned.

And as focused as he was, he still found time to ask after her well being. Warmth flooded through her, not a new experience where Rhett was concerned, but welcome just now. It affirmed that she'd made the right decision to bring him here, to want to explore a relationship deeper than any she'd ever allowed herself before.

It worried her that Ashrael hadn't let the Templar's eat from the Tree of Life before leaving. Rhett had two shallow bullet wounds to contend with, which put him at a slight disadvantage for battle. The fruit would have helped him heal faster. Now he would have to fight like this.

“Let's go.” Dragar stood by the doorway between the pylons, armed to the teeth, sword in its sheath, shield held in his arm as if he'd been born with it there.

Evelyn touched her fingertips to her lips and pressed them against Rhett's mouth before stepping past him to join the others.

Alexandra was next to Dracht, bouncing on her toes, rejuvenated from her nap, raring to go.

Minna, ever quiet and serious, flanked Dragar with Christian at her back.

As a group they faced the pylons, making last minute adjustments, thoughts focused on their incredible task.

Evelyn reiterated her mantra in her mind: I can do this, battle won't scare me, I have to face my fears.

Rhett touched the small of her back, armor creaking, shield lodged against his arm. Like he read her mind, he whispered, “You can do this.”

“I know,” she whispered back. Once more, she tipped her face to the sun, letting the healing, welcome heat sink into her skin. She caught a whiff of fresh grass, heard the birds chirping happily in the distant trees.

She would do this.

Dragar plunged through the doorway, leading them forward.

Chapter Two

Bleak, dismal, brooding. The atmosphere of Earth knew it was under siege. A depressing, slate gray sky stretched as far as the eye could see, blanketing cities, deserts, oceans. Clouds collected together in such mass that it seemed impossible no rain fell from their swollen bellies. Evelyn sensed the dampness on the air every time she breathed.

The stark difference between this and the sunny landscape of Eden threatened to put a blight on the soul, as if the accumulation emitted a sinister pulse that wrecked all internal peace.

Muddy and soaked from a prior downpour, the terrain sucked at the soles of her boots. Random puddles were obstacles she avoided for now.

Philae, Egypt felt like a tropical rainforest. The Nile pushed against the banks, threatening to overspill across the sandscape surrounding it. In some parts it probably had crested, flooding flatlands or cities or whatever lie in its treacherous path.

The Temple of Isis was still deserted; no people crossed the rising water to the island's shores. And why should they? If the Nile kept rising it would flood the newly named Philae and threaten the Temple with another water burial. No one in their right mind wanted to be on these small islands right now. None except the four Templars and three sisters set on their mission.

Humanity at large had no idea that the gateway to Eden lie through the door in the majestic pylons, that it was the safest place anyone could be.

“Ashrael's right. We need a plane. Do we call Father Valanzano and have him send one or do we go from private strip to private strip here, hoping to find someone to fly us out?” Dragar asked. Father Valanzano was the Templar's liaison to the Church.

Ashrael might have given Rhett the compass, but Dragar took control with experienced ease once they were outside the gate.

Standing between the long colonnades, the group stopped to consider it.

“I say cover our asses. Call Father Valanzano, have him send something—and they will have something because they're prepared for situations like this—and we'll look for a private airport in the meantime. Use the phone while we've got a chance to. If they go out, we'll have no choice but to fly ourselves,” Rhett said.

“We have to have a pilot--” Alexandra started to speak but Dracht interrupted her.

“Dad knows how to fly. Not a commercial plane, but we don't need that anyway.”

“I can fly something small. If it's already out of the hangar, if we can fuel it up, and if we can find keys.” Dragar led them on, bypassing the pool of blood from the Servant of the Fallen.

Evelyn stepped around it, keeping her mind off that particular battle. Rhett had gone head to head with the Servant—and won. His sword prowess along with his fearlessness in the fight—and luck—served him well. Servants of the Fallen, the offspring born from an immortal and mortal mating, didn't have the power or talent of the Fallen themselves but they were not easy to defeat.

The thought of Rhett going up against a Fallen threatened to make her knees weak. Studiously, again, she concentrated on other things. Strategies, travel, what to do if the Sixth Seal was broken. Many variables and unknowns awaited.

Coming out of the Temple, Dragar had a phone to his ear on their way to the docks. They still had to get off the island and back to the mainland.

Evelyn was almost surprised Dragar made it all the way to Philae with the phone intact. He'd been at one of the secure, lesser known Templar strongholds in Athens when Rhett contacted him hours before. The phone came in handy now, when they needed to lean on someone else for transportation.

“Father Valanzano, it's Dragar. Yes. I don't have time to explain other than to say I need you to send one of the private planes as close to Aswan Egypt as you possibly can. If there's one already here up in Cairo someone can fly, all the better.”

Ahead, the T-shaped docks were nearly swallowed by the Nile. Only the very surface showed above the vicious lap of the current and the few boats moored there threatened to either break loose and float away or become hung up on land. The speed boat Evelyn and Rhett had driven over from the mainland was still there, bobbing with its tether pulled taut. It was not new, nor ancient, and an inch of rainwater from the former deluge resided in the bottom. But it would do the job it needed to. There was enough space to fit them all for the short trip across the river.

Piling into the space in the bow, where green and white striped cushions provided seating, Evelyn, Minna and Alex sat next to each other while the men hovered near the driver and passenger seats.

Dragar, silent while he waited for Father Valanzano to work his magic, stood behind Rhett.

After stabbing in the 1, 2, 3, 4 code on a small keypad, Rhett started the motor and threw off the tie lines. With everyone settled and holding on, he swerved them away from the dock toward the shore.

Evelyn could see flickers of light from distant buildings; it was a relief to know the power was still on. Once the Sixth Seal was broken, if was broken, all communication would be lost.

Alexandra's knee bobbed restlessly, fingers clasping and unclasping or tightening until the knuckles were white. Her expression was more intense and expectant than Evelyn could ever remember. She hadn't had any time to ask her sister about her and Dracht's trip to the Temple—soon. Soon they would have time to trade stories and share details.

A moment later, after quiet murmuring with his head turned away from the wind, Dragar clapped the phone closed.

“They don't have a plane in Egypt, but they have one in Greece and Roman knows how to fly. He'll be leaving the stronghold in five minutes.”

“Do we know where we're meeting him?” Rhett asked. Slowing the speed, he cruised the boat into a slip and Dracht secured the rope to an anchor.

Roman, another Templar in the Order, had interrogated Christian before the pestilence arrived. Evelyn recalled Rhett mentioning his name in passing.

Christian climbed out, nimble in his armor, and held a hand down to the girls to help them up. Alexandra, who had apparently not made total peace with him yet, eyed the hand dubiously before clapping hers into it and hopping onto the dock.

Rhett lifted Evelyn by the waist, broad hands firm on her curves, and set her down next to Alexandra. Minna disembarked before anyone had time to help her.

“There's a private strip in Aswan on the west side. He'll be here in about two-hours, forty-five minutes barring any trouble in flight.” Dragar was the last out of the boat.

The parking lot adjacent to the docks, for owners and visitors, boasted a few more cars than when Evelyn was here with Rhett last. Several compact varieties, a truck, a sedan and a hulking Suburban.

Dragar and Christian led to the way to the pewter gray Suburban and used a code on the door below the handle to unlock it.

Evelyn didn't ask how they'd acquired it once on Egyptian soil; Dragar and Christian knew all the same tricks Rhett and Dracht did. No doubt they'd bartered, bribed or outright manhandled the vehicle from one place or another. Although roomy, it was still going to be a snug fit. At least they didn't have to take two cars, a situation not optimal when they needed to make sure they stayed together.

It was surreal to see the Templars so decked out like they were, in armor and shields, swords strapped to their sides, standing beside such a modern mode of transportation. They looked better suited to a medieval setting with horses or chariots instead of a Suburban for travel.

Evelyn whipped a look behind her when she heard a sharp gasp.

There stood a woman, head wrapped in a scarf, her damp clothing stained and ragged. Age had shrunk her posture into a hunch of shoulders, a tuck of bony elbows, and a curl of gnarled hands. The wrinkles around the corners of her eyes were as deep as the lines around her mouth. She stared at Dragar, fingers fluttering against her lips, almost as if she thought she was looking at God himself. It was there in her dark gaze, an understanding that transcended all languages; she knew something extreme was happening and that these men—and women—were a part of it.

Instead of scaring her, Dragar inclined his head briefly, stowed his shield in the back, and went around to the driver's seat to climb in. Christian touched the old woman on the shoulder; Rhett crooked a knowing half smile, and Dracht murmured encouragement in her tongue.

The reverent moment was poignant enough to send tingles through Evelyn.

Sobbing, the woman blubbered prayers into her palms, then fell to her knees in a puddle with her head bent as if to wish them godspeed. Across the parking lot, standing next to a rather battered sedan, stood her family. They stared, wide-eyed, mouths agape. No one needed to explain that what they were seeing was extraordinary.

“Come on,” Rhett urged, guiding her, Alex and Minna into the Suburban.

Even her sisters seemed caught up in the strange moment, their expressions reflecting the seriousness of the situation. With a chill replacing the tingle, Evelyn tucked herself between Christian and Dracht on the middle seat.

Dragar used the same code on the ignition that he'd used to open the door; the engine growled to life. He steered them out of the parking lot without looking back.

Evelyn did though. One last glimpse; the family, hands reaching toward heaven, chanted fervently for their success. The sheer emotion and comprehension in their actions seemed geared toward the thought that the group was heading straight to their death.

†

“Let's see if the satellites still work.” Dragar punched in the name of the airstrip on the built-in GPS.

Evelyn stared out the windows. Gray, gray, so much gray. She almost wished there was a way to encapsulate the cheeriness of Eden, a snowglobe of sunshine to pull out when the heavy pall around them threatened to overwhelm the senses.

“If not, we can hit up some gas stations and see if they have maps. Usually they do for tourists,” Alexandra chimed in. She and Minna were all the way in the back of the vehicle.

“Check the glove compartment, too,” Evelyn added. Rhett, in the front seat, popped the latch and dug around inside.

At the same time, a monotone woman's voice bled out over the speakers giving directions to the private airstrip. In English. Either Dragar had selected it from a bevy of languages or the owners of the vehicle were English speakers themselves.

Rhett closed the glove compartment with a rasp of the latch.

“Guess so,” Rhett commented about the satellites.

More people, braving the strange skies and pestilence aftermath, loaded precious belongings into their cars. Evelyn regarded the semi-chaotic scene at an old looking apartment complex while the residents fretfully dashed between buildings and vehicles. They thudded through puddles and over a thick layer of dead insects.

Those who weren't huddling in their homes, hiding, waiting it out, were desperate to get to their loved ones.

Evelyn couldn't really blame them. She didn't see any signs of looting, not in this smaller city, but she knew it wouldn't be long. This stretch along the Nile wasn't as built up with homes and businesses as others.

Eighteen miles to your destination, the woman said over the speakers, sounding quite human even through her stilted inflection.

“We'll get a feed until the really bad storms hit,” Alexandra said. “Then everything will go down.”

“If they hit.” Evelyn wanted to believe they'd find at least the first disc or two before the Sixth got broken. She felt Alexandra's stare boring into the back of her head. Alex really believed that at least the Sixth Seal would go.

Dragar raced them through the desert, bypassing a slower car on the road with a driver hunched over the wheel. The brief glimpse Evelyn got of the family seared itself into her brain: wild eyes, fearful expressions, white knuckles on the steering wheel. In the back seat, children hugged their toys—or each other. An elderly woman rocked back and forth, oblivious to the vehicle's momentum, prayers falling rapidly from her lips.

None of them paid any attention to the Suburban streaking over the asphalt.

And then suddenly they were off the asphalt, tearing over terrain so rough that Evelyn got thrown against the seat in front of her.

“Go right, go right!” Rhett shouted.

Beyond the two front seats, Evelyn caught a glimpse of a mob of at least three hundred people. Perhaps more. On foot, running, every kind of weapon imaginable in their hands.

Their expressions made the ones of the people in the car look tame. Panicked, edging on frenzy, going to extremes because they didn't know how to handle the stress of the situation other than to strike out at anything that moved. It was not just Egyptians on the prowl. She saw the paler skin of tourists or foreigners who had made Aswan their home. They felt safer as a group, no matter the color of their skin, when fighting an enemy they didn't exactly understand.

Dragar swerved around the edge of the melee, tires kicking up wet sand and other desert debris.

A shot rang out. Instinctively, Evelyn ducked.

On each side of her, Dracht and Christian braced their shields against the windows. Whether they would stop a bullet, Evelyn couldn't guess, but the quick thinking of the Templars surprised her. Rhett, too, she could tell by the clink of metal and wood against the dashboard.

“Let's just hope they don't go for the tires,” Dracht said.

“Were they shooting at us?” Evelyn asked. She peered up at the dark haired Knight without lifting her head from where she'd bent near her knees.

“Hard to say. Shooting at anything, each other, the sky.” Dracht, with his shield jammed against the window, wrenched a look into the back seat.

Evelyn did too when she realized one of her sisters might have been hit; Minna and Alex were fine. Alexandra was scowling.

Fifteen miles to your destination, said the robo-lady.

They were going to reach the airstrip well ahead of Roman.

Evelyn hoped there wasn't another mob waiting there, desperate to find flights out of the private airport now that the commercial ones were shut down.

They encountered no more mobs or threatening groups of citizens passing along the outskirts of Aswan. Dragar avoided parked cars and other road debris with skill, aiming them right for the airstrip paralleling the city to the west.

What Evelyn didn't expect to see was a news crew standing next to their satellite van near the tarmac when they arrived.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Rhett said from the front seat.

“Could be they're waiting for their news station to send someone for them,” Christian said. “Looks like they're arguing about something.”

Three men and one woman shouted at each other, hand gestures flying. None of them had microphones or cameras, so they weren't in the middle of taping a segment. Collectively, they turned to watch the Suburban whip by.

“She's probably complaining her hair's a mess and has to fix it before she goes live,” Alexandra quipped dryly.

From the front seat, Rhett laughed.

Alexandra, the sister famous for her wan quips at extreme times.

“We should just sit in the truck or else they'll come over,” Dracht said. He twisted around to see out the back window. “Too late. They're coming over here anyway.”

†

“They're going to see the armor and the shields even if we stay in the truck,” Christian said, swinging open his door. He stepped out, holding his shield tight against his body.

Evelyn scooted across the seat when he moved and climbed down to the damp pavement.

The news crew jogged their way. The woman, dark haired and dark eyed, looked like she might have been a native of the country but when she spoke she had no discernible accent at all.

“Excuse me! We--” The woman cut herself off when she caught sight of the men disembarking with their swords, their shields and their armor.

Evelyn could understand the shock she saw on all their faces; this wasn't dress up, there was no Renaissance fair anywhere near by, and something about the authentic carvings and make of the weaponry would have told anyone with half a brain that these men were on a mission far above and removed from any secret cabal or government.

The Templars were striking, larger than life. Each one epitomized the label warrior.

“...what's going on here?” the woman asked. Astute, her eyes narrowed.

Her three companions, one Egyptian and two Americans, darted startled looks between the group. They weren't fooled into believing these people had gone off their rockers and were waiting for the end of the world in costume.

“Why don't you go back to your van and wait for word,” Dragar suggested, always the moderator in any situation. Calm, controlled, quiet, he exuded an air of leadership just a step above the rest.

The woman glanced between them all. She licked her lips. “You have the responsibility to tell us what's going on. You know something. Henry, go get the camera.”

One of the American looking men, the one with brown hair and a scar on his cheek, about-faced.

Christian slithered his sword out of the sheath and angled the blade so that it cut the man off from going anywhere.

“I don't think so,” Christian said.

The newsman stopped dead in his tracks. “Whoa, whoa, careful there.”

Evelyn snapped looks between the news crew and the Templars. All they needed was to have their faces blared across whatever TV stations were still up and running.

Dragar didn't look perturbed whatsoever. Rhett seemed mildly annoyed and Dracht was impassive, staring the Egyptian down.

Like it was a quick draw at the OK Corral, the other American, the sandy blonde with ivy league good looks, whipped his cell phone out. He brought it up, angling it away from Christian toward Dracht to try and take a picture. Maybe a quick video.

But Christian didn't miss a trick. With a flick of his wrist, he moved the blade from in front of one man to the wrist of another, disarming him of the cell phone in a move that was almost too quick to see.

The cell phone landed on the ground and Christian crushed it beneath the heel of his boot. Standing nearly nose to nose, he drove his point home.

“No pictures, no video.”

“Okay man, okay.” The blonde man backed up a step, palms up in a sign of surrender.

“Very good. What are you all doing here, anyway?” he asked.

Evelyn discovered that Christian could be just as assertive as Rhett and Dracht when he wanted to be. She'd witnessed some of that at the Templar stronghold and on the yacht when they left Crete for Egypt.

It seemed a lifetime ago.

“We were supposed to meet a flight out of here yesterday, but they got delayed in the weather. Haven't been able to raise anyone at the station to check on the status for about three hours,” the news man with the scar said.

“Where were you going?” Dracht asked. They were a foreign crew, no doubt about it.

“The helicopter was supposed to fly us to Cairo where a private jet is waiting—or should have been—to take us back to the States,” the blonde replied.

“Why didn't you just drive? You could have been nearly there.”

“The engine's giving us trouble,” the woman said. She hadn't lost an ounce of her suspicion about the group.

Evelyn could tell by the shifty way she watched them, the way she tried to figure out what was going on.

Alexandra snorted, but for once didn't lambast anyone with witty repartee. Minna regarded the situation with typical silent aplomb.

“Take the Suburban and go. I'd lay good odds that your helicopter isn't coming. Not today, not tomorrow,” Dracht said. He rattled off the code to start the engine.

“But what about--”

“Don't make him tell you twice,” Rhett said. He stood out of the way so the four media members could get in.

The woman looked like she wanted to balk. Her lips opened then closed again when Rhett arched a brow. Without further comment, the four stepped past and climbed into the Suburban.

“Let's hope your buddy makes it here, or we're gonna have to find two cars instead of just one to get us where we're going,” Alexandra muttered to no one in particular.

The Suburban started up and pulled away. Three of the four occupants twisted to look back out the window.

“We needed them gone. I'm sure there's more recording equipment in the van over there and they'd get their hands on it while we were boarding the jet or something.” Dragar made sure the crew left the tarmac before turning his attention back to the rest of them.

“Y' know, if they had any more cell phones on 'em, or if they make it back, they'll have a hell of a story to tell in the aftermath of all this,” Alex pointed out.

“I think the media has enough of a story to last them a lifetime,” Christian chimed in.

Alex conceded that with a grunt.

Evelyn glanced at the sky. No change. Which was a good sign so far. The bad thing was that the Sixth Seal could have already been broken and none of the other signs had happened yet. There was always that several hour delay between the breaking and the actual event.

She waited with the others, impatient to get on with their mission.

A little more than two hours later, the low roar of an airplane engine snapped Evelyn out of her reverie. Everyone lurched to their feet, attention swinging toward the long runway. Some had been sitting on old crates, others leaning against the building. In the gloomy distance, Evelyn could see a pinprick of light and another one flashing. The jet circled around and descended, making a smooth touchdown on the tarmac.

Dragar wasted no time. Shield in hand, he led the way toward the wide open area around the runway.

The jet taxied back toward them after turning a slow circle and came to a stop.

Evelyn didn't know much about private jets but this one looked sleek, the white paint glossy with a black and gray stripe down the sides. Six small windows, lit from the inside, gave the impression of inviting warmth.

A few minutes later, the pilot, Roman, lowered the steps.

Dragar made a round of introductions and let the women go first. Evelyn, behind Minna, climbed up and into the jet. Leather seats the same color gray as the stripe outside sat on both sides of the small aisle, some with tables between. A short couch behind them could seat perhaps three people, she guessed. Or one stretched out.

Beyond, at the back, was a small service area for drinks or food, a small refrigerator and a door leading to a bathroom. The plane wasn't designed with a bedroom, like some, but it was cozy and clean and Evelyn sank down into a seat while the engine hummed around her. Rhett sat in the one beside her, armor creaking, the shield and sword—after he unhooked the sheath from the belt—set before him on the floor. There was more than enough room between their chairs and the ones directly in front.

She didn't resist when he curled his fingers around her own. Squeezing, she rested her head against the seat, staring at a fixed spot on the wall.

Dragar exchanged destination information with Roman and then he too found a seat.

Dracht sat with Alexandra, Minna next to Dragar and Christian sat alone.

Less than ten minutes later they taxied down the runway and roared into the overcast sky.

The hunt for the Seals was on.

Chapter Three

After a disorienting flight through cloud cover that never seemed to break, they started their final descent into a private airstrip outside of Jerusalem. Rhett and the other Templars slept, reserving their energy for battle. Even Alexandra slept, head lolled aside, hair layered across her face.

Evelyn couldn't sleep a wink. Couldn't rest. With every mile they drew closer to Jerusalem her stomach tied itself into tighter knots, twisting and gnawing until the pain was real enough to make her squirm in her seat. But she knew with strange certainty that they were where they needed to be. This was the city that housed one of the Seals.

She couldn't figure out why the driving need to get off the plane and move, follow some invisible trail, felt so strong until she glanced down at her and Rhett's hands. Fingers laced, they'd been that way the entire time.

The divining compass sat in his armor somewhere and because they were touching, she felt the same thing he would when he woke up.

Which he did when the wheels made contact with the tarmac. Sitting up suddenly, he squeezed her fingers and let go, rubbing a hand across his chest, right over the armor, with a strange look on his face.

“I felt it, too,” she whispered.

He looked over. “It's stronger here than it was in Eden, or even on Philae. Maybe the closer we get the more pull there is.”

“Maybe. How do you feel?” she asked. The pressure inside the cabin made her ears pop.

“A little better. Did you get any sleep?”

“No. I couldn't sleep.”

“Nervous?”

“Of course. My stomach is tight and my shoulders are so tense they feel like marble.” She rolled them to try and unclench the muscles. The mantra, her determination to get through and face her fears, only went so far.

“You'll be all right once we start moving. Sitting and thinking makes everything worse.” Leaning over he dotted a kiss to her temple.

Evelyn noticed the inner tug, the need to get up and go...somewhere...had lessened with the lack of contact between hands.

“Everyone ready?” Dragar gathered his things.

Christian stood, shield against his body, and made his way up the aisle. He and Roman traded a tense glance before Christian worked the stair door open and lowered it to the ground.

“Why don't you let me come with you,” Roman said to Dragar. He was as tall as Rhett and Dracht, black hair combed away from his face.

“We need you here to guard the jet in case we need to use it again, and we probably will. If anything unusual happens, take off and land somewhere nearby, or as close as you can. We'll meet back here when we're done,” Dragar replied.

“Unusual like the insects?” Roman asked, standing in the doorway to the cockpit.

“Or worse,” Alexandra said, climbing out of her seat. She stretched her fingertips toward the ceiling and headed forward after Minna toward the door.

Rhett waited until everyone else was up and at the front of the jet before helping Evelyn out of the seat. It was a sweet gesture that she returned with a smile. Evelyn appreciated the small tokens he bestowed upon her, all signs of his affection. There had been so little time to explore their bond, to show him how much she cared. The hectic cycle of life continued to disrupt—and interrupt—and now they were about to advance on an enemy not many could best.

Descending to the tarmac, Evelyn discovered Israel's air was as oppressive as Egypt's. Clouds hung low here, too, filling the sky in thick layers of white, gray and charcoal. The relentless, churning mass gave the impression it blanketed the entire earth, blocking out the black sun, only burning away when it reached the very outer layers of the atmosphere. She found it as suffocating as she ever had.

“Good hunting,” Roman said from the doorway before he pulled the stairs up, sealing the jet once more.

Several other planes sat on the asphalt in front of one story buildings collected near a gate leading out into the rest of the city. None of the aircraft had pilots or people waiting to board. Everything looked frozen in time, as if people had left their toys where they sat when the chaos set in.

So far, the private strip looked vacant of life.

Dragar led the way across a service road, through a split between two buildings and out into a long parking lot for owners and visitors. Nine vehicles sat haphazardly in their slots, some parked at wrong angles. One Honda had been abandoned so fast the doors were still open.

An easy target, Dragar went right to it and ducked his broad shoulders down to look inside.

“No keys but that doesn't matter. Find another car that works and let's get on the road,” Dragar said. The Honda only sat four. They needed another vehicle.

“Here's a truck. Fit five in the front cab and the rest in the bed so we don't have to split up.” Rhett aimed for a red Dodge Ram and tried the driver's door.

Locked.

He tried the back passenger door—it opened. Sliding in, he hit the button to unlock all the doors and went back to the driver's side, setting his shield aside to get under the dash.

Dragar seemed to be in agreement to going in one car if they could and left the Honda where it sat.

Evelyn flanked Alexandra and hopped into the bed of the truck. She knew it was better if the Templars in their armor stayed out of sight as long as possible.

Rhett got the engine going while Dragar, Christian and Dracht stood there staring at the girls.

“What?” Evelyn asked, sitting on a wheel well cover.

“You ride inside,” Dragar said, gesturing with his shield.

“We're fine back here,” Alexandra argued, crouching down to sit near the cab.

Minna found a place opposite Alex.

Rhett backed out of the driver's seat and shook his head. “No, you girls ride inside. We don't know how the inner city is. It could be worse than the mob we saw in Aswan.”

Alexandra exhaled an impatient noise. “It's not going to be much different if a bunch of people see you guys in that get up.”

“We can't hide it forever. Those other people were news hounds. We didn't need to see ourselves splashed on TV before we even arrived here,” Dracht said, making a gesture for the girls to get in the cab.

“Let's go!” Dragar, in an unprecedented move, raised his voice.

It shocked Evelyn into motion; she'd never heard him speak above a conversational tone.

Minna, never one to argue, gave Dragar a withering look that surprised Evelyn as much as the sudden command. Nothing in Dragar's expression suggested he was remotely affected by the glance.

Behind her, Alexandra muttered, the words too quiet to make out.

The entire thing struck Evelyn funny while she plopped into the back bench seat. All of it, from the shooting in the alley to the duplicity by Christian to the swarm of insects that still littered the ground in haphazard clumps.

Evelyn wondered, briefly, if she was starting to crack from the strain. Burying her face in her hands, she smothered the laughter into her palms.

This couldn't all be happening. In a moment she would wake up in bed, or at the hotel in Athens and everything would be normal. Galiana and Genevieve wouldn't be dead, the world wouldn't be in chaos and they wouldn't be about to embark on what amounted to a suicide mission.

The silence that met her muffled laughter let her know that she'd stunned the people around her. She could feel Alexandra's stare like a physical touch—Rhett's, too. Minna touched fingertips to her forearm in concern.

From the front seat came the sound of Dracht's armor creaking when he twisted around to see what the problem was.

“You all right, Ev?” Alexandra whispered.

“I'm fine. Let's go.” She dropped her hands from her face, controlling the laughter with supreme effort.

Everyone was still staring at her. She met Rhett's eyes. Pale green, they sparked with concern.

“I'm fine,” she insisted. “It just all hit me at once.”

“Don't worry. We've all had our moments,” Dracht said, surprising her all over again.

“Even you?” she asked. Rhett stowed his shield and climbed inside.

“Even me,” Dracht said.

“When was your moment?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Dracht looked at Alexandra, then faced front in the seat.

Evelyn glanced at her sister only to find Alex pretending like the clouds out the window were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

What had happened between them? Alexandra wasn't talking. Dracht wasn't talking, either. Any ill placed humor fled in the face of curiosity.

Dragar and Christian climbed into the bed of the truck, shields clanking against the sides.

“Do you want to know when my moment was?” Rhett asked. He reversed out of the slot. Putting the truck into gear, he tromped the pedal and shot them out of the parking lot.

“When?” Evelyn asked. She met Rhett's gaze in the rear view mirror.

“The night I found myself staring down the barrel of your gun.”

†

Situated on the edge of the city, only empty fields surrounded the small airport. But signs of life crept up quickly while the Dodge hurtled down the damp road; ahead, where the urban sprawl jutted up out of the desert, people milled in the streets, coming out of hiding in droves. Some packed cars, others clustered together in frightened groups, and still more ran in frantic circles that seemed to send them nowhere but closer to the edge of insanity. Papers fluttered in wet gutters, belongings scattered the sidewalks, streets and parkways.

A few children picked up the dead bugs with morbid interest, turning them this way and that. The deceased lurked everywhere, left where they lay until loved ones claimed them. None of the businesses, from city offices to private shops, were open to the public. Many were looted, doors ripped off the hinges or sitting open at awkward angles, the supplies raided by anyone brave enough to fight their way through the other frenzied survivors to claim it.

Evelyn couldn't tell what time of day it was; time seemed suspended, kept at bay by the hand of fate. She knew it wasn't night time yet or it would have been even darker than the murk that passed for daylight.

Rhett drove through red and green lights and stop signs; he paused for no one. Not the beggars pushing carts, baby strollers or dragging trash bags behind them. They needn't have worried about anyone paying attention to the Templars in their armor. Most of the residents of Jerusalem were distracted by their own personal holocaust. Private horrors they couldn't escape no matter how many tears they shed, how hard they begged or how far they fled. Although Israel had seen its share of war and strife, modern humans weren't prepared for end of the world scenarios.

Not really. The reality of it preyed on the mind, toyed with psychological barriers and protections that once seemed impenetrable.

Even Evelyn found herself susceptible on some level. No matter how long she'd been alive or what she had seen, nothing in her knowledge base prepared her for this.

Rhett closed in on the old city in Jerusalem, the walls like a fortress. Walls that she had hidden behind once upon a time with thousands of others while a war raged on the other side. She was always hit with nostalgia whenever she came here, the memories as fresh in her mind as if it had happened last week instead of centuries ago. Violence, screams, prayers, blood. Fear.

Driving through the Jaffa Gate, they entered the Christian Quarter. The ramparts stood tall and imposing, rising high above the asphalt that nearly looked out of place against such majesty.

Evelyn stared out the windows in shock; there wasn't a person to be seen anywhere. She would have thought millions would have flooded the old city in an effort to be closer to the holy places within the sanctuary.

“Where is everyone?” Alexandra asked. Even she, apparently, was taken aback by the vacant streets.

“Couldn't tell you. Makes it easier for us. We're getting close,” Rhett said, taking a sharp right turn.

“It's creepy,” Alex insisted.

Rhett pulled the truck over to a curb and cut the engine. Across the street to their left, ancient buildings and stone streets wove through the quarter, with arches over the walkways, crosses decorating high peaks and spires. The gloom added to the sensation that they'd been thrust back in time, that this wasn't two-thousand-eleven but an era when Christ walked the earth.

Dragar and Christian jumped out of the back, shields affixed on their arms, swords pulled from their sheaths. Dracht and Rhett vacated the truck and the girls filed out on their heels.

Evelyn would have bet half her life that the sinister taint on the air wasn't her imagination. A chill marched down her spine and she shuddered.

Rhett took a path toward a narrow stone street between two structures, his sword hissing against the sheath when he removed it. An arch overhead marked the entrance to the passage that boasted broad stone steps and high stone walls on both sides.

She could see a hundred feet or more ahead before the path curved gently, what lie beyond obscured by the turn. Rhett, Dragar and Dracht took the lead; Christian followed behind her, Minna and Alexandra. Their boots thudded off the ground, ringing hollowly in the corridor.

There was evidence of the storms and pestilence even here; puddles shimmered between rocks and the black carapaces of the bugs littered the walkway. When they came to the curve, Rhett slowed and his posture grew wary. Evelyn had seen him in battle, knew when he was tensing to fight.

Dragar and Dracht took their cues from Rhett, she assumed, because they both slowed and affected the same wariness he did. As if some silent cue had been given, Rhett and the two front Templars split up, two going to one side of the path, one to the other.

Alexandra and Minna immediately followed suit, as did she, cutting to Rhett's side where she pressed against the stone. No sounds of traffic or cars or the dull roar of people on the move could be heard here.

It was so silent that another rash of chills raced along her arms. She heard no birds, no rustle of leaves, no rasping scrape of twigs on concrete. How Rhett and his brethren could walk so quietly with all that armament was beyond her.

What came charging around the curve was as quiet as they were, and took Evelyn—took them all—by surprise.

Black, thick across the chest, with razor teeth protruding from long muzzles, the beasts resembled a cross between a wolf and something straight out of a nightmare. Pale eyes, white fire, gleamed in the murky light. Their claws, talons more than not, should have left scratching, scraping noises on the stone.

Nothing.

Not one growl, not a shuffle of fur over muscle, no vicious snap of teeth. The animals—no, beasts—didn't appear as solid as a real wolf, like it really had been plucked from the dream realm. Three in all, two cutting away toward Rhett, one aiming to pass between for either the girls or Christian.

Rhett didn't hesitate; he blocked one with the shield and sliced at the other, a hard, downward arc meant to cut it in two.

Much to Evelyn's shock, the creature crashed to the ground with an inhuman snarl. The other collided with the shield so hard it knocked Rhett down. He landed with a thump and a grunt and a clatter of metal on stone.

The third creature made it past Dracht's swinging sword—straight for her. Back pressed tight against the wall behind her, Evelyn reached for the blade at her hip. The gift from Ashrael that she thought wouldn't be of any use to her. Except maybe to cut rope or something equally harmless.

Behind her, Alexandra shouted. “Evelyn!”

She tugged the knife out of its sheath. The creature's mesmerizing eyes threatened to paralyze her, seemed to be fixed on her for just that reason, slowing her motions down until she felt like she existed in one of those dreams where you need to be running fast, really fast, outpacing your enemy, go-go-go, cut through the annoying languid haze—and can't. Where your arms feel weighted, your feet feel attached to lead balls and the scenery warps by like it's melting, all slow-motion, so slow the thing behind you is going to catch you any second. Except right now it was her hand and the knife and the creature with the strange, pale eyes. She heard her heartbeat rushing through her ears, a clamoring static-hiss that blotted out even Alexandra's strident cries.

The beast collected itself, gathering strength behind its haunches, opening its maw because it meant to shred her down to the marrow with its vicious, needle teeth. And the knife was still rising, painfully slow, coming up and up but it was only at her waist and the wolf-hybrid was airbound, coming right at her, lips pulled away from the teeth she just couldn't escape.

A flash of silver sang near her ear, cut through the molasses thick haze with a quickness she couldn't quantify. It moved as fast as the wolf, apart from her reality, taking aim at the beast's throat. A howl of pain burst from its maw at the moment of contact, the head flying one way, the body another. And suddenly time whipped into overdrive, senses overwhelmed with motion, noise and a flurry of activity.

Christian stood next to her, lowering the sword back to his side. He met her eyes. “Need to be a little quicker on the draw.”

Evelyn blinked rapidly, gasping for breath. “Thank you.”

Christian didn't reply. He inclined his head as if they were now even, like he'd somehow made up for the almost-kidnapping back at the Templar stronghold, reasserting his position as protector.

He stepped past, jogging for Rhett who rose up from the ground with a helping hand from Dragar. The other attacking creature lay off to the side, as dead as the other two, though whether Rhett had contributed to its demise or one of the other Templars was beyond her just then.

“What in the hell were those?” Alexandra asked.

Evelyn struggled to regain her composure. Sliding the dagger back into the sheath, she lifted her hands and rubbed feeling back into her face with her fingertips.

“I couldn't tell you, but we need to press forward before more show up,” Dracht said.

“Let's go.” Dragar turned away from Rhett and flanked Dracht.

Christian walked with them, a show of force on the front line.

Rhett, breathing hard, waited for her to reach him and slung an arm around her shoulders, dragging her briefly to his chest.

She didn't mind the hard, unrelenting armor under her cheek when she wrapped her arms around him.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, leaving a kiss on her crown. He stepped away after making eye contact, jogging to catch up to his Templar brethren.

“You all right, Ev?” Alex asked.

Minna touched her back, a gentle press of fingers that also encouraged her to go forward.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” Her mind raced to catch up to the present. A scan of the sky showed it was still roiling like a concoction in a witch's cauldron. The streets were still empty behind her when she glanced back. That wicked sensation hadn't left, only intensified since the attack. She regarded the backs of the Templars ahead of them, marching in a line, swords drawn, hair long and disheveled, armor making them appear larger and more deadly.

Fearless.

No blood decorated any of the swords, as if the beasts were as ethereal as they'd seemed, embodiments of evil that were susceptible only to the power of a holy blade. Her's might have worked—if she'd ever been able to make contact with the beast before it had ripped her throat out.

Overhead, the sky darkened another degree. And another. Making it harder to see. The pathway ahead became gloomier than the parts behind them, a thickening fog that was more than fog, coiling through the air to obliterate what lay beyond.

The Templars split up again, two to each side of the narrow street. She, along with Minna and Alex, followed suit. They didn't need to be told to get out of the proverbial line of fire.

While they all crept closer to the mist, Evelyn reasserted her mantra. Don't freeze up. You can do this.

It just didn't seem to be working no matter how many times she let it roll through her mind. But smaller whispers reminded her of times she had done what she needed to when it counted. Like shooting Rhett when she thought he was deceiving her. Trying to take out the boat on the Mediterranean, fighting back against the bastard in the high rise before the black sun event that threw the world into chaos.

Those were different situations than facing down a beast of questionable origin with glowing eyes and teeth that were better suited to a barracuda.

Ahead, silhouettes took shape in the fog. Tall, broad, with a glint of steel along a heavy blade.

Servants. Servants of the Fallen.

†

It was always easy to tell who the Servants and the Fallen were. They were men with exceptional height and a presence that humans felt all the way to the core. Like with Ashrael, the Fallen had that quality in abundance while the Servants' varied. Born to mortal women, the Servants skills, power and talent also varied. It depended on the father, the mother, the upbringing and the natural desire of the Servant in question.

Most Servants all had at least three times the strength of a normal human man. Sometimes more. Very few times, less. Those alive longer had a distinct advantage over the younger immortals.

The two that stalked out of the gloom shared a height several inches under seven feet, one blonde, one dark haired, both stern faced and armed to the teeth. The blonde had a belt around his waist with several daggers and other instruments of death Evelyn didn't immediately recognize. His brethren shouldered a bow with arrows affixed to his back. They seemed equally arrogant, the blonde wearing a smirk when he scanned the narrow street and the Templars lurking in it.

One broke away for Rhett and Dracht, the other for Dragar and Christian.

Evelyn saw they paid little attention to the women. Minna whispered near her ear.

“Get all the weapons from them you can when the men take them down.”

Her sister had expertise in using different kinds, especially the bow and arrows. It didn't surprise Evelyn that Minna thought the Knights would take this particular fight.

She nodded agreement, removing the blade from her sheath in a preemptive move this time so she wouldn't freeze in case the worst happened and the Templars fell. The contoured hilt felt solid against her palm.

Rhett pushed away from the wall with Dracht at his flank. The Templars faced off with their adversary, parting to each side of the Servant to force his attention to split between them.

Evelyn understood what they intended, could see the strategy in their actions. Rhett and Dracht had a lot of training and practice behind them. She reassured herself they knew what they were doing.

Beside her, Alex glanced back down the street. Minna looked up to the rooftops. Evelyn checked the gloom for more glowing eyes and hurtling bodies. So far, she saw nothing. No more Servants yet, either.

She wondered how much deeper the Fallen was, where he'd put the disc, and what else stood between them and acquiring it. More hounds? Creatures of a different sort? Ashrael had warned them the Fallen had the power to conjure a multitude of unpleasant things.

Dragar and Christian took up a similar stance, the Servant between them. Dragar, being close to six-five himself, had the best height advantage of the rest. He wasn't quite eye to eye with the Servant, but he wasn't far off the mark.

With a sudden, explosive burst, thousands of small black flying things erupted from the mist. Perhaps they were made of the mist, the way they peeled out of the curling, murky wisps like leaves plucked from a tree. The distraction, she saw, was purposeful, though likely not of the Servants making. They didn't have that kind of power.

Rhett and Christian ducked at the same time; Dracht glanced that way. Dragar, too experienced to allow a diversion to distract him, clashed swords with the Servant when he struck.

In crouching, Rhett might have saved himself a lethal blow; the Servant's blade whistled a foot above his head, arcing around for Dracht who recovered swiftly from his surprise. He blocked the strike with his own sword, risking harm by coming in closer, tempting the Servant to counter him and strike again.

The bats flurried around the combatants in disorienting numbers, flap-fluttering wildly at incomprehensible speeds. Evelyn put her arms up to block her face when she saw Rhett forced to take a swing at a few, that they weren't simply flying by but attacking.

Tiny bodies pelted her from the right, little claws trying to gain purchase on the shirt. They slipped off, chittering and squealing, only to bombard her from another angle. The miniature scales prevented her from scratches and injury, but her hands, exposed from the wrist down, suffered several. She heard clanging swords beyond the fray, caught glimpses of Rhett and the Servant locked in a fierce head to head battle while Dracht picked himself up off the ground.

He'd been hit but she couldn't tell how hard or where. Nor how bad it was. Blood wasn't seeping or dripping. That was a good sign.

Minna and Alex flailed on both sides of her, grunting and gasping with the effort to fight through the mass of bodies. Evelyn pitched away from them so she wouldn't accidentally cut one of them with her dagger when she swatted at the tiny, infuriating biting beasts.

Dragar and Christian were in heavy combat, striking alternately from two angles, and the Servant seemed to be keeping up with ease. It was almost frightening how smooth he moved, cutting the blade one way and another, wickedly fast, forcing Dragar and Christian to take evasive action several times.

The fog moved closer, coming within feet of the fighters. Evelyn caught the advance in glimpses. In a moment it would curl around them, making it difficult to see.

Dracht swung for the back of the Servant's knees, a brutal angle, his face a mask of concentration. There was a break in the armor there, a place to make contact with flesh. The bats made it harder, Evelyn knew, but Dracht stayed on course.

With some sort of eerie sixth sense, the Servant twisted with his elbow leading, taking Dracht in the temple. Dracht went to a knee and Rhett chose that moment to strike. His sword arced up and around, then cut straight down.

The Servant must have known he would strike, would take advantage of the distraction. He arched his head out of the way and cocked his arms back, ready to thrust his sword through the vulnerable separation of Rhett's armor at his waist.

Evelyn used the momentum of fighting off the bats to thwip the dagger at the Servant. It was just what she needed to do, deciding the gleam of light off her blade would distract the Servant for the split second Rhett needed to either dodge or counter.

She just wanted to buy him another heartbeat of time to react. When push came to shove, she could do it. Even if it drew the ire and attention of the Servant onto herself.

The Servant and Rhett saw the weapon pitching their way and both anticipated the other; however, Rhett anticipated better. When the Servant twisted to slap his blade against the smaller one, Rhett was already moving. He didn't wait for the action, didn't wait to hear the clang of steel.

He lunged forward, driving the tip of his sword through the Servant's throat, finding the open spot at the top of the armor.

Dracht, recovering from the stunning blow to his head, crouched to miss any accidental swipe of the Servan't sword and pierced its side where the armor separated to show a glimpse of flesh.

The Servant's sword clattered to the stone covered ground, body arched in a death throe, face contorted in pain.

At the same time she saw Minna dash forward in periphery, a dark little blur that slipped between Dragar and Christian's arching blades, around the slice of the Servant's sword, to attach herself to its back. Quick herself, she snared the Servant under the chin with her palm and wrenched its head around, leaping to the ground when the body crumpled after the snap. Her martial art expertise shined in that moment.

She claimed its sword and stepped away so that Christian could make doubly sure the Servant wouldn't rise when their backs were turned. Suffering a bloody nose, Christian brought his blade down to separate the head from the body.

It will take all of you to defeat them, Ashrael had said.

The bats swerved out of the street almost as one entity, flapping up and away. Fog shrouded the two downed bodies, curling through the air and over the ground like a live thing.

Evelyn ran forward to pick her dagger up off the ground. She confiscated another dagger, three throwing knives and what looked like a skinny whistle. In the aftermath, breathing hard, she realized her hands were shaking. Regardless, she felt accomplished, good about taking action when it mattered.

Dracht handed the other Servant's sword to Alexandra. She was the likely one to carry it even before Minna. Evelyn had little to no experience with them. Not that she had any with the throwing knives, either.

As one, like they were all connected by hive mind, the seven advanced into the fog, prepared to face off against the Fallen.

Chapter Four

The fog grew thicker, darker, clinging to the ground, the walls and the stone archways spaced out above them. Silence descended again, the kind of quiet that allowed a person to hear every creak of leather armor and every soft breath the warriors took. No matter how subdued their creeping was, the noises seemed to bounce off the walls and echo ahead into misty oblivion, enhanced and exaggerated beyond their true level.

It was the Fallen at work, Rhett decided, giving himself an extra advantage.

A smart adversary would be able to distinguish each of their sounds, giving him an accurate headcount. It was why he pressed forward quicker than he might have otherwise, wanting to cut the time down the Fallen had to prepare. His chest hurt from a blow during the fight but it wasn't anything he couldn't shove down and aside, relegating it to a distant ache while he focused his attention on the aggravating fog.

A square doorway loomed to the right, on his father and Christian's side of the pathway. He could just make out Dragar's expression and nodded. Twisting, he whispered around Dracht to the line of girls behind him.

“Stay out here and guard the doorway. We don't need anyone trapping us in there.” Rhett made eye contact with each woman to drive his point home.

Evelyn was the only one who seemed doubtful of the plan, her eyes giving away her concern, her want to stay close. He understood her mind on the matter but shook his head; he needed her and her sisters to stay out here.

A brief flicker of rebellion in her gaze worried him. He needed to know she would stay where he asked, so that later, if he encountered her inside in the dark, he wouldn't mistake her for the enemy and kill her.

Rhett wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Finally, she nodded. Agreement.

He let her see his relief and gratitude. Then he peeled away from the wall with Dracht at his flank, the shield slung around to lay against his back. He wanted both hands for the sword.

Crossing the stone path, he filed through the dark doorway first, letting the others fall in behind. The fog didn't penetrate the skinny corridor and good thing. They would have been completely blind. As it was, he could barely see two feet ahead.

The walls pressed close, giving him little room to move. Battling in here was impossible. Maybe that's the way the Fallen wanted it. He had a fleeting moment to wonder if they were being led into a trap, but this was the way the strange tug led him. It compelled him in ways he'd never been compelled before to go forward, follow the invisible line toward the Seal. Drawn to it on subconscious and physical levels.

Sometimes he didn't have to stop and think where to go, he just knew.

Urged forward, holding the sword out in front of him, he followed his instinct deeper into the dank tunnel. It smelled ancient here, a stale mix of old earth and older stone. Creeping along, he followed twists and turns that he was sure would lead him into a larger cavern or room. The passage remained narrow however, snaking deeper underground. Instinct told him that, too, as well as the subtle downward slope that put more strain on his thighs.

Long ago he'd learned to listen to the workings of his body to help him figure out clues when nothing else presented itself. The air seemed thinner, more oppressive.

Like being buried.

Ten minutes passed, bootfalls as quiet as he could make them on the ground. It was then he realized he didn't hear his brothers and father behind him. Rhett paused to listen. Not just for their boots but the creak of their armor, the shallow respiration of their breathing.

He heard nothing.

Rhett glanced forward again to make sure no one had closed in while his attention shifted. There was nothing but the shadowy tunnel. Visibility had reduced to less than a foot, so he couldn't be positive something wasn't lurking straight ahead, waiting for him to walk right into it. Whispering might give his exact position away but he wasn't going a step further until he at least tried to make contact with his brothers.

“Dracht?” The hush of his voice sounded as loud as a shout to his ears and he grimaced. Damnit.

He got no reply. His senses told him Dracht, Christian and his father were not immediately nearby. Where else could they have gone? He couldn't remember there being any other tunnels or forks in the corridor—but then he'd been hyper focused on his path and that thing that compelled him inside.

Shit.

“Dragar? Christian?” He tried one more time, checking both ways with quick glances.

Still nothing.

Instead of going back—because that wouldn't solve anyone's problem—he went forward. One step after the other, grip so tight on the hilt of the gleaming sword his knuckles ached.

Rhett realized belatedly that the blade was what provided the minimal light to see by. Somehow it cast the faintest glow, such a small amount as to barely be recognizable. He had the feeling that his adversary wouldn't be able to see it coming from the opposite direction, that the subdued cast worked only for him.

Beads of sweat trickled down his temple and through his whiskers, dropping onto the leather armor from his jaw. It wasn't heat but concentration and the close confines coupled with little air flow that did it.

Strangely, he didn't feel nervous or apprehensive.

Maybe he should have.

Beyond the low gleam of the sword, a new light flickered to life. From around a corner, casting a yellowish glow rather than the faint, ethereal one that lit his way. He pressed his back against the far wall instead of the closer one, inching his way to the turn. The wall came to an abrupt end, allowing him to see straight ahead, into the candlelight.

The narrow passageway opened up into a room twenty-odd feet ahead. He could discern the wider, dome shape even from here. Rhett glanced behind him.

“Dracht?” he whispered. No answer.

The Seal was close. Inside, his pulse ticked madly, that invisible thing drawing him forward. He didn't want to face the Fallen alone and it had nothing to do with being afraid. Rhett simply understood his chances of defeating it without help were next to impossible. Not willing to stand there and let more time pass by—lethal as anything else—he crept along the corridor toward the room. Three quick steps took him from obscurity into light, the sword brandished, ready to strike—and he stopped dead in his tracks.

To the left, tied to a post, stood Evelyn. Mouth stuffed with a gag, hands tied behind her to the wooden pole, she stared at him with frightened, wide eyes. A quick sweep told him her clothing was intact, that she didn't seem to be wounded or beaten.

He couldn't fathom how she'd gotten here ahead of him. Where were her sisters? Dead? For that matter, where the hell were his brothers and father?

Behind the pole, in a segment cut out of the rugged stone wall, sat a fat candle and what looked like a page from a very old book. Nestled into the surface was an even older looking disc.

The Seal.

Evelyn whimpered, imploring him with soft sounds and a desperate expression.

Rhett took a step forward—and stopped. The Seal called, luring, coaxing him forward to claim it.

At the same time, warning bells clanged sharp in his head, adding fuel to the certainty that something was desperately wrong here. The whole set up just hit him odd. He wanted to get Evelyn down from there, untie her hands and grab the Seal and leave.

It wouldn't be that easy. This was a trap but one he didn't quite have a full grasp on yet. The rest of the room looked empty; he could see to the corners thanks to the candlelight glow. Glancing behind him, back down the gloomy corridor, he saw nothing.

No stalking Fallen, no Servants. No white eyed mongrels bent on destruction.

Yet he felt as if his life was in immediate and desperate peril.

Torn between the decision to move to Evelyn and assess the situation, he scanned the subterranean room one more time. There was something he was missing here. But what?

Another drop of sweat slithered down his cheek. Think think. Rugged walls, the Seal in the niche, Evelyn tied to the post.

No. Not any of those things.

And then it hit him; there was no other way into this cave than from the tunnel he just took. No doors led away into secret passages, no crevices in the walls afforded an entrance or exit. So how did Evelyn get in here?

Was there a short cut off the tunnels he'd walked? A corridor he'd missed that intersected with his?

Evelyn whimpered against the rag. The need to protect her surged as strong as a sudden, uncomfortable desire to destroy her.

It rocked him, the war that waged inside. He licked his lips, tasting sweaty salt on his tongue.

Kill her, before she kills you, an inner voice whispered. It was the voice of hardened battle experience, of intuition. Of self preservation.

Evelyn would never hurt him. He glanced behind him at the tunnel and back, feeling exposed and in a spotlight he couldn't see.

Tested, coerced, lured.

He couldn't kill her. She pleaded with him to save her, arching toward him with her body as far as the ropes would allow. What he needed to do was sever the ropes and get her the hell out of there after he grabbed the Seal.

It was right there, almost within reach. Close. So close.

But she was between them, straining for release against her binds. He could hear her muffle his name into the rag in her mouth. Begging.

This was ridiculous. He could even smell the faint musk that he knew was her scent, one matched to no other woman. It was Evelyn, not a ruse or a disguise. And yet it couldn't be.

Rhett stalked forward, sheathing his sword. He pulled the dagger free and stepped behind her, slicing through the binds. The rough rope fell away and she cried out against the gag when her arms came down. She yanked the rag out of her mouth and he pulled her to him, gripping the dagger in his fist, the other arm tight around her shoulders.

“Oh Rhett, I thought you were going to leave me here. Hurry, get the thing and let's go,” she whispered against his armor.

“I wouldn't ever leave you,” he said, voice ragged. Her hair smelled clean, fresh. Silky against his whiskered cheek.

Gritting his teeth, he swung the blade around and stabbed her hard in the back of the neck. Fingers that had been gentle on his arm grew into talons, raking through the breaks in his armor near the elbow. She screamed, growing in size and breadth, becoming more than Evelyn, more than a soft woman with gentle pleas.

Swifter than the eye could follow, she transformed from helpless victim to a broad shouldered, lean hipped, armored man with pale blonde hair and a vicious smile.

The dagger still stuck out the back of his neck.

Rhett was already drawing his sword by then, bracing a foot back to take a swing. They were face to face, a head on collision of mortal and immortal.

Rhett could see the damage the holy dagger delivered, sending tremors through the Fallen so that its hands shook. The Fallen, towering at seven feet, caught the sword mid-arc and yanked Rhett to him. Blood squirted from the wound in the Fallen's nape and more dripped from the slice in his palm. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, to stop him.

“You are not easily fooled, but you are a good actor,” the man said, grabbing Rhett's throat with his free hand.

The instant pressure choked him and he let go of the sword to grapple with the Fallen's wrist. He felt his feet leave the ground.

Flipping the sword by the blade, the blonde snagged it by the hilt, cocked his elbow back, and prepared to run Rhett through.

The strength the man handled him with was unbelievable, impossible, holding him aloft like he was nothing. Running out of air, trusting the strength that was surely going to kill him, Rhett aimed a savage kick at the Fallen's hand. It connected; the sword flew out of its grasp, landing with a clank on the ground.

At the same time, Rhett reached around to yank the dagger out of the man's nape, lifting it high with the intent of gouging out the Fallen's eyes. Level the playing field a little.

The Fallen threw him before the strike landed. Rhett slammed against the wall and sank to the ground, stunned. Skittering across the floor, the dagger landed in front of the niche where the Seal sat. Wheezing, Rhett lurched sideways, grasping for the hilt of his sword. His fingertips grazed the polished handle but couldn't make purchase.

A heavy boot crushed his knuckles, pinning his hand to the floor. Rhett scrambled with the other hand, hearing a hiss of steel as the Fallen withdrew its own sword from the sheath.

Death was close. Rhett could feel it lurking in the room. His heart rate increased and he doubled his effort to reach the weapon before the Fallen could end him. What damage he'd inflicted just wasn't enough.

In periphery, he saw the man grasp the hilt with both hands and raise the blade, tip aimed down.

If he could just grab the damn handle. Lunging with a second effort, he scrabbled the sword closer by an inch. But he felt the plunge of the Fallen's weapon and tried to roll out of range, hand trapped under the boot.

Face up, he saw the blade bounce off the chest armor, right over the iron cross engraved there. It didn't pierce his body, couldn't penetrate the protective layer of leather.

Rhett was positive the runes and symbols played a big part in that. Otherwise, he'd be skewered to the ground. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs anyway, forcing a gush of air past his lips.

Spying the hilt of a dagger strapped to the Fallen's boot, Rhett yanked it out of the sheath and stabbed it into the exposed part of the calf. Behind the shin, the armor consisted of only two straps, leaving him a good area to strike. He knew it was a minor distraction at best.

The Fallen snarled and lifted the sword, ready to impale him again.

This time, Rhett saw his aim shift toward his throat, where the curved armor ended. With the flat of his palm, he hit the side of the sword hard, swaying the tip away from his body. He rolled just as the Fallen recovered and stabbed the blade down, missing him by an inch.

Rhett kept rolling right up to his feet, snaring his own sword on the way. Sweat dripped down his brow and into his eyes. He shook away the stunned buzz in his head from the impact against the wall.

Although it felt like fifteen minutes had passed, he knew it had only been seconds. Taking a defensive stance, he brought the holy blade up to block an overhand strike, steel clanging and ringing. The Fallen, quick, strong and big, thrust against the cross the blades made, forcing him back several steps.

Just as he swung an arc to counter the move, a flicker of motion entered his periphery. A moment later, a dagger lodged through the side of the Fallen's throat. The brute staggered, eyes bulging, one hand shooting up to try and yank the dagger out.

Rhett changed tactics, raising his sword up over his head, the blade parallel to the ground, and pierced the Fallen through the front of his neck. It arched the tall man back, sword clanking to the stone at their feet. To assure himself a kill, he gave his sword a vicious twist, tearing an inch hole in the Fallen's flesh. Blood spurted from both wounds.

Another dagger joined the fray, sinking into the spot under the armpit where the armor cut away.

The Fallen convulsed and went to his knees, mouth moving over silent words that Rhett couldn't make out. He slid his sword free, breathing like he'd run a marathon, and watched as the Fallen slumped to the ground.

Dragar, Dracht and Christian rushed over.

“Good shot,” Rhett said. He knew Dragar had been the thrower. His father was the best of the group with daggers.

“We couldn't figure out where you went,” Dracht said, staring down at the body. “Suddenly, you just weren't there in the tunnel.”

“It was some kind of trick. Had to be. I lost you guys, too,” Rhett said, gulping huge draughts of air. “Glad you caught up when you did.”

He wasn't sure how much longer he would have held on against his adversary. Sheathing his sword, he bent down to remove the daggers and hand them back to Dragar and Dracht.

“I'm half surprised he didn't call up more of those creatures from outside,” Christian said. He stepped over to the short ledge where the page from the Book of Seals lay. With care, he picked it up, bracing the bottom with a palm.

Rhett smeared the side of his bruised wrist across his upper lip. “He disguised himself as Evelyn. Pretended to be tied up to that post there. I almost bought into it. He would have had me—laughing all the way—if I hadn't noticed there wasn't another way into this cavern but the same tunnel I came down.”

Dragar and Dracht snapped their attention on him.

Rhett nodded. It had been that close of a call.

“It looked just like her?” Christian said, frowning.

“Fooled me for several minutes. So yeah. Exactly like her. The bastard better not have done anything to her.” An icy dread slithered along his spine at the thought the Fallen had to kill Evelyn to recreate the illusion. He glanced at the page with the disc Christian had and turned for the tunnel.

“That wasn't something I expected them to do. We're going to have to be careful. They could do that to one of us,” Dracht said.

Rhett grunted, sinking into the shadow of the tunnel. He was still smarting over having to kill 'Evelyn'. What if he'd been wrong? That question wouldn't be easy to maneuver around, or forget.

Nor the consequences if it had been her. He was sure that was part of the psychological twist, meant to haunt him long into the future.

“Where are we going to stow the Seals? Can't have them somewhere on us--”

“The girls. They can carry them.” Rhett stalked through the gloom. When shadows swallowed the candlelight, he pulled the sword out once more to let it cast off its vague veil of illumination.

He wouldn't feel better until he set eyes on Evelyn. Behind him, the others followed close at his back.

This time, they wouldn't be separated by illusion.

†

Evelyn hated the quiet. She wasn't fond of the thick, curling mist, either. It got to the point that she could barely see her sisters standing on the other side of the open doorway less than three feet away. The suffocating feeling made her tug at the collar of the armored shirt, even though the fit wasn't skin tight.

It felt like there were things out in the fog watching. Waiting. She saw no pale, glowing eyes and the bats had disappeared. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of being observed.

“The hair's standing up on the back of my neck,” Alexandra whispered.

The mist proved to be a decent conduit for quiet conversation. Evelyn heard her with no trouble. She hoped that if anything else was out there, it didn't hear her, too.

“Same here,” she whispered back.

“Do you see anything out there?” Minna asked.

“No. Not yet. The fog seems heavier though. It's hard to see further than a foot in any direction,” Evelyn replied.

“And it's darker. Nightfall already? I've lost track of time,” Alex admitted.

Evelyn realized she had no idea. None of them wore watches and without the sun to guide them, even in its blackened state, it was impossible to tell anything other than that night hadn't completely fallen yet.

“Can't be nightfall. We wouldn't be able to see anything then.” Evelyn withdrew the dagger from its sheath. She felt better with some kind of weapon in hand.

“If we keep talking, whatever's out there won't have to see to find us,” Minna pointed out.

Evelyn clamped her lips together.

Alexandra snorted but for once didn't argue.

The roiling mist brushed cool and light against Evelyn's skin, a soft caress she wouldn't have minded any other time. Right now, it added to the claustrophobic sensation and she lifted her other hand to fan it away from her face.

Where were the men? They'd been gone a long time. Probably not all that long, she argued with herself. It just felt that way. She was anxious over the knowledge the Knights were facing down an enemy that would be difficult to defeat. More Servants might have been hiding inside, or more of those creatures with the too-sharp teeth and eerie eyes.

Maybe both.

Movement to her right startled her and she gasped, jumping back, bringing the dagger out in front of her.

It was Rhett, eyes a little wild, chest rising and falling like he was out of breath.

Evelyn didn't see any blood or broken bones right off the bat.

“Rhett?”

He didn't answer; instead, he stepped into her, moving his sword out of the way, and hugged her to him with one arm. A fierce, poignant kind of hug that made her think he'd had a close call—or something—inside.

“Are you all right? Where are the others?” Even as she asked, Dragar, Dracht and Christian filed out.

“We're here and we're fine. We have the Seal. Can one of you check it to make sure it's authentic?” Christian said, handing it gingerly to Minna.

She didn't need to touch it to know. None of them did. There was a certain sensation that resonated from the original discs that no one could ever duplicate.

Minna nodded, examining the disc anyway. “It's real. What happened with the Fallen?”

“Rhett had it about beat when we got there,” Dracht said, overstating things.

“It about had me, he means, but it's dead and we have the first Seal.” Rhett spoke into Evelyn's hair.

“I'm glad you're all right,” she said against his whiskered jaw. Evelyn wasn't sure she wanted specific details. There was something about the way he held her that was different than all the other times, as if he was reassuring himself she was okay. Except she hadn't been the one facing down the Fallen.

“I'm glad you're all right, too. Wasn't sure what we'd find out here. Any trouble?” He drew back staring at her eyes.

“Nothing other than the girls and I feel like we're being watched,” she admitted.

Rhett glanced around, as did the others.

“Could be. Let's go,” he said, speaking the last louder for the others to hear.

“Know where we're going yet?” Dracht asked. He had his sword in his hand, searching the mist for predators.

“It's vague. I think it'll get stronger once I get away from here,” Rhett said, unwrapping his arm from Evelyn.

Dragar gave Rhett a nudge to the shoulder. “Lead the way. Time's wasting.”

†

Rhett led them back along the narrow street, through the fog, to the truck that was parked where they left it. The old city seemed as deserted as it had when they'd driven in. Evelyn wondered if more of the creatures had scared the citizens away or if it had been something else. Something the Fallen had concocted to keep a noisome public from wandering too close to the domain it claimed.

Climbing into the back seat with Alex and Minna, she stowed her dagger in its sheath and scraped her hair back out of her face. Several strands had come loose from the band holding it back. Beside her, Alexandra eased the thick, skin-like paper in folds over the seal, giving it a little extra protection. Then she handed it to Minna for safe keeping. All the girls had pouches attached to their belts for this reason.

Out the windows, Evelyn watched the licking tongues of fog creep over the streets and through the sandstone colored buildings, rolling into alleyways and crevices unabated.

Rhett turned the truck around after they made sure Dragar and Christian were secure in the bed. He drove them out of the old city through the same gate they entered, picking up speed through stop signs, lights and other intersections that he paid little heed to.

The fog didn't penetrate past the old city walls, which told Evelyn it had been the work of the Fallen. One more thing to make them uneasy and uncomfortable.

People moved about like busy ants, darting to and fro, running back and forth while they went about their personal agendas. The streets teemed with pedestrian traffic and cars alike, especially downtown where the tallest buildings stood. Rhett jammed the brake several times to avoid hitting people who paid no attention to anything but their desire to flee.

Evelyn wished she could tell them that no particular place was safer than another. The entire world, affected by the turmoil, suffered the same.

Once Rhett hit the outskirts, where the road was less clogged with traffic, he picked up speed. They raced toward the airport, flying over wet pavement and the remnants of dead bugs.

So many signs of the recent chaos remained. There was no escaping the obliterating clouds, the oppressive gloom. The terrain flattened out on each side of the long road, stretching off into acres of desert broken up by either more buildings or scrub.

A low rumble built into a loud roar, a noise so disturbing that it startled everyone in the cab. Evelyn watched Rhett duck his head to look out the windshield and up at the sky even as the truck started to shake.

“What is that?” Alexandra shouted, hanging on to the seat in front of her.

“I don't know. Airplane?” Dracht wrenched a look around out the side window and up like he expected to see a commercial airliner coming in for a hard landing.

“Would it make the truck shake like this?” Evelyn shouted over the din.

Dragar and Christian banged on the top of the truck as if to let them know they too felt and heard it. Or maybe they wanted them to stop.

“Earthquake!” Rhett stomped the brakes when a rip opened up the earth twenty feet in front of the Dodge. Carried forward by momentum, the truck lurched into the crevice. Slamming into the other side, the grill dug into the dirt, preventing a harrowing fall. They hung suspended in the air at a downward slant, the truck wedged at each end.

Airbags deployed with a whoosh.

Stunned, hanging on with both hands, Evelyn tried to clear the disorientation away. She didn't think she was seriously injured, only dazed. Her forehead hurt, indicating she'd smacked it against the front seat.

“Minna, Alexandra, you all right?” A glance either direction showed neither of her sisters were bleeding or unconscious.

“Ugh,” Alex muttered. That was her entire response.

“Rhett?”

“Evelyn, you all right?” Rhett asked, overlapping her own query.

“We're fine. Dracht?”

“Good,” Dracht replied with a gruff exhale.

Twisting around, she saw Dragar still in the bed of the truck. Blood trickled from a cut beneath his chin but otherwise he seemed fine.

Thrown over the top onto the hood, Christian scrabbled for a handhold. Catching the lip near the windshield, he braced his legs wide to prevent him from sliding off either side.

Evelyn brought him into focus when she turned back around and sat forward with a gasp. “Christian!”

Then, Christian let go.

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat.

Christian slid down the hood, boots making contact with the edge of the ground where the grill had burrowed into the earth. He threw himself backward, landing safely on the other side.

The truck groaned. An ominous portent.

“He had an easier time than we're going to,” Rhett predicted, shoving the deflated airbag out of his way.

Out the windows, Evelyn saw a tear in the earth stretching miles in both directions. Some places the gap widened, others it narrowed. A few buildings in the distance looked cracked down the middle, others had been swallowed whole.

A fresh rumble sent a shudder through her bones. How long before an aftershock hit? The truck, wedged as it was, wouldn't stay that way if the earth opened up even another foot.

Dragar tapped the little sliding window behind her head, and she carefully reached back to undo the clasp and slide it open. Evelyn was almost afraid to move at all lest she precipitate the truck plunging into the gap. She couldn't tell how deep the hole was, and didn't want to know.

“How are we going to do this,” Dragar asked. “You can't open your doors and climb out, or you'll fall.”

“We can roll down the windows and get out onto the hood. That's about the only way I see it happening,” Dracht replied, staring out the side window and then at the hood of the truck.

Another rumble shook the ground. The truck lurched an inch.

“Get out! Get out now!” Christian shouted. He paced, clearly agitated, sword banging against his thigh. Staring at the truck, he looked frustrated that he could do nothing to help those within.

“I think we need to go two at a time,” Minna said, speaking up. “We don't want to tip the weight too much to one side of the truck, it might unsettle the balance.”

“I think you're right. And I think you girls should come up here before you go out the windows, don't do it from back there,” Rhett said with a stern glance back.

“I'll go up over the roof to the hood when you all get out,” Dragar said. He sank back, grabbed his and Christian's shields, and lobbed them onto the ground near Christian.

Rhett used the master control and rolled down the front driver and passenger windows. He passed his shield, then Dracht's, back to his father through the cab.

Dragar reached through the open sliding window, grabbed them both, and chucked them like he had the others.

Evelyn leaned out of their way. “Be careful, Rhett.”

He gave her a long look, then winked, maybe attempting to ease her obvious tension. Together, Rhett and Dracht eased out their respective windows, going slow, until they were each sitting on the sill.

“You go,” Dracht said to Rhett.

“Show us what a mountain goat you really are, Rhett.” Alexandra clapped her hands to encourage him.

Like this was a spectator sport.

“Alexandra,” Evelyn said, exasperated. She knew it was her sister's way of coping with tension but her timing was incredible.

Rhett gave Alex a devil-may-care grin that Evelyn didn't like at all. They were both built that way, Rhett and her sister, thriving on the thrill and the adventure. She supposed it was better to keep the spirits and adrenaline up rather than let the fear paralyze you.

Holding onto the front seat hard enough to make her fingers ache, she watched Rhett peel himself off the sill and brace his feet there instead, giving him leverage to angle around to the hood.

Just when his second foot touched down, the earth moved. An aftershock hit, jolting the truck and causing Rhett to lose his balance. He tumbled backward, flipped, and bounced off the hood into the crevice.

Chapter Five

“Rheeeeeeett!” Evelyn saw it all. She scrambled over the front seat, screaming. Alexandra and Minna both latched onto her leg and an arm.

“Ev! You can't go out there!” Alex shouted.

Dracht shouted, too, a hoarse chop of his brother's name. Still sitting on the sill, he'd fared the jolt well. Now he let go, risking a fall himself, to splay over the hood so he could peer down into the crevice.

Christian, on his stomach, reached down with one hand.

That was when she realized Rhett had somehow snared a handhold onto the thick grill of the Dodge and was dangling there. Evelyn hadn't ever known fear like this. Gripping, seizing, horrible fear that made her heart feel like it might pound right out of her chest.

The truck settled another inch lower, putting them at a sharper downward angle.

“Ev, Christian's gonna get him, look. He's right there. So is Dracht.”

Dragar, far too silent, stared at the scene over the top of the truck, mouth pinched tight.

“Grab my hand!” Christian shouted.

In a daredevil move, Dracht, belly flat to the hood, wiggled across it and thrust a hand down along with Christian. He had nothing solid to cling to other than the tip of a boot he hooked up near the windshield, the same place Christian had held onto when he'd been tossed there upon impact.

Good thing Dracht was so tall.

Evelyn wanted to peel Minna's arms—which she'd thrown around her to stop her from getting out—away from her shoulders. There wasn't anything she could do out there, she knew that, but sitting here doing nothing more than watching was killing her.

“Rhett!” She hadn't told him she'd loved him. Hadn't said it out loud, only mouthed it back in Eden before they left. She knew he knew—he'd told her so on the boat—but it wasn't the same. He'd read her like a book, knew before she had how deep her feelings ran. And he hadn't said it in return, either, perhaps because it hadn't been the right time or perhaps maybe because he hadn't been sure. In Eden he'd mouthed it, too—I love you—though it wasn't a sentiment she wanted to read on his lips. She wanted to hear him shape the words, see the warmth of his affection light up his eyes.

“They're gonna get him, Ev. Don't worry.”

Christian got hold of Rhett's wrist and hauled his brother up, grimacing with the effort, while Dracht snagged the edge of the armor and helped give him leverage. Rhett got a boot in the wheel well and pushed up; with both brother's aid, he collapsed onto the ground next to Christian, one boot hanging off the edge of the crevice.

Evelyn jumped when Dragar banged his hand on the top of the truck.

“Girls! Your turn! Let's go.”

Dracht shimmied to the ledge and crawled onto the other side. He clapped Rhett on the chest then stood up, turned around and gestured at them.

“C'mon, Ev, you go out with Minna. I'll come last,” Alexandra said, urging her toward the driver's side window.

Shaking, she scooted gingerly to the window. She didn't want to look down. Turning in the seat, she grabbed the upper part of the sill and slid out so she wouldn't have to see how far she had to fall. By then Rhett and Christian were on their feet, side by side next to Dracht, a veritable wall of Templar strength. She decided she must have looked as shook up as she felt because Rhett started speaking in a low, soothing voice.

“Hold onto the lights across the top and bring one leg out at a time. You can do it. Don't look down.”

She clutched onto the small, square lights affixed to the top, which felt sturdy and solid when she applied pressure.

Minna emerged out the other window, also using the lights as leverage, though she was more like a cat than Evelyn ever could be. With a few agile moves she made it to the hood and, crouching, walked to the other side where Dracht hauled her off and onto the ground by her hips.

“Just like Minna did. C'mon, Evelyn,” Rhett encouraged, never taking his eyes off her.

Pulling up, she got a foot on the sill, then another, and swung a foot around to the hood. Molded to the truck, she scooted around, feeling a vast gulf at her back. It made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Never one to be afraid of heights, this particular situation unnerved her.

The earth rumbled and she froze, flattening even more against the spot where the windshield met the corner.

“Don't stop now, Evelyn. Let's go.” Rhett urged her on with a vague edge in his voice.

Alex climbed out the other window, and, like Minna, continued to the hood in almost one fluid motion. Reaching over, she clamped onto Evelyn's left hand.

“I gotcha. You go ahead of me. I'll be right behind you,” she said, crouching like Minna had.

Evelyn glanced at Rhett.

He nodded, standing right at the edge of the crevice, one arm stretched out. A few scratches marred his arm and cheek but otherwise, he looked in good shape.

“Let's go, Ev. This things' gonna fall.” Alexandra, never one to mince words, tugged on her wrist.

Evelyn got both feet on the hood, let go of the lights, and cautiously walked toward Rhett. He scooped her up before she reached the other side, swinging her around and away from the ledge.

“I thought you were gone,” she said, clinging to his shoulders. But there would be time for all that later. Alex needed to get off the truck and Dragar was still waiting his turn in the bed.

“Told you before, you can't get rid of me that easy,” he said and kissed her hard on the mouth. Setting her down, he turned back to the truck.

Alex was already caught in Dracht's arms and being hauled in to safety.

Dragar didn't waste time. He slid up over the top of the truck and down onto the hood, agile for as big as he was.

The earth rumbled and trembled.

Dragar took two giant steps and leaped onto solid ground. He clapped Rhett on the shoulder, stared at his eyes in a brief show of relief, then stalked over to claim his shield.

Evelyn thought the ravine was sixty to eighty feet deep at her best guess. Not an astounding depth, but one that would have been deadly either free falling or going down in the truck. She shuddered and turned away.

“How much farther is it to the airstrip?” Christian asked, picking up his shield at the same time his brothers did.

“About three, three and a half miles if I remember right,” Rhett said, glancing back once at the truck.

“We better get go--” The mournful wail of loud sirens cut Dracht's comment off.

Evelyn stopped and glanced toward the city that somehow seemed like it sat crooked on the earth. “Are those air raid sirens? Did someone launch missiles?”

“Maybe it's an automatic response for any big catastrophe. That hole in the ground probably runs straight through the middle of the city and all the way to the ocean,” Christian said.

“We can be pretty sure the Sixth Seal's been broken after that earthquake,” Alexandra piped in. “But the Fallen wouldn't have broken another Seal so soon.”

“Which one brings on war?” Dracht asked.

“The Second Seal,” Alex replied.

“Did we ever see which one we picked up out of the cave?” Rhett asked.

Minna fished the carefully folded paper out of her pouch, peeled back the edges, and looked at the Seal.

Evelyn glanced over her sister's shoulder. The clay looking disc had the carving of an emaciated figure on the front kneeling next to dead plants. A very crude depiction but recognizable nevertheless.

“Famine. We have the Third Seal here,” Minna answered, covering the seal once more. She put it back into the pouch.

“That leaves pestilence, war, death, and the summoning,” Alex surmised.

“I thought we already had pestilence?” Dracht asked with a scowl.

“Weeeell, consider that a baby pestilence, if you will,” Alex retorted. “The three smaller seals that belong with the Sixth are warning shots, I guess you could call them. Priming the population for bigger things.”

“Fantastic.” Dracht looked discontent at the possibility of another pestilence.

“Walk and talk, walk and talk,” Rhett said, herding the group down the road. “We don't have a lot of time.”

Evelyn fell into step beside him, walking with brisk steps that bordered on a trot. The sirens continued to blare, rising and falling in volume.

Every few minutes, the ground growled beneath their feet.

“So if the war seal hasn't been broken, the sirens are going off because...” Christian let the question trail, apparently not satisfied with the probabilities laid out so far.

“I can't be sure, but I think they only go off in the advent of a missile launch,” Minna said, her tone suggesting she was speculating.

“Does the war seal have to be broken for someone to launch an attack?” Dragar asked.

“Obviously not? The US is at war with a handful of countries as we speak,” Rhett pointed out. “Though, personally, I think any attacking country is too busy to even think of launching right now.”

“So it's most likely for the earthquake,” Alex added.

“We're missing something here,” Christian insisted.

Evelyn heard the truck give way behind them and glanced back just as the Dodge collapsed into the newly made ravine.

Everyone else glanced, too.

“Glad we didn't wait to vacate,” Alex mumbled.

Evelyn also thought Christian was right; they were missing something here. She could feel a niggling sense of danger that was separate from everything else, but a consequence of their circumstance.

What was it?

The wailing sirens made it difficult to think.

Then it hit her: “Tsunami. That had to be at least a nine-pointer. I read somewhere that Israel could be subjected to one if a strong enough quake hit.”

“Earthquakes feel less potent than they are when you're drivin'. I bet it was ten-and-a-half,” Alex countered.

Rhett yanked a look away toward the direction they all knew the ocean was in. “I bet you're right.”

“How long does it take one to reach land after an earthquake, usually? Anyone know?” Alex asked.

Rhett broke into a jog. “Half an hour? An hour? Depends on how shallow it was, I think, and how close to shore it hit.”

“Will it wash this far inland? Someone should call Roman and have him taxi to the south end of the runway. That's another half mile we won't have to run,” Christian said.

“That, and he needs to be on the lookout for water. If it does get this far in, it could take out the plane and then we're really screwed,” Alex said.

“Jerusalem is sixty or seventy miles from shore. I doubt a tsunami, even a monstrous one, would make it this far,” Dragar interjected.

“Either way, they're warning the population about something. We're better off away from here and in the air as soon as possible,” Dracht said.

“Yeah. And we're not dealing with normal anything right now. Like with the sun and the rain. There's no way to predict how bad any of this will or will not get,” Rhett added.

As a group, they jogged down the road toward the private airstrip.

Evelyn ran a mile and a half every morning in her normal, regular life. Three or three and a half shouldn't kill her if she paced herself.

Dragar pulled out his phone and dialed Roman. He kept up with them effortlessly, holding the shield in his other hand.

“He's not answering,” Dragar said.

“I hope the plane didn't go the way of the truck,” Christian said.

“Maybe he left the plane to get supplies or is refueling or something,” Alex said. She pinched her side with her fingers like she had a stitch in it.

“There were another couple planes there when we landed. We'll take one of those if he's encountered problems,” Rhett said.

Ahead, the asphalt had buckled from the force of the earthquake. It didn't prove an obstacle they couldn't over come, but it slowed them down having to pick their way over the jagged cuts and three foot holes.

A second earthquake struck just as Evelyn hopped down from a tilted section of road; she stumbled, catching her balance by her fingertips.

Minna fell, saved from a nasty scrape thanks to the armored shirt and pants. Dragar, already free of the ruined asphalt, stepped back to help her to flat ground.

“And these aren't the worst we're gonna get,” Alexandra said, breaking into a jog after a quick glance at everyone else.

Rhett was right there at Evelyn's elbow to steady her. “Try Roman again, Dad.”

Dragar released Minna and punched in a number on the keypad. He walked instead of jogged until he finished. “Still no answer.”

Fifteen minutes later, Christian called out, “I can see the buildings at the airport.”

Evelyn thought her lungs were about to explode. Across the expanse of flat scrub land, she made out the vague outline of several buildings. Still too far away to see where the plane and Roman were, she concentrated instead on her breathing.

The sirens blared their incessant warnings, a constant reminder of the danger. Like Alex, she developed a stitch in her side, but, loathe to bring it to anyone's attention or mention it, she clamped the spot with her fingers and kept going.

They came across several more spots where the earth had caved or split open, but these were much smaller wounds that they jumped across or went around.

Closing in on the airstrip, Evelyn finally saw why Roman hadn't either answered the phone or called Dragar back; the jet, sitting adjacent to the runway in a holding area, couldn't exit due to a buckle in the tarmac. Trapped there, the plane couldn't back into the hangar behind it and there wasn't enough room to turn to go the other way. Roman frantically carried bucket fulls of dirt and sand over to the crack in the pavement, poured them in, then bashed it down in an attempt to give the jet something more solid to roll over.

Rhett cursed under his breath but was close enough for Evelyn to hear.

“Roman! Are there more shovels and buckets?” Dracht shouted.

Roman glanced up, sweat pouring down his face. “Can't find anymore buckets, but there's one more shovel inside the hangar there.”

“Use the shields. We can scoop up what dirt we can with them,” Rhett suggested, jogging over to the sandy patch of ground aside the building where Roman had been getting dirt.

“Nasty earthquake. Just glad it didn't split under the plane or we'd be in trouble,” Roman said.

“We're in trouble anyway if we don't fill in this crack and get going,” Alexandra retorted. She used her feet since she didn't have a shield to tamp down the spots Roman had smacked with the shovel.

Rhett, Dracht and Dragar scooped up damp earth and carried it over to dump in the crevice. Four feet wide, thirty or more feet long, it was just big enough to catch the plane's wheels and prevent it from taxiing. At least it wasn't too deep.

Evelyn guessed three or four feet. All they needed was a spot to roll across, rather than fill in the entire tear.

The earth jerked under her feet when she was in the middle of stomping the dirt down, pitching her forward onto her hands and knees. The quake burst out the windows of the building, throwing shattered glass in every direction.

It shook so hard that it knocked Dracht and Roman down, catching both men in an off balance moment.

In the distance, the sirens shut off abruptly.

“Shit, there went the power.” Rhett had to shout to be heard over the roar.

Metal barrels, tools and other items inside the hangar clanked and clattered, some falling noisily onto the cement floor. From the ground, it looked like a giant hand had grabbed hold of the earth and given it a violent shake.

The temblor came to a slow, rolling stop, as if it was loathe to end its reign of terror.

“You all right, Evelyn?” Rhett came over when he could walk and helped her up.

“I'm fine. They're getting worse. We have to get the plane in the air before the runway is destroyed.” A glance assured her that the rift they'd started helping Roman fill hadn't grown wider or deeper.

Luck was with them. For how much longer, she couldn't say.

†

“Ready for take off,” Roman said over the speakers.

An hour later, the jet sat at the end of the runway. Evelyn slumped in a seat, exhausted, and accepted a bottle of water she and Rhett shared.

“Thanks.”

“How're you feeling? All right?” Rhett asked. He, like the rest of them, had dirt and grime everywhere. His boots had mud caked halfway over the arches.

“Good, I'm good,” she reassured him. Drinking the contents down to half, she offered it back.

“There's more in the back. Finish that if you want,” he said.

“I'm all right for now. Besides, we'll probably have to leave one or two for Roman and take more with us when we land-- by the way, where are we going, anyway?” she asked.

The jet picked up speed, gaining forward momentum at a rapid clip, making her stomach sink to her toes. Lifting off, it ascended at a dizzying pace.

Rhett took the water back but stuck it in a holder on the small table in front of them. “England. Northumberland, to be exact.”

“Well. At least it's not China or something.” Evelyn tried to find the positives. Any view she might have had out the small oval window got obliterated by the thick gray clouds. She was half convinced that even if they stopped the rest of the apocalypse, that the sky would never again be clear of the thunderheads.

“Not yet,” Rhett said.

Looking aside, she lifted her hand to smudge her thumb over a few scratches on his whiskered cheek. They'd scabbed over by now, joined by a streak or two of dirt.

“You've got a full fledged beard going on here,” she remarked.

“Not quite. Almost though. Do you like it?”

“It makes you look...older.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He arched a brow.

“No. I like you with a few whiskers,” she admitted.

“We've been down this road before. You know what I'm going to ask next.”

“No I don't.”

“What else do you like?”

Evelyn laughed. Yes, they had been down this road before. The gravity of their situation meant she couldn't sustain humor for too long. He must have read it in her eyes.

“Don't go getting serious on me just yet. We've had far too few times when I can just enjoy your laughter.”

She glanced away from the ceiling to his face. “I think you look more handsome than usual all rugged and dirty like this.”

“Even when I get all spiffed up?”

Evelyn laughed again. The word 'spiffed' on Rhett's tongue seemed odd and out of place. “Yes, I think so. You wear the Mad Max look well.”

He snorted and got that devil-may-care gleam in his eyes she'd appreciated so much way back at the first safe house in Athens.

“I wear you well.”

“Rhett!” Aghast, she darted a look over at the other seats to see if his father heard.

“You think he doesn't know? Of course he knows. None of us would be here otherwise.”

“You wouldn't have done it just for the good of humanity?” Evelyn's attention swung right back.

Rhett thought about it. Thrusting a hand through his hair, he let his gaze go distant somewhere ahead of them in the plane. “Probably. If someone had presented it to me the right way. I'm really not as noble as you think I am.”

“Yes you are. I knew that about you on the boat ride from Athens to Egypt.”

“What makes you think so?” he asked.

“It's just something about you. Which really isn't a cop out or a cheap answer.”

Rhett arched a brow. The look by itself was a challenge to explain better.

Evelyn licked her lips and put more thought behind it.

“You didn't kill those Templars in the basement when you found me. And you could have. Brethren or not, you probably had the right. Then later, you constantly put yourself between me and the bullets. You got annoyed and frustrated when I got off the boat in Crete, which told me that you take your job seriously and you hated that I'd slipped out of your net of protection.”

“All of that can be explained away by my duty to my job. The oaths I took.”

“Are you fishing for more compliments?” She smiled despite herself.

He laughed. A raspy grate of sound she always found appealing.

“Not at all. None of that strikes me as extraordinarily noble, though.”

“Are you always this argumentative?” Of course he was. It was one of the things she liked about him.

“It's what you like best about me.” His grin was downright deviant.

She laughed when he plucked her thoughts right out of her mind. “You're impossible.”

“You've said that before, too.”

“I've said a lot of things before.”

“Which one is the most true?”

“I...” love you. That was not a sentiment she'd spoken aloud, yet it was the first one that came to mind. He'd guessed on the boat, so it wasn't a surprise. Evelyn wanted the circumstances to be more memorable when she said that for the first time. Girlishly, she had visions of some park-like setting, dinner by candlelight and a sparkling lake at midnight.

“You what?” he pressed. Like he knew.

Evelyn gave him a wan look. “I think your tattoo is sexy.”

Now there was something she'd never expected to come out of her mouth.

Instead of pressing for the real answer, he laughed. “I think you should get one, too.”

Shocked, she looked over. “What?”

“A tattoo.”

“Of what?”

“An apple.”

Her mouth twitched with humor. “Really.”

“Yes. It's so...contemporary.”

“I'm surprised you didn't suggest fig leaves over my boobs.” Alexandra would have been proud of her for that quip.

Rhett guffawed, drawing several pairs of eyes their way. “I'd pay money to see that. Temporary, though, not permanent.”

“Why not permanent?”

His gaze dropped to her chest. “Because that would be a waste of perfection.”

“You're a devil.” She swatted his arm.

“Are you complaining?” he asked, grinning.

“Never.” Against all odds, Rhett succeeded in giving her more to think about than the catastrophes spreading out across the earth below.

Chapter Six

Across the aisle, Alexandra listened to her sister and Rhett banter. Sitting this close, it was impossible not to hear. She had to admit that it pleased her to see Evelyn respond to a man instead of keep him at arms length. For years she'd tried to get her to engage in something more than a passing affair and it did her heart good to know that, for a short while at least, Evelyn would know true love.

Alexandra realized what a hypocrite she was. She too had spent her life avoiding any serious relationships, though there had been one or two men over the centuries that had tempted her to throw caution to the wind and just enjoy it. That niggling voice never quite left her alone, however, the one that consistently whispered, you'll wind up with a broken heart, you can't confess, you'll have to watch him die sooner or later.

It had been enough for most of the girls to invest in brief relationships and no more. Minna, who had more control than any of them, was the exception. Her relationship with Mark lasted a decade, right up until the risk of him noticing she didn't age at all, and he did, forced her to leave him.

Alexandra hadn't ever asked Minna if she'd suffered a broken heart or regret over it, because everything unwound so fast in Greece.

With centuries of life behind her, only now did she lament the lack of time they had to talk about mundane things. She realized, in a startling moment of clarity, that she'd taken too much for granted.

Her sisters, life, the state of the world.

“You're thoughtful,” Dracht said beside her.

Thinking he'd been asleep, his voice startled her. She glanced over. His goatee had grown out into a heavy layer of whiskers—like the other men—and his armor was dusty from all the shoveling.

“Just thinkin' about time,” she admitted.

“That you need more of it, or that you've had enough already?” he asked.

“You're pretty astute for an old guy.”

He laughed.

She continued, “That I'd like to have more of it, I guess. Also that I've taken a lot of things for granted.”

“People tend to do that. It's easy to get distracted.”

Dracht had a deep, resonant voice that Alex secretly admired. The kind of voice that crawled under your skin and sent waves of heat through your system.

“I guess so. If everything goes the way it should, I'm gonna try not to do that anymore.”

“What, take things for granted?” he asked.

“Mm. Or people.”

“You thinking about Galiana and Genevieve?”

Alex met Dracht's gaze. “Among others.”

He glanced over at Evelyn and Minna, then back. “Everything feels different when we think we've lost control of our own lives. I bet you've never really taken them for granted, you only feel like you have because the future is so uncertain.”

“I can be a selfish person.”

“Selfish, or just living life to the fullest? You don't think your sisters haven't done the same?” he asked.

Alexandra hesitated over her answer. All of her sisters, even the deceased, had done all the things they'd wanted: travel, business, love—or lack of it—adventure. She'd never felt like any of them had taken her for granted, only that everyone was always busy. Bustling here or there. Maybe Dracht was right. Maybe it was not knowing whether there would be a tomorrow that made her suddenly introspective and brooding.

“Haven't you wondered whether you're ready to check out or not yet?”

“I don't have any regrets, Alex.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

“But it's what you meant.”

She couldn't decide if she was annoyed or surprised that he was right. Instead of studying him, she studied her fingers.

“How come you're not married?” she asked, switching the subject.

“Who said I wasn't?”

Alex snapped a look over at him. Dracht eyed her in a way that told her he wasn't married, but he'd wanted to gauge her reaction to the thought.

Which only made her thoughts churn in other directions she didn't want them to. Dracht had been through a lot with her in the past several weeks. In his quiet, strong way, he'd done the things he'd needed to without complaint or hesitation. Alex had come to depend on him in ways she hadn't with any other man, and perhaps it was just their circumstance that made her feel close to him.

Anyone in her position would react the same. Still, something else niggled at her, kept trying to burrow down beyond her stubborn determination to deny there was anything else between them.

If she was honest with herself, she was damn glad he wasn't married, and the idea of him becoming as immortal as her filled her with a sense of relief.

The gloom out the small windows deepened until the darkness of night swallowed even the iron gray clouds.

†

“Everyone buckle down, it's going to be a rough landing,” Roman said over the intercom.

Evelyn twitched awake when Rhett loomed over her to do up her buckle.

“What's going on?” Sitting up, she yawned and tried to clear her mind of cobwebs.

“We're about to land in Northumberland. They've got power but half the lights are out on the runway and it's probably going to be a little bumpy.” Rhett sat next to her and strapped himself in.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, looking out the window.

“This time? A little over two hours.”

She'd fallen asleep not long after their conversation, and had woken up for the fiasco of refueling in France. Three airports, four arguments and one fight with an attendant later, they'd filled the tanks and taken off for England.

Apparently, after a bathroom break, dinner of fruit and a bottle of water, she'd gone out again. A glance at the windows indicated dawn, such as it was with its monochrome theme, hadn't broken over the horizon yet.

She heard Alexandra talking to Dracht and Minna walked down the aisle to her seat from the restroom at the back. Christian and Dragar, in the seats behind her, fastened their buckles with audible clicks.

“How rough do you think it'll be?” she asked Rhett, making sure he'd secured himself like everyone else. The armor made it a little awkward for him to maneuver easily in the confined space.

“Hard to say. Roman's pretty experienced and I don't think we'll have to contend with any other planes on the runway, at least.”

“Why are only some of the lights out?”

“That's a good question. Maybe someone else had a difficult landing when all this started. Imagine how many planes were in the air when the sun went black.”

He had a good point.

The jet started its descent, lowering through the cloud cover toward the runway. Evelyn couldn't see much out the window, not yet. When the landing gear came down from under the belly of the bird, she heard the hum and clank of metal.

Her stomach flip-flopped as the jet descended quicker. This time, she yawned on purpose to help her ears pop. Out the small window, pin dots of light over a dark landscape came into view. Not many, and certainly not enough to suggest a metropolis lurked nearby.

This was the sparse scatter of light in the countryside, where homes sat spaced apart rather than in clusters.

“Hold on.” Roman's voice over the intercom sounded tense.

In turn, it made her tense.

Rhett brushed his hand over hers on the arm rest. “Don't worry.”

“I'm not worried,” she lied.

“You're grinding your teeth.”

She was, and it made her jaw ache.

“I can't help it. What if he misses the runway?”

Rhett laughed, a low sound that didn't carry far. “I'm going to nickname you Miss Optimistic.”

She scowled. “He wouldn't warn us if he didn't think there could be issues.”

“Are you going to get feisty with me?”

She could tell he was trying not to grin. “What do you mean 'going to'. Aren't I that already?”

“Oh, sassy, too. No wonder I like you.”

The angle of descent increased and it felt like the jet sped up. Evelyn pushed back against her seat, fingers digging into the arm rest. She hated landing more than anything else. Especially this landing, with the runway in questionable condition. There were four or five different quips on her tongue to volley back, but the wheels made contact with the tarmac.

They bounced back up into the air a few feet. The speed seemed incredible, almost too fast for a landing, and she felt the wheels make contact again.

The nose of the jet came down right after, a smoother transition.

Then Roman applied the brakes so hard it threw her forward, secured to the seat by the belt. Rhett lurched forward and behind her, she heard Dragar grunt in surprise.

“He's got it, we're all right,” Rhett said once they were sitting back in their seats.

The hard braking continued, forcing her to brace herself just to keep her spine against the cushion.

“I'm just glad there's still a runway here.” The last one they'd been on hadn't been in great shape.

Slowing further, Roman taxied them off the main runway to another that led them closer to a row of one story buildings. Lights on the outsides showed some to be hangars and another that served as a terminal. Several vehicles had been abandoned here or there, and she felt Roman take the jet through what appeared to be an obstacle course of other private planes and cars.

When he brought the plane to a stop, she exhaled a breath of relief. Rhett squeezed her hand and winked before undoing both their buckles and gathering the shield from under the seat.

Roman entered the cabin with a map in his hands. “I got us as close as I could. Looks to me like you'll have about a four mile hike on foot unless you can get your hands on a car.”

“We're definitely taking transportation,” Rhett said in a no nonsense voice.

Evelyn agreed. Trekking that far over hilly landscape would just tire them out. They needed every ounce of strength to deal with the Fallen.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Rhett took the map from Roman. “Whitemarch Castle. Let's go.”

†

The bleak, black sky lightened as a gray daybreak broke over the land. Piled into a Jeep Cherokee found at the airport, Rhett drove them past awakening villages where people seemed as stricken about the worldly events as everywhere else. There was much less packing and fleeing than in the bigger cities; here the citizens clustered in groups outside main businesses or homes, wringing their hands, some weeping silently.

In the back seat, Minna and Alexandra sat on Dragar and Dracht's laps while Christian crouched in the space between the back seat and the hatch.

Evelyn held the map and Rhett's shield in her lap, the former folded into a neat square. Rhett didn't need it now, not when the compass in his armor pulled him in the right direction, but they'd brought it along just in case.

A quarter mile from the castle, Rhett parked the Jeep alongside the road under a broad branched tree. Behind them sat quaint little Whitemarch Village and ahead a winding path leading to the tower gate of the castle.

“Let's go the rest of the way on foot. There's no telling what might be waiting inside the walls,” Rhett said.

“Maybe we should split into two groups—on purpose this time—and come at it from different angles,” Christian suggested.

“I don't think there's very many ways to get inside this thing, and honestly, I think it's better if we don't separate,” Rhett countered.

“We stay together,” Dragar said, opening his door. He set Minna on the ground and reached back in for his shield.

That seemed to end the splitting up debate.

Leaving the map on the dash, she opened the door after handing Rhett his shield. Dracht and Alex disembarked with Christian following in their wake.

The men slid their arms through the brace on the back of the shields and readjusted their swords. Preparing for battle. Evelyn scanned what she could see of the castle and its defensive walls but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Clouds hung thick and menacing in the sky, diffusing the dismal rays of a sun gone black as death. Nothing about that had changed with the advent of a new morning.

Evelyn wished for a day like the one in Eden, with a warm sun shining mellow rays across a landscape that lifted the spirits. She found it a challenge to keep from sinking into melancholy with the current depressing atmosphere and she suspected she wasn't the only one. Every so often she caught Minna, Alex and Christian glancing at the sky with a similar expression. Rhett, Dracht and Dragar hadn't mentioned it nor given any indication they were bothered by the ever present gloom.

She was sure it worked on their psyches in different ways—they were just better at hiding it.

Rhett took the lead, moving tree to tree, advancing on the gate until there was no more cover to hide by. The last hundred feet he broke into the open and ran for the tower gate. Dracht and Dragar followed with the girls sandwiched between them and Christian, who brought up the rear.

Much to Evelyn's surprise, the tall iron gates weren't locked when they got there. Rhett only had to kick one side to make it swing open. Entering with his sword in hand, shield in front of his body, he swiveled a look through the six acre bailey.

Several buildings sat to the left and right with the main castle beyond at the far end.

A perfect place for an ambush. Evelyn felt the peculiar weight of power along her nerve endings, the same she'd felt when they were close to the Fallen in Jerusalem. Instead of taking a circuitous route along the bailey walls, Rhett chose to go straight across the grass toward the castle, almost in defiance of any traps that might lie in wait behind the smaller structures that had once probably been used as wash houses and extra kitchens.

Thirty feet from the small buildings, five Servants stepped from behind the confines, feral in their armor, swords gripped tight in their hands. From a tall door at the castle itself came not one but two Fallen, striding with purpose down the stone steps to the grounds of the bailey.

Five Servants and two Fallen against four mortal Templars. Evelyn knew they were all staring at a suicide mission here. There was no possible way Rhett and his brethren would win this fight, not even with her and her sister's help.

Rhett pivoted on a boot heel, whispering with an urgency reflected in his eyes. “When we attack, look for other weapons around the bailey. There has to be rope or chain or something else besides the daggers for you to use. It's going to take all of us just to get a shot at the Seal.”

Evelyn glanced down when Rhett slapped the compass into her palm. Her eyes darted back up to his.

“The second they're all distracted, two of you break off and head for the castle. The Seal feels more distant than the Fallen, which means they've left it behind in there somewhere. Get it if you can.” He turned away before anyone could argue or say anything else.

Rhett broke into a jog with Dracht at his side; Dragar and Christian split toward the two end Servants, approaching straight on, apparently ready to engage in confrontation without any further ado.

Alexandra yanked on her sleeve, tugging her to the far side of the bailey while Minna ran the other way, off to look for any kind of weapon.

“Look, there's chains and shackles in the wall over there. Probably used for captives during war. Think we can yank 'em out of the rocks?” Alexandra asked, breathless as they ran for the line of shackles dangling toward the ground.

“We'll make them come out,” Evelyn said. She tucked the compass into the pocket of her pants and grabbed one of the chains when they got there. It hung through a rusted iron ring attached to the wall and she gave it a vicious tug.

The ring didn't budge. Two lengths of chain hung to the ground with open shackles on the ends, and Evelyn improvised, snatching one up. There was at least three feet of chain for each cuff and she bashed the stone around the metal ring, trying to loosen it.

Alex picked up the other and alternated taking cracks. The stone chipped, the ring started to loosen, and three yanks later the metal ring flew free of the wall.

“Do the other one!” Alex shouted.

Evelyn glanced back to see the Templar's engaging the Servants, swords swinging through the air. Two servants for each pairing.

The fifth headed her and Alex's way.

Chapter Seven

Rhett had never deluded himself over odds of his winning or losing a match. He understood luck and skill only went so far, and that certain opponents were simply too powerful to beat on a one on one basis.

It hadn't ever stopped him from taking the bastards on, though, and it wouldn't stop him today. The Servants of the Fallen were a better risk than the Fallen themselves, but they were still broader, taller and stronger than he and his brother put together.

The Fallen, just one, would be a challenge for the four of them to beat, and here there were two.

The odds were not in the Templar's favor.

He fought like they were, driving the Servant he faced off with back another five feet. Their swords clashed overhead and side to side, each man nearly matched in skill. Rhett sliced his blade around then ducked when the Servant spun unexpectedly, swinging to take his head off. The sword whistled a few inches above him. Rhett chopped for the Servant's knees, aiming for the weak spot in the armor. It left him open for attack from the other side, but the Servant leapt out of the way instead, choosing to spare his legs.

Hearing Dracht grunt behind him, he spared a quick glance; his brother, locked in a brace of swords, was in jeopardy of having his throat cut by his own blade. Before he could decide whether he had time to act, a fat two-by-four hurtled out of nowhere and struck the Servant in the back of the head.

Minna.

The Servant staggered forward, lessening the pressure on the locked blades, and that was all it took for Dracht to duck and sling his sword around, stabbing it up under the Fallen's chin and into his skull.

“Rhett!”

Evelyn's scream alerted Rhett that he'd watched a half second too long; before he could take evasive action, the Servant hit him broadside, sending him flying back on his ass. The armor protected him from being sliced in half but pain exploded outward from the point of impact, stunning him.

Dracht whirled, blade singing through the air, driving the Servant back and away.

Rhett scrambled to his feet, wheezing. Barely upright, he heard his name again and went flying ten feet through the air when something that felt like a truck slammed across his back. Landing near one of the smaller structures, face down, sword somewhere out of reach, he watched the world fade to black around him.

†

Wielding six feet of chain with heavy iron shackles at the ends wasn't easy. Evelyn ran toward the fray with Alex at her side just as one of the Fallen nailed Rhett across the back with his sword, sending him flying through the air.

Her knees had taken on that jelly quality the second she'd seen the Servants advance in a line and the closer she got to the fighting, the worse it became. Yet she wouldn't just cower against the wall while the Templars fought to their death.

There was one Servant between her and Alex and the rest of them. Black haired, black eyed, the Servant stood better than six-five with hulking shoulders and long arms.

Alex started swinging her iron shackle by the chain, around and around, darting out to the side to draw his attention. Which worked; he hunched his shoulders defensively when the girls separated, following Alex who displayed open aggression.

Evelyn didn't know what her sister planned to do, but she looked for an opening to strike. She was going to do this if it killed her. The mantra she'd designed to help overcome these situations ran in the back of her mind like a broken record. Stuck on repeat, the encouraging diatribe spilled over her fear, allowing her to think rather than freeze.

Alex let the shackle wind out, the chain snaking behind it; the Servant blocked the incoming missile easily with a backhand of his sword, letting it wrap around the blade before giving it a sharp yank. Alexandra, unable to let go of the chain in time and still on the run, landed flat on her face.

The Servant stormed toward her, features worked into a tight mask of grim satisfaction. Evelyn picked up speed, racing close, closer, and pitched her shackle just as the Servant sliced his sword around in an attempt to cut her down where she stood.

The chain hit the Servant's leg and wrapped around it twice. Evelyn thought her best shot was to trip the Servant and send it crashing to the ground. As the chain grew taut, gut instinct told her to duck. Cutting through the air overhead, his sword missed her entirely.

Evelyn gave the chain a yank on her way by but the Servant was too heavy to trip. He didn't even stumble.

The chain ripped out of her hands, taking a bit of flesh off her fingers and palms. Good idea in theory; she needed to bind both his legs to topple him.

Recovered from her fall, Alexandra whipped her dagger at the Servant's head. It clanked off the shoulder armor when he struck out for Evelyn again. She lurched backward to avoid the sword, tripping over an exposed rock jutting up from the ground. Landing with a grunt, she scrambled to her feet.

They just weren't doing enough damage. Like gnats nipping at the heels of King Kong, all they did was anger the beast. Evelyn had her dagger and that was all. In the brief pause, she saw Dragar and Christian battling hard against two Servants, barely holding them off, and Minna and Dracht tackling another.

What she saw after that made her blood run cold. One of the Fallen had Rhett by the ankle and was dragging him across the bailey toward the castle.

†

The fighting in the bailey took on that surreal slow motion feel for Evelyn just then. Like she was watching a high definition TV, she saw details in startling clarity: drops of sweat flying off Dragar, Christian gritting his teeth when a sword knocked him down, the deadly stalk of the Fallen, Rhett's body jerking over the ground while the Fallen dragged him by a boot. Dracht went head to head with a Servant, sword flashing like streaks of lightning, moving forward then back when the advantage turned.

No one had died yet, but it was only a matter of time. They couldn't win this battle and she didn't know how they were going to extract themselves from it now. One by one, the Fallen would pick them off until they were gone.

Rhett looked like he might be the first to go. Evelyn broke away from Alexandra and the Servant, running across the bailey toward the altercations. She darted between the two dueling pairs but stopped short when the other Fallen stepped into her path. Behind him was his brethren, taking Rhett God knew where. A sudden protective tide swelled through her.

“Tell him to put Rhett down,” she said to the Fallen. He had the same presence as Ashrael, that sting of power and energy that bowed a person's will and messed with their psyche. Confidence and something less pleasant, a wickedness, stained the air around him. Shanks of brown hair fell over his brow into equally brown eyes—eyes that shrewdly assessed her in ways that made her skin crawl. Then he smiled like she was a child to be pat upon the head and sent off without supper.

“You're in no position to be making demands of anyone,” he reminded her.

The Fallen behind him stopped, used a boot to flip Rhett over like he was a ragdoll, and swung his blade until the point faced down, right over the Templar's throat.

Somewhere behind her, she heard a loud grunt and Christian shouted for his father. Evelyn didn't dare take her eyes off the enormously tall man in front of her to look and see if Dragar just lost his life.

This was it, the end of the battle where the victors slayed the enemy. Not just the end for them but most of humanity who probably wouldn't ever know a war had been waged in their honor. These were the final minutes, the last few breaths and gasps; Evelyn decided she wasn't going down with a passive whimper and yanked her dagger out of her sheath.

Like the rest of them, she would die fighting, at least, and realized belatedly that her knees had stopped trembling sometime between her interaction with the Servant and now. She didn't feel nauseous or shaky or frozen.

Through the gloom and the haze, she saw Rhett reach up to smack the tip of the blade away from his throat and kick a boot out for the Fallen's knee. He'd either been faking it or had regained consciousness to find himself in grave peril.

Evelyn didn't waste her dagger on the Fallen in front of her—who slithered his sword out of its sheath—but threw it with every ounce of strength toward the one standing over Rhett.

Maybe, somehow, it would give Rhett a few more seconds. It had worked once before, it could work again.

She sacrificed herself to try and save him because she knew she wouldn't, couldn't, win against the Fallen before her anyway. It was a worthy cause in her mind.

Kicking a foot out at the sword, she knocked it away and spun around to try and dart around the beast in front of her. Any second she expected to feel the blade pierce her side, her chest, her back. She didn't think the armored shirt was strong enough to deflect that direct kind of blow.

Overhead, a thunderous crack split the sky, lightning streaking through clusters of clouds. She glimpsed Rhett and the Fallen standing over him in a brief struggle, and the shine of the sword she'd batted ineffectually away caught the light overhead, arcing her direction. She hit the ground of her own accord, hoping the sword would miss; she didn't expect the Fallen to suddenly slam into the ground right beside her, the tip of the blade landing on her wrist.

The brown haired, brown eyed Fallen had an arrow through his throat.

Evelyn didn't take time to process the whys and hows. She snatched up the wicked sword and lurched to her feet, running with it toward Rhett. He was dodging stabs of the sword from the Fallen above him, rolling left, rolling right.

A buzz near her ear caused her to swing the blade up and around. She swatted with her free hand, thinking it was a bee or a bug, before something else zinged past again. Two arrows struck the Fallen—one in the head, one in the neck—that stood over Rhett. The giant toppled over, landing with wet gurgles and gasps.

“Rhett!” She arrived just as he scrambled to his feet, snatching up the sword the Fallen dropped. He slung an arm around her and drug her against his chest. One side of his face from jawline to hairline had been scraped raw. Bits of dirt and debris littered his skin.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I'm fine, I'm fine. I don't know who shot the arrows--” She hugged Rhett with one arm, the heavy sword clutched in her hand.

At the same time, they glanced back over the bailey. Dragar was down along with Minna, as well as every other Servant they'd all been fighting. Dracht, blood running down his temple from his head, crouched with Alexandra near Minna while Christian turned Dragar over.

And standing between, further back near the gate, a black armored Fallen just then lowering his bow.

Chapter Eight

Alexandra wasn't surprised when Evelyn suddenly dashed away from the confrontation toward Rhett. She darted in to grab her dagger off the ground where it bounced off the armor of the Servant, narrowly missing being hacked in the side when the tall creature swung his sword from Evelyn—whom he missed—toward her. The one lesson she'd had with Dracht in the training pit wasn't enough to secure her any kind of protection against the Servant, especially considering she only had a short blade instead of a sword. But it didn't mean she couldn't keep this one preoccupied in the hopes Dragar, Christian, Dracht and Minna did better than she and Evelyn had.

Facing off with him, half crouched, circling with the dagger clutched tight in her palm, she feinted left to test his reflexes.

Except he somehow seemed to anticipate her and his sword caught her dagger down by the hilt, sending a shattering vibration up through her wrist. The weapon flew out of her fingers and she clutched her forearm when pain exploded toward her elbow.

She never saw the backhand. Only felt the hard bridge of knuckles when they connected with her cheek.

Head snapping aside, she tasted blood. It knocked her off balance and she staggered three feet to the right. Bastards were much stronger than she'd given them credit for. In that split second, she saw Dragar take a vicious hit between his shoulder blades and saw Dracht get flung onto his back. Minna swung her two-by-four for the Servant's head, wicked nails sticking out of the end, but the Servant caught it before it struck. He yanked it out of Minna's hand and delivered a blow with the other end to her temple.

She crumpled into a heap at its feet.

“Minna!” Fear shot through Alex at the thought her sister was dead.

If there were just two less Servants and one Fallen, they all might stand a breath of a chance. Belligerent and furious, she rounded on the Servant again, only to see that he'd picked up her dagger and had his arm cocked back. Ready to throw.

Thunder crashed overhead and lightning split the sky.

Alexandra had no time to duck or run or anything else; an arrow whizzed past her head and nailed the Servant straight through the throat.

†

Evelyn estimated the new Fallen to be four or five inches over seven feet. He was the biggest Fallen—or Guardian for that matter—she'd ever seen. Even Ashrael wasn't that tall, nor broad. Black hair hung straight to his armored shoulders, offset by olive skin and eyes a shade between hazel and green. Pale, like Rhett's were, to the point of translucence. She could see the unusual color even from here.

A patter of rain came down, a few drops that turned into a downpour. Unsure what to think about what just happened, Evelyn held onto Rhett for another minute before letting go. Worried about Dragar and Minna, she wanted to go to each and assure herself they weren't dead. Everyone seemed to have some kind of wound, gimp or fresh bruise.

Unsure of the Fallen's intent, the bailey fell into stillness and silence—except for the rain—while they all tried to figure out the Fallen's next move as well as their own.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Christian drag Dragar to his feet. Unsteady and swaying, the head of the Templar Order was awake if appearing confused and out of sorts.

She glanced Minna's way.

Her sister stirred at Alexandra's urging. Another wave of relief swept through Evelyn. They were alive. The wounds they could deal with later.

Rhett retrieved his sword off the ground and stepped around Evelyn, putting himself between her and the Fallen with the arrows. He seemed unsteady for the first time, rain diluting the blood oozing from the scrapes on his face.

“You should go inside and find the Seal. There's one of him and at least three of us,” Rhett said. He spat a mouthful of bloody saliva on the ground.

He hadn't included his father into the number, she noticed, probably because he was still so wobbly on his feet.

She touched fingers to the back of Rhett's armor, both to reassure herself he was really unharmed and to keep contact between them.

“I'm not going inside until I understand what just happened,” she replied.

Evelyn still felt the thrum of adrenaline from the intense fighting and emotions that made her breath short in her throat. For a heart stopping moment, she'd thought she lost him. Not just him but everyone. Her own mortality hadn't really figured into the equation until now.

Across the bailey, the Fallen slung the bow over his shoulder and approached.

Rhett tightened his grip on the sword. “Looks like we're about to find out.”

†

In the few minutes he had until the Fallen reached them, Rhett worked to clear his mind. A haze from too many hits lingered in his head, skewing his perception. Gripping the sword, prepared to engage in another confrontation, he saw Dracht and Christian close in on the Fallen's flanks.

Rhett didn't know whether to be alarmed or not that the Fallen didn't so much as glance back. He couldn't figure out why this particular one had helped him; there was no mistaking his allegiance, not with the charcoal armor and the general sense of unease Rhett felt around him.

The Fallen stopped ten feet away.

“I am Khyamaeus,” he said by way of introduction.

This was the first to bother with names and conversation. Rhett didn't glance away from the man's face to try and gauge his brother's reactions. He couldn't recall one time that the enemy had ever come forth in the midst of fighting like this.

“Ky-ah-may-us,” Rhett repeated, taking care to pronounce it the exact way the Fallen gave it. “What do you want?”

“To help you.”

“While your brothers have tried to kill us. Forgive me my doubts about your true intentions.”

“If I wanted you dead, you would be,” Khyamaeus pointed out. His voice rumbled over the thunder. He seemed unaffected by the rain or the storm.

Rhett wouldn't insult either of them by feigning arrogance. “Yes, I believe so. It begs the question then—why haven't you?”

“It's complicated. In simple terms, I want to help you turn the tide back in your favor. I know why you're here, and what you already have in your possession. I can also tell you that none of you will succeed in collecting the rest of the Seals.”

“How can you know that for sure?” Rhett asked.

“Because I know my brothers. I know their plan. And, frankly speaking, you're not strong enough to fight them and win.”

“Funny, we overcame one of your brothers in Jerusalem,” Christian said.

Khyamaeus turned his chin toward his shoulder and cut a look back. “You were lucky. Today you would have been slaughtered. All of you. Even with my help there is no guarantee we'll prevail, but you'll have a much better chance.”

Rhett detected no mockery or boasting in Khyamaeus' answer. Only reasonable truth.

“I still don't understand why you want to help us,” he said.

Khyamaeus met Rhett's eyes. “I was once Guardian, we all were. If I do this, I may be accepted back into the ranks of protector instead of killer. Not all of us have enjoyed our Fallen status, despite what you may think.”

“How can we be sure you're not leading us straight into a trap?” Rhett asked. The motivation Khyamaeus provided was one of the more believable reasons he could wrap his mind around. He didn't know every single detail of the old war and maybe, just maybe, a few of the former Guardians thought they had been cast down unfairly.

“The fact that I have killed two of my brethren today assures that even if you do not accept my help, I will be hunted and taken out for my betrayal. There is no going back for me. I succeed in this, or I face death.”

Rhett stared up at the Fallen's eyes. He liked to think he was a good judge of people—except these weren't people precisely they were dealing with—and that he knew when someone was lying to his face. Khyamaeus spoke over the downpour with a matter-of-fact tone that didn't seem deceiving.

He glanced at Dracht and Christian. Dracht cocked his head in a I'd like to believe him, but damn!, kind of way. Christian shook his head, a subtle gesture of outright denial.

Dragar loomed up behind Christian and Rhett knew by the look on his father's face that he'd overheard it all. Even through the rain and sporadic cracks of thunder. He asked a question with his eyes and Dragar paused, then nodded ascent.

His father must have detected the same things Rhett had. Minna and Alexandra both appeared dubious and cautious. He couldn't see Evelyn and didn't want to take his eyes off Khyamaeus that long to turn and see her expression.

Rhett knew on an instinctive level that Khyamaeus was right. Maybe they were supposed to meet up with him, perhaps it was all part of the grand plan. Ashrael might have known they wouldn't win on their own, might have even guessed that Khyamaeus—or another—would seek to right a wrong this way.

Like a giant, holy game of chess, the pieces were positioning themselves for the final showdown. In the grand scheme of things, he and the Templars were pawns, if that.

Maybe, too, this was a test of their faith and decision making. If they were to become the Guardians over the Seals and the girls, Ashrael likely wanted proof they could handle the job.

Sometimes to win a war, a man had to adjust and accept change, flow with it, use it to his advantage.

Living was better than dying.

Too jaded to take Khyamaeus on his word alone, Rhett looked at all the angles; there were two dead Fallen behind him that gave credence to the tale; Khyamaeus could have easily killed him and his brothers; and the Fallen had betrayed his own, a fatal mistake in the arena of good against evil.

Inclined to believe Khyamaeus meant what he said, Rhett gave the Fallen a curt nod, sealing their fate. They didn't have the luxury of time to debate or hesitate. Every one of them would probably be dead right now if Khyamaeus hadn't done what he'd done. That deserved at least a beginning sliver of trust.

“What do you suggest we do next?” he asked.

“They have already broken the Sixth Seal. Within three days it will become too treacherous to move about the earth in the ways we need to, so that is the time frame we have to work with. Collect the Seal from the castle and we'll head to the next destination.”

“Where is the next destination?” Rhett asked. Evelyn still had the compass. She wouldn't be able to tell where the other Seals were until they found the one inside the castle anyway. That one would throw everything else off until they had it in their possession.

“China. We'll figure out a plan as we go.”

†

“You're not going in there alone,” Rhett said.

Evelyn stared up at his eyes. She made sure she had her dagger back in its sheath and the compass in her pocket. “I'll take Alexandra with me. I'd rather have you out here in case...well. Just in case.”

Rhett scowled. “I don't think it's a good idea for you and her to split off alone, without one of us.”

“What's going to happen? They're all dead, Rhett. The Seal is probably just inside somewhere. We'll be back out in a flash.” Evelyn didn't think she and Alex would have to go beyond a far ballroom or old kitchen to retrieve the Seal. The distance felt farther, but that was likely because she was outside and it was sequestered within the castle walls.

And she wanted to do this. In all the places she lacked with battle and warfare, retrieving the Seal while the Templars guarded the bailey was a task she could manage without trouble.

He stared down at her, displeasure writ all over his face. “I'm going to tell Dracht I'm coming with you and that's the end of it.”

“Rhett...”

“Evelyn. You're not going alone. I'll be right back.” He touched her face with his palm and stepped around her.

She understood his concern, it wasn't that. But his stubborn streak matched her own and after a quick glance at Alexandra, they started for the castle door. Evelyn didn't have to explain her thoughts to her sister. Alex knew exactly what was on her mind.

While Rhett had his back turned, they slipped inside.

Chapter Nine

“What do you think?” Alexandra asked Evelyn. Inside the castle, where the only light came from the strange storm illumination slanting through the windows, the girls passed through the foyer and into a main hall. The ceiling, arching and high, sported hand painted murals and intricate molding that acted as great frames for the artwork.

“I'm not sure what to think,” Evelyn said. Soaked from the deluge, her shoes made squeaking noises over the tile floor. The appearance of the Fallen and his apparent desire to lend them aid struck both true and suspicious for her. She was naturally wary of nearly everyone however, especially lately.

And who could blame her.

Brushing wet strands of hair out of her face, she followed the tug and pull of the compass through another hallway to a door. When she opened it, stone steps led down into what she assumed was a basement or perhaps part of a dungeon. It was too dark to see.

“Rhett seems to think we should trust him,” Alex said. She grabbed a candle off a table next to the wall and lit it with a long lighter laying next to it for that purpose.

There was a switch next to the door as well and Evelyn flipped it; overhead, on the ceiling of the stairwell, small lights flickered to life.

Alex snorted behind her and doused the flame.

“There's still power. Let's just hope the storm doesn't knock it out. Maybe you should bring that anyway.” Evelyn glanced over her shoulder before starting down the steps. The walls on either side were smooth under her palm.

“We're takin' the candle, we're not takin' the candle.” Alex snatched the candle and lighter up and followed behind Evelyn.

“I trust Rhett's judgment. It's not like we really have a choice. Are you sure you're all right?” Coming to a turn in the stairwell, Evelyn followed it to the left and down another flight. So far, the lights stayed on.

“I'm fine. Banged up but it's no worse than anyone else. I'll be better by tomorrow.” Alex made more noise than Evelyn coming down the stairs. Heavier footed, her shoes thumped on the stone.

“I'm worried about Rhett and Dragar. Minna looks pretty battered but I know she'll heal faster than they will,” Evelyn admitted.

“Dragar's worse than Rhett. Got his bell rung pretty good up there. I think he'll be all right though. Just have to keep pushin' on and hope we can get to the Seals in time.”

“Three days isn't very long.” The lights flickered when Evelyn came to the last step on the second flight. Just how far down did it go? She paused and waited for the power to stabilize.

“We have two Seals after we get this one and another's been broken. That's three out of seven. If they're too far apart, travel time alone is going to eat up a good chunk of each day.” Alex didn't sound happy about that.

“There's not really anything we can do about it other than hurry.” Another light switch sat on the wall to the right and Evelyn flipped it.

Light bloomed out over a basement with stone columns set around for support. It wasn't finished; no furniture had been brought down, no decorations hung on the rough cut walls. Whoever owned the castle hadn't bothered with the basement yet or preferred to leave it as it was.

Other corridors, darker with rectangular entrances, split off from the far wall. They reminded her of the entrance to an underground tomb. Of course it was one of those she felt compelled to enter. For a moment, she wondered if the Fallen could have left some kind of...protection down here. Something like those wolf-creatures or the bats. Wouldn't Khyamaeus have known?

“Why are you just standin' there? Don't know where to go next?” Alex asked, hovering right behind her.

“I know where to go.” Evelyn started across the basement, glancing into the shadowy corners, wary of rats and other creepy crawly things.

“Why are you so hesitant all of a sudden?”

“I wondered if the Fallen might have left calling cards down here,” she admitted. She stopped at the entrance to the black corridor and looked for a switch on the wall.

Nothing.

“You mean like the bats or those other things?” Alex asked.

A moment later, the sound of the lighter preceded a glow falling around them from the candle.

Good thing they'd brought it.

“Yes. I suppose Khyamaeus would have known though. Right?” Evelyn let Alex carry the candle so she could take the dagger out of the sheath. Just in case. The sword she'd picked up off the Fallen was temporarily in Rhett's possession.

“I don't know. That's a good question. He didn't say anything, so I think we should be all right.” Alex didn't sound exactly sure of herself. Or Khyamaeus.

Evelyn didn't waste more time debating it. She entered the corridor, squinting ahead, going slow so the glow from the candle lit the way. It was eerie here, the scent of the earth and stone stronger. The walls became less structured and more jagged, as if the builders hadn't taken time to finish the job.

They came to another fork in the tunnels and Evelyn split left, unable to see more than three feet ahead at any given time.

“You're remembering how to get out of here, right?” Evelyn asked.

“We've only taken a couple turns. We'll get out just fine.”

“We're not there yet,” Evelyn pointed out. She could feel the Seal closer than before, but not as close as she would have preferred.

Just how deep did these tunnels run, anyway?

The compass compelled her into another turn, to the left, and immediately to the right. Evelyn hated enclosed, dank places. The weight of all that stone seemed to slowly bear down until she hunched, creeping with a hand on the wall to feel her way. As they walked, the darkness seemed to swallow the candlelight inch by inch, chasing the cone of illumination to the edge of her feet.

An internal pull, almost as if someone tied an invisible string through her insides and yanked, guided her straight along the passage.

“Cripes, how much further?” Alex hissed behind her.

“I can't tell exactly. We're closer though.”

“We better be. I can hardly see anything.”

“You and me both.” Evelyn followed the tunnel around another curve to the right. Here, the walls narrowed and the ceiling wasn't as high.

Tighter, closer, more confined. She shuddered. If she put her other hand out, she knew she would encounter the opposite wall before she could stretch her arms fully. Unnerving.

“Let me have that light. I can't see anything at all up here.” Evelyn reached back for the candle.

Alex put it in her fingers.

“Thanks.”

“Does it feel like we're goin' down to you? Descending? Like at a real gentle slope?” Alex asked.

“I can't tell. If we are, it's extremely subtle.” Evelyn didn't want to think about it. She put the candle out in front of her to chase back the gloom. It only retreated a foot. Like it was a living, breathing thing. It was so dense, that Evelyn wondered if the Fallen had anything to do with it before it died. Not just thick, but cold.

Her skin broke out in goosebumps under the armored shirt.

“Did it just get colder in here?” Alex whispered.

“I think so. It's just because we're going deeper underground.” It made sense to Evelyn. Three more turns, two to the right and one to the left, brought her much closer to the Seal.

She could feel the urgency to reach it, to keep going until she had it in hand.

The tunnel opened into a small cavernous space, something Evelyn felt more than saw. Yet the shadows didn't retract and sink back to the arching walls; they cloyed like a collection of thunderclouds, roiling through the rounded room without any real substance. Just pitch blackness that made the flame on the candle flicker. Evelyn hesitated to walk any deeper into the cavern and stopped at the mouth of the tunnel.

“Why are you stopping? Is this it?”

“Yes. It's straight ahead. Right...there,” Evelyn said. The Seal was not more than ten feet in front of her somewhere.

Alex nudged her. She braced herself with a hand against the wall. “No, wait. I can't see and I have the feeling we need to see what's between us and the Seal.”

“What could be there? You afraid you're gonna stumble over a rock or rope or something?” Alex asked.

“I don't know.” Evelyn couldn't put her finger on it, and perhaps if Alex was standing where she was, she would feel the same peculiar sense. Like a vacuum. “It's something different than that.”

To test her theory, she reached back for Alexandra's hand. “Hold onto me.”

“You think you're going to fall?” Alex sounded bemused but clutched her hand and arm with both of her own.

“Just hang onto me.” Holding the candle at arms length to try and slice through the inky atmosphere, she stretched a foot out for the ground.

All she encountered was air. Thinking she just hadn't put her foot down far enough, she bent her other knee to bring her lower.

Still nothing. No solid ground. As if there was no floor at all in the cavern.

“What the hell, Ev?” Alex gripped her arm tighter.

“There's no floor. How can that be?” She pressed up to stand, both feet solidly on the ground again.

“What do you mean there's no floor?”

“Just what I said. All I felt was air when I tried to step down in there.”

Alex gusted an impatient breath. “Let me try.”

Exasperated that her sister didn't believe her, she switched places with her, but held onto Alexandra's shirt in case her overzealous sister just marched on in.

She wouldn't put it past her.

“You're right. I don't feel any floor either. Not stretching either way.” Alex tapped left and right and as far in as she could reach.

Evelyn held tight. Annoyed that the Fallen made it so difficult, she pulled Alex back to solid footing. Pressing her back against the wall, she held the candle up to see her sister's face. The hollows were shadowy, giving Alex a creepy look.

“What should we do? I can feel the Seal about ten feet in,” Evelyn asked.

“Is it down in that hole? Or whatever it is?”

“...no. It doesn't feel like it's down there. It's straight across. I'd say in the middle of the room though it's hard to judge because I can't see.”

“I can jump for it. How far down can that hole really be?”

“You're not jumping!” Evelyn exhaled. Alex wouldn't hesitate to do something daredevil like that.

“Ev, we can't just stand here all day debating it. We shoulda been halfway back by now.” Her tone sounded unusually serious.

“And you're not risking your life jumping into nothingness. No. We can figure it out. Why don't I tear off a piece of the cuff of my pants, we'll light it on fire, and toss it in? It might buy us a few seconds to see.” Evelyn thought it was far better than Alex taking a literal leap of faith.

They'd lost enough sisters recently. Evelyn wasn't willing to outright risk another.

“Ev, that's a damn good idea.” Alexandra grinned, the expression eerie in the flickering light.

Before Evelyn could pass off the candle and crouch to tear a piece of material off, a sharp jolt shook the ground.

Then, a massive earthquake struck.

†

Out in the bailey, Rhett prayed for patience. Not only was the storm getting worse, but Evelyn had left while he was distracted. He knew she wanted to secure the Seal, that she thought it was an easy job considering the rest of all this.

It probably was—except under these circumstances, Rhett didn't like counting on probabilities. Splitting the Templars up was dangerous when his father looked as disoriented as he did, but it could be just as dangerous if the girls ran into trouble.

Khyamaeus stood with Dracht, Christian and Dragar; Minna leaned against one of the outer structure walls, face turned up to the rain, apparently recuperating.

She'd taken a nasty hit, though Rhett knew her body was already at work to heal itself.

No wonder Evelyn had lobbied so hard for them to partake of the fruit before the mission. It would have come in handy.

Even for himself.

His face flamed along the scratches and raw spots, but he didn't reach up to see how much skin was missing. It was tolerable and he had more important things to worry about.

“I can fix that,” Khyamaeus said, interrupting his thoughts.

Rhett glanced up. The man, the Fallen, was unbelievably tall.

“Fix what?” Rhett said, feigning ignorance. He wasn't sure he wanted the Fallen to fix him.

Khyamaeus gave him a dry look, then slid a glance to Dragar. “He should be healed before we venture to the next place.”

Rhett followed the Fallen's gaze. His father, twenty years his senior, blinked rapidly to clear his vision. He'd probably suffered a minor concussion. Going headlong into battle like that set their odds off considerably.

“What do you have to do? Will it affect him otherwise?” Rhett asked. He met Khyamaeus' eyes.

The Fallen reached a broad, long fingered hand out and let it hover over the shoulder of Rhett's armor. Indicating he could show him rather than tell him.

That Khyamaeus had seen war before was obvious in the nicks and scars on his skin. His knuckles were covered with them and another decorated a spot on his jaw, running parallel to the bone.

For some reason, that made Rhett feel better. It eased a little of the tension building along his shoulders. He gave Khyamaeus a curt nod.

Khyamaeus set his hand down.

Through the heavy leather armor, heat built. Slow, unimpeded by material, metal, flesh or bone. It turned into a tingle and spread out across Rhett's skin like a million tiny ants, burrowing deeper until he shuddered. He imagined he could feel those miniscule ants knitting and clicking, using their mandibles to piece him back together.

When the heat swarmed up into his head, white noise obliterated everything; for a single moment, he couldn't see, couldn't smell, couldn't feel the armor on his body. He couldn't even feel the tiny ants putting him back together again. His vision narrowed to a point, the sharper focus bringing Khyamaeus' face into view.

The Fallen stared hard at him in an assessing manner.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I feel...” Rhett paused. How did he feel? Strangely buoyant, light on his feet, better than he had in a long time. It was more than that the headache and body aches were gone; it was an overall, energetic thrum, like he'd become a high revving engine.

He reached up to smear fingers down his face and was almost surprised to feel scabs. As good as he felt inside, he thought they would be gone.

“Those will go away with more time. By tomorrow night, perhaps,” Khyamaeus said. He removed his hand.

“I feel great. Not just from the wounds--”

“I know.” Khyamaeus inclined his head, then glanced at Dragar and the others in question.

“Ask him if he'll allow it. I don't know that he will,” Rhett said of Dragar. His father could be stubborn, though typically he wouldn't allow his good sense to override what must be done.

Fighting as healthy and whole as he was able could only benefit them all.

Khyamaeus stepped away and approached Dragar.

After a brief discussion, Dragar looked Rhett's way.

Rhett nodded once, still rubbing his cheek with his fingers. The level of clarity in his mind was startling. As tired as he'd been on the plane, he didn't feel an ounce of that now. He felt like he could run marathons and defeat whole armies.

Khyamaeus set his hand on Dragar's shoulder, and then on Dracht and Christian's in turn. Each of them had sustained multiple blows.

Weirdly, or maybe not so weirdly, Khyamaeus didn't approach Minna with the offer to heal her.

Just as Rhett started walking toward his father and brothers, the earth erupted with a growl and nearly sent him sprawling face first. It sounded like a giant freight train was bearing down on them, the noise so loud that he saw Minna clap her hands over her ears.

Evelyn. He spun around and raced over the unstable ground toward the castle.

†

Evelyn bumped her head against the wall before she sank down, crouching, one arm splayed out against the tunnel for balance.

“Alex!”

“I'm right here, didn't go fallin' in. I dropped the lighter over the edge though.”

She wasn't surprised that Alex had squatted either. The quake shook the castle like a toy, or that's what it felt like from the bowels of the building. Pitching and rolling, Evelyn sent up a silent prayer that the earth didn't split open beneath them from the pit—or whatever that dead space was—and swallow them whole. She would have to make sure the candle didn't go out.

Distantly, she heard a clatter of rocks and stone.

“Shit.” Alex spat a curse. “There went part of the tunnel, I bet.”

“Maybe it was just something getting knocked around.” Evelyn didn't want to think of them trapped down here with the inky-oily gloom and no fresh air.

“There was nothin' to get knocked around. No tables or chairs—besides that, it didn't sound wooden, it sounded like rocks.”

Evelyn couldn't argue. It had sounded like a cave in. Once the rumbling and shaking stopped, she used the wall to rise back to her feet. Swinging the candle the direction of the cavern, she tried to see if any of the gloom had cleared. Nothing. No walls, ceiling or Seal in sight.

Alex leaned over and sliced off a five inch part of her hem. The riiip bounced off the walls of the tunnel.

“Here y' go. Light it up.” Alex held the strip in her fingers when she stood up.

Evelyn set the flame to the edge of the torn material then swung the candle out into the cavern to help them see.

Alex pitched the flaming scrap into the air; it gave them several seconds to see the dome shaped cave, the pit below, and a pedestal propped right in the middle with the page and the Seal sitting on top. There didn't seem to be any steps or small bridges—nothing to cross to the pedestal.

Evelyn couldn't even see how far down the pit went, or whether anything sinister lurked there to impede their way.

The lit piece of denim landed on the round surface of the pedestal—right next to the corner of the page.

“Alexandra! What if that catches fire?” Evelyn saw carvings in the top of the pedestal that she couldn't quite make out from here.

“It's not going to catch fire. Even if it did, only the page would burn. Not the Seal itself. It has to be broken anyway to set off the event.”

“How far do you think the pit is across?” Evelyn eyed the circular depression. It was almost like a moat, going around the entire pedestal to protect it.

What kind of people lived here? Did they even know this existed?

“If I had to guess, I'd say...eight feet. From here to the pedestal. Except there's no where to land, Ev. The surface of that thing is barely wide enough to hold the page, much less a body.”

“What if I leap and catch the base?” Evelyn didn't have to look to know Alexandra's expression just turned incredulous. “You don't think I can do it?”

“You're not jumpin' across there. What if you miss the base and you plunge however far it is to the bottom? You can still die of a broken neck,” Alex retorted. And then, “I'll do it.”

“So it's okay for you to risk it, and not me?” Evelyn stared at her sibling.

“I've done a lot more of this kind of thing than you, and you know it. Now hush. The fire over there is going to die and then I won't be able to see anything.” Alex took a position at the edge of the pit.

If the material went out, the pedestal would be plunged into blackness and that would be an impossible maneuver to catch the base in the dark. Evelyn pinched her lips tight to keep a retort at bay. She held the candle up high and pressed snug against the wall to give Alex as much room as she could.

Alexandra bent her knees and launched over the pit, arms extended to catch the base of the pedestal.

Mid-air, Evelyn heard a rough growl echo up from somewhere deep in the pit.

The growl of an animal, not another earthquake.

Chapter Ten

A high chandelier rocked off its cable and crashed into the foyer right in front of Rhett. He vaulted it, landing in a mine field of shattered glass. Sliding, he caught his balance with a pinwheel of one arm.

“Evelyn!” He should have never let her out of his sight. Grinding his teeth, he speared looks through the immense rooms.

Left. Right. Left.

He saw nothing. No one. The continuing gloom, the rain, the booming thunder all worked against him. It was hard to see, impossible to listen, and without the compass, he had to stop to scour every room.

Huge parlors, great rooms with fireplaces as tall as himself, libraries, the kitchen, they were all empty. He heard Dracht shouting somewhere behind him.

“Dracht! Did anyone stay outside?” He jogged down a short hall, cut through a servant's area and back into one of the great rooms.

Dracht swerved away from the busted chandelier toward him. “The rest are staying out there. Where have you checked? I can't hear a damn thing.”

“Me either. If we split up we can cover more ground,” Rhett said. He was on the move with Dracht at his flank.

“We will. Though if there's another quake, and it's stronger, it might bring some of the castle down. Then we'll just be split up with no way to help each other or anyone else.”

“True enough—look, there's a door. Bet it leads to the basement or a cellar.” Rhett closed in on the door and yanked it open. A row of lights exposed stairs leading down.

Rhett didn't hesitate. “Evelyn!”

His voice echoed ahead. He got no immediate answer.

Dracht trotted down the stairs in his wake. “If they aren't down here, we should check the second floor and the towers.”

“We'll do that.” Rhett emerged into the basement. Bare of furniture and storage boxes, it didn't take him long to discern the girls weren't there. Spying the black entrance leading God knew where, Rhett approached it.

“Evelyn!” Stopping there, he listened.

Nothing. Not a drip of water, not a faint cry, nothing. He couldn't see very far into the gloom and glanced behind him for lighting of some kind.

“See anything?” Dracht asked.

“No. Can you find a flashlight or something? We can't leave this unchecked.”

“Have to be upstairs. There's nothing down here.” Dracht jogged back to the steps and up them, disappearing from sight.

Rhett had to wait there for his brother to return. Impatient, he paced before the opening. “Evelyn! Alex!”

They were wasting too much time.

“Found two.” Dracht entered the basement and tossed him a flashlight that Rhett caught against his chest armor.

“Thanks.” Flicking it on, he pierced the dim corridor and started down it. Less than ten feet in, he noticed the shadows seemed especially cloying.

When he came to the first split in the tunnel, he wasn't sure which way to go. The beam on the flashlight showed no other doors in sight, no clue which way the girls had gone.

If they'd come down here at all.

He went right. Stalking strides took him forward, and he bypassed an offshoot tunnel to his left another thirty feet down. Might as well see where this initial corridor ended.

It ended in yet another fork and Rhett clenched his jaw in frustration.

“We can't clear this entire basement. Or whatever it is. Labyrinth. There's no telling how far these tunnels go or where they end up. We could be down here for hours,” Rhett said.

“I agree. Splitting up is also a bad idea. Maybe we should go back up and check the rest of the castle first. If we can't find them, we can gather the others and split off into three groups down here. It'll go a lot faster and then at least we'll have backup if something goes wrong.”

“We're going to have to. If we keep following these, we'll wind up lost.” Rhett didn't like leaving stones unturned. “Let's go.”

“Wait, what was that?” Dracht stopped, pushing against Rhett's armor to force him to pause, too.

Rhett listened. They were too far below ground for the storm's fury to disrupt them down here. At first, he heard nothing. Not a scrape of a rat, no settling of the earth. Crypt quiet.

Then he heard the faintest, most distant whisper of sound.

“What the hell is that?” he asked Dracht, shining his flashlight toward the right down one of the tunnels.

“I don't know. I'd say it's an echo of thunder, but it's too high pitched, and that would mean these tunnels lead up to the surface where the sound can travel down.”

“A rat?”

“Don't think so.”

“Could they have made it outside and it's them all calling for us to hurry our asses up?”

Dracht rumbled a quiet laugh. “Could be.”

They both speared their flashlights left and right, like they expected someone to come walking out of the gloom.

Again, a faint noise reached them.

“What the hell is that. And which direction is it coming from?” Rhett asked. He stalked toward the right tunnel and walked a few feet in, cocking his head.

Dracht went to the left and did the same.

They waited.

“It's definitely coming from this direction. I can't be sure, but let's just check quick,” Rhett said. He strode down the narrow, dank corridor, Dracht at his heels.

They had to stop twice to listen and pick up the sounds again. This time they were a little louder, a little closer.

And definitely human.

Rhett broke into a jog.

“Evelyn!”

He got no reply.

Around the next turn, he saw exactly why they had so much trouble hearing the noises; half the corridor had caved in, the passage blocked by a pile of rock and rubble. Some were as big as his fist, others the size of basketballs.

A few were bigger than that.

Beyond, somewhere past the cave in, he could hear the trill of a feminine call. A cry? It made his blood run cold to think of Evelyn buried alive on the other side.

“It's them,” Dracht said.

The urgency in his voice matched Rhett's own. “Help me dig through.”

“Watch we don't cause another cave in,” Dracht warned, setting his flashlight on the ground. Pointing it toward the pile, it illuminated their work space.

Rhett followed suit.

One by one, they started moving rocks. Rhett hauled them in and passed them off to Dracht, who threw them back down the corridor. The stones clacked and clattered, landing where they may. Breaking into a sweat, Rhett got into a rhythm and handed them off quicker. Uncovering a small hole, the distant cry turned into a wail and then into a scream.

“Jesus,” Rhett said, forgetting himself. He could hear the voice well enough to know it was Evelyn's.

“I can't get a bead on distance, but I don't think they're right on the other side of the pile,” Dracht said, tossing a rock behind him with a grunt.

It took two of them to move several more. Suddenly the pile shifted and three bigger chunks rolled down, nearly clipping Rhett in the ankle.

He hopped out of the way just in time.

“Don't know. If we keep moving these right here, we can break through and crawl to the other side,” Rhett said.

“Let's go, let's go,” Dracht urged, sweat dripping down his brow.

A tiny air hole emerged after another four rocks.

A scream pierced the air, full of terror. It traveled down the tunnel and cut through the hole they'd made, causing a shiver to race down Rhett's spine.

Hold on, Evelyn. Hold on for God's sake.

†

Alexandra shouted, twisting her body in the air. She barely managed to grab hold of the base of the pedestal, arms wrapping tight, collarbone impacting with a sharp stab of pain. The rest of her body collided with it while her legs swung precariously into nothingness.

Vicious and deep, three other growls joined the first. She saw a pair of glowing eyes peer up from the pitch black beneath her and she reached a hand up to snag the paper and the Seal, breathing shallowly, skin erupting in goosebumps.

All she hoped was that she didn't grab the burning material.

“Run, Evelyn. RUN!”

“I'm not leaving! It's coming, it's coming!” she shouted.

“I know!” Alex put the edge of the paper in her teeth, the Seal stuck into it and secure for now. Wrapping her legs around the base of the pedestal, she slapped a hand across the carved surface, flinging the fiery piece of cloth over the edge.

It fluttered down like a sparrow on fire, pitching this way and that. She didn't watch it go; slinging a leg up, she climbed atop the pedestal and was relieved to see Evelyn turn with the candle to start running.

She needed to be out of the way so Alex could vault back across the pit, positive at any time that a muzzle would flash up out of the gloom and drag her into the abyss. In periphery she could see the glow of their eyes coming up as if from a long distance, bounding up from the bottom of a well to claim their prize.

Well screw that. She wasn't going to become any hellhound's breakfast.

With no running start, she jumped. Another angry sounding snarl resonated somewhere beneath her.

Landing on her feet, she lurched forward, grabbed the paper out of her mouth, and took off after Evelyn. The candlelight barely cut through the darkness and she cursed it soundly, silently, arms pumping and boots slapping the ground.

Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of claws scrabbling for purchase on stone and another, louder growl.

Five steps later, Alexandra had that sensation along the back of her neck, the one that screamed warning!, before something crashed into her from behind and took her down.

†

Evelyn could hear them coming. The rustle of their fur, the savage growls, their claws on the rock. Running. Faster than she and Alex were running, no doubt about it. Half afraid she'd collide into a wall, she kept a hand out along with the candle, using small, quick steps rather than long, loping strides.

Alexandra's cry turned into a scream—and when her sister wanted to scream, the girl could really scream—before snarling and a thud cut it off.

It didn't take a genius to realize that the beast had taken Alex down.

Evelyn whirled, the dagger and candle in her hands. She ran back, pitching a high scream at the glowing eyed, larger-than-a-wolf creature who had its teeth sunk into Alexandra's back. It looked up and snarled again, ears flattening against its head.

“Get off her, get off!” An unusual fury gripped her; she swung the holy blade straight across and came back the other way with the candle, the flame miraculously staying lit. The creature snapped its razor sharp teeth and lunged between passes of the knife and the candle. Evelyn didn't land a strike but it drove the wolf back until it straddled Alexandra's legs instead of her hips.

Flipping over, Alexandra wielded her own blade, stabbing it up under the creatures neck. A high cry ripped from its throat and it wobbled even as it retreated, staggering and shaking its massive head. Alex slashed at it again, driving it further away, until the hellhound whipped around to run the other direction. The rest of the pack, wary of the altercation—and perhaps the holy blades—retreated into the abyss, their growls and snarls filling the air. One by one the glowing pairs of eyes faded into blackness.

In a strange way, it made sense to Evelyn. Just like the blades caused more damage to the Fallen, it seemed likely it would do the same to the wolves. Out of breath, adrenaline raging through her veins, Evelyn glanced down to her sister.

Alexandra scrambled up off the ground.

“That was close,” Alex said, looking back at the pit. “They don't like the blades so much. Let's go.”

“Are you hurt? Let me see your back--”

“The shirt, Ev. It got a mouthful of the shirt instead of my skin.” Alex pushed Evelyn along the dark tunnel, stowing the Seal in her belt.

The shirt. Evelyn kept the dagger in hand and started back the way they came. The candle flame shivered from the tremors of her fingers. “How long do you think we have before they try again?”

“A few minutes, no more. Go, hurry.”

Evelyn risked a faster pace, kicking into a jog.

Behind them, one of the creatures snarled; the sound traveled through the tunnel, menacing and promising.

Then, around another turn, after a brief sprint, she came to an abrupt halt. The shadowy lump in front of her feet, outlined by the candleglow, startled her. She thought one of the beasts had somehow sank up through the stone and meant to cut them off. When it didn't move, she realized it was a rock. A big rock.

One that hadn't been there before.

Alex thumped into her back, pushing her forward, and that was when Evelyn saw the cave in.

A moment later, Rhett's voice burst through a small opening near the wall. “Evelyn!”

“Rhett! We're here.” Relief rushed in to replace unease and lingering terror.

“Stand back so the rocks don't hit you.”

Even as he said it, another watermelon sized rock tumbled down, forcing her and Alex to sink against the wall. She could hear him working to make a space big enough to crawl through on the other side.

“Hurry up!” Alex shouted. “We got those damn beasts on our tail.”

“Five minutes.” It wasn't Rhett's voice that echoed through that time, but Dracht's.

†

“They're comin'.” Alexandra's voice lifted up the ominous warning.

Evelyn looked back through the tunnel. A pair of glowing eyes blinked into existence in the gloom. Wary, the beast didn't rush or charge them like the other one had.

A small pile of rubble littered the ground in front of them, pieces that rolled off as Rhett and Dracht worked. Several more tumbled down and suddenly there was a hole that Rhett poked his upper body through.

“Come on. There's no time. If another quake hits the rest of this will come down.” He made an impatient gesture with his fingers.

Evelyn could barely see him in the gloom. She sheathed the dagger and went over to climb up a few rocks until she could put her hand in his.

Behind her, she heard Alexandra slide her dagger free.

“Take the candle.” She pushed it at Rhett who handed it off behind him.

Darkness filled in the spaces where the light had been, making it difficult to see anything at all. Rhett pulled her through, gently, cupping the top of her head with a hand to protect it.

On their side, the flashlights blinded her. She squinted against the searing beam while Rhett guided her to the right. He snared her into a one armed hug and pressed a hard, relieved kiss against the top of her head.

Dracht reached through for Alex. “Give me your hand.”

“I can get through there--”

“Just give me your hand. It's getting closer.” Dracht's tone was both urgent and impatient, like Rhett's had been.

Dracht tugged Alex through, drawing her up against his chest until she gained her feet.

Evelyn saw the look they gave each other, a lingering stare though no words passed between them.

“Let's pack a few rocks up there and get out of here,” Rhett said, squeezing her before hauling a few heavy stones to block the hole they'd made.

Dracht stepped away from Alex and helped him. They only needed four or five to make it hard for the creatures to get through. Unless the animals could pass through solid material.

Rhett snatched his light off the ground, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into a run just as the snarls and growls grew on the other side.

Time to go.

†

They encountered no more creatures and no more earthquakes on their way up out of the castle. Evidence of mild destruction littered the stone floors they ran over; tipped bookcases, fallen paintings, shattered glass.

Outside, the storm had come to a standstill. No rain fell, no thunder rolled through the sky. The atmosphere was still bleak and black, with no sign of daylight in sight. Where the bodies of the Fallen and Servants fell, now they were gone. No clues about their final demise were left in the wake of their absence.

Khyamaeus, Dragar, Christian and Minna, all healed, blood gone from their faces and skin thanks to the rain, met them in the middle of the bailey to cement their plans. Weapons and shields gathered, they left the bailey, a band of warriors with one extra body more than they'd arrived with. Exhaustion painted itself on Minna, Alex and Evelyn's features, the only three not offered the healing skills of the Fallen.

Back at the plane, they boarded single file and sank into the seats with clunks and clanks of metal or leather.

Roman taxied off the runway and swept them up into the eerie, quiet sky, the drone of the engines luring the three surviving daughters of Eve down into dreams.

Chapter Eleven

Rhett sat across from Khyamaeus with Evelyn to his right. She'd been asleep for two hours, chair tilted back a few inches to make her more comfortable. The Fallen seemed comfortable in a plane, a surprise to Rhett, and he decided to speak up and ask.

“Have you ever flown before?”

Khyamaeus opened his eyes and for a brief moment, amusement lurked there. “I have not.”

“It doesn't seem to bother you,” he pointed out.

“I find it noisy and awkward, but suitable to transport many humans at once over long distances until something better comes along.”

Rhett arched a brow. “Something better?”

“Let us just say...this method of transport is like horse and buggy compared to a Ferrari. It gets the job done, but not nearly as efficiently as it could, nor as fast. Should time continue, design and function will improve in ways you never imagined.”

“How is it you know this?” Rhett asked, bemused. Guessing was one thing, and history taught them that mankind always found ways to advance. That was a given.

But something in Khyamaeus' tone suggested more than that.

“Because it already exists elsewhere. Humans on earth have been slower to develop than others of their kind. But you are on the right track at least.”

“Where, and how far away?” His curiosity piqued, Rhett crossed one boot over the other and stared across at the Fallen.

“I cannot divulge that information. Perhaps in your lifetime, you will learn the answers you seek.”

“Why is it such a big mystery?” Rhett asked.

“Humans and their distant brethren are not ready to meet. I could give you all the information you need, but it's pointless until people here make greater strides. The fissures in society that prevent it from functioning as it should must be fixed before any serious advancement can be made.”

“I'd hardly say it's pointless. My curiosity would be sated.” Rhett cut the Fallen a wry grin. He didn't expect Khyamaeus to give him any more information than he had.

“That it would. Mankind has to learn it, instead of having it handed over. That is part of evolution.” Khyamaeus glanced at Evelyn. His gaze lingered.

“Do you remember her?” he asked. Rhett wasn't sure if all the Guardians had come into contact with the girls before their Fall.

“I do. She was too young to remember. How is it you came to know her?” Khyamaeus looked back at Rhett.

“We're Templars. A group within our group knew about their existence and had been hunting them for a very long time. They existed with the belief the girls were spreading evil throughout the world though, and killed quite a few of them before I caught up with Evelyn.”

“Templars? I knew the Order still functioned. What irony that you are battling with them to preserve your way of life.”

“Someone keeps throwing the word destiny around.” Rhett lifted his arms, folding his hands behind his head.

Khyamaeus inclined his chin in agreement. “I have no doubt.”

“I'm sure it's one of those odd coincidences. Right place, right time.” Rhett still didn't know if he bought into the whole fate and destiny idea.

“You don't believe in fate?” Khyamaeus asked.

“I find it difficult to. Do you?”

“It's an absolute fact.”

“You speak like you have personal experience. Do you already know what the outcome of all this is?” Rhett suddenly thought Khyamaeus knew more than he was admitting.

“The greatest events in history, as you understand them, did not happen 'just because'. Everything leads somewhere, Rhett. There is a purpose, as exalted or cruel as it may seem, for every war, every advance in science, every step in the ladder of evolution. Humans are still crawling. One day, perhaps, you'll fly.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Yes and no. I knew there would be a tribulation, but not when. Nor did I know whether it would lead into a full blown apocalypse or not. That's because fate and destiny can be altered, and everything we do from here will decide the ultimate ending. This is the wildcard that makes it impossible to speak in certainties. Someday, there will be Revelation. Is that in three days? You tell me.”

“If you know there are events, then it stands to reason you know if anything happens after this, which gives us a clue whether or not we succeed or fail,” Rhett reasoned.

Khyamaeus held up a finger. “You are correct that I know of major events, but as I stated, I do not always know when. The only absolutes I can determine are individual death. There is no escaping that. When your number is up, as they say, it's up.”

Rhett became uncomfortable at this recent bit of news. He stared at Khyamaeus, wanting to ask the obvious question.

Khyamaeus lowered his hand and maintained eye contact. Like he knew.

“How can you determine that?” Rhett asked against his better judgment. Internal warning bells went off, but he ignored them.

“It is difficult to explain. It's more than a sense, more than a feeling. You're not marked, per se, and yet I can look at a person and know whether they are long for this world or not.”

Rhett wondered how many other people would be tempted to ask the next question that burned on his tongue. It was both appealing and not to know whether his own time was at hand. Maybe Khyamaeus wouldn't tell him. Did he really want to know, anyway? Rhett hadn't ever looked too far ahead in his own life, not with the demands of his job and the risks he often took.

“So you knew ahead of time that those Fallen and the Servants at the castle would go down.” He skirted the issue in the end.

“I knew when I got there. Just like I knew two of the people in your group would perish before the next three days is through.”

†

In the tiny bathroom, Rhett splashed water on his face. Light glared down from a single inset lamp overhead, illuminating the compact space that boasted a small shower stall, toilet and sink. The mirror lodged above it bounced his reflection back and Rhett stared at himself, fairly sure he'd never seen that haunted look in his eyes before.

Gritty, heavily whiskered, hair hanging in damp, sandy blonde ropes, he looked tired suddenly, like he'd just come down off a fresh adrenaline high. The raw scrapes on his face were minor scabs now after Khyamaeus' healing. He might wind up with a lingering, pale scar or two when it was all said and done. Water dripped off his jaw into the small, shell shaped basin. Bracing a hand against the edge, he let his arm bear the brunt of his weight.

He hadn't been able to ask who in their group—not one, but two—wouldn't make it to the end of this mission. Intimately close to four of them, he wouldn't want to see the other two die either. Alexandra and Minna had become close to his heart over the time that he'd known them.

That it could be one of his brothers, his father, or Evelyn made his blood run cold. Oddly, he didn't factor himself into the equation because he never did, no matter how dangerous the job or situation. If he died it was all moot anyway. Thank God Evelyn had slept straight through the awkward revelation and the ensuing ten minute stare down he and Khyamaeus shared before he excused himself to the bathroom.

Rhett wouldn't share the information with anyone else. It was the kind of knowledge that could freeze people up at the wrong time, make them decide on a course of action they might not normally take.

No matter that Khyamaeus stated the deaths were irreversible, Rhett held onto the hope that because he knew, he might be able to prevent it from happening. Forewarned was forearmed.

With any luck, fate would see fit to leave those he cared about alive.

†

“What do you think they're talkin' about over there?” Alex whispered to Dracht. He sat next to her instead of across from her, and she had to stare past his profile to see Rhett, Khyamaeus and Evelyn.

“You're supposed to be sleeping,” Dracht said, slanting her a look out of the corner of his eyes.

“I did sleep.”

“For about three hours. You look exhausted.”

Alex glanced at Dracht and quirked her lips at the corner. For such dark eyes, his were expressive. When he wanted them to be. Just now she could see a faint glimmer of humor laced through the seriousness.

“Well, it's been a long week. But I feel rested. That's what counts, right?” she asked.

Like it was an impulse, Dracht reached over to pick up a piece of her hair and bring it to his nose. The long length of it, dry now after the rain, looked silky between his rough fingertips. Alex shifted her attention from the texture of it and his skin, finding his eyes again. Sometimes, Dracht had a way of making a point without saying anything at all. The point he made just then didn't have anything to do with sleep or rest.

“It'll catch up with you later,” he said, letting her hair fall back to her shoulder.

“You should be thinkin' ahead to China, not worryin' about me,” she pointed out.

“I can do both.”

He sounded so matter of fact that Alex didn't have a quick comeback. How much worry was due to his job, and how much was personal? She had avoided thinking too deeply about it, letting all the distractions take her mind off it. But she couldn't deny that she was curious.

“What?” he asked, cutting into the silence.

“Nothin'.” She tipped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Alex wasn't about to have that kind of conversation. Maybe she read him all wrong. Maybe those electric looks and his caution in her stead were her imagination. Or just how he did his job.

Before she could get too comfortable, the jet lurched sideways, the right wing tipping down so suddenly that it threw her against Dracht. A high pressure whine raced through the cabin, the engines screaming.

“Evasive maneuver, hang on!” Roman called over the intercom. His voice carried the strain of urgency.

Dracht slung an arm around her shoulders and pressed her even closer. The armor made it somewhat uncomfortable, but that was the least of her worries.

“What's happening?” she rasped, holding onto the chair arm and Dracht both.

“Don't know. He's trying not to hit something, or an unexpected object loomed up on the radar.”

Across the cabin, Evelyn woke up with a startled gasp. Alex watched Rhett clutch her to him while the slant deepened. An impossible angle, she thought, that sent a shudder through the aircraft.

It righted and dipped the other direction but not as sharp of a tilt; out the small oval window on her right, Alex saw what Roman was evading.

In the black earth below, a fount of red lava spewed into the air, rivers of it spreading out like octopus arms in every direction. It was difficult to tell the ash cloud from the regular gloom, but they were low enough that Roman probably saw the darker column coming up from the glow of red and swerved to avoid it.

“Where are we?” Alex asked. She wasn't sure how long they'd been in the air. Four, five, six hours?

“Somewhere over Turkey, I'd guess. I know Roman said he was going to have to land there to refuel at some point.”

“Let's hope it's not any time soon.” Alex felt a pang of remorse for the people on the ground, who probably never had any warning an eruption was coming. The earthquakes, pestilence and storms were bad enough. Volcanoes with their choking ash and burning lava would only add more mayhem. To distract herself from the ugly scene below, she returned her attention to Dracht.

He was looking at her, face solemn, mouth compressed into a line of displeasure.

“What do you think of Khy?” she whispered. Maybe she could distract him from the hellfire and death.

“I think we don't have any other choice but to trust him.” He spoke low, moving his lips closer to her ear.

“But what's your gut instinct say?” she pressed.

“That he means what he says. I don't think he's leading us down a false path. Whether we're going to get the other Seals with his help? Hard to say. We sure as hell have a better chance with him along than without him. What about you? You feeling something off?”

“No. I don't remember him from my time in Eden. Which doesn't mean anything. There were hundreds of them I never met. I do remember Ashrael telling us a really long time ago that a few of the Fallen had tried to make amends, that they wanted their Guardian status back.”

“Did they ever revert?” he asked.

“No. Not one.”

Chapter Twelve

The Yangtze River snaked through the landscape, a twisting, curving body of water that looked as dark as the sky above it. Cliffs, hills and gorges surrounded the River on both sides, and Evelyn thought it was probably beautiful on any normal, given day. Without the sun, doused in gloom, it lost a lot of impact.

After so many hours in the jet, with two refueling nightmares behind them, she was ready to get down to business. Anticipation made her shoulders tense now that they were descending to land. Roman set them down on what appeared to be the flat top of a cliffside, but there must have been a runway or a road because the landing was smooth instead of bumpy.

Rhett touched a kiss to her temple and after they gathered their weapons, the group filed out of the plane onto the ground. A brisk wind twitched her hair around her shoulders, the mass unrestrained. A distinct smell of lush foliage, water and earth mixed with the electric sensation of lightning and rain.

Even here there was evidence of the pestilence that plagued the rest of the world; glittering, wet carapaces littered the ground, a layer of black that wasn't as thick as when it descended after the rain washed some of it away.

Against the moody, gray sky, the Templars looked more like warriors than ever to her. Each one wore an expression of chiseled determination, jaws set, muscles flexing from the weight of their armor and shields. They walked with proud postures and brisk strides, eyes forward on the Fallen that led them away from the plane.

Roman had found a desolate road to land them on in the middle of nowhere. To their right sat a two-hundred foot cliff overlooking the gorge and river below; to the left, nothing but miles of lush foliage, sporadic trees and stunning landscape. The pewter cast to the atmosphere couldn't strip all the beauty away, and Evelyn promised herself that if they made it through, she would return here for a visit some day.

Khyamaeus, with his bow and arrows strapped to his back, sword sheathed at his side, led them off the runway deeper into the greenery. The foliage here ranged between hip and shoulder height, with some bushes towering above their heads. Broad, glossy leaves caught puddles of rainwater in their crevices that dripped out one drop at a time.

Evelyn, Minna and Alex all had swords from the Servants and the Fallen from the castle as well as their daggers. The weight of the sword wasn't familiar but it was a weapon and one she would use if she had to. They had no sheaths, so they carried them in their hands.

Leaving the plane behind, she fell in behind Minna on a thinner trail that forced them to walk single file. Christian brought up the rear and the Fallen took the lead.

Deeper and deeper, they wound and twisted along a path that followed the gently rolling terrain. Sometimes she had to duck out of the way of a branch or a cluster of leaves. Other times the foliage drew back from the foot trail enough for her to see for a quarter mile in any direction. Despite the way it seemed they worked inland, it was only an illusion; the gorge remained on their left, a steep cut through the earth giving way to a heavy flow of water at the base.

Forty-five minutes into the trek, Khyamaeus stopped. Turning around, he gestured them to gather closer. Once they made a tight knit circle, he bent his head and lowered his voice.

“We're about eighty yards from the temple. Expect anything and everything from here on in. There's no perimeter wall, only the four lookout towers I told you about on the plane. Once we breach the main entrance, it'll be open season. Keep the layout I described in mind. We need to pass through the temple and into the inner courtyard. That's where they're keeping it.”

Evelyn watched Khyamaeus' eyes. Alert, sharp, he looked between them, holding their gazes for long seconds at a time.

Before landing, Khyamaeus had gathered them all around one of the tables and sketched a layout of the temple. The square structure had an enormous courtyard right in the middle of it, open to the sky, with statues and small bridges built around Koi ponds. He indicated the Seal would be on a throne made for the Emperor centuries ago, and had pointed out all the places the Fallen and their Servants could hide to attack from.

Too many places. Every building, every door, every manicured hedge could shield them from view.

“I'm going to get on the roof so I can shoot down into the courtyard. Keep going. I think they'll have the majority of their protection somewhere near the Seal, so you should be relatively safe until then,” he said.

“How many Fallen are we dealing with here?” Rhett asked. “There were two at the castle—will there be more than that?”

Khyamaeus twisted a look in the direction of the temple. “It's hard to say. We can block each other from knowing when one is close. I can't feel or sense any of them right now, and I've employed the same mechanism for me. Be prepared for two, but expect one.”

“What about the Servants?” Dracht asked.

“There are four that I know were coming with them. Expect at least that many.”

“Any other surprises?” Dragar inquired.

“Not that I can tell. Just take it one step at a time. The longer we stay out here, the more we put ourselves at risk. Let's go.” Khyamaeus made another round of eye contact before turning to lead them along the path.

Evelyn gripped the hilt of the sword, beginning her mental preparations for confrontation. She went over the floorplans in her mind, memorizing the basic layout so she knew where the likely spots were they'd hit trouble—if the Servants happened to be inside instead of in the courtyard.

The number of variables was staggering.

Twenty yards later, the Temple came into view. Red tiles trimmed in gold decorated the pointed roof. A broad breezeway ran the length of the building in the front, with archways lacking doors and windows without panes overlooking the landscape. Elaborate and secluded, the vibrant temple looked old but was obviously well cared for. The grounds immediately around it had been trimmed and clipped, forming a maze of paths aside a main cobbled walkway to the three steps leading in.

Breaking from the cover of the trees, Khyamaeus sprinted toward the temple.

Dragar, Dracht and Rhett burst into the open on his heels, charging along the cobbled walk toward the main building.

Minna diverted to the right on her own, vaulting up over the railing onto the breezeway that ran around the front and sides of the structure. Quick footed and sure of herself, she didn't miss a step.

Evelyn tried not to be distracted by the fact her sister deviated from the plan and followed Alexandra out of the foliage, running forward with Christian coming right after. She heard him suck in a breath when he saw Minna swerve off, and although the men in front must have seen it too, none of them deviated from the original course of action.

Just before Khyamaeus reached the steps, he vaulted into the air, a lunging jump from the ground to the roof that should have been an impossible feat. There was a whisper in the air around his shoulders, like the feathery flap of wings, but Evelyn saw nothing other than Khyamaeus and his armor. It was a sensation more than not, an invisible swish she couldn't attribute to someone dashing past leaves and trees.

Dragar took the steps in one running leap, agile for his age, and went in through the main archway crouched, sword at the ready. Dracht and Rhett followed in the same manner, going in quick, disappearing into the dimmer interior.

Cursing Minna under her breath, Evelyn jogged up the steps and followed Alexandra inside. Rhett was halfway across the room by then, sword and shield in place.

The cold, flat floor stretched out to either side of the archway, giving them a clear shot left and right through the spacious room. Built into the walls were niches that housed holy statuettes. Benches sat before each one under a towering ceiling engraved with scenes of battle.

Set against the farthest wall where another archway led out into the inner courtyard were stone serpents, scales covering the creatures snout to tail, their postures depicting them as guardians. Each one was easily as tall as she was.

Seeing no Servants, or any other creature that didn't belong, she crowded in behind Alex while Christian stayed behind her, covering the rear.

Dragar and Dracht stopped with their backs against the wall to assess the inner courtyard through an open door way.

Evelyn caught glimpses of a pristine garden setting, with carefully manicured hedges, small flowering shrubs and more benches lining walkways that meandered around fountains and ponds. Fish bobbed to the surface and disappeared, tails lashing the water. Heavy clouds rolled overhead, casting the scene into shades of gray. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, no movement, no surreptitious flickers.

Where were the Fallen? Or the Servants? It set her on edge when they weren't met with the same kind of resistance they found at the castle. On the plane, she'd given the compass back to Rhett, so she couldn't feel exactly where the Seal was.

Khyamaeus had said it would be here in the courtyard, and she believed him. So far, she didn't see it, but that didn't mean it wasn't here.

The way Dragar, Dracht and Rhett all paused made her think they were reassessing the situation, too. For all intents and purposes, it looked like they could just stroll on in, claim the Seal and leave.

Nothing was ever that easy.

Without a word between them, as if on some silent cue, Dragar, Dracht and Rhett crept forward into the courtyard. They spread out evenly, three or four feet between them, creeping instead of running.

Rhett made a gesture with his hand that told Evelyn he wanted her and Alexandra to stay there.

Maybe he and his brothers and father were trying to draw the Servants and the Fallen out.

The three Templars stalked over cobbled walkways, through the trimmed hedges and around fountains toward the gold throne.

Thunder cracked ominously through the sky, a portent that more storms were about to unleash upon the land.

Somewhere up on the roof, Khyamaeus waited with his lethal bows and arrows to down the Fallen and Minna...well she didn't know where Minna had gone. Christian crowded close to her back, a reassuring presence and Alex stood with her spine flush against the archway directly in front of her.

Time ticked by in silence, split only by the growling sky. Evelyn thought she preferred open aggression and in-your-face threats rather than this. Never would she have guessed she'd wish for confrontation.

But this eerie vacancy, this guesswork over what plots and plans the Fallen had put her on edge as much as facing off against a vicious enemy. She didn't like that Rhett and the others had to try and draw fire first.

From outside the courtyard, to the right of her position, Minna screamed.

†

Minna wasn't, and never had been, a screamer. It sent a jolt through Evelyn that she saw manifest in Alex as a twitch. They exchanged startled glances.

In the courtyard, Dragar cut away from the others, vaulting several bushes in the direction it came from.

Suddenly, everyone was moving.

Rhett and Dracht rushed forward on their different paths toward the gold throne; Alex burst from the archway onto a sidewalk running along the inside of the buildings, black hair streaming behind her. Christian cut away, back through the main room of the temple toward the front doors, apparently intending to go back around the way Minna had to help her confront her enemy.

Evelyn dashed forward into the courtyard, the sword heavy in her palm, ready to give Rhett and Dracht backup.

What she didn't expect, was the rise of a serpentine, black shape out of the garden to her right. Startled, she swung the sword automatically, bracing her feet apart, refusing to give in to the abrupt, sick lurch of her stomach.

The black cobra, hood fanned out, veered back out of the way of her sword. It stood taller than she, its sleek, black body as thick as her calf.

It was huge.

Beady, black eyes and a flickering tongue added to its sinister qualities, and when it struck, it struck so fast that Evelyn didn't have time to react. While her arms were stretched to the left after the swing of the sword, the cobra attacked.

She had a glimpse of fangs like syringe needles and then she tumbled backward onto a hedge from the impact. The sword clanked out of her fingers onto the stone walk.

A slithery hiss echoed around her and only when she was flat on her back did she realize there wasn't just one cobra. Swaying reeds of black flashed up out of the courtyard, right up out of the ground it seemed, their hoods broad and their bodies poised to strike.

She expected to feel venom race like fire through her veins and begin its incapacitating ruination of her nervous system. A moment later she realized she didn't feel puncture wounds or the burning sensation of needle teeth in her skin.

And yet another moment beyond that, as the cobra slithered closer, it dawned on her that the armored shirt had saved her. The teeth hadn't sunk in; she'd gone flying back from the force of the hit, nothing more.

If the snake struck her legs in the spots her pants didn't have the same protection, all bets were off.

She rolled over and jumped to her feet, prepared to dash away from the looming snake, only to come eye to eye with another.

Its flickering tongue tickled her upper lip.

Instead of freezing, self preservation kicked in; her dagger lashed out sideways, straight through the air in front of her, palm gripping the hilt so hard her knuckles ached. It was her or the snake, life or death, succeed or fail.

The blade sliced through the heavy body even as the tongue flickered out again. Spinning on a foot, she struck out behind her, too, instinct warning her that the other cobra would take advantage of her distraction.

Knocked back a step by another strike that landed on her shoulder, she tripped over the snake she'd just killed and almost went down.

Rhett shouted, but she couldn't tell if it was for her or someone else.

Catching her balance, she staggered upright, taking another swing at the persistent cobra closing in. It swerved, hissed, and struck. A scream ripped from her throat when it seemed like the snake would get her right in the face; turning her head, she felt the snap against her collarbone, the fangs unable to penetrate the armor.

Close. Too close.

She slapped at the snake with her free hand, then cut the dagger the other way, battling to get it far enough back to kill.

Her blade sliced its head clean off.

Breathing hard, she stopped to take stock of the situation; Dracht fought three near the gold throne; Rhett had a coil of cobra bodies at his feet and took down yet another with his sword, face a mask of concentration, sweat flying off his brow.

Alex, Christian and Dragar were nowhere to be seen. Minna was still missing.

Just as she started to dart a look toward the rooftops, Khyamaeus and another Fallen landed with an earth shaking crash on the ground not ten steps away.

Snarling, cutting, swinging, fighting to the death.

†

Five feet. She had maybe five feet between her and the edge of the cliff. Minna, half crouched in a defensive posture, wasn't sure how much longer she could fend the snakes off. Eight were dead; nine more slithered, hissing, over and around each other in a half circle designed to keep her trapped with no where to run. The sword in her hand dripped with cobra blood and more of it spattered her cheek. Beyond the swaying heads of the snakes, she could see Dragar, Christian and Alex struggling through their own battles, sometimes taking a strike against their armor.

Alexandra shouted encouragement at her. Of course Alex would. Not just shouts but demands to beat the snakes back, that her and Dragar and Christian were right there. They were coming.

Minna refocused on the snakes in front of her. One struck from her left; she spun low, slicing with the sword. Like it knew she would do just that, it swerved out of the way while another clipped her thigh from the right.

It hit the armor—what a life saver it had been so far—only succeeding in putting her balance off for a moment or two. The snakes seemed wary of the reach of the sword, looming in and out when her attention skipped away. Always fast in reflex, she beat them back time and again, until there was no more room to parry and move.

Rain pattered down, a light spill from the heavens. Then it turned into a downpour. None of the cobras so much as flinched or took their attention off her. Nothing would deter them, nothing would stand in their way of taking her down.

One struck for her foot; the fangs didn't penetrate the leather of her boots. It was too thick and the fangs, larger than any she'd ever seen, not big enough to get through. Minna knew the arcane markings across the arch of the boot had something to do with it. She cut the sword the other direction, letting the footwear deflect the bite, sure that another snake meant to take advantage of a possible distraction.

She cut another one in half; at the same time, she felt a bang against her shoulder from another, the tiny scales on her armored shirt protecting her skin if not the force of the strike. Staggering to the left, instead of backward, she swung left, and right, quick flashes of the blade that drove the snakes away by three feet.

“Minna, Minna!” Alex shouted. She was engaged with three cobras of her own, battling with the same intensity as she was.

Minna caught a glance of Dragar at the same time he looked at her; never before had she felt icy dread like she felt right then. It threatened to slow her down, interrupt her concentration. There was just something in the look they exchanged. A knowing. An understanding. Apologies.

She'd duped him at the gas station, left him while his back had been turned.

There wasn't any defiance or accusation; it was deeper than that. A sensation of goodbye, a lifetime of laughter and sorrow and discovery all rolled into a meeting of eyes.

Minna had the odd sensation of her entire life flashing by in a heartbeat. Of all the triumphs and tragedies, the losses and the renewals, the endurance, acceptance and exploration that made up the centuries between birth—and death.

She had the oddest sensation that they all knew her time was near. It was why Alex sounded so frantic and desperate. It was why Christian cursed under his breath. And that gleam in Dragar's dark eyes that said he would see her again. Somewhere in that flicker-flash second of understanding, she realized she knew it, too.

Two cobras struck simultaneously; one got her arm, the other hit her side. She might not win this war, but she wouldn't go out without a fight.

It wasn't, and never had been, her way to give up.

Stumbling, she swung the sword she'd taken off the Servant in the bailey at the castle, hacking and slashing two more cobras. Fangs sank into the soft spot between her thigh and knee, where the armor didn't cover the material of the pants, delivering a burning dose of venom.

Minna went to a knee amidst a chorused shout of her name.

Fangs sank into the juncture of her shoulder and throat; another bite hit on her hip. She killed one more as heat unfurled through her veins. Her responses slowed down.

Evelyn's voice joined the urgent cries: Minna! Minna! No!

She caught a glimpse of her younger sister, face stunned, eyes wide, mouth a shocked 'o' at the scene. Minna met Evelyn's eyes and smiled. A don't worry for me, I'll see you again smile that faded as the world did around her.

It blackened from the edges of her vision, the red of the roof on the temple vibrant against the gray sky until it too dulled into the monochrome theme.

A snake struck.

And another. One hit, one miss.

Stabs and punctures, burning, burning, burning.

Sinking to a hip, the sword fell out of her fingers. She couldn't feel her feet, her legs, her lips.

Minna!

Her cheek hit the wet ground, arms limp at her sides, the rain bouncing off the dirt. Sounds vanished and silence took over. Images blurred, dimmer and dimmer, until there was only a pinprick in the center.

Then darkness.

Chapter Thirteen

Watching the death of a beloved sister was the hardest thing Evelyn ever endured. Into the rain and chaos, she saw Minna fall under the relentless strikes of the cobras.

They were everywhere, circling Alex and Dragar and Christian.

Rhett and Dracht had their own to deal with while Khyamaeus warred with his brethren, an unholy battle of swords and fists and other phenomenon she couldn't put a name to.

But it was this, right here, seeing the light go out of Minna's eyes that wreaked the most havoc. It injected ill timed fury; she ran forward with the sword arcing and slicing, cutting off cobra heads and separating bodies. Taking strikes that the armor deflected, she beat back the slithery, menacing snakes until the remaining lay dead at her feet.

Dropping the sword, she ran to Minna, turning her gently. Lashes open, her sightless eyes stared up at the sky, seeing another realm they both knew existed. She was up there with the rest of them now, looking down in her scrupulous, scrutinizing way, probably chastising her for wasting time with a corpse instead of looking over her shoulder for enemies.

Ever practical, that was her Minna.

A sob caught in her throat and she tipped her forehead against Minna's cooling, pale cheek, letting her tears mix with the rain.

The hell with the Seals and the apocalypse and the Cobras. This battle was too big for them all, too impossible to win.

They were all going to die for nothing.

Death exacerbated her pessimism and she refused to let go when Alex came over, hugging her around the shoulders, trying to pull her off.

“Ev! She's gone. We can't stay here.”

“Let go. Don't you even care, Alex? Don't you care that she's gone?” Uncontrolled, her anger lashed out at her only remaining sibling.

“Get up. You know I do. Of course I do.” Alex drug her up by both arms, clamping her hands on either shoulder to brace her.

Evelyn stood, staring at Alex through the rain. Behind them the Yangtze meandered through the steep, broad gorge, carrying the extra rainwater along its winding path. Dragar and Christian, slayer of beasts, victorious in their battles, hovered somewhere in periphery. Blurry figures in their celestial armor, grit and whiskers, swords hanging from their hands.

Dead snakes littered the ground, twisting and twined, heads laying here, tails over there. Beauty surrounded death in the shape of the hedges, grass, gardens and the temple itself, defying the ugliness of it, standing firm and relentless.

Wet, bedraggled, black hair laying in wet coils around her shoulders, Alex searched her eyes. Evelyn knew she needed to say something. Anything. Relieve Alex's mind, her concerns, let her know she was all right. Overwhelmed, tired, Evelyn didn't have the heart to argue with the only sister she had left.

Out of all of them, twenty-two sisters, now there was just she and Alex. She realized some of the droplets down Alex's cheeks weren't raindrops, but tears, and that broke through her stupor.

They hugged each other, Evelyn giving in to grief and Alex fighting it off. Alex's way wasn't to mourn in the midst of danger; she would grieve later, in private, where no one else would see.

Evelyn didn't care who saw, or who heard. She'd never been good at this part, the death and saying goodbye. Alex crooned for a moment and pet a hand down her drenched hair, then brought her back to reality in the way Alex knew best.

“We gotta go check on Rhett and Dracht, Ev. They could still be in danger.”

Rhett and Dracht. She'd almost forgotten there were other fights still raging somewhere. Gathering herself, she leaned back and let Alex go.

Dragar and Christian were already gone.

Alexandra bent down to remove the pouch at Minna's waist that held the Seals, and attached it to her own. “Let's go.”

Evelyn glanced at Minna once more before Alex took her and pulled her toward the temple.

Evelyn only hoped they didn't find more bodies inside.

†

Sweat ran into his eyes and he shook it away with a jerk of his head. Rhett stepped off the body of a cobra, the head flung far in another direction, sword bloody from the swath he'd cut through them. The gold throne stood directly behind him but he didn't reach for the Seal yet, too wary that they'd be set upon the moment he took his eyes off the scene.

Dracht, breathing hard, stared around the courtyard as if he expected more, or another round of creatures.

Khyamaeus stalked toward them, a single, blood soaked arrow clutched in his hand. He had wounds on his face and his hands and one of his legs bled from a spot between armor coverage. Beyond, the thick body of the Fallen he'd defeated lay half on and half off a cobbled walkway.

“Are there more?” Rhett asked bluntly.

“Fallen? No. We need to get the others and leave. Right now,” Khyamaeus said.

“Why? What's wrong?” Dracht cast another wary look around the courtyard.

“Because this is a trap. They knew we were coming. Let's get out of here.” Khyamaeus started to turn away but Rhett caught his elbow.

“How do you know it's a trap?”

Khyamaeus stopped and turned just his head, peering at Rhett with one gray eye. “There is only one Fallen here and they've left serpents to guard the Seal. Any second, they're going to strike in a bigger way. A final way to get us all at the same time. Now move!”

Rhett released him. He veered away to the gold throne, snatching the intact Seal off the smooth seat.

It looked whole and complete with no cracks or breaks.

Overhead, the sky growled with thunder.

He needed to find Evelyn, make sure she was all right. The last he'd seen, she darted into the temple for reasons unknown.

Tucking the stiff corners of the page around the Seal, Rhett fell into step behind Dracht, breaking into a run once they hit the walkway.

“Evelyn!” He shouted her name.

Before the echo of it could die out, he saw his father, Christian, Alex and Evelyn run into the courtyard from the same archway they'd run out of earlier. There was a grim look about his dad and his brother that instantly set him on edge, and when he saw the look on Evelyn's face, he knew it was bad.

Shit. Where was Minna?

All it took was a glance at Evelyn's eyes and the misery there to understand they'd lost one of the girls. He could read the expression of grief and mourning like an open book. Rhett cut through part of the foliage, loped over a hedge and made it to her side just as Khyamaeus started shouting.

An electric buzz, a brilliant flash of white and heat, obliterated sight, senses and hearing.

The lightning struck right in the middle of the courtyard, sizzling the very air, so charged with energy that it blew Rhett sideways into Evelyn. She stumbled over a trimmed bush and down onto a knee.

He nearly got stabbed with the sword she had in her hand, managing to twist aside at the last possible second. Another flash of lightning hit the temple roof, sending tile shattering in every direction. Shards rained down and he covered Evelyn with his body, taking the brunt of the explosion with his armor.

A quick check showed him Alex sustained an injury to her face by the way she cupped a hand over her cheek and staggered blindly—jesus, don't let it be her eye—in Dracht's wake. Dragar took cover behind a statue while Christian picked a sharp shard out of his hand.

The sensation in the air made Rhett's hair stand on end.

He knew the Fallen were capable of unique and deadly skills, but to corral lightning was beyond his comprehension. Although Ashrael had warned them, it took seeing to believe.

The blinding light only lasted a second each time, leaving his vision blotted with white spots and a tingling sensation on his skin. Gathering Evelyn up, he encouraged her to run toward the main archway into the temple.

Thunder cracked hard, seeming to shake the very ground, setting leaves and bushes to trembling. Evelyn jumped over a bench, the sword clanging against the side, regaining her footing to go forward when he caught her and righted her balance.

Dracht used the shield to protect him and Alex from another bolt that hit the temple, deflecting shrapnel that would have otherwise penetrated their skin.

Alex made some sort of agonized noise that Rhett never heard her make and sent up another prayer that she hadn't sustained a direct hit to her eye.

Rhett hustled Evelyn inside with the others, glancing up to see two holes in the roof. The floor had been damaged by the strikes, scorch marks stretching out in all directions. Thunder shook the walls, making smaller pieces of the roof tile fall in. Rhett arched his shield over Evelyn's head, herding her to the front doors after checking to make sure everyone else was with them.

Khyamaeus was already outside, running for the cover of the brush. He must not be immune to the lightning anymore than they were. A powerful burst hit the breezeway roof just as they crossed it, forcing him to push Evelyn to the ground. Half the awning collapsed, stressing the struts and bolts, the wood shrieking a warning.

“Go, go, go!” Dragar shouted behind him.

Christian shoved at his back, urging him on.

Rhett collected Evelyn off the ground and brought her forward with him, scrambling down the steps while another brace gave way. Christian used his shield over their heads when another bolt hit the building, spraying debris in a wide arc.

In periphery, he saw his father go down. “Christian!”

“I got it, you take her!” Christian veered away to go help Dragar, who lurched to his feet, took two limping steps, then straightened his stride out.

They ran en masse for the trees and shrubs, metal clanking, hell breaking loose in their wake. Rain made the ground slick and Rhett slipped twice. Evelyn stumbled three times. Passage through the trees was more treacherous going back than coming, and he resorted to having Evelyn run behind him so he could slash some of the branches out of the way with the sword.

Ahead through the leaves, he saw Khyamaeus heading for open ground and the road.

Evelyn started shouting about Minna, that they had to go back for Minna, couldn't leave her there at the edge of the cliff. Rhett understood it must be hard, knew it sucked to have to abandon the corpse and run, but he wasn't going back. Not with the thunder and lightning, not with the temple about to collapse in on itself.

Just as he started shouting behind him, negating her demands, a titanic flash blazed down. It hit the earth like a bomb, throwing them all to the ground. Rhett cracked his chin on the top of the shield; blood spurted out from the wound, spraying the Templar cross and his sword.

Rhett had no time to consider his own injury, which was nothing more than a gash. The shaking ground ripped open behind them, rending with an ear splitting roar. He reached behind him as the earth trembled, snagging Evelyn with an ungentle grip.

Trees leaned, beams cracked, and the sacred temple tilted as a chunk of land half the size of a football field gave way.

“Run!” Rhett shoved Evelyn in front of him, demanding she go.

And she did.

He sprinted behind her, glancing back only once to make sure the others were coming. Their faces reflected the grim knowledge that they might all be sucked into the slide along with the temple. Running for their lives, they tore along the little secret path until they broke open onto flat land.

A hundred feet to the plane.

Roman had moved the jet as close as he could and had taxied around the opposite direction for take off. Rhett could see him waving, eyes wide at whatever was happening behind them, urging them all on. He disappeared inside when Khyamaeus hit the stairs, vaulting up all at once.

Huge chunks of earth tumbled into the gorge along with the temple; the structure came apart like a toy, bits of shattered roof flying everywhere, the walls caving in or blowing outward.

He saw the maw widening, swallowing more grass, more trees, a hungry beast of a hole heading their way. Evelyn scrambled up the stairs, a keening noise spilling from her lips.

Rhett took the steps in one long running stride, throwing his shield and sword to the side. Grabbing hers, he tossed it down near the couch and brought her with him into the seats. Wet and shaking, he tried to soothe her while the others scrambled in much the same way.

Roman started taxiing even before Khyamaeus yanked the stairs up once Dragar was in. The closing cut some of the noise off. They picked up speed so fast it knocked Khyamaeus off balance. Catching himself against the bathroom door, he swayed to a seat and dropped down.

Out the windows, Rhett watched more than half the cliff crumble into the river, dust and mud sliding or billowing into the air.

The temple, and Minna, were gone.

†

“Let me see it,” Dracht said, again. He knelt in front of her seat, one hand reaching for a large splinter that lodged itself between her cheek and her lower eyelid.

“No.” Alex said, batting his hand away. She could feel the sharp point gouging too close to her eye every time she looked to the side or down.

Five inches long, it was thicker at one end than the other, sitting at a slant. It was awkward and she didn't want anyone to touch it just yet.

“We can't leave it in, Alex. It has to come out.”

“Not right now. Let my body start to heal a little and maybe it'll push it free,” she argued. It wasn't the pain so much as the worry the shard might shift and scrape her eye on the way out. That was the kind of discomfort she would avoid if she could.

“Why won't you let Khyamaeus take a look? He fixed the rest of us earlier.” Dracht searched her eyes. “It's gotta come out either way.”

“In a little while.” Resisting stubbornly, she guided his hand away again when he reached.

Alex could hear Evelyn over there with Rhett, telling him what happened to Minna between gasps and tears. She steeled herself, focusing on Dracht's face. He wore a layer of grime on his skin, scrapes and bruises on his cheek. She had the unusual urge to reach out and cup his whiskers where they'd filled in along his jaw from the goatee. Instead, she let go of his wrist, laced her fingers, and rested her hands in her lap.

“You're not afraid, are you? I wouldn't have thought so before now,” he said.

“I don't want it to hit my eye.”

“I won't let it,” he promised.

“Let's just wait.”

“We have two more Seals to get, Alex. You need it out so you can get some rest.”

“Why are you being so pushy?”

“Why are you avoiding talking about Minna?”

The question hit her right in the gut. She felt her chin quiver and looked away from his dark eyes. Damn him. She'd avoided the subject of Minna and meant to keep doing so.

“Alex, it's all right. We're all upset. It's not just you and Evelyn.”

It wasn't okay, not by a longshot. None of it was. Alex rarely ever leaned on anyone in an emotional crisis. She was always the lone wolf when it came to pain, pushing it down and away until she was in private. And here Dracht was, needling her to let some of it out.

She wouldn't, though, because she never did. Leaning on people wasn't her style. Blinking away a sting at the back of her eyes, she regarded the depressing, gray gloom out the small oval window next to her seat.

Dracht crouched there, unmoving.

Suddenly she got up, stepping past him for the bathroom. Dragar sat alone in a seat separate from everyone else, blank faced, dark eyes staring hard out the window. Christian didn't look up when she passed, studying the hilt of his sword instead.

Khyamaeus eyed her knowingly. Too knowingly.

Stepping into the narrow but well appointed bathroom, she closed the door behind her. Flicking the overhead light on, she braced her hands against the edge of the sink and leaned there, ignoring the spearing, sharp pain in her face. If she could just get past this initial point, compartmentalize the grief, she'd be able to get through the rest of the mission and do what needed done.

Minna had been the quiet one of them all, the quietest of the daughters of Eve. Serious, sober, attentive, she'd been like a second mother after they left Eden. The compassion she showed everyone else never lacked for warmth or sincerity, even strangers on the street.

Especially children, whom she spent time with whether they were her own or someone else's. Charities, orphanages, family centers. Minna had put in endless, tireless hours to help those in need.

The door opened behind her. Alex straightened up, dropping her hands from the sink to turn around and see which of them had the audacity to barge in without knocking.

Of course it was Dracht. Dracht, with his fathomless dark eyes and persistence to rival her own.

He closed the door.

His size, along with the armor, left little room to maneuver.

“Don't you knock?” she blurted, trying to sound mad.

Dracht said nothing. He touched her shoulder, pulled her to him, and cupped the back of her head with his palm. The cheek without the splinter rested against the warm skin of his throat, and all it took was the blip-blip of his pulse to break down her walls.

Minna was gone. Galiana was gone. Genevieve was gone. So many others. Too many others. These were fresh wounds though and Alex poured her grief into his capable hands, refusing to think how weak it might make her look.

He soothed her with a stroke of his strong hand over her back, holding her head with the other. Soft shhhh noises filled the bathroom.

“It'll be okay,” he murmured.

Alex had cried alone in the shower for Galiana and in the dark in bed for Genevieve. She couldn't remember the last time she'd shared it with someone else, allowed another to bear the burden of her emotions. With him she found it effortless. Dracht didn't require anything of her except to just let go.

For five minutes she sobbed quietly, letting the torrent run its course. She wouldn't become a useless blob of misery because it served no ones purpose. Especially her own.

When her hitching became less, when she had more control over her breathing, she realized she'd wrapped her arms around him even with his armor on.

A sudden yank shot pain through her cheek down into her jaw and up into her eye when he pulled the splinter out.

Alex jerked away, shocked, blood oozing out of the wound. “...is that was all this was for? You came in here to soften me up so you could--”

“No,” he said, cutting her off. “I came in here because I wanted to. And when I saw the opportunity to take this, I did.”

Dracht held up the splinter between his fingers. The entire bottom third was covered in her blood. But her eye was still in the socket and she hadn't endured a scratch across the pane. The resolute look on his face broke her anger in half.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Will your body begin healing it now?” he asked, setting the splinter aside.

“Yeah. When I sleep, it knits the fastest—and I know what you're going to say next.”

“Do you? I bet you don't,” he countered, crossing his arms over his chest after he released her.

Alex stared up at him, pressing the back of her hand against the hole in her cheek. Trying to help staunch the flow.

“You're gonna tell me to go sit down and get some rest. Maybe eat, get a drink.”

He shook his head.

“No?” Alex arched her brows. He wasn't moving, didn't leave the bathroom. Why was he still there?

Silence descended. Only the hum of the engines resonated in the small space. Alex became aware of that thing between them. That unnamed white elephant neither of them acknowledged.

Uncrossing his arms, he cupped her face. The skin of his palms were rough and calloused but not uncomfortably so. Stroking the pad of a thumb over her uninjured cheek, he seemed to be waiting for confirmation or permission or acceptance.

Maybe he wasn't waiting for any of those and just wanted to prolong the moment, let her guess his intentions. With Dracht, she'd discovered, sometimes you could never tell.

Bending his head, he lowered his mouth to hers with his eyes still open. The initial touch was brief and warm; he backed off an inch, maybe to see if she'd punch him in the jaw.

Alex discovered she didn't want to punch him or have him back off. The tilt she put her mouth at invited him in, and this time he seared away any questions or doubts, taking possession thoroughly and wholly.

It became a thing of fire and passion, exploding as hot and electric as the lightning at the temple. A precious life had ended, but there were still lives to be led and futures to be scraped out of the ashes. One kiss didn't promise forever; she didn't need promises, she just needed him. It hit her like a hammerblow, a revelation that had been lurking around her subconscious for who knew how long, waiting to be unleashed.

He chased her tongue with his, demanding, giving, taking. Alex returned stroke for stroke, ignoring the seeping injury, heedless of who else might walk in the door. When he made it deeper, she let him.

A sharp knock outside interrupted a change of angles, a new point of entry. Alex drew her head back and met Dracht's gaze. He made promises anyway, letting her know he wasn't finished with her, that they weren't done. It was only on hold.

Even if it took him until the end of the mission or just the end, period, he let her know he wasn't going away.

“What is it?” he rasped.

“Rhett wants everyone up front,” Christian announced.

“Be right there,” Dracht replied without opening the door.

He dipped his head in to kiss her again. Taking one of the clean cloths out of the holder above the sink, he wet it and pushed it into her hand.

“Apply pressure. Let's go.”

“Not until you kiss me again,” she demanded, refusing to move.

Dracht rumbled a laugh, leaned in, and kissed her again.

It was real and not a figment of her imagination or a dream.

She exited when he opened the door, tonguing the taste of him off her lip.

†

Evelyn spent all her grief until there wasn't another tear to shed, until there wasn't another sob to catch in her throat. Rhett provided the shoulder she needed and she didn't regret letting him bear the burden when it was over. He'd pulled her into his lap at some point and held her there now, arms wrapped loosely, head tilted back against the seat.

Every few minutes, her eyes strayed to the seat Minna had sat in on the flight over. It felt wrong to be leaving without her. Whenever Evelyn lost one of her sisters, it left a gaping hole in her soul. She knew she'd been luckier than most siblings, getting to live as long as they had, sharing all that time together. It didn't make the passing any easier to bear.

Now it was just she and Alex. The thought staggered Evelyn as much as losing Minna. She could hardly believe their numbers had been whittled down this far. Through one means or another, from natural death to murder, the daughters of Eve were fading.

Khyamaeus claimed the seat across from Rhett after a while, sitting forward with his hands clasped between his knees. Evelyn didn't understand the intense look the Fallen shared with Rhett, like some secret message passed between them.

“We need to gather everyone and discuss the next mission,” Khyamaeus said.

“Christian, can you round them up?” Rhett asked his brother.

Christian nodded from one seat back, got up, and went to fetch Dracht and Alex, who had gone to the bathroom some minutes before.

When everyone was gathered close, Khyamaeus continued. “We need to see what Seals you've collected so far.”

Alexandra, standing next to Dracht, took the Seals out from the pouch she'd taken off Minna at the temple. Unfolding the leathery paper around each, she went through and announced what they had.

“Famine, Pestilence and the Final Judgment. They broke the Sixth, so we have four. Three left to go.” Lowering the pages, Alex, along with everyone else, looked at Khyamaeus.

“They'll be breaking another any time. I'm surprised they haven't already. We're going to California next, up in the north where the Redwoods are. There's an old ritual site in the woods that will take us a couple hours to hike to.”

“Can we expect more of the same of what we saw here?” Christian asked.

“Or worse. They have to be aware something is going on since none of the other Seals have been broken,” Khyamaeus said.

“Why did they all vacate the Temple except one?” Evelyn asked.

“Because they wanted us to feel more comfortable congregating there in the courtyard so they could blow us sky high in one shot in case the cobras didn't do their jobs.” Khyamaeus sat back and rested his hands on his thighs. “The others probably left to prepare for war, thinking this would be an easy kill. They don't realize one of their own has turned.”

Evelyn looked down and away. Rhett squeezed her arm in silent comfort.

“What other kind of havoc can they wreak? I wasn't expecting the lightning, even though we were warned,” Rhett admitted.

“They can manipulate weather and the earth fairly well, but with the Sixth seal broke, that's taking care of some of it for them. The Fallen can use wind, water, rock and storms. We're faster, stronger and have more abilities than any human. Some Fallen can do more than others. It depends on age and experience. How well you wield your skill is in relation to how much you practice. Like any marksman or fighter,” Khyamaeus said.

“I suppose if they knew we had the other Seals already, they might make it even harder on us,” Dracht interrupted.

“They might. What's working to our advantage is that they fully believe they are going to get their war with the Guardians. That is their supreme goal. Humans and the state of the earth barely register on their radar right now. I'd say we're lucky so far with what we've faced,” Khyamaeus said.

Rhett grunted. “Let's hope they stay distracted.”

Chapter Fourteen

“We need to land in Hawaii to refuel,” Roman said over the intercom. “Arrival in approximately twenty minutes.”

Evelyn heard the announcement in the bathroom. Like everyone else over the last few hours, she'd taken care of personal business, eaten a little and slept. Her dreams were fraught with nightmares; creatures with glowing eyes, cobras sliding up out of the ground, earthquakes that cracked state sized chunks off the map. The rim of her eyelids burned as if she'd been awake for days instead of just rousing from rest, and she cupped another palm of water to splash on her face. Using her hands, she pulled her disheveled hair back and secured it into a fresh ponytail. It needed a decent washing and blow dry, but it would get her through for now.

Dabbing her hands on a towel, she left the small bathroom and made her way back to her seat. There was a somber atmosphere on this trip that had been lacking before due to Minna's death. Evelyn couldn't see her way clear to talk or laugh or joke with the others, and they seemed of a similar mind. Preoccupied silence filled the cabin rather than conversation. Those who didn't sleep stared out the oval windows or at the back of the seat in front of them. Thoughtful, introspective.

There wasn't much to say other than what they'd already said, though Evelyn expected Khyamaeus to round them up closer to the landing time in California to discuss strategy. He seemed to know what locations the Seals were at and how best to approach. It negated the need for the compass, which she'd passed back to Rhett after the castle.

Though if Khyamaeus fell—and he certainly might—they would need to rely on it again. Back up never hurt.

Sinking down into her seat, she stretched her legs and glanced at Rhett. Head tipped back, his eyes were closed though she knew he wasn't sleeping. He'd been as preoccupied as anyone else, more so, and she wouldn't disturb him while he was resting.

Over the intercom, Roman issued a warning.

“Buckle up. We're going to have a rough landing.”

Evelyn immediately glanced out the small window again, wondering what was happening in Hawaii that would warrant a hard touch down. At first, all she saw was the black ocean below. As the jet came around, it gave her a better view of the erupting volcano and the lava carving red fingers through the land and into the sea.

Rhett crowded close, peering out after being jolted out of his restful phase by the announcement. Everyone was at a window, staring down at the violent scene spreading out before them.

“I'll be right back. Gonna go see what Roman plans to do.” Rhett left his seat and approached the cockpit.

“All right.” Evelyn didn't look away from the window. It was still dark enough that the glow from the volcano looked especially fierce, red on black, snaking through cities and homes, a path of death from which there was little escape.

Not far enough removed from the recent loss of her sister, it hurt to know that thousands of people were dying down there, unable to get out of the way fast enough. She didn't need to see people fleeing to know there was mass chaos. Evelyn couldn't tell if it was the big island or one of the smaller ones.

She hoped they didn't have to land somewhere amidst all that.

“Roman doesn't have maps for the other islands,” Rhett said when he returned. Instead of sitting, he stood between the seats, passing out the information to everyone.

“Don't you think it would be better to try and find a place to refuel other than there?” Christian asked, tipping his head toward the window, indicating the volcano below.

“We'll just waste more fuel trying and he says we're too low to make too many extra trips.”

“What if the airport or the private ones are all buried under lava?” Alex asked.

“Then we're in trouble. He's trying to find an angle to land. With the ash and the electricity half out, he's having difficulty lining it up.” Rhett braced his hands on two of the seats.

Evelyn shifted in her chair, looking away from the destruction. “It's going to become increasingly hard to find fuel at all.”

“Let's hope some of the latter locations aren't as far apart.” Rhett let go of the seats and sat down in his own when the jet tilted and started to descend.

“We'll have to get our hands on another plane somewhere that has fuel in it if they're out here or on the other islands,” Dragar said.

The Templar's unflagging determination impressed Evelyn. When one plan didn't work, they switched to another. They must be constantly thinking ahead to impossible scenarios and what-ifs.

It also wasn't difficult for her to see that the loss of Minna hit them all hard, on different levels. Dragar, the head of the Order, seemed especially solemn behind his take-charge demeanor.

She couldn't blame them for the loss of her sister; no one could have predicted Minna would separate and try to come in another way, or that the snakes would be waiting. All everyone could do was look forward from here and try to prevent any more death.

†

A red haze colored the window next to her seat the closer the plane came to touchdown. Lava boiled over the dark landscape less than a hundred feet away, swallowing brush and trees like a hungry, lapping tongue. The jet made contact with the tarmac and Evelyn pressed back in her seat, half afraid Roman was going to steer them right into the flow. She swore she felt the temperature inside the cabin rise; sweat broke out on her brow and along her arms under the light weight of the armored shirt.

The sharp application of the brakes tilted her forward right after, and she held onto the arm rests as the plane taxied away from the molten, fiery path, veering across a different strip of asphalt. No other aircraft were landing or departing, so she didn't fear a collision with Roman taking short cuts toward the terminal she knew must be up ahead.

When the first building came into view it was just a shadowy square in the night, still in one piece and thankfully not on fire. Yet.

Then it dawned on her that refueling the plane was a lot more dangerous than she first thought; once the lava reached the airstrip, it was likely to blow any gasoline storage sky high.

Roman brought the plane to a halt.

“Stay here with Alex,” Rhett said, before launching out of his seat.

“But I--”

“Stay here.” Rhett stopped once to meet her eyes.

Evelyn sank back into the cushion, acquiescing.

Dragar, Christian and Dracht followed Roman out of the plane. They took off across the tarmac, splitting off into two groups.

“What are they doing?” Alex asked. She switched seats, taking Rhett's now that he was gone.

“Getting the fuel and—well I don't know what the others are doing. Helping, I guess.” Evelyn craned a look out the little window and was frustrated to see that her vantage only encompassed a small section of the building and a hangar.

“We could see more from the door.” Alex didn't wait; she got up out of the seat and stalked forward toward the door and the stairs.

“Wait! Alex. Rhett doesn't want us going out there.” Evelyn vacated her seat and followed her sister. “How's your face? I see Dracht got the piece of wood out.”

Alex gave her a wry glance. “He yanked it out in the bathroom, the sneaky brute.”

“Because he knew you were going to keep stalling. It looks better already.” Evelyn had known better than to try and offer to take the offending splinter out of her sister's face. Alex always had to do that kind of thing on her own time, on her own merit. It had to be when she was ready and not a second before.

Not that Evelyn could blame her this time. That had been an ugly wound.

Coils of intense heat hit her skin when she sidled up next to Alex at the door. Stairs descended to the asphalt. The men were no where in sight.

A hissing, rumbling noise filled the air in the distance, screams peppered between. Evelyn tried to shut the sounds out. Nearer the bigger cities, the situation would be a lot worse. Out here where the private airstrips were located, there were fewer houses and buildings nearby, reducing the mayhem they were exposed to.

Just now, Evelyn was relieved. She didn't think she could take hearing the mourning wails, the pitiful cries and screams of the dying.

“They better hurry up.” Alex, looking off to the right, grew tense.

Evelyn, jerked out of her reverie, followed her glance. Lava ran parallel to the airstrip, coming at an angle that suggested it flowed from a hill or high point. She judged it to be roughly fifty yards from the buildings and hangars.

From the other side of the jet, she heard metallic clangs and Roman shouting instructions.

“They found the fuel pump at least. I don't know if they'll be able to fill up though before that reaches us.” Evelyn glanced at the lava, trying to judge how fast it was moving. Several inches every second, at least.

“We need enough to get us to the mainland.” Alex trotted down the steps to the ground and bent to glance under the belly of the plane. “Yeah, he's got the fuel going. Where are the rest of them? I only see Christian or someone with Roman.”

“Maybe to check the hangars for more planes?” Evelyn suggested. Warily, she kept half an eye on the lava. Tiny flecks of ash rained down from the sky, swirling like heavy, less pristine snowflakes.

An explosion rocked the island, nearly knocking Evelyn off the top step. She stumbled, grasping onto the edge of the door frame to steady her balance.

“What was that?” she called down to Alex, who was just rising from a crouch.

“The volcano again? Another one? I don't know,” she said.

Roman started shouting something about locks and pins and latches.

From the building, Dracht and Rhett burst out the door, arms filled with items Evelyn couldn't make out. They ran through the ash, swords banging against their thighs.

“Alex, Evelyn, inside!” Rhett shouted.

Ash fell in heavier waves, coating the tarmac and the men. Alex had a layer of it in her hair that she brushed out with her fingers on her way up the steps. Evelyn retreated back to her seat but didn't sit down; the small window gave her a clear view of the lava—which looked thicker, hotter, and was only twenty or so yards from the closest building and the asphalt the plane sat on.

“Tell Roman we need to start taxiing for the runway!” Evelyn had her doubts even now that the lava wouldn't catch up to them and burn the rubber right off the tires.

Alex got out of the way as Dracht and Rhett entered, dumping bottles of water and packages of vending machine food onto a seat.

“They're closing it up right now,” Rhett said. Sweat poured off his brow. Dracht's, too.

Dragar vaulted up the stairs and inside, shaking the last of the ash off his head. “The only plane left in the hangars that we can even attempt to fly is a small Cessna. There won't be room for all of us to fit.”

The lava reached the building, buckling the corner. It lapped over the edge of the tarmac, smoking, creeping ever closer. They had maybe three minutes to get the plane out of the way.

“Where is Roma--”

“I'm here. Pull up the stairs.” Roman lurched into the cabin with Christian right on his heels. He veered straight into the cockpit, plopping into the seat.

Christian pulled up the stairs with Dracht's help and they latched the levers to lock it in place.

Rhett snagged two bottles of water and urged Evelyn to sit. He handed her a bottle. “Here. He'll get us out in time, don't worry.”

The engines fired up. Evelyn took the bottle and sank into her seat. “It's right there, almost on us.”

“He'll get us out,” Rhett insisted quietly.

The jet rolled forward, picking up speed. They hit a bumpy patch; water jostled out of the bottle and sprinkled down the front of her armored shirt.

“Hang on,” Roman said over the intercom.

Dragar, standing in the open cockpit door, swore under his breath and stalked back to a seat just as the jet swerved onto the runway. Roman didn't wait; the plane eased into a sprint and then into a gallop, the velocity pressing everyone's back into the cushions.

Out her little window, Evelyn watched the lava eat the buildings, the runway and keep going toward a stand of houses where a few lights still flickered in the windows. The angle Roman took, one wing tilted, allowed her to really see the utter devastation the volcano wreaked on the island. Thousands, millions would be affected.

They climbed into the clouds, leaving the fiery ruin of Hawaii behind.

Chapter Fifteen

California was burning. Night broke, leaving the day cast in its usual cloak of gloom. And fire. It charred thousands of acres inland beyond the coast, billowing black smoke for miles. Businesses, huge housing tracts, schools, whole cities. There weren't enough people to fight it—or not enough people in the right frame of mind to fight it—and it burned out of control.

The cloud cover spawned no rain to help the Californians deal with the disaster that could have started from a powerline, a forgotten cigarette or a stove accidentally left on.

Maybe even lightning during the storms.

From their height, Evelyn could see people everywhere. Driving, fighting, running, packing. There were broad miles of land that weren't burning yet that the citizens were trying to get away from, fleeing in any direction that might send them right into a clog of traffic escaping some other fire or into the fire itself. The streets looked to be littered with debris of all kinds; clothes, belongings, looting rampages, boxes, carts, abandoned cars, dead bugs from the pestilence. Papers, trash, a broken hydrant.

They were too far north to see Los Angeles, but even the smaller, coastal towns of northern California had devolved into complete mayhem. What they needed up here was one of the big storms to let loose a downpour. Put out the fires that raged as far as the eye could see.

Roman turned them up the coast, giving her an ever expansive view of the terrain. Ahead somewhere were the majestic Redwoods. Evelyn hoped they too weren't engulfed in flames.

All they needed was one more obstacle to overcome.

†

Smoke choked the air, rolling in from a fire line that hadn't quite reached the Redwoods. Ten miles or less separated the raging inferno from the desolate road Roman set down on. He got them as close as he could to the destination Khyamaeus had given them, a place not found on any map.

He assured them it was there.

Evelyn glanced at the sky, sword in hand, dagger in its sheath at her waist. The smoke loitered above the treetops, skimming past on a breeze that even now carried the fire closer.

Bone weary, she settled into a jog behind the others with Christian bringing up the rear. The roads were all empty, no houses or businesses in sight.

Khyamaeus informed them this was a private thousand or so acres accessible only to a select few at certain times of the year. They wouldn't see anyone coming or going—unless it was the Fallen or their Servants.

The Redwoods were sparse here, the enormous trunks as broad as a small car, others as thick as several trees put together. They towered over the landscape, almost surreal in their primal beauty. An ancient feel clung to the land here, as if it had been untouched by man for centuries. Some parts probably had. Small boulders jutted up from the earth next to sprigs of foliage and other flora indigenous to the area. Between the trunks there was plenty of room to maneuver and run, and run they did.

Just as a stitch started to crimp her side, Khyamaeus came to a stop ahead. He held his hand up to indicate a halt and silence.

Almost on cue, each of the Templars paused. Evelyn stopped next to Alexandra, gripping the hilt of the sword tighter, scanning the woods for signs of the enemy. For anything that moved. She heard the sounds that Khyamaeus heard before any of them; twigs snapping, leaves rustling, needles being tromped over.

Something was running—correction, somethings were running—right for them. The Templars immediately made a circle around the girls, one Knight at each point on a compass, swords, shields at the ready. Evelyn stood in the middle with Alex, peering into the pewter day, wondering what hell the Fallen would unleash this time around and whether they would survive it.

Khyamaeus cocked his head, walking a perimeter in front of the group to the right where the noise originated from. He had his bow out and an arrow notched, the tip pointed down at a slight angle.

More pounding, running, crashing noises joined the first. Whatever it was, there were many.

Tension made Evelyn's shoulders ache. By now, she'd forgotten to rely on the mantra she'd started out with what felt like an age ago. The pep talk over confrontation. She realized her knees weren't shaking and that her breath wasn't out of control yet.

Some time between one of the fights and now, she'd come to terms with the idea of facing off with an adversary and it didn't lock her up. It was a small epiphany that she didn't have the time or the energy to celebrate. The ability had come at an extraordinary cost.

From between the trees, hundreds of deer, foxes, coyotes and other animals emerged. They burst onto the scene in frantic leaps and bounds, eyes crazed, hooves flashing over the ground. A badger scrambled past, hardly paying them any attention.

The deer tried to lurch out of their way, swerving or jumping. Rabbits scurried like their tails were on fire, flitting past so fast she couldn't see them all. It was an exodus of mass proportions, fanning out through the trees around them until the initial wave passed and only a stray animal or two tore by in their wake.

“Half expected them to turn on us while they went by,” Christian muttered, straightening out of his crouched posture.

“I did too, actually. Berserker deer.” Rhett grunted but didn't put his sword away.

Khyamaeus lowered his bow and began walking them onward again once they knew the threat wasn't the kind of threat they needed to fear.

Evelyn lowered her sword and fell into step next to Alexandra. They glanced at each other and she knew what her sister was thinking.

They were both expecting the worst.

Less than a quarter mile of a hike later, the Redwoods grew dense, the tree trunks growing within two or three feet of each other. Overhead the branches intertwined to make a thick canopy of leaves, nearly blotting out the brooding sky. They had to pick their way more carefully here, moving between trees and around big rocks colored red and gray.

Khyamaeus brought them to another halt at the edge of a pond. It stretched a hundred feet across, perhaps two hundred feet long. On the other side, a clearing opened up from the water to a stand of immense Redwoods almost side by side. The bases were so thick a medium sized car could be driven through.

What got Evelyn's attention were the carved, wooden chairs and totem poles carved with faces standing two stories high just in front of the biggest trees. It looked like a meeting place of the Gods, ethereal and tranquil, all except the altar with a slab across the surface that made her think of sacrifices.

Sitting atop the altar was the Seal. She could see it from there, a faint speck of ivory and clay.

Like at the temple, there was no immediate sign of the Fallen or the Servants. Sporadically, deer and other forest animals darted through the scene, bounding away from the encroaching smoke and flames. Evelyn could smell it thicker now but couldn't hear the sizzle and hiss of fire.

Alert like the others, she chose to stay with Rhett when the Templars broke off into two groups.

Dragar, Christian and Khyamaeus went to the left, she, Rhett, Alex and Dracht went to the right. They edged around the pond, taking it slow.

Rhett, ahead of her by three feet, panned his head left and right, seeking, searching. There was a predatory hunch to his shoulders and knees, a prowling advance that painted him deadly against the backdrop of eerie totems and too-tall trees. Evelyn walked almost in his footsteps, knowing he was always aware of her presence.

Dracht, like his brother, approached the other side of the pond with increasing wariness. The men were edgy, hyper-alert, eyes darting here and there. Everywhere. Evelyn caught their expressions in glimpses when she wasn't looking for the danger herself.

Any second, things were going to burst from the woods, snarling, howling, vicious things with claws and long teeth.

Thirty feet from the altar.

Twenty.

On the other side of the pond, they came together as a group again. Nothing attacked them from the trees, nothing slithered up out of the ground.

The closer they got, the more nervous Evelyn became. Seeing Khyamaeus in his own high state of caution didn't help her feel any better.

There was a different grace to the way the Fallen walked and hunted. Smooth in a way the humans never could be, so fluid that she half expected she wouldn't see him strike out against an enemy until the enemy was already dead. It was more than confidence that bled off Khyamaeus; it was ageless experience, tried and true battle skill that he'd only honed over the years instead of let get rusty. All of the Fallen had this kind of presence about them and she was never unaware he was different than the rest of them were. It took some time to get used to. Evelyn and Alex had a leg up in this area over the Templars because of their longstanding experience with Ashrael.

Fifteen feet from the altar, Khyamaeus brought them to a stop. His bow raised, he scanned the trees lining the area; the Templars did the same. Behind her, Evelyn heard Alex exhale a slow breath.

Everyone was feeling the strain.

“Evelyn, go get the Seal,” Khyamaeus said.

“No,” Rhett interrupted. “I'll do it.”

Evelyn glanced between Rhett and Khyamaeus. The Fallen didn't stop purveying the clearing, turning a full circle with his bow and arrow half raised.

“We need your eyes, Rhett. She won't be as quick to see any motion in the trees and not as quick to react. Evelyn.”

“...I said, I'll do it.” Rhett didn't seem to be swayed by Khyamaeus' reasoning.

Khyamaeus shot Rhett a dark look. Rhett paid it no attention.

“This is ridiculous.” Evelyn took matters into her own hands. The Seal was right there. It wouldn't take her but a second to grab it and get back to the protective circle. She broke into a jog for the altar, hearing Rhett hiss a sound of discontent.

A sinister sensation hit her just before she reached the slab of stone. Like she'd trespassed into sacred, wicked territory that was never meant for humans to see. Old death lurked here, clinging to the altar and the ground directly around it. Each footstep cracked over dried needles, raspy leaves and something harder, different than the earth. Some kind of engraved cement that she could feel under the soles of her shoes, half buried by forest debris.

Part of the altar, perhaps.

She didn't glance down to see if she could make any of the engravings out. It didn't matter. All that mattered was grabbing the Seal and getting out of there.

Maybe they were going to have their first stroke of good luck after all. In an optimistic upswing, she stepped up to the altar, fighting through a nauseous fit, and reached for the paper and the Seal.

The Seal, with depictions of battling warriors on the front, was broken in half.

†

Ignoring the pinching, stinging wound on her face, Alexandra held her sword between both hands, gaze swinging back and forth from one huge tree to another. She didn't like this whole set up and she knew she wasn't alone. Any time the enemy hid out, or disappeared, it always meant bad things.

She wasn't fool enough to believe that they just set the Seal down and walked away, no matter how remote and strange a location this was.

Long ago, she remembered hearing about these kinds of places, where groups and cults gathered for their yearly rituals. They celebrated earth, death, life; the entire human cycle. Not always in the most honest, upstanding ways, either. The unease in her stomach told her that this was one of the locations where sacrifices took place, where innocents were brought to slaughter for the gratification of others. It had obviously been here for decades, the natural, unusual size of the Redwoods providing a ripe, mystical atmosphere to enhance the gatherings.

She wouldn't be sorry to leave.

Christian stood six feet to her right and three steps in front. The rest of the Templars were between her and the altar with Dracht on her left, covering their flank from that side. With the same impatience Evelyn showed, Alex almost broke from the group to go get the damn Seal herself. She understood Rhett's hesitation and caution and had no compunction going in Evelyn's stead. Just as she would have done so, Evelyn approached the altar.

Alex paid special attention to the forest flanking each side, expecting an attack, if there was going to by any, to come from there. She sensed the heightened tension in Rhett and Dracht both.

Hearing a gasp from Evelyn, Alex at first didn't understand what happened. Rhett didn't seem to be waiting to find out from her lips, either; he dropped his shield, burst into a run, and snatched her away from the altar in one smooth motion.

She wasn't sure what made him react like that unless he thought touching the Seal was going to trigger some kind of reaction or attack.

Before she could call out, an arm snaked around her throat, around her hips, and yanked her backwards. The sword clanked to the ground at the same time she hit the water. Shock and the quickness of the attack didn't leave her a chance to get a good breath of air.

Pulled under, Alexandra saw the dark gray sky and the tops of the towering trees ripple across the surface and fade.

Her chest burned. Wrenching and twisting, she clawed at the arms that pinned her. Bubbles of precious air escaped her lips.

She needed to breathe.

No matter how many centuries she'd already lived, Alexandra wasn't ready to die.

The attacker clamped his arm tighter around her throat and she gasped, flailing when her lungs filled with water.

The tiny pinpoint of light that was her beacon to the outside world winked out.

Chapter Sixteen

Like scenes from a nightmare, Evelyn caught glimpses of Alexandra being pulled underwater while Rhett spun her away from the altar. A scream, her own, split the day in half.

“Alexandra!” To lose her last sibling was unthinkable. Evelyn struggled against Rhett, prepared to dive in after them and fight to the death to save her.

“No, no. Dracht's got her,” Rhett said near her ear, clamping his arms around her middle. His sword stayed clear but he didn't let it go.

“Alex!” Evelyn fought for freedom anyway. Her struggles were met with a steely tightening of arms.

Dracht, sans shield and sword, dove in mere seconds after Alex disappeared. He vanished with a splash. At the same time, other figures rose up out of the water like the waking dead, armored with their weapons in hand.

Rhett pushed her behind him and drew out his dagger with his left hand. In a fluid step-and-throw, he whipped it at one of the Servants. The Servant saw it coming and knocked it away with his arm, the armor deflecting any kind of injury.

“Shit,” Rhett muttered.

Arrows flew through the air—zipzipzip—right in a row. Khyamaeus loaded the bow faster than Evelyn could keep track, firing with deadly accuracy.

One Servant's face showed surprise seeing a Fallen attacking them, moving against them, and two fell under the onslaught of arrows. The third ducked when he saw his brethren go down and bolted forward, sword swinging, to take Christian on.

Christian met the charge with a fierce look in his eyes, sword up, walking forward until the Servant was within striking distance.

Both opponents swung and clashed, blades locking.

Their battle had begun.

†

From the trees, what appeared to be large leaves peeled away from the branches, sprouted wings and claws, and swooped into the clearing. The trailing feathers on the wings appeared ragged, like skinny strips of material, fluttering in the windshear. The birds, crows or ravens—or something else altogether—were longer than a man's arm with a wingspan of at least four feet.

Unnaturally large.

Their eyes, beady lanterns of yellow, looked especially bright against their black bodies.

A murder of crows. The thought flickered through Evelyn's mind when she saw the dive bombing beasts, taking her attention off four more Servants lurching up out of the water.

Somewhere under there, her sister was fighting for her life. Angst and impatience warred within her; Evelyn wanted to charge the pond, to hell with the threats and the Servants, and dive in there to help Dracht get Alexandra out.

But there were Servants between her and the water. Birds—or bird things—between her and the pond. Rhett, too, strode forward with malicious intent to confront the dripping menace slogging up onto solid ground.

Dragar clashed with another, sword flashing in the gray half-light, a freakishly large bird diving in with its talons extended. He ducked and spun on one boot, the other leg flashing out to trip up the Servant. All it did was momentarily cause a stumble.

The bird, misjudging Dragar's move, crashed into the Servant, a flurry of odd wings and a gnashing beak. It gave Dragar time to cut the sword around the other way and take the Servant's head clean off.

It lopped to one side, the body fell to the other. The bird squawked and lifted away.

Galvanized, Evelyn broke into a run, ignoring the shout Rhett spat at her back. He would have to curse her this once. Three Servants stood between her and the pond. Evelyn, knowing her chances of getting past one, much less three, were slim, advanced anyway.

Gone was the shaky kneed, afraid of confrontation issue that turned her knees to jelly. Like the moment at the castle when she'd seen the Fallen dragging Rhett across the ground, all that mattered was doing what needed to be done so she could help a loved one.

Bringing the sword up, she cracked it against the first Servant's. His strength against her own caused a reverberation to ripple up the blade, through the hilt, into her wrist and up her arm. It hurt so bad she wanted to drop the weapon right then.

She was done if she did that and she knew it. The Servant, with heavy features, a prominent brow, and a wickedly grinning mouth, slashed his sword around and down, making hers slide right off.

He knew she wasn't any threat, no real challenge. Maybe it amused him that she even thought to try.

The whole time, images of Alex underwater spurred her on, making a war cry spill from her lips when she cut her sword for the Servant's knees. There was a break in the armor there, a vulnerable spot Rhett had pointed out during one of the flights. He'd spent an hour or two going over fight strategies—just in case. Trying to help her overcome her natural fears. Giving her pointers if she found herself in a situation where there was no other recourse than to take a Servant or a Fallen head on.

In the middle of the swing, something hit her from behind. It wasn't the sword of the Servant, which was slicing down and to the side like a pendulum to block her blow. It was something else. The bird knocked her forward into the Servant, their swords both going askew. Talons grazed her scalp, missing a deeper purchase when it was forced to pull up or collide with the much taller Servant.

For a change, being shorter than the giants helped.

Amidst Rhett shouting her name and the sounds of battle all around, Evelyn staggered, catching her balance, and rolled outward away from the Servant. He backswung his blade, the whistle alerting her it was coming. Instead of ducking, scared he might take her head off by accident, she braced for impact.

The sword slapped her straight across the back, blowing the air right out of her lungs. She went face down in a hurry, landing so fast and hard that dirt and debris flew out around her. Each searing gasp of a breath hurt to the point that tears coursed down her cheeks.

Heavy, thumping, a boot landed square between her shoulder blades, exacerbating the pain. She was no match for the Servants, much less the Fallen. Few humans were. Her immortality wouldn't help her against their supernatural strength, their centuries of experience in fighting. All the while she stared out over the shimmering pond, wondering where Dracht and Alexandra were.

As far as she'd seen, they hadn't surfaced.

No.

Fighting for breath, Evelyn grabbed her dagger out of the sheath. It hurt to move, every twist and torque wreaking new agony in her chest. She rolled and twisted the second the boot moved off her back, bringing up the dagger to stab it into the break in the armor at the knee.

A howl of pain was her reward.

Reaching down, the servant grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. She lost the sword when he used his own to bang it out of her hand. A stab to the knee wouldn't fell a human man, most likely, much less a Servant.

Still. She wouldn't just lay there and die. He lowered his face toward hers, teeth showing and clenched, sweat beading his brow. The stab wound wasn't pleasant, that much she got out of his reaction.

An arrow pierced him through the throat, sideways, spraying blood across her cheek, nose and forehead. With a yelp of surprise, she tore out of his lax grasp. The Servant collapsed to the ground, twitching. Evelyn's gaze snared on the archer—not Khyamaeus, but Rhett. Bloodied, sword on the ground, he lowered Khyamaeus' bow. They stared at each other while Templars and Servants of the Fallen battled, blurs in her periphery. The moment hung suspended in time, like they were in their own personal bubble, just Evelyn and Rhett connecting across the twenty-feet that separated them. Fierce determination made the pale green of his eyes sharper.

It couldn't have been more than a tick on the clock, just one, but it felt like an eternity to her. He tossed the bow on the ground and took up his sword, breaking into a run to engage a Servant that was getting the better of his father.

Evelyn stooped to grab her own sword, rising just as two rag-tag birds swooped in with a high pitched squawk. Swerving her head and shoulders out of the way, she took a swing; one she cut out of the air. The second, she missed.

With a ruffle of strange feeling feathers—a cross between suede and silk—the bird hit her in the chest, talons raking her neck above the protective collar of the armored shirt. Not a deep, artery slicing wound, but a rake of skin that stung nevertheless. Its wings battered her around the head and shoulders and she beat at it with a fist. It was too close for the sword and her dagger was still lodged in the Servant's leg. Screeching, the bird tore away, taking more of her skin with it.

A small price to pay to have it gone.

Breath burning in her lungs, she took a quick survey of the scene.

Rhett, Dragar and Christian were battling a Servant. Khyamaeus and another were head to head, swords clanking and cracking, their fight just begun.

And on the ground near the pond's edge, Dracht loomed over Alexandra, palms layered over her sternum while he tried to pump life back into her body.

†

Evelyn would never forget the way the Knight, dark hair dripping wet, broad shoulders hunched in his armor, looked in that moment. Knees spread, he stopped palpitations to fix his mouth over Alex's and blow two breaths in. He worked diligently, counting two-three-four in short huffs, pausing to shout her name before mouth to mouth again.

Dracht had sustained several attacks by the sinister birds, talon scrapes along his temple and cheek, blood dripping down from his scalp. It didn't appear he'd stopped to deflect them while working on her sister.

Breaking into a run, she hurdled a downed Servant, took a swing at an incoming bird, and slid to her knees near Alexandra's head. The sword clanked to the ground.

“Alex! Alexandra! Don't you dare leave me.” Evelyn cupped each side of her sister's head while Dracht feverishly administered first aid. He didn't look up, didn't address her, didn't pause for a beat in his counting and breathing.

Two-three-four.

“Alex!” Evelyn was a wreck. Pale, not-breathing, lips shaded blue, Alex already looked beyond CPR's reach.

To one side, faint ripples of water lapped onto land. On the other side, men fought valiantly for their lives, swords slicing and slashing, growls mixing with grunts and shouts. Black birds circled and dove, circled and dove, squawking incessantly, adding to the chaos. Thousand year old Redwoods, eerily carved totems and the slab of the altar played background to it all.

Evelyn only saw it in strobe flashes and blurs, a peripheral apocalypse on a scale that only promised to grow larger with the breakage of the War Seal.

“C'mon, Alex! Don't you do this, damnit,” Dracht shouted. Tireless, he performed mouth-to-mouth again, focused only on his task.

Alex lay motionless, lips slightly parted, lashes fanned down over her alabaster cheeks.

Evelyn didn't know how long they'd been under, or how long Dracht had been here on the ground administering compressions and breaths. Time became warped in the midst of battle, though she didn't think it could have been more than ten minutes total since Alex first hit the water.

Time enough to drown. More than enough.

A sob wracked Evelyn's throat. Hands on each side of her sister's head, she pleaded silently for her sibling to wake up.

†

Rhett narrowly missed having his throat slashed open. Yanking his head back, he saw the Servant's blade whiz by less than an inch from his chin. Even with three of them attacking from different sides, the Servant was able to keep them at bay. Barely. The skill this particular one displayed made Rhett believe he'd been alive longer than the others. Combined with an unusual quickness and strength, he was difficult to defeat.

He had more of the Fallen qualities than some of the others Rhett encountered and knew how to use each one fully.

A frustrated snarl erupted from his throat before he timed an assault with Christian, cutting his blade up while his brother attacked from the side, spinning low and stabbing for that vulnerable spot under the armpit where the armor didn't reach.

Dragar pulled himself off the ground after being knocked down. Blood ran from his nose.

The Servant swerved out of the way of Rhett's sword, leaning right into the stab of Christian's. He howled in pain when Christian rammed the sword halfway in and yanked it back out.

Fresh blood dripped off the polished steel.

Rhett heard Dracht shouting and cursing at Alexandra. He knew things didn't look good for the girl if his brother had resorted to that. During the few seconds he had of the Servant's surprise, Rhett arced his sword around, catching the Servant in the juncture of the neck and shoulder.

It didn't take his head off, but the wound was mortal nevertheless.

Staggering back, the Servant clutched awkwardly at his throat, falling into a writhing heap a moment later.

Around them, the ground was littered with bodies.

Khyamaeus felled the Servant he battled with a sword instead of arrows, leaving the body twitching at his heels.

After a quick check of his father and brother, Rhett jogged toward Dracht and Evelyn. Alex lay on the ground, still. Lifeless, as far as he could tell.

Shit.

The remaining birds split away into the gloom, flapping back into the obscurity they'd sprouted from. Dracht, who rarely showed any deep emotion, looked distraught when he got there. Evelyn pleaded with Alex while his brother compressed the girl's chest, urging her to come back with single minded intent.

Rhett went to a knee beside Evelyn, a blood spattered hand settling on her back to do what he could to soothe her. Beyond her shoulder, he saw Khyamaeus standing at a small distance, staring at him.

Maybe reminding him of the deaths he'd known were coming. A confusing mix of relief, sorrow, regret and frustration ran through him. Relief that Evelyn hadn't been the second to go, and frustrated that anyone else had to die at all.

Dracht was going to take it especially hard.

Curling a fist up by his mouth, Rhett wondered when someone would have to tell his brother to stop. No one looked ready to give up yet, including himself, but he could foresee an ugly situation for the person who finally decided enough was enough.

There was only so much any of them could do.

Dragar crouched next to Dracht, out of his way, and set a hand on his shoulder. A light touch that didn't inhibit the resuscitation attempts.

Dracht wouldn't let anyone else try to revive her, either, that much was clear. It was him or no one, all or nothing, life or death. Rhett read those clues in his brother's eyes, his posture, his urgent persistence. Dracht never had liked to lose. Or give up.

Without warning, Alexandra sputtered a lungful of water out of her mouth and gasped for air. Choking, disoriented, she fought to breathe.

Dracht rolled her to her side, helped her exhume the liquid, then pulled her up against his armored chest, crooning rough, raspy sounds to put her at ease.

Evelyn sank against Rhett in relief and he pressed a kiss against her temple, one arm sliding around her.

Beyond the small group, Rhett met Khyamaeus' gaze. The Fallen glanced at Evelyn, then turned away, stalking toward the altar.

A shiver cold as death ran down Rhett's spine.

Chapter Seventeen

The gathering fell into an eerie stasis. From her spot curled against Rhett, Evelyn regarded the others through watery eyes; Khyamaeus, tall and alone away from the group, keeping the surroundings under surveillance; Dracht scooping Alex against his armor, rocking gently and rasping in her ear; Christian crouched next to Dracht, black hair askew across his brow, blue gaze showing worry over her sister. Rhett, mimicking his brother, held her close and tight.

A strange pall settled over the clearing, the birds gone, bodies littering the ground. She realized the scent of smoke was much stronger than when they'd arrived. Wisps drifted through the treetops, sometimes hard to see against the ever present gray sky. It almost felt like this was the place it ended, that this battle should have been the last, and that the world, eventually, would right itself again.

But she knew that it wouldn't. It wasn't over until the last Seal was in their possession.

“Why didn't you grab the Seal?” Christian asked, breaking the silence.

Evelyn glanced across at him, then past them all to the stone altar where it still lay.

“Because it's already been broken. It's useless now,” she said.

“Which one was it?” he asked.

“War. The War Seal.”

Another round of silence ensued.

Finally, Rhett asked, “If it doesn't matter anymore, why did they leave the birds and the Servants behind?”

“To slow us down. Maybe to kill a few of us,” Khyamaeus asserted.

“The Fallen could have maybe achieved that easier if they'd just stayed here themselves,” Rhett countered.

“Not if they have another, more important agenda,” Khyamaeus said.

“What agenda would that be?”

“To meet up with other Fallen in preparation for the battle they believe is coming.”

“Is there any chance they don't know it's us coming for the Seals, and that they leave these protections in place to deter anyone, human or otherwise?” Rhett inquired.

Khyamaeus looked thoughtful. “It's a possibility. They probably think the Guardian's will send someone, however, which is why they separated the Seals to begin with. Whoever had the War Seal either decided the others were delaying too long and broke his as a sign that the plan was going forward, or he broke it with the determination to do so would prompt the others into breaking theirs in a timely manner.”

“How bad is it going to get?” Dragar asked, standing up after a touch to Alex's shoulder. He looked at Khyamaeus.

“Very bad. Flying will be treacherous if anyone is able to deploy anti-aircraft missiles. We have two more Seals to retrieve. It's going to be a tight squeeze.” He turned from the group and walked back to the altar.

Rhett coaxed Evelyn to stand. Her legs regained their stability after a moment and she straightened, leaning away from his shoulder.

“Why are you taking the Seal if it's already broken,” Christian asked, rising when Dragar did.

“Because the Guardians would not want it found no matter if we are successful or not.” Khyamaeus tucked the Seal into his belt after folding the ancient looking page protectively around the two broken halves of the Seal. “I can carry the others too, if you'd like.”

Alexandra got to her feet with Dracht's help and spit off to the side. Bedraggled, soaked to the skin, she reached down to the pouch at her waist with shaky fingers and paused.

“They're gone.”

†

“What do you mean, they're gone?”

“How can they be gone?”

“Did one of the Servants get them?”

Questions hurtled through the clearing, one atop the other.

“They must have fallen out in the water.” Alex, slow to regain color to her cheeks, looked at the pond. Her lungs were on fire and it hurt to breathe. She felt wildly disoriented, balance hanging by a thread.

Dracht braced her against his body, like he knew. She was thankful for his support. The water looked deceptively still, the surface flat and calm now. A shudder wracked her bones at the thought of going back in to feel around for the Seals.

“I'll go.” Rhett started removing his belt with deft motions of his fingers.

Alexandra knew she should offer to do it. Just get over the stabbing pain in her chest and dive in. She wasn't sure how long she could hold her breath again and worried more that she might suck in water if she panicked. The world was too fuzzy, too distorted in the aftermath of her drowning.

“No, I'll go. I'm not wearing half what you are. It'll take me a lot less time to find them.” Evelyn put a hand out to pause Rhett's fingers on the buckle.

“I'll go,” she insisted.

Without waiting for approval or arguments, she took five running steps and dove into the water.

†

Slicing beneath the surface, Evelyn was surprised at how clear the water was. The murk , by and large, only inhibited her at long distances. Twenty feet, give or take, was what she judged her visibility to be.

A large, dark lump sitting on the bottom just ahead had to be the Servant that had pulled Alex under. A stab of anger shot through her. Ignoring it, she scanned the sandy ground, hair floating around her head. Not far from the Servant, several other shadowy shapes lurked. It was hard to tell if they were rocks or something else.

Swimming closer, using her arms to pull herself through the water, legs kicking behind, she approached the first one.

Rock.

She went on to the second. Another rock, this one flatter than the first.

Closer to the Servant, she could see the features hideously twisted in death, mouth and eyes open, slivers of blood oozing from wounds Dracht must have delivered when he'd gone in after her sister.

The third lump proved to be the Seals. All three of them, one face down. An inch to the right lay the Servant's hand, fingers curled into the shape of a claw.

Back in California, Evelyn had seen a few of those scary movies where the villain pops back to life unexpectedly, scaring the pants off the viewers.

She had one of those wary moments now, half worried the Servant wasn't as dead as he looked. A good swimmer, Evelyn could still only hold her breath for so long. If it grabbed her wrist--

Just pick up the Seals and get on with it, she chided herself.

Grasping them all up in both hands, she pulled them off the silty pond floor. The Servant's hand didn't move.

But an inch wide piece of one of the Seals, the one facing down, fell back to the sand.

Another Seal broken.

†

“It's broken! Another one. Gone. Why are we bothering to risk all our lives if the Seals are going to be useless anyway?” Evelyn emerged from the pond, frustrated like she'd never been, the Seals held like something precious in her outstretched hands. The burden overloaded her, became, finally, too much to bear. Ashrael wasn't going to grant the Templars leave to eat from the Tree of Life if there was nothing left to protect.

Armor shirt clinging to her skin, hair a wet mop, she stared at each of the faces of those who stared back. More than one showed their surprise at her outburst.

She had half a mind to smash the remaining Seals right on the ground and stomp them to ash beneath her boot. Suddenly she was sick of the death, the loss, the struggle. Rhett stepped forward, slowly, and cupped his hands over both her own.

Trapping the Seals between palms. With care, he took them from her grasp and without looking away, handed them off to Christian who stepped up to accept them.

They always knew each other's minds somehow, working in sync without saying a word. It was just one more thing to file away in her moment of misery.

She didn't realize she was sobbing until Rhett gently settled his hands on the outside of her shoulders. He stared into her face, willing her to look at him. Shaking, half furious and half defeated, she met his eyes.

There she saw the same frustrations, the same weariness, the heartbreak over the losses. She also saw a stubborn determination to do what they must, no matter the cost, come what may. A similar determination that had flared to life in her several times at low points all throughout the mission.

Just then, she couldn't dredge up one shred of optimism. Any second missiles were going to start pounding the cities into dust. If they hadn't already.

How many more had to die?

Christian didn't move far away. He stood behind his brother's shoulder, also staring at her. There was no condemnation, no ridicule, no chiding in his direct, steady gaze. Instead she found compassion and understanding. He wore the bruises and cuts and wounds of battle on his face and elsewhere yet he stood firm, defiant, almost willing her to do the same.

Giving something of himself in her perilous moment of crisis.

She felt the same looks from each of the others, especially her sister. Alex was still leaning, figuratively and literally, on Dracht. Dragar and Dracht stood exactly where they had been when she'd emerged, silent, giving their support through tired, faint smiles that conveyed more than words ever could.

Rhett tightened his grip on her shoulders. “I know it's hard. I know it seems impossible. We're all going through it. Maybe this was an impossible task from the start, but we can't stop now. If we stop, we'll all die. It isn't in my blood to give up, and I suspect it isn't in yours. Believe me when I say each and every one of us have hit this same precipice you're standing on right now at some point since leaving Eden. I have no doubt we'll be there again. Don't give up. We'll make it.”

Somewhere distant, very far from the hidden sanctuary in the ancient woods, a thunderous boom sounded. It was like an ironic exclamation point on the heels of Rhett's statement. She felt like dissolving into mad laughter or unstoppable tears.

More death, more destruction.

Don't give up. We'll make it.

Smearing her palms over her cheeks, she drew in a breath. Squared her shoulders. Lifted her chin. Reached deeper than she ever had for anything, shoving down the pain of her sister's deaths, ignoring the oncoming fire and more death, to face the daunting idea of continuing on.

“We should see what Seal it was,” she finally said.

Smoke curled thicker through the large trunks of the Redwood trees.

Christian turned the wet, skin-like papers over to expose the broken Seal on the bottom. Alexandra, Dracht, Dragar and Rhett all looked at the surface, though the Templars wouldn't know what the eerie skull with its sunken eyes and gaping mouth meant.

At the same time, she and Alexandra said, “Death.”

†

“All right, so where do we stand?” Rhett eyed the group as a whole. The trip back to the jet had been uneventful.

Roman stood behind a seat, taking part in the discussion before they got in the air. Smoke curled thicker in the atmosphere from a fire that drew ever closer.

Rhett thought they needed a game plan from here, a better understanding of what was going on in the world.

“There's one Seal left. The Summons,” Alex said. Slouched in one of the seats, she looked marginally better but by no means recovered. Her skin had a worrying, waxy appearance that the exercise walking back to the aircraft hadn't cured.

“The Summons,” Rhett repeated. “That's the one they have to break to call up the Guardians for war, correct?”

“Yes,” Evelyn answered. She sat next to her sister.

Dracht, Dragar, Christian and Khyamaeus all stood in the aisle. Bloody, scraped, wet, smelling like smoke.

But alive.

“Even if they break it now, it won't work unless all the others have been broken too,” Rhett said, looking between the girls. Making sure he had his facts straight.

“That's right. It's the only one like that. As long as the Sixth Seal goes first, the other ones will take effect even if they go out of order. The whole thing works better starting off with One after Six, but it's not required,” Khyamaeus added.

“What's going on out there?” Rhett asked next. He knew he didn't need to specify that he meant what kind of catastrophes were happening around the globe. They knew.

“Wars have begun, or will within the next few days. Even in the chaos, there is someone always desperate to push a button, someone who thinks their country will come out on top when this is over. Greed and lust for power know no bounds,” Khyamaeus said.

“Two of the Horsemen have been summoned. War is walking the earth already. We know that from the explosion. We haven't seen enough of the rest of the world to know if Death is here or not,” Alex said.

“What happens when he gets here?” Rhett asked. He had a good idea.

“Death has his own armies. The world has been prepped fairly well for his arrival. Not as good as if the bigger Pestilence and Famine had hit first, but there's already been a lot of deaths from the swarm, the rain, the earthquakes and volcanoes,” Alex said.

“What do these armies look like?” Rhett asked.

“You'll only see them as flickers out of the corner of your eye,” Khyamaeus said, taking over the explanations. “Shadows. By the time you look, they've usually already claimed their victim. If it's you, you'll rarely ever see them coming.”

“Well that's reassuring,” Christian muttered.

Rhett silently agreed. He rubbed the tips of his fingers over the heavy layer of whiskers on his chin. “So no matter what, we've already failed.”

“It's not failure to have the three Seals in your possession. You've saved lives already,” Khyamaeus said.

Rhett sat in silence for a moment. “What if we take the Seals we have back and leave the last one? It's only the Summoning Seal. We probably have a better chance of making it back to Eden with what we've got than attempting to grab the last one with what's happening out there.”

“Except Ashrael said we need to collect them all,” Christian pointed out. He glanced at Khyamaeus. “Where is the last one?”

“Probably the worst place it could be. Los Angeles.”

“Is it still on the map?” Rhett couldn't help a moment of grim sarcasm.

“It has to be one of the prime targets for anyone aiming missiles our way. If it's not gone yet, it will be soon. The good news is that it's not halfway around the world.” Christian slouched back against the seat behind him.

“Maybe you girls should have Roman fly you back with the Seals we've got. Dracht can go with you. Christian, Dragar and I will go after the last one and meet up with you there when we have it,” Rhett said. He didn't think that plan would fly with anyone, but he introduced it anyway. It seemed so pointless to him to risk all their lives when their next destination was likely to be a huge target for war.

“We're too close now. I'm not going back to Eden without you,” Evelyn stated plainly.

Rhett knew it was pointless to argue with her. He showed his palms in surrender. “Then let's get going. Time's wasting.”

In the back of his mind, the niggling reminder that there was one more death waiting among them played over and over and over.

Chapter Eighteen

The earth was a ruin. Scorched patches of black now stood in the place cities once had. Fire, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and the beginnings of war had taken their toll.

Half the Redwood forest was aflame.

San Francisco looked like a wreck of metal, the remains of buildings sticking up out of the ground like enormous tombstones, declaring the once thriving city a graveyard. No bombs had even been dropped here; it was all wrought from mother nature's hands, volatile quakes bringing the most sturdy high rises crashing down. Fire rampaged along battered rows of homes one roof to the next.

As they made their way south along the coast of California, flying low under the cloud cover, the occupants of the jet got a bird's eye view of the devastation.

Survivors scrambled for cover, fleeing in all directions, desperate to get away from the chaos. Except there was nowhere to run. The earth shook constantly. Urban areas had been turned into war zones, stores looted and pillaged. There was no differentiating between poor neighborhoods and the affluent any longer.

It was a sobering, shocking sight.

The entire coastline, every city, existed in complete and utter turmoil.

People lucky enough to get in cars and drive—or those brave enough to try—sped along freeways, mindless of the speed limits or other traffic. Pile ups clogged the arteries of several main thoroughfares.

Bodies were everywhere. Countless thousands victims of falling brick, a car crash, murder, fire, smoke inhalation.

Heart attacks. Anything. Everything.

Although Roman needed to refuel, he pushed it until they reached the outskirts of Los Angeles.

The city of angels.

The city of the dead, more like.

Stunning numbers of casualties lie on the open ground. More had been crushed under collapsed freeways.

New tears in the ground, some a half mile long, gave clues to earthquakes ranging in the ten-plus size on the Richter scale. A highrise tilted into one of the gaps, windows blown out. Explosions from broken gas lines spread fire through densely packed business districts.

In a park, cloaked in gloomy skies like the rest of the world, a ring of survivors held hands and prayed on their knees. Three hundred, four hundred strong, and growing in number with every shake, every gunshot, every new disaster to strike their streets.

By the time Roman set the jet down at a private airstrip adjacent to Coldwater Canyon Park, the group inside the plane were hollow-eyed, sallow cheeked and lethargic.

After drinking the last of the water, consuming the final rations, they erected their personal armor and gathered their weapons.

The time to face their adversary was at hand.

†

Alexandra really wished she'd been able to sleep on the flight over. Between feeling like she'd been run over by a truck, pain with breathing, and the depressing disaster she'd watched out the window, rest didn't come easy. Sleep would have allowed her body to heal faster, taken some of the burn out of her lungs.

Knowing this was the last Seal to collect only helped a little.

Sword in hand, she descended the stairs to the tarmac, glaring up at the thick, roiling clouds obliterating the black sun she knew hid behind them. Today, at that moment, she would have given almost anything to feel the heat of a normal sun on her skin.

Denied even that minimal pleasure, she quirked her lips in displeasure and set her mind to their task.

Dracht walked close enough at her side to brush shoulders with every few steps. Occasionally she slipped looks askance, trying to read his profile.

Evelyn had informed her of his tireless effort to save her in whispers when he'd gone to use the bathroom.

Later, when they had a moment to think, she meant to thank him personally.

Unlike the other airports where they'd stopped to refuel, this one wasn't in a small enough city to be empty of people. A group of fifty, perhaps sixty, milled around the buildings, some with children in their arms, others with backpacks on their shoulders, and still others with nothing and no one.

Some had been crying, a few were panicked, and a handful fought over who was in charge.

The arrival of the plane had drawn any lingering inside the building outside. Alex read the small surge of hope, the desperation and the determination on their faces. Not only that, but wariness, too, at the strange group of people wearing what looked like medieval armor, swords in their hands, stalking across the asphalt on some unfathomable quest.

A slew of questions hit them when they got closer.

“Where did you come from?”

“Who are you?”

“Do you have any news?”

“We need your plane!”

“It's only right to get as many of us out of here as you can.”

Khyamaeus received more than his share of uneasy glances.

He stood head and shoulders above the rest of them and that strange presence he carried both drew people in and frightened them away at the same time. Khyamaeus ignored them and their questions.

“We don't have any answers for you. That plane stays where it sits.” Dragar spoke in his usual, businesslike manner when dealing with the public. He had the same no nonsense air about him that he had when confronting the reporters. They weren't going to get anything out of him and he didn't seem intent on wasting time explaining the unexplainable.

Or the unbelievable.

Alexandra caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye. Different than the motions of the milling people. It drew her gaze.

At first she saw nothing but a grungy man in clothes that looked a size too big. He had soot on his face, shifty eyes, dirty hands and a predatory malice about him that made her immediately uncomfortable.

But it wasn't that which had drawn her gaze explicitly, either.

Something else.

A shadow. Wisps of black that didn't belong in the places she kept thinking she saw them.

Suddenly, the gritty, homeless looking man pitched backward, arms flailing, legs flying up in the air. Alex recognized a look of stark terror on his face. It changed to one of survival, a fight to live, while he clawed at his throat and his chest, fighting off something she couldn't see.

Looking directly at him, Alex was unable to discern anything other than the man himself, thrown into rabid fits, as if he'd gone insane. When she turned her attention back to the milling crowd, she saw the flickers again in periphery. Roiling, serpentine, incorporeal.

Death was here.

†

“Think they're going to charge the plane?” Christian asked Rhett near his ear.

“It won't matter if they do. Roman's got the stairs up and the door closed,” he murmured back. Rhett twitched a look over his shoulder; Roman had the jet locked up tight.

The crowd proved a distraction Rhett didn't want to deal with. But from here out, they were going to have crowds everywhere. Survivors looking for help, for answers.

A man fell to the ground to his left. By the time he glanced over, the man was in the final throes of death. A heart attack, he guessed. The stress and strain of it all.

He couldn't really blame him.

Then a black flicker drew his gaze again, but by the time he looked, it was gone.

Khyamaeus' words in the plane came back. Flickers, shadows. Death.

When he met Christian's troubled eyes, he knew his brother had seen it, too. They exchanged a grim look and pressed through the crowd for the building.

No time to waste.

Evelyn he herded before him, sticking to her flank like glue. He wouldn't be letting her out of his sight, or out of his reach if he could possibly help it, until they got back to Eden. Leaving the curious, questioning crowd behind, they filed through the smoked glass doors and into the building. Chairs lined a waiting area to the left, and a small restaurant sat to the right. It had a seventies feel to the style of the furniture and the color scheme; lime green, pinto-bean brown and accents of dusty orange. The decorators had been going for retro shabby chic, a modern take on a poignant, wild time for the affluent population who could afford flights on private jets or who even owned their own.

It seemed strange that this setting was so untouched by the damage and devastation they'd seen everywhere else. No cracks lined the walls, no fire scorched the walls, and nothing looked broken, looted or damaged.

The only out of place thing in the whole interior was a man in a business-suit, probably Armani, a CEO type executive with salt and pepper hair that was still styled for a day at the office. In his hands he held a cardboard sign that Rhett would have bet once belonged to a participant on skid row. It read, John: 3:16.

How the CEO came to claim it as his, Rhett couldn't be sure. The man didn't look up when they filed by toward the front door. He stared down at the floor, waiting for an inevitable, final blast of...something.

It struck Rhett that maybe the man was repenting while he sat there, mourning all his sins, wondering if he would be among the chosen to be saved.

Rhett had an image of some homeless man laughing at the businessman and saying I told you so.

It was as bad as the CEO thought. Worse. Although Rhett, in that man's shoes, wouldn't have sat there doing nothing. He would have been with family, friends, someone. Maybe they were all already dead. Maybe this lounge, in which the CEO might have sat hundreds of times waiting for his flight, was the only place not destroyed that could offer any kind of comfort.

Ahead of him, Evelyn glanced back, too, as if she was thinking the very same thing. Or at least as struck by how out of place the man seemed as he was.

Herding her through the door, they stepped out into the parking lot. More people gathered here, though not as many as on the other side, and Rhett ignored their stares and their whispers.

Only one man, a skinny, hook nosed student looking fellow, dared to approach.

“Excuse me--”

“We don't have time,” Rhett informed him. He tugged Evelyn by the crook of her elbow toward a row of parked vehicles.

“I just have one--”

“We don't have time.” Christian glanced at the young man and kept walking.

The young man made an exasperated gesture, staring after them with a frown.

If they stopped to explain to every single person what was going on, they'd never finish their mission. Rhett thought it was a better policy to try and get back to Eden with the Seals so that somehow, Ashrael could stop all this.

The compass in his armor urged him in the opposite direction of where they were standing. Somewhere across the city. He could tell the distance would take them too long to walk, so he started testing door handles in one row while Dracht did another.

Two alarms started blaring. Rhett paid no attention.

He tried a fourth SUV. Nothing.

The sixth, a Toyota Sienna minivan, opened under his hand.

“Got one. If someone sits on someone's lap, we can all fit.”

†

Sunset strip, in Hollywood, had never been known for its cleanliness despite its glitz and glamor. Pockets of trash and debris decorated niches between million dollar businesses and run down motels. It had an old feel to it, out of date despite the towering plazas and palms lining the curb.

Stars mingled with wide-eyed tourists and burn-outs alike.

On any given day it was a busy thoroughfare. Today, with Armageddon in the air, it bordered on crazy. Driving east from Coldwater Canyon Drive, doing no more than twenty-miles an hour for the hectic swerve of cars and frantic pedestrians, they found themselves in the midst of a nightmare. Some of the older construction had failed during one of the quakes, cracking the building in half. It sat at a jagged angle, the street running alongside buckled and bent. Part of Sunset sloped, as if it too only awaited one more jolt to break apart in two. Shattered glass from stores, burnt out restaurants and vehicles made it precarious for those running in all directions, some still looting, others crying, and a few just standing around stunned.

Most seemed to have a plan, even if it involved making a thousand trips back and forth between one point and another that didn't seem to have any affect over whether it helped them or not.

The Roxy and the Whiskey-a-Go-Go, infamous for up and coming bands to take their stages, looked abandoned.

When they finally reached North Western Avenue, Rhett took a left and followed it up to Los Feliz Boulevard. He swerved around two sink holes, both no bigger than a Pinto, and had to stand on the brakes to avoid hitting a screaming woman who darted out in front of them.

Homes on either side looked burnt, broken or looted. All but a few, which stood out in comparison with their intact windows, pristine green lawns, and porch décor all still in place.

Thirty feet before the turn off they needed, another quake struck. Rhett hit the brakes again. The minivan rocked violently while alarms that hadn't gone off before starting going off now. People screamed and dove for cover.

A few bent their knees, held their arms out parallel to the ground, and rode it out with looks of terror on their faces. It lasted a full three minutes, the earth seeming to tilt and sway, power lines swinging wildly.

When it was over, Rhett cursed under his breath, put the minivan in gear and sped up the drive toward the venue.

†

“I think we should stop here and walk the rest of the way. Scout for trouble,” Khyamaeus said halfway up the curving road to Griffith Park.

Rhett brought the van to a stop. With a few maneuvers, he turned the minivan around so it faced down the street, blocking anyone from coming up or down. He cut the engine and took the keys from the ignition.

“Why would they bring it here?” Christian sounded dubious about the choice the Fallen had made to keep the Seal.

Evelyn couldn't agree more. Although she knew the Greek Theater—which she'd been to several times for concerts—was relatively isolated in the park, it was still surrounded by a metropolis. Any number of people could wander upon them. She got out with everyone else and closed the door once Alex was on the ground.

“It's easily defensible, isolated in a heavily wooded park, and surrounded by millions of people they could decide to use as blackmail if they were of a mind to. You've probably noticed we haven't seen anyone since the main street back there. Which means they've used their power to discourage people from coming too close,” Khyamaeus said.

“They knew the city would be in chaos after the swarm and the earthquakes. Easier to hide here when everyone's distracted,” Dragar pointed out. He hefted his shield up on his arm.

Worried, Evelyn checked on Alex often. She needed another few days of deep rest to fully recover from the near drowning. Going straight into another fight when she was weak didn't set well with Evelyn but there was little to be done about it other than leave Alex in the van to wait and that made her uncomfortable, too.

A Servant or a Fallen might find her there.

“We going to go at this like we went at the altar?” Christian asked. He had his sword in one hand, shield in the other.

“As much as I don't want to, I think we should,” Rhett said. “Evelyn, Alex, Khyamaeus and I will split right.”

Evelyn preferred to stay close to both Rhett and her sister, so she didn't argue. She did wonder at his choice of Khyamaeus for this round, though, and glanced between the Knight and the Fallen.

At that particular moment, she saw them exchange a complicated look that she couldn't decipher. Rhett's expression seemed far too grim to suit her, and she wondered if there was something he knew that she didn't. It was a twinge of intuition, dark whispers that made the hair on her nape stand on end. She had the thought that Khyamaeus was resigned to whatever fate awaited, which did not set well with her.

A brief check assured her that she had her dagger in its sheath and that the belt holding the Seals was secure at her waist. Alex hadn't argued the switch, which told Evelyn more than anything else that her sister wasn't feeling up to par. Otherwise, Alex would have insisted she wear the pouch even after what happened at the pond.

Dragar, Christian and Dracht parted off, heading across the grass toward the trees. Evelyn saw Dracht glance back and make eye contact with Alexandra. Even she could feel the undercurrent that passed between them. Silent words, promises maybe, before the three Templars disappeared from sight.

Alex stared after them with an intent look in her eyes.

“You all right?” Evelyn asked, falling into step behind Rhett and Khyamaeus.

“You might be surprised to hear this, but I'll be glad when this is over,” Alex muttered.

The adventurous, free spirited, high octane Alexandra sounded weary.

Evelyn wasn't surprised, and nudged Alex with her elbow.

Looking ahead, Evelyn let all her other worries and concerns fall away. There wasn't room to contemplate anything other than retrieving the last Seal and going home.

Under her feet, the earth growled and rumbled.

†

The Theater, snugged up against the foothill, couldn't be seen until they passed through the empty parking lot and stood on the rise looking down. Open to the elements, the seating descended in rows toward the stage.

Rhett chose to have them crouch instead of stand tall, creeping from bush to tree to keep as out of sight as they could.

A faint breeze tickled her skin and whipped the ends of her hair around her shoulders. Evelyn adjusted her sword across her thighs and peered around the tree trunk to see what there was to see.

The stage looked empty. All the seats were empty, too. No Fallen, no Servants. No ugly black creatures or dive bombing birds. Earthquakes had shaken lighting fixtures loose and several lay smashed on the stage or the ground.

Evelyn didn't see the Seal anywhere.

“Where is it?” she whispered to Rhett.

“There somewhere. The strongest pull is straight toward the building framing the stage,” Rhett whispered back. “Let's go around, instead of down through the aisles and seats. Too easy for them to spot us and attack there.”

“You recall there are underground catacombs here, yes? They could have taken it there,” Khyamaeus said. He had an arrow notched in his bow. His sword hung at his hip.

“Catacombs?” Rhett paused and glanced at the Fallen.

“Yes. An entire series of tunnels that have been here for decades. They run from the theater to the observatory and under the foothills.”

“What are they for?” Rhett asked.

“They serve the same purpose as all other hidden tunnels. To move between points of interest undetected.”

“I don't know about anyone else, but I'm not crazy about going below ground again,” Alex retorted.

Evelyn silently agreed. Their last foray had been more than a little terrifying. With all the earthquakes, the chances that sections of tunnel might collapse were higher.

“Well. We won't know until we go down and look,” Evelyn said. The waiting and wondering were starting to get to her.

Every few minutes, the earth trembled, reminding them all that another huge temblor could strike at any second.

Distantly, from deeper in the city, gunfire erupted.

Rhett looked back at them, meeting each of their eyes. He lingered a few seconds longer on Evelyn. Then, “Last one. Let's get it over with.”

Breaking from cover, Rhett sprinted along the edge of the venue toward the stage.

Khyamaeus didn't hunch or hide himself; he walked into the open with his shoulders arrogantly square, kicking into a run only after Evelyn and Alexandra did.

Evelyn kept up with Rhett, running with a care not to slash herself or Alex with the sword in her hand. Rhett wasn't at a dead run and she knew he paced himself so he wouldn't leave her too far behind.

Angling around the highest seats, Rhett suddenly stopped and vaulted the top rail, angling his shield out of the way but not putting it down.

Evelyn chose to climb between rather than go over. Alex followed her through.

Khyamaeus hurdled the six-foot railing like it was nothing. Too easy. Effortless and fluid enough that he landed already on the run. He lost no momentum.

Single file, Rhett took them along the highest level of seats, coming at the stage in a roundabout manner.

Evelyn worried Servants or Fallen were going to pop up from various places in the folded up seats, rows and rows of them, too many to defeat. On the other side of the broad theater, she caught a glimpse of Dracht, Dragar and Christian. They didn't cut into the seating like they had, but went forward, following the natural curve that would allow them to arrive at the stage from the side.

Down four flights of stairs, Rhett hit another railing separating levels and launched himself over.

Evelyn had to go slower, climbing up before she could jump down. A quick check gave her a glimpse of Alex's face, bathed in sweat, her breathing labored. It sounded painful, but Alex didn't complain.

Khyamaeus stopped when he landed on the lower level, the bow and arrow up, sweeping over the seating area.

It didn't appear he was going any further right at that moment.

For Evelyn it was a relief. She felt like their backs were covered, which freed them up to worry about what was ahead.

A crack of thunder startled her and she bobbled the sword, catching it just before she dropped it. Fear that lightning would strike the structure framing the stage, Evelyn ducked, crowding closer to Rhett.

Hissing, furious curses flew from his lips.

Maybe he expected lightning, too.

Veering to the right when they reached the space between the front seats and the stage, Rhett aimed for the far corner. He picked up speed and hit the concrete wall with a jump, using his arms to pull him the rest of the way.

Evelyn knew she would have to stop, set down her sword, and climb up. Even then it was going to be difficult. She wasn't nearly as tall or strong as Rhett.

To her shock, as another blast of thunder tore through the roiling clouds, Khyamaeus snared her and Alex around the hips and took them with him when he jumped.

She felt like a doll in his arms, lifted like so much weightless ballast. Deposited on the stage, Evelyn got her balance and shot a look sideways at the Fallen.

Khyamaeus didn't seem to notice, freeing his arms to bring the bow and arrow back together again.

Alex regained her footing, muttering something unintelligible under her breath.

On alert, Evelyn scanned the stage. To each side were smaller holding areas for equipment personnel, managers and other employees. Lighting stands, crates, a small bit of scaffolding and several hard plastic containers sat flush against the back wall, indicating work of some kind had been going on before the initial catastrophe.

The final Seal, tucked safely in its ripped out page, sat atop one of the hard plastic containers.

Evelyn twitched in surprise and glanced at Rhett.

He stood stock still, panning wary looks up, down, around. Keeping the shield in front of him, clutched with an arm to protect his chest and torso, he approached. A cautious advance, as if he was prepared for anything.

She took it upon herself to guard his left side, while Alex got the right. Khyamaeus faced outward still, his weapon up and aiming.

Dragar, Dracht and Christian arrived, creeping along the ground right in front of the stage. They surveyed the seating like Khyamaeus did, swords tight in their grip, shields up so high only their eyes showed above the edge.

A bead of sweat rolled down Evelyn's cheek. She hated waiting, the not knowing whether something was going to attack without warning.

“Grab it and let's go, Rhett. Something's wrong,” Khyamaeus said.

For the Fallen to voice a concern in that manner meant something was terribly wrong. Evelyn knew they had extra sensory input and intuition on levels humans couldn't dream of.

Rhett didn't question Khyamaeus either. He rushed the container, snatched the Seal off the top, and spun around.

“Got it and it's intact.” Rhett didn't stand there and celebrate. He handed the Seal off to Evelyn then scooped an arm around her hips and herded her back to the edge of the stage.

By then Khyamaeus had Alexandra handed off to Dracht, who helped her to the ground.

“Why would they just leave it untended?” Alex asked.

“That's what's wrong. They wouldn't. Nothing tried to prevent Rhett from taking it, and I don't think anything will,” Khyamaeus said, loping to the ground as if the stage was just a step instead of a six foot drop.

“That's not a great sign,” Dragar agreed.

“Hell no. We need to get out of here,” Dracht said, rushing Alex toward the steps leading between the aisles of the seats.

“What do you think they have planned?” Evelyn got her feet beneath her and ran, Rhett behind and Dracht with Alex in front. The other Templars scrambled up the closest aisles, taking the steps by twos.

Before anyone could answer, the air raid sirens went off.

Chapter Nineteen

“Go, go, go!” Khyamaeus charged up the stairs, leaping them by fours and fives.

Frantic, Evelyn raced toward the railing. The tip of the sword caught on a chair, ripping it out of her hand.

“Forget it. Go!” Rhett said behind her, pushing her shoulder with a hand.

“Can we make it back to the plane?” Evelyn picked up speed again, leaving the weapon where it lay. There were no Fallen or beasts to slay and it would only slow her down. Making the rail, she used both hands on the top to help herself over.

“I don't know, but we can't stay here,” Christian called out, launching himself over the railing with as much ease as Rhett.

As a group, they ran through the parking lot and onto the grass, dodging around trees, shrubs and hedges.

The van sat in the exact spot they left it, facing outward, and Evelyn said a silent prayer of thanks that Rhett always thought one or two steps ahead.

At the Toyota, Evelyn piled into the back with Christian while Alex crouched on Dracht's lap. Khyamaeus crowded in next to them and slammed the door closed. Dragar took the front.

Rhett, behind the wheel, stabbed the keys into the ignition after stowing his shield and sword. The engine caught and purred. Putting it in gear, he stomped the gas, tearing along the sloping avenue toward Los Feliz.

“Is this why they left? Did they have advance warning of an attack?” Evelyn asked. Something about the entire set up still felt off.

Khyamaeus snarled. “They left because there's no reason to stay. If we're here and Los Angeles is bombed—the Seals will be destroyed, giving them exactly what they've wanted all along.”

The idea stunned Evelyn. And made sense. The Fallen had better things to do—like prepare for war—than sit around waiting for the adversary. Knowing the Seal would lure them, they chose a spot ripe for attack, set up their bait, and left.

From the front seat, Rhett spat a curse at the windshield.

“Are we going to make it back to the plane?” Christian echoed Evelyn's question.

Silence was the only answer.

Los Feliz, which had been a hotbed of chaos on the way up, was now bereft of life. That changed the second they swerved down onto Western toward Sunset; the streets teemed with screaming people. Evelyn braced herself when Rhett nearly mowed down three youths that darted across in front of the van. Tires barking and smoking, he skid to a stop.

“Watch where the hell you're going!” he shouted uselessly at the window. The van lurched when he got on the gas, swerving around cars left carelessly in the middle of the street. He had to slow over a few buckled sections but picked up speed once more.

Evelyn couldn't fathom why so many people were out. Those that were running for cars she understood, but the random, mindless gatherings made no sense. If she wasn't doing what she was currently doing, she would have bolted for the nearest shelter she could find.

The air raid sirens poured gasoline on an already lit match.

A family of four fought with what appeared to be a couple for a car. Fists flew, children cried, and the women shouted at one another. Across the street, looters pillaged an electronic store. On the corner of Western and Sunset, five different men held up home made signs declaring This is the end. Buildings were crumbling, alarms bleated warnings under the din of the sirens, and a group of what she supposed were reporters snapped video and photos of everything they could.

Death, stalking the city like any serious predator, took lives left and right. Existing as peripheral shadows, it claimed one after the other, leaving corpses on the ground in its wake.

“You should have just taken Hollywood Boulevard, Rhett. Sunset's a wreck,” Christian said.

“I don't know if Hollywood connects with Coldwater Canyon drive and I hate to tell you, but it's all going to be a wreck,” Rhett retorted.

“Doesn't this thing have GPS?”

“It's not working.”

If Evelyn hadn't known better, she would have thought someone was giving away millions of dollars in cash for how many people clogged Sunset Strip. Not just the street but the sidewalks, parking lots, stores, rooftops—everywhere. While the men tried to figure out how to get through the debris field, she stared out the windows, the sirens making her anxious and nervous.

From behind, a car tapped their bumper. The driver, a balding man shouted obscenities and tapped them again.

Rhett scowled and glared in the rearview mirror.

Ahead, more people streamed into the street, everyone running to unknown destinations, forcing cars to stop, collide or pull over.

“Screw this.” Rhett yanked the wheel and pressed the gas, making several people dive out of his way. He went up onto the sidewalk, taking out an awning, a potted plant and two café tables along with the chairs.

People heard the commotion and got out of his way.

Evelyn thought it odd how they didn't move in the street, but get a car on a sidewalk and out of the way they went.

Rhett picked up speed, swerving around a fire hydrant, and didn't stop when he got to the first intersection.

“Rhett!”

“We're gonna get nailed!”

Evelyn's shout coincided with Christian's. She realized she should be used to this by now. Rhett, once he got it into his head he needed to go, went. Even if it meant running red lights, stop signs or, apparently, going up onto the sidewalk.

They made it through without getting hit.

They guy behind them thought it was a great idea. He followed in their wake, laying on the horn with one hand.

“Crazy bastard,” Rhett muttered.

“Like he has any room to talk,” Alexandra snorted.

Since the sidewalk worked so well, Rhett stayed on it. He sideswiped a car, blew out a stand of magazines and had several close calls with pedestrians.

Behind them, their follower continued to lay on his horn before swerving into traffic, into the teeming mass, where he clipped a jogger and slammed into a city truck parked against the other curb.

Rhett hit the brakes hard, tires screaming, when a mother and her crying child lurched out from between two shops. Fishtailing, he cut back onto the street, taking the bumper off a sedan.

“How much farther?” Christian asked.

“About three blocks. We'll make it.” Rhett laid on his horn and shouted at people to move.

Evelyn eyed the gloomy sky for any signs of incoming missiles, bracing her hands on the seat in front of her and the side of the van. Jostled, she kept her mouth closed, praying to God that they made it to the airstrip in time.

What scared her more than anything else was the sudden way people started clearing the streets and sidewalks. It was almost like roaches when the lights come on, how they darted for cover.

“What's happening? Why are they doing that?” she asked.

“Don't know, don't know. Anyone see anything?” Rhett picked up speed, veering around cars people had abandoned or that had been in wrecks.

“I don't see anything. But the sirens are closer together. Hear that?” Dracht asked.

Everyone, even Khyamaeus, sought the sky with their eyes.

“Don't see anything here, either,” the Fallen said.

“It might mean it's imminent. Rhett, maybe you should find a school or a-- look, right up there's a hospital. They've got a basement,” Dracht said.

“No. We'll make it. We can't be sure we'll survive even in the basement.” He made a hard right turn onto Coldwater Canyon Road and accelerated quickly, both hands on the wheel, jaw clenched tight. With a straight shot to the top, he floored the gas pedal and came to a screaming stop in the parking lot of the private airport.

“Everyone out!” Rhett left the van running and flung open the door. He grabbed the sword and shield and got out.

Evelyn clambered over the seats in Dracht and Alexandra's wake; Christian hurried her with a hand low on her spine.

He caught her when she stumbled out the door, preserving her momentum, and got her going forward again.

“Thanks Christian.”

“You got it. Rhett's right there,” Christian said, handing her off.

“C'mon, c'mon,” Rhett urged, scooping an arm around her hips. He drove her toward the doors to the building and inside after Dragar opened one.

The large group of people who had been on the tarmac when they arrived were all inside, arguing. A hush fell over them for a moment when they saw who burst through the doors.

“It's the people with the plane. Hey, you can fit us all on there!” One man shouted, pointing.

“I don't care who you are or where you're going, you're taking us with you.” Another man stepped forward, scowling, herding his wife and daughter with him.

Rhett never stopped moving her forward. He didn't even glance at the others.

Evelyn had to jog to keep up with Rhett's rapid pace. “Are we going to have to take them with us?”

“We can't. There's not enough room. Even packed in like sardines we can't fit them all. We don't know that the Fallen won't make another attempt before we get to Eden. They could be waiting outside in the temple again.” Rhett shoved the other door open.

Khyamaeus brought up the rear.

Evelyn thought it was that strange presence of his that kept the group of people back more than the wicked weapons he wore on his hips and the sword in his hand.

Rhett hustled her across the tarmac, boots thudding against the ground. Roman opened the steps and lowered them down. Disappearing, he retreated to the cockpit to get the engines started.

Twenty feet from the bottom step, a gunshot cracked through the air.

“Stop right there or I'll shoot every single one of you.”

Rhett shoved her behind him; in the flurry of movement, Evelyn saw that the flux of people had run outside with them.

The man with the gun looked familiar. Business suit, somber eyes.

He'd been the one holding the sign in the building when they'd run through the first time.

“Bizarre costumes or not, you're going to put each one of us on that plane. It's all of us, or no one.”

†

The double-time call of the sirens speared an urgency through Rhett's veins. Blocking Evelyn with his body, he stared at the suited man, shield held in front of him sword at his side. He remembered seeing him on the way through. The cold look in his eyes, the calm way he spoke, told Rhett that the man was pressured enough to shoot as he'd threatened.

“You're in more danger in that plane than on the ground. Find shelter immediately.” Khyamaeus, who didn't look happy at the delay, stared the man down.

Unafraid, almost aggressive.

Rhett's skin broke out into goosebumps under the armor. He had the urge to follow Khyamaeus' order, even if it wasn't directed at him. It must be a persuasive technique all the Fallen were capable of.

A handful of people fled back into the building without further argument, proving they were the most susceptible of the lot. Several others backed up, huddled together, uncertain what their next course of action could be.

The businessman-CEO's gun wavered a fraction, but he stood firm.

“Get in the plane. Slowly,” Rhett whispered to Evelyn.

Alexandra, blocked by Dracht, was too far from him to get her attention without drawing the notice of the man with the gun. His brother proved to have the same idea, nudging Alex toward the lowered stairs.

Evelyn went first, followed by her sister. The gunman grew edgier.

“Tell them to come back down or start loading these people up,” he demanded.

Rhett glanced at Khyamaeus, expecting him to use some of the powers he had at his command. Then he realized there were too many witnesses to a blatant display. If the world went on as they knew it, any survivors would spread the tale of what they'd seen like wildfire. No, the Fallen seemed to be taking no chances of that.

“We're not going to do that. You're wasting time. The longer you stand there--”

The gunman swerved the gun toward Christian and pulled the trigger.

Chapter Twenty

Sirens, plane engines, screaming, the rumbling earth. It all faded into background static the second the gun went off. Rhett looked away from the passive face of the shooter to Christian, who flew backwards, shield and sword flying, landing hard on the asphalt.

Those few seconds existed in a surreal slow motion reel, warped and distorted, until time caught up with itself. Then it went into fast forward; Khyamaeus let an arrow fly, catching the suited man high in the shoulder. It pitched the startled man back, the gun clattering to the ground.

Dragar and Dracht, shouting, reached Christian a second before he did, dropping to their knees to see where he'd been hit.

Blood spurted from a wound in his throat. A bad wound, one that had probably nicked an artery.

“Khyamaeus!” Rhett shouted. The Fallen had healing abilities. He could save Christian before he bled out.

The girls voices carried over the sounds of the engine and Rhett made a gesture with his hand. “Get back inside! Tell Roman to get ready to go!”

The Fallen, standing over the gasping, shocked man, planted a foot in his chest and yanked the arrow out.

A scream preceded unconsciousness.

Rhett was too busy loading Christian into his arms and up the stairs of the plane to worry about what happened to the shooter. He saw Khyamaeus give the crowd a withering stare before loping to the plane in their wake.

While Khyamaeus pulled up the steps, Evelyn rushed down the aisle with bandages she'd found in the back.

“Here. How bad is it? Where is he hi--” She cut off her questions when she saw the blood.

“He'll be all right. Khyamaeus will help him before it gets worse,” Rhett said. Sweat leaked into his eyes, blurring his vision.

“Stay with us, Christian. Khyamaeus can heal it,” Dragar said, holding Christian's head in his hands.

“Get this plane off the ground,” Khyamaeus called up to Roman. He set down his bow and squeezed between Dracht and Dragar. With care, he cupped a large hand over the spurting bullet hole.

Rhett clutched his brother's fingers, giving him something to hold. He remembered what the healing felt like, the burning tingle that spread out like lightning through every limb. Christian's grip tightened and his mouth parted over a startled inhale.

He'd gone through this for other, more minor wounds inflicted at the castle. Rhett could only imagine what it must feel like now.

“Tell...tell my son...” Christian spoke after swallowing, the rest of the words cut off by Dragar.

“Nonsense. You'll tell him. Khyamaeus is fixing it.”

The plane taxied to the end of the runway. Roman's voice came over the speakers. “Ready for take off.”

Not able to move Christian, Rhett helped brace his brother. Dracht got him from the other side.

The jet surged forward like a horse out of the starting gate, screaming down the runway. Rhett's heart raced, blood rushing through his ears.

They were going to make it into the air before an attack.

He glanced up to see Evelyn and Alex leaning over the seats to watch, hanging on with their hands.

Not one of them was buckled in or seated correctly. Roman's take offs and landings were rarely rough; Rhett cast aside any worry to focus on his brother.

“Is it working?” Dracht asked.

“Yes. He's quieting. It will take him a day or two before he's feeling like himself, but he will not die,” Khyamaeus said.

Reminded of their conversation, Rhett snapped a look up to see if the Fallen was lying. Khyamaeus made eye contact but his expression was too hard to read. The blood flow seemed to be lessening. When Khyamaeus took his hand away, the ugly hole had closed. A pucker of red remained.

The jet lifted off, ascending at a steep angle.

Rhett thrust a hand against a seat, holding onto Christian with the other.

Up, up, up. The plane tilted, changing heading.

Finally, Rhett dared to breathe a silent sigh of relief. Now all they had to concentrate on was getting back to Egypt and the Garden of Eden.

Three loud explosions sent a concussive blast that rocked the jet. Roman corrected, a curse carrying through the passenger cabin.

Evelyn and Alex let out startled noises when the plane dipped sharply, throwing them out of their seats. Masks fell out of overhead compartments, dangling and bobbing. Pillows flew, a glass broke, and the fuselage shuddered.

Rhett clamped down on Christian, hooking a boot through a seat leg, trying to keep him from flying off the floor. The jet flipped onto its side, nose down instead of up.

“Lost an engine!” Roman shouted. “Buckle up, buckle up, we're going down!”

†

Evelyn couldn't breathe.

Pinned between the wall of the plane and Alexandra, who had fallen atop her, she spat her sister's hair out of her mouth and tried to push her off. The velocity of the free fall made it impossible to get any leverage. She could feel Alex trying to peel herself up, a desperate scrabble of legs and arms. When Alex's elbow jabbed down into her diaphragm, it stole what bit of breath she had left.

Roman shouted over the intercom but Evelyn couldn't make out the words over the ear splitting whine filling the cabin.

They were going down, that was all she needed to know. The jet rolled, throwing Alex off. Evelyn slammed against the bulkhead with a dizzying thud and a moment later, pitched her to the floor again. One of the shields smacked off her shoulder and cheek. A cry of pain turned into a whimper of fear.

“Evelyn!”

Rhett shouting her name drew her gaze to the end of the seats. He used them to pull himself around the floor in her direction. In his eyes, she read the same desperation flowing through her veins.

She wasn't ready to die. Couldn't believe they'd come all this way only to go down in flames.

“Rhett!” She reached for him with a hand.

He grasped her arm and lurched beside her, wrapping her in his arms. Instead of reassuring her that Roman would fix it, that they were going to survive the landing, he put his mouth near her ear and whispered words that terrified her.

“I love you. Don't ever forget it. Do you hear me?”

“I love you, too. I love you, Rhett. I'm not ready to di--”

“Shhhh. Don't think about it.” He squeezed her to him with one arm; with the other he braced against a seat to keep them from rolling when the jet tilted the opposite direction.

How much farther until they made impact? It felt like forever that they'd already been falling.

Debris flew through the cabin; shields, magazines, glasses, pillows. Somewhere, she could hear masculine voices shouting but couldn't make out the words. A higher pitched whine filled the cabin and Evelyn clung to Rhett, mews of terror escaping her lips.

Any second now.

She could feel it coming. Closer, closer.

A shriek of metal preceded a flip, and suddenly she flew out of Rhett's arms, tumbling like a rag doll in a dryer. She smelled smoke, saw flames. Rhett's face flashed before her eyes when he rolled over the seats into another aisle. It happened faster than she could process.

One moment she saw glimpses of the inside of the jet, the next she saw a snatch of iron clouds. Machine-gun like pops vied with a roar, a hiss, screams of shrapnel. The noise was so loud, so intense, that it filled her world, even beyond the pain and the disorientation.

Christian flew by her, blue eyes glazed and wide, one arm flinging around like it was attached by strings.

Then, blackout.

Chapter Twenty-One

On her third try, Evelyn opened her eyes. The usual gloom greeted her. It made awakening anticlimactic. She couldn't remember at first why she was so disappointed not to see a bright yellow sun and hear birds chirping happily in the trees.

Slowly, she became aware of her body.

Something hard poked into the back of her shoulder and one leg had a hard, heavy weight resting across it. Strange. She realized between one thought and the next that she couldn't hear.

Not just birds, but anything.

Frowning, she lifted a hand to her forehead—and missed. It sank into her hair and flopped back to the ground as if her muscles were melting rubber, too weak to support movement.

The strong scent of fuel and smoke hit her senses at the same time she got her hearing back; shouting, the lick of flames, cracks and sizzles were all present. She couldn't tell who was shouting, or where they were.

In periphery, she saw the jet. A jagged tear split it in half. From her prone position, she could only see the nose wreckage. She had no idea where the tail section was.

They'd crashed. Memories flooded in. Gasping, she tried to sit up.

Rhett. Where was Rhett?

Feeling drunk or drugged, she wobbled upright. A piece of the plane lay across her leg from the thigh down.

“Rhett?” What was supposed to be a shout squeaked out instead. From this new vantage, she spied the tail end some distance down from the fuselage. Parts of it were burning. One of the plush seats hung out halfway to the ground at an odd angle. Wires, tubes and other electrical bits draped from a jagged bit of metal that looked like sharp teeth.

She became aware that the plane had landed atop a steep, craggy foothill. Scars in the earth proved they'd flipped and slid, coming close to going over the edge. Less than twenty feet from her hip was a drop off of interminable distance.

“Dracht! Dad!”

The shouts hit her ears again. She tried to push the heavy piece of metal off her leg, ignoring the stabbing pain at her back. Glancing around, she saw a ragged twist of iron that she'd fallen on. At least it hadn't embedded into her skin. The armored shirt undoubtedly helped with that.

“Hello?” she called. With clumsy shoves, she freed her leg. At the joint, where the armor didn't cover, there was a tear in the material of her pants. Blood soaked through. It wasn't a deep wound, though she couldn't tell about the one on her head.

She started to roll to her feet.

The world spun and for a moment, she thought she might throw up. She only made it to an awkward crouch, no further.

“Evelyn! Over here!” It was Christian.

“Where?”

“The cliff. Follow my voice.”

Too afraid she would lose her balance and fall over if she stood up, Evelyn crawled on her hands and knees toward the edge. The basin below she judged to be about a hundred feet straight down.

No Christian. A bout of vertigo struck and she froze.

“Evelyn!” Christian's voice took on a note of urgency.

Sliding forward a few inches, she peered along the edge to the right.

Nothing.

To the left.

Christian hung from a seat belt strap that had hooked around a jutting piece of rock. One arm dangled uselessly at his side. Blood dripped from a hidden wound on his head onto the armor on his shoulders.

“Christian! Hold on.” Evelyn didn't know how he hadn't fallen yet. Crawling over, she pried at the belt, thinking to pull him up. She couldn't separate the belt from the rock where it lay tight from Christian's weight.

“Evelyn, hurry. Find rope or another belt that I can put around my chest. Get Dracht or Rhett or my Dad. Khyamaeus.” His face was pale and shadows painted dark circles under his eyes.

Scooting back from the edge, she lurched to her feet. “Rhett! Khyamaeus!”

“Grab another belt!” Christian shouted.

She turned back to the fuselage. The world spun, threatening to go black at the edges of her vision. She fought against it, staggering over burning, shredded debris to search among the wreckage for something, anything, to help Christian. Panic over the others made it hard to concentrate.

“Rhett! Alexandra!” She shouted for them while she yanked on a piece of tubing. It came apart in her hands. Throwing it down, she got her fingers around another length of belt. No matter how many times she tugged, it would not come free from the seat.

Distantly, she heard shouts from someone else. It wasn't Christian, he was behind her. Unable to place the voices, she turned back to the edge where Christian hung from.

“I'm going to grab your wrist, Christian, and pull you up. I can do it.” He was nearly twice her weight with the armor on. Determined, she got down on her belly and reached for his wrist.

She noticed his knuckles were white and that his grip had slipped further toward the buckle at the end.

“Evelyn, I'm too heavy. You can't pull me up without something to anchor you.” His eyes met hers.

In them, she thought she read resignation.

“Christian! I can pull you up. I won't let you go. Grab my hand!” She curled her fingers around his wrist, fighting off another dizzy spell from hanging over the cliff. Shadows darkened her vision again—please don't let them be the shadows of death—before fading.

“I'll pull you over with me. Go find Rhett,” he said. His fingers slipped.

“Christian! No, no.”

He held her eyes. “I'm sorry about the stronghold. I wouldn't have let them hurt you. I just wanted my son. I thought I could save everyone.”

“Don't. Don't you dare say your goodbyes.” She choked on the words, angry that he wouldn't take her hands.

“Tell them I love them for me,” he rasped.

“No! You'll tell them.” Evelyn turned her head and screamed for the Fallen. “Khyamaeus!”

She wrapped her hands around Christan's wrist and forearm and tried to hook her foot behind the rock for support. He dangled so far down that she couldn't get a decent hold.

“Evelyn.”

She snapped a look at his eyes. There was apology, affection, understanding and compassion in his.

Then he let go.

†

“One, two, three—push!” Alex strained against a broken section of wing. Dracht stood beside her, grunting with the effort he put behind trying to shift the piece off Dragar.

The eldest Templar lay pinned on the ground, unconscious.

“It won't move,” Alex said, teeth clenched. She bent down to check Dragar's pulse again. Weak, but present.

“Is he alive?” Dracht asked, shoving again, and again, at the debris.

“Yes. Barely. Where is Khyamaeus? Do you hear someone screaming?” Alex stood up and looked around. There was so much wreckage and smoke and noise from a grinding engine that she couldn't make out who was where, or if the scream was a figment of her imagination.

She'd had her bell rung when the plane went down, just like the rest of them.

“Let's get this off him and we'll look for the others. If we don't, he might die,” Dracht said, redoubling his efforts.

Alex cupped her hands on the wing and pushed.

She'd come to half on and half off a seat that had been ejected from the plane on impact. Her injuries were startlingly minor, considering. A few cuts, bruises and bumps. Combined with the recent near-drowning and the odd effects it still had, she was thankful it wasn't worse. Dracht had come staggering out of inside the fuselage, armor protecting a lot of his body, his wounds no worse than her own.

They'd found Dragar unconscious and trapped and were still unable to free him. Alex hadn't seen anyone else so far. Her worry over her sister was paramount. Once they freed Dragar, she meant to start searching.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rhett sit up from the midst of a bush. He looked dazed.

“It's Rhett. Rhett!” Alex called his name, hoping it would help jerk him into a better state of awareness.

Meanwhile she applied more strength and weight to the section of wing laying on Dragar.

“Rhett!” Dracht shouted.

Alex felt the piece start to give. “Keep pushin', it's comin'.”

The blood rushed to her head from the tension and pressure.

Rhett shook off the stupor and got to his feet. “Where's Evelyn? Is he all right?”

“He's breathin' but unconscious. Are you okay? Haven't seen Ev anywhere yet,” Alex said, glancing over. They almost had the wing off Dragar enough to pull him free.

“Yeah.” Rhett sounded fuzzy and off center. He put his weight into pushing the wing with them. The addition scooted the debris a foot to the left.

“Get him out, Alex,” Dracht said.

She let go of the wing and grabbed Dragar under the shoulders. The armor made it awkward. He was tall and muscular and heavy, but she pulled and dug her feet in and moved him enough to relieve the pressure.

Rhett knelt on one side, Dracht on the other.

“Dad, you all right?” Dracht asked.

Alexandra felt for a pulse again, kneeling up near his head. She felt it under her fingertips, the same weak but steady blip. “He's still got a pulse. I don't see any huge wounds.”

“The armor spared him,” Rhett said, running his fingers along several deep gashes in the fortified leather. He glanced up, then staggered to his feet. “Evelyn!”

Alexandra wanted to know where her sister was, too. The screaming she thought she heard must have been the awkward pitch of the engine, because she didn't hear the noise any longer. It was disorienting and difficult to tell one thing from another.

“I'm going to go look for them. Has anyone seen Khyamaeus--” Rhett's question was interrupted by the Fallen.

“I'm right here. Roman didn't make it.” He jumped down from a hole in the plane near the cockpit. The Fallen looked like he hadn't sustained any damage at all.

Alexandra wasn't surprised. “Where's Ev and Christian?”

“I haven't seen them.” Khyamaeus scanned the top of the rise along with Rhett.

“Well you guys go look while we try and revive Dragar,” Alex said.

Dracht spat a curse hearing about Roman. “Dad, can you hear me?”

Dragar started to stir. Clumsy, not awake motions of his head and hands.

Rhett stalked off toward the wreckage, Khyamaeus in tow.

†

Rhett saw the world through a scope. He felt tunnel visioned, fuzzy headed. Like he wasn't in total control of his body. There was an urgent sense to account for everyone though, and while he mourned Roman's passing, worried over his father, he needed to set his eyes on Evelyn.

He didn't want to find her in pieces among the remains of the plane. What a morbid thought. Dismissing it, reaching deep for the optimism he usually had in spades, he stumbled over a piece of the plane.

“Evelyn! Khyamaeus, do you know where they are?” he asked.

“I'm looking.” Khyamaeus' voice strained across the answer.

The memory of their conversation flickered through Rhett's mind and he glanced aside. Khyamaeus met his eyes. It was the second or third time they'd done this. Rhett wanted to ask if Roman's death was the death Khyamaeus had forewarned him about, but he couldn't make himself do it.

Alex, Dracht and his father were accounted for. He knew Dragar would pull through. That left Evelyn and Christian out here somewhere.

Rhett didn't know if he was relieved or dismayed when Khyamaeus didn't offer the answer to his unasked question. A sick, gnawing sensation gripped his stomach while he staggered through the fuselage, brushing aside dangling pieces and shredded innards. Leather, wood, plastic, padding from the seats.

“Evelyn!” He couldn't shout louder than the whine of the spinning engine.

“I'm going to search the tail section,” Khyamaeus said. He split off the other direction.

Rhett paused to get his bearings. Through the veil and wisps of smoke, he saw movement. On the opposite side of the broken plane. Staggering through the ruin, he stumbled out where the hilltop cut away with a sharp edge and an expansive, panoramic view.

Evelyn knelt there a few feet from the drop off, hands cupped against her thighs, shoulders shaking, a look of sheer torment on her face. Rhett knew without her saying a word that Christian was gone. That she'd endured some personal horror in his brother's last minutes that would stay with her the rest of her life.

She looked so lost, so small, so vulnerable. Forlorn, bleak. Hair tumbling everywhere, armored shirt askew, chin trembling. His heart went out to her. For what she'd suffered, for the loss of his brother. For all the deaths, the struggles, the fierce fight they'd waged and for how far they'd come. To all they'd sacrificed.

He went to his knees in front of her and drew her in. Wrapping his arms, his eyes fixed on the belt stuck around the rock near the edge of the precipice. While she sobbed against his throat, emptying out the bitterness and the anger he could sense like a stain on his skin, he stared at the belt and rocked her.

On the air was the scent of death. Smoke. Fuel. Charred metal. Chemicals. He could see part of the remains of Los Angeles, a sliver of the city past the tail of the plane. As black as sin, the earth scorched like a mighty dragon had gone on a strafing run.

Fire spewed from buildings. Whole districts wiped out. Freeways decimated or collapsed. It didn't look like a city so much as a smudge of charcoal with bits and pieces thrusting up out of the earth.

It rumbled beneath them, a reminder that the terror wasn't over. Rhett cursed silently, mouth in her hair, hands sliding down her back.

When he came in contact with the pouch containing the Seals he stopped. So much ruin, so much damage and devastation.

He was afraid to open it and feel around. Worried, suddenly, that the Seals would all be broken.

What then? Was it all for nothing? Had everyone from the beginning died in vain? Would he and Evelyn and the others even make it back to Eden, or would they become victims of the end?

His fingers undid the clasp. Slid the flap open. Blindly searched for the clay discs wrapped in their pages.

Oh god, please.

He felt around the circumference of the first Seal. Intact. A ragged breath of relief escaped him. The next and the next were also intact. No cracks, chips, or breaks. Rhett couldn't figure out how they'd come through the event unscathed.

Not until he glimpsed Khyamaeus standing near the tail end, staring at them. It was the Fallen who'd gone to whatever lengths in an effort to not only save the Seals but to spare their lives.

He knew it as well as he drew breath that they had Khyamaeus to thank for making it through. Except Christian. His brother had been doomed probably from the start. Back at the beginning, maybe even as far back as when he'd held a sword to Evelyn's throat at the stronghold.

Instead of hushing her, he let Evelyn weep. And he joined her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Evelyn felt raw. From the soul to the surface. On the hilltop, with signs of pre-apocalypse all around them, she told the story of Christian. Each face, gathered around in a loose circle, showed their anguish, distress, sorrow. Dragar, not a man given to public displays of emotion, mourned his son with silent twitches of his shoulders and a fist against his mouth.

Dracht stared at the ground, grim and silent. The fingers of his left hand rubbed together, rubbing and rubbing, until she thought he might wear the fingerprints right off.

Rhett knelt next to her, gritty, with scars on his cheek and blood in his hair. He'd cried his tears out on her shoulder, against her ear. Raspy lungfuls of grief that were painful to hear.

Alex wore all her distress on the inside, which left her hollow eyed and paler than she had been.

Khyamaeus was the only one who stood firm and resolute, as if he'd known all along.

Maybe he had.

Evelyn couldn't bring herself to ask. She didn't want to know if he'd had foreknowledge of her sister and Christian's death. It was all too much, so much loss and suffering, that she needed to recover a little of herself before she endured anymore.

On the hilltop overlooking an obliterated Los Angeles, they spent precious minutes just coming to terms with it all.

For Evelyn, it felt anticlimactic that the Seals made it through the ordeal unscathed. They might have staved off an even worse situation but the price they had to pay was steep.

The earth still trembled and belched, shaking the ground they sat on. Every once in a while, a distant explosion broke the sudden stillness, a reminder of the dire state of things. As if Evelyn, or any of them, could forget. To make matters worse, the laden sky finally opened and set siege to the wasteland with rain.

Not a Noah-type downpour, but heavy enough to stick their hair to their head and make the armored shirts cling to their shoulders.

If it lasted long enough, Evelyn thought, at least it might begin to put out some of the fires. Perhaps some of the pristine wilderness of Northern California that had been burning would survive.

“So what do we do now?” Rhett asked. He smeared the side of his wrist over the top of his lip and left it resting there.

The plane was gone, useless to get them back where they needed to be. Evelyn looked out across the landscape, toward the parts of the LA basin that hadn't been directly rocked by the attack. Somewhere out there was a private airport with private planes, but the thought of trudging miles and miles seemed as appealing as throwing herself off the cliff.

“We need to get the Seals to the Garden. We're not out of danger while the Fallen are walking the earth,” Khyamaeus said. If he was touched by the deaths, the destruction, he didn't show it.

A collective silence was his answer.

Evelyn didn't need to ask any of the others if they felt up to locating an intact plane at some remote locale that they might or might not find the keys in. Finding a needle in a proverbial haystack would be easier.

Did they have any other choice? They couldn't sit on the hillside for much longer. The water and food was gone, and finding any would be next to impossible, she thought, after the recent attack. Survivors in the surrounding areas were going to panic and steal what hadn't already been stolen.

“How do you propose we do that?” Rhett asked, voice rough with exhaustion. He got to his feet, reaching a hand down.

Evelyn stared at it for a moment, then put hers in his and stood up. She thought she could sleep for a week.

The others stirred and finally rose.

“One mile at a time,” Khyamaeus said.

“Don't worry. I've brought Eden to you,” a familiar voice said behind them.

Evelyn whipped a startled look over her shoulder.

There, framed against the gloom and rain, stood Ashrael.

†

An overwhelming sense of relief enveloped Evelyn head to toe. Seeing Ashrael was like coming home. She knew, instinctively, that he would not allow anything else to happen to them. Not now, after all they'd been through. After all they'd lost. Compassion for the deaths lurked in his eyes; he'd been as fond of Minna as he had Genevieve and Galiana. As all the sisters that had perished before now.

A smile of welcome trembled on her mouth.

“Ashrael.” Rhett greeted him with surprise in his voice. Dragar and Dracht rumbled their hellos.

“Well, better late than never, Ash. I almost died, y'know? Or did we all die and that's what you've come to tell us?” Alexandra's quip started out with its usual jauntiness but waned as if she really thought the question had merit.

Startled, Evelyn looked around her. The rain felt too real, too wet, the ruin of the plane stark in its destruction. She could smell the smoke, feel the uncomfortable aches and pains from the impact. Dracht, Dragar and Rhett were all doing the same thing, she saw, darting looks around for some way to confirm they still lived.

They were so tired all their perceptions were skewed and distorted.

Ashrael chuckled. “You're not dead. None of you. And I see you've picked up a straggler along the way.”

The chuckle faded as the Guardian and the Fallen regarded each other.

Despite everything else, Evelyn felt the friction of the two in such close proximity. It manifested as goosebumps and pressure on her skin, as if the air around them was hyper-loaded with energy.

Khyamaeus hardly looked like he'd been in any accident. No bruises or cuts marked his skin and the armor only wore the distress of typical warfare. Somewhere along the way he'd lost his bow and the sheath of arrows on his back.

“He showed up in England. Said that he wanted to redeem himself so that he could maybe get his old job back,” Rhett said.

“And has he?” Ashrael asked.

“Redeemed himself? I don't pretend to know what happened before all this, but he got us out of some serious situations we probably wouldn't have survived. And I suspect he had something to do with most of us making it through the plane crash, though I'm not sure what.”

Ashrael didn't take his eyes off the Fallen. The two stared each other down, almost as if they were having some kind of private, silent conversation no one else could hear.

“It's been a long time since we've accepted one of our own back in. The ultimate decision is not mine, you understand,” Ashrael said, indicating Khyamaeus.

“My actions speak for themselves. I know the risks and the dangers,” Khyamaeus said.

“Indeed. You've cut yourself off from the Fallen now and have no idea whether the Guardians will take you back in,” Ashrael agreed with Khyamaeus.

“It's a risk worth taking,” Khyamaeus said.

“We'll see.” Ashrael looked away.

“He also had something to do with the Seals not breaking when we went down,” Rhett added.

And he had saved Christian's life once, only for them to lose him anyway. Evelyn bit the words back. She crossed her arms over her chest, standing close enough to Rhett that she could feel his body heat.

“Ah yes, the Seals. May I have them, please?” Ashrael extended a hand, palm up.

Evelyn reached into the pouch and withdrew the discs, leaving the page edges folded over for extra protection. Stepping closer, she set them in his hand.

“Thank you, Evelyn.” He opened each one by one to peruse the surface.

Evelyn thought it was a moment for him to buy time; Ashrael had to know which Seals had broken, and which hadn't.

“Have we stopped it in time?” Dragar asked with a rough edge to his voice.

Ashrael didn't immediately reply. Finally, he said, “Yes. In four or five days, all the elements you see around you, that you've experienced, will fade. The sky will clear, the sun and moon will return to normal, the earth will calm.”

“Even though some of the Horsemen have been turned loose?” Dracht asked.

Ashrael tucked the Seals into his armor and looked at Dracht. “They have wreaked their havoc, have no doubt. Fully half the population is no more. That number will grow to just under three quarters before the siege is through. A thorough cleansing was mankind's only hope for a second chance. When no more Seals are broken, when the last Horsemen are not called forth, the others will be forced to retreat. It's a cycle that keeps them going, and when it's broken, they cannot continue. You, all of you, have broken the cycle.”

Several minutes of silence descended. The snap of debris underfoot brought Evelyn's attention beyond their group toward the decimated plane.

A handful of Guardians, all in their armor, swords at their sides, made a half circle around them. For a moment, Evelyn grew alarmed. She thought they would confront Khyamaeus and end him right there.

Khyamaeus must have thought so too, because his posture stiffened and a sizzling charge made the air uncomfortably hot.

Rhett, Dragar and Dracht all darted looks between the Fallen and the Guardians. Wary.

“Khyamaeus, you will go with them to the Council and be heard. Good luck,” Ashrael said. He gestured to the Guardians who waited with their hands on their swords, all eyes on the Fallen.

Khyamaeus eased. He broke eye contact with the Guardians and faced the group. “It was interesting to work alongside the Templars I have heard so much about. Perhaps we will all meet again. I'm sorry I could not save Minna or Christian.”

Evelyn saw Khyamaeus and Rhett exchange a specific look that Evelyn couldn't decipher. It wasn't the first time. She made a note to herself to ask Rhett later.

The Templars thanked Khyamaeus and bid him goodbye.

Alex smiled.

Evelyn did too. She didn't blame him for her sister's death, nor Christian's. He'd done what he could with what he had. At least the rest of them had made it through alive with the remaining Seals. She knew Khyamaeus had a hand in that, as Rhett pointed out.

Goodbyes and glances exchanged, Khyamaeus left with the Guardians. On the top of a foothill overlooking so much devastation, the Guardians and the Fallen vanished.

Khyamaeus' fate now hung in the balance.

†

“Are the rest of you ready to return to Eden?” Ashrael asked once the others were gone.

Longing surged inside Evelyn at the mention of Eden. Living under the oppressive weight of the threatening clouds, the bursts of rain, lightning and unpredictable earthquakes made her wish fervently for blue skies, a bright sun and fresh, untainted air.

The plane, destroyed in the crash, would not get them to Egypt. Hours and hours would be wasted wandering until they found another to replace it. Evelyn hid her disappointment.

“Are Rhett, Dracht and Dragar still going to be our Guardians? What about the Seals?” Alex asked.

All eyes landed on Ashrael. A flicker of amusement touched his expression.

“Yes, Alexandra. As long as they are still willing, you and Evelyn will lead them to the Tree of Life once we return and they may partake of the fruit.”

Evelyn knew she wasn't the only one feeling bittersweet right now. Rhett met her eyes and she read the lingering sorrow that lurked side-by-side with relief.

“It's going to take us some time to get back,” Dracht pointed out.

“Less time than you think,” Ashrael said.

When Evelyn swerved her attention away from Rhett, she saw the shimmer of the pylons and the tall door behind Ashrael. It wasn't quite as corporeal as the real thing, like something one might visit in a dream. But she also knew that it would take them where they needed to go.

There on the hillside, Ashrael opened an alternate door to Eden. He led the way through, stepping from the wreckage and charred chaparral into a void that swallowed him whole.

Evelyn followed. Rhett was at her back with his brother, father and Alexandra in line behind him.

The dismal gray she'd grown uncomfortably used to became a brief flicker of static just past the Gate. Heavy pressure caused her ears to pop. On either side and overhead, like a translucent tunnel with clear walls and a see through floor, the earth, air and time seemed to warp. Hundreds of feet down she saw the black ruin where bombs had been dropped and plains where the rains left flood waters raging. Cities stood in varying stages of disaster, some so devastated she couldn't recognize them from the rubble. Fissures, volcanoes and gorges that had never been there before made new marks in the terrain, redefining boundaries and property lines.

None of it resembled an earth Evelyn was familiar with. Not during any wars that she'd witnessed in her long life time, not after any natural disaster that had struck land. Below was an alien world, smoking and on fire. The sheer scope was mind numbing. With every step, as if she was a giant, countries fell away for new ones. Everywhere there was destruction. No one had escaped the peril, the turmoil, the death.

And death was plenty.

She could tell by the soulless desolation, the lack of warmth and light. Black flickers like hungry tongues lapped at the remains of humanity, gorging on the wicked, the righteous, the sinful.

What mother nature hadn't taken, Death consumed with unprecedented greed.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The healing heat of the sun beat down from a cloudless sky. Underfoot, shoots of velvety green grass stretched for miles in all directions, ending only when clusters of flowers, bushes or trees took its place. A tranquil peace enveloped the whole of it, as far as the eye could see, as if nothing bad could ever happen here. Nearby, a creek meandered through the landscape, clear and fresh and as cool as the springs they washed themselves in.

Days of grime, old blood, scabs and filth fell away under soft cloths and clean smelling soap.

Changed into clothing that Ashrael provided, they downed platefuls of food and water, sitting on sun warmed flat rocks while birds sang and the wind whispered through the trees. Still within sight of the Gate, the group of five rested and re-energized.

Surprisingly, few had little to say.

They went through their routines in silence, staring at far off spots with their minds thousands of miles away.

It was to be expected, perhaps. The recent losses could not simply be forgotten or overlooked and each had to mourn their own way.

They slept in the grass when the silver moon crested high and the sky grew dark. Stars were brighter here, winking in the black canopy like glittering diamonds.

On the second morning, Ashrael approached from the Gate while they finished their breakfast. He still wore his armor—he always wore his armor—and the sword still hung at his side. In his hands he held a thick, heavy looking book. Leather cover with crinkling pages, and an arcane mark engraved on the front.

“Everyone feeling rested?” he asked, assessing each with his eyes.

“About as rested as I'm going to get, I think,” Dracht said. He scrubbed fingers through the dark beard he'd not had a chance to shave.

“Much better than I was,” Dragar added.

“Like piss and vinegar again,” Alexandra retorted, which drew a laugh from all the men.

The first laugh since they'd arrived.

Evelyn smiled, also for the first time. She studied her wayward sister with undeniable fondness, wishing Genevieve, Minna and Galiana were here to laugh with them. Instead of sinking into another round of melancholy, Evelyn exhaled a long breath. Life was for the living, and none of her sisters would approve of excess brooding or tears.

She studied the book Ashrael held and let the spark of curiosity grow.

“What's that?” she asked.

“It's the new Book of Seals. Each of the broken ones has been replaced. When you all return from the Tree of Life, I will put this into your care. As before, it must be guarded and protected. Find a safe place to hide it, for the Fallen will know another exists and their search will continue.”

“Can't you keep it here in Eden?” Rhett asked. He too had not shaved. His chin and jaw sported a thick layer of golden whiskers.

“No. To keep it here would be to invite chaos into Eden. The Fallen will seek it out, as they always have, and to lure them here would result in terrible consequences,” Ashrael said.

“Don't they know where it is already, since one followed us back to the Temple?” Rhett asked.

“You killed him and any knowledge he had of this place is therefore gone. If you hadn't, Rhett, things would have gone much differently.”

Rhett rubbed a palm up and down the thigh of his jeans. He scanned a look over the pristine acreage and distant hills. “So we take it back out into the world and hide it—how do we know the Fallen won't find us again? Aren't they walking around out there among everyone else?”

“Yes. But they always have been. You will not see them anymore than you ever did before now. The ones who saw your face are dead. There is no way for them to transfer that knowledge to those still living. You have the advantage in that they will not expose themselves usually to the general public unless we are in a scenario like what just happened. And if it should come to that again, there will be no stopping it,” Ashrael said.

“Have the men in power who came after us survived?” Dracht asked.

Ashrael, for a fleeting moment, wore a look of distaste. “They have a long reach, Dracht. Their influence and pockets are deep. A few, at least, have undoubtedly lived through this.”

“So we're back at square one, really,” Rhett intervened.

“Not necessarily.” Ashrael met each Templar's eyes. “The Fallen and the men in power who seek Eden don't know whether the daughters have survived either. It will be easy to blend in with the remaining population and, for a while at least, you will not have to worry about problems like facial recognition and chips inserted into your body that will make it impossible to hide. If you're very lucky, opinion will shift away from these ideas of entrapment and you will have little to worry about.”

“That's part of our job too, isn't it?” Dracht asked.

“It's up to you if you choose to shape the future that way,” Ashrael said.

“It's what most of this was for. So we would come away from all this with experience we wouldn't have had otherwise. Our choices, now, will be different.” Dracht sounded like he'd just had an epiphany.

Ashrael smiled and did not confirm or deny it.

“What about Christian's son?” Dragar asked. His expression was one any grieving father would wear, solemn and serious. “Did he survive all this?”

Ashrael hesitated, as if he knew he shouldn't answer the question. “He and his mother did not make it. I'm sorry.”

The brothers and father shared a look; none of them said anything. It was another tragedy to put behind them, like the loss of Christian.

Rhett thrust a hand through his hair a moment later and eyed the Book of Seals thoughtfully. One side of his face still sported scrapes, scabs and scars from being drug over the ground.

Evelyn wondered what he was thinking. If he was regretting his involvement. Breaking her silence, she said, “The Tree won't come to us. Let's get going.”

†

Rhett had never seen anything quite like it. The Eden of his imaginings couldn't compare to the pristine beauty in every direction. It was rugged, serene, breathtaking. Water was clearer, the grass greener and sweeter. Steep cliffs gave way to deep valleys and pocket meadows sprouted up everywhere.

There seemed to be no particular trail the girls guided them down, nothing pointing them in the right direction. Yet Alex and Evelyn both chose the same path every time.

If Eden had deserts, they were not located anywhere near the lush landscape they walked over. Forests sprang up tall and endless, the tree varieties both known and unknown. The same with certain flowers and plants.

He saw nothing whatsoever resembling a structure; no houses, no buildings, no streets. Just miles and miles of untouched beauty. A primal part of him wanted to explore caves nestled into the side of a high ravine and when he spotted a far silhouette of mountains, he was intrigued.

Mountains, in Eden? He hadn't expected that. There were no pesky bugs to bother him, either. No gnat swarms—even near chuckling creeks—and no bees on the flowers. On closer inspection, he found no ants, pill bugs or any other kind of insect either in the grass or on low boulders they passed.

Curious.

There were birds though. Thousands of them. And rabbits. Hawks. Deer.

Four hours into their hike on the first day, Rhett asked, “Just how big is Eden, anyway?”

Dracht, who walked at Alexandra's flank, glanced over at the question. Dragar kept walking.

Evelyn, who seemed right at home, picked her way around a clutch of tiny flowers.

“I couldn't tell you the exact land mass. There's eight large mountain ranges--”

“What? Eight?” Rhett interrupted her. He looked at the distant range. Eight more like that? The scope of it startled him. He'd expected twenty, maybe fifty acres of land total.

“Yes. It has to be big. When the next armageddon hits, which will not be reversible according to Ashrael, this is the sanctuary the survivors will flock to,” she said.

“Why, because the world will be too unlivable?” Dracht asked.

“What we saw out there is probably just the beginning of the destruction that will happen if all the Seals are broken,” Evelyn replied.

Alexandra stopped near a low, rocky outcropping with water meandering over the stone. Cupping a hand, she took a long drink.

Rhett stepped over to have one as well. The water tasted fresher than any he'd ever had. Anywhere. Not a man big on artificial beverages anyway, he thought he could happily drink just this for the rest of his life.

The others stopped as well, before moving on.

“So what will happen? The people will just magically be herded through the Gate?” Rhett asked.

“I don't know how, exactly. I just know this was the ultimate plan for starting over. Do you doubt it?” Evelyn asked, an arch in her brow.

For the first time in a long time, Rhett laughed. A quiet rumble that didn't travel far. “No. Not after everything else. How much farther is it?”

Evelyn glanced ahead. To the left, a deep valley cut a swath through the landscape. A waterfall tumbled from a high edge down to a turquoise pool below. To the right, craggy outcroppings were interspersed with healthy looking plants and broad swatches of grass.

“About an hour,” she said.

An hour until his life changed forever.

†

“It's going to take a long time to rebuild.” Dracht palmed the round end of a rock at the outcropping on his way by.

Alexandra, more relaxed now that they were deeper into Eden, looked askance at the Templar. She knew without asking what he meant. “Some cities are more intact than others, but yes. It will still take a long time. Do you know where you'll want to live when we get back there?”

Dracht arched a brow. “Doesn't that depend on where you and Evelyn choose to stay? I'm sure your home in Pacific Palisades is gone or damaged beyond repair.”

Los Angeles was not a viable option for residency.

Alex turned her mind from the things they'd lost in the home. Much of the most intimate, precious things had been stored in safe boxes in other places, though whether those banks or other locations had come through somewhat unscathed remained to be seen. The girls had learned early on not to keep all their eggs in one basket.

Still. There were photos and other memorabilia she would have liked to salvage.

Picking her way up a gentle incline, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “Maybe one of the Templar Strongholds.”

In periphery, she saw Dracht snap a look at her.

“You'd want to live in one of the strongholds?” he asked, sounding bemused.

“Sure. Why not? The ones I've seen appeal to me. They have an old, ancient feel to them and they're already built with security measures in place. If any are still standing, that is.” Her lips thinned when she considered whether the one in Greece had been damaged in quakes or volcano fallout. Bombs.

“What do you think your sister would say to that?”

Alex glanced surreptitiously at her sister. “I think she'd like it. As long as Rhett's there, she'll be happy anywhere.”

Silence brought Alexandra's gaze back to Dracht. He'd stopped walking and was staring at her.

“What?” Images of their kiss in the bathroom on the plane flickered through her mind. Neither one had said anything about it. There hadn't been time. But she hadn't forgotten.

“What about you, Alexandra? The idea of the stronghold appeals because it's secure and it's unique. But will you be happy there, too?” he asked.

The question seemed to have unusual weight. Alexandra did not mistake his seriousness, the gleam in his dark eyes.

She knew what he was asking, even if he hadn't said the words exactly. Instead of answer him, she walked over, took his hand, and led him forward. Disappointment flashed across his features before neutrality took over once more. Alex felt a little guilty for making him wait.

But only a little.

†

Late afternoon sunlight shone down on the orchard, casting a golden glow over the trees. They were not lined up in rows, like normal orchards, but spread out in what seemed a haphazard pattern. The acreage panned out before them, framed in on the left by a low cliff; to the right, rolling hills dotted with patches of forest.

Each of the trees in the orchard stood five times as tall and broad as most fruit trees, their leaves fatter and thicker. Some of the fruit dangling from the limbs would not be recognizable to the Templars. Evelyn and Alexandra were very familiar with all of them.

Evelyn, with Rhett at her flank, led him around several impressive specimens. Alex had Dracht by the hand and was doing the same while Dragar brought up the rear.

They came to a small clearing within the orchard itself. An enormous apple tree dominated the center, branches fanning at least fifty feet across. Dark and glossy, the leaves were as wide as a man's palm. Shiny red apples grew in abundance, each perfect and unspoiled.

Rhett stared up at the tree with a complex look on his face. Evelyn watched him instead of the tree; she'd seen it hundreds of times. When he made eye contact with her, then stepped forward and reached for one of the apples, she caught his wrist.

Perplexed, he arched a brow at her.

Evelyn laced her fingers through his and led him around the apple tree. Fifteen yards behind it sat another, not quite as broad or as tall, but still majestic. Even more beautiful than the apple tree with its half green-half golden leaves. This was a tree meant for masterpiece oil paintings and the decadence of dreams.

There were no apples on its limbs, but pears. Green, with a smell that made her mouth water from five feet away. An undeniable beauty lurked in the shape and the stature of this tree, the colors vibrant and stunning.

Rhett glanced behind them; then forward. Bemused, or so suggested his expression.

“But I thought--”

“No. This is the Tree of Life.” Evelyn picked one of the pears off and handed it to him.

Beside them, Dracht and Dragar did the same.

“I'll be damned,” Dracht said.

“Wouldn't have seen that coming a mile away,” Dragar added.

Evelyn stepped back with Alex and eyed the three Templars. They somehow seemed to fit there in front of the spectacular tree. Rugged, disheveled with their whiskers unshaven and warrior like statures. Even without the armor, there could be no mistaking their prowess, their strength.

The three Knights examined the fruit, taking their time, before glancing at each other.

Evelyn couldn't be sure what passed between them, but something did. Maybe thoughts of Christian. Or the future. The past. Their victories and their failures. She wondered if they were having second thoughts.

Immortality came with responsibility, and not without personal cost. Their lives would never be the same after this. Bound to their covenant, they would be tethered to the fate of the daughters of Eve and the Book of Seals.

She heard Alexandra draw in an expectant breath.

Evelyn held hers, too.

As one, the Knights brought up the fruit and snapped bites out of the skin.

Alexandra whooped and charged a laughing Dracht who caught her around the waist with one arm.

“Yes, I'll be happy at the stronghold,” Alex said to Dracht, dragging a hand through his hair. “Happy anywhere you are.”

“A good thing, because now you're stuck with me.” He held up the bitten pear, rolled out a gruff laugh, and swung her in a carefree circle.

Rhett cut Evelyn a devil-may-care grin and stalked her while he chewed. When he took her mouth for a kiss, he tasted like pears. In his eyes were promises and declarations.

“You need a shave,” she scolded him, arms around his neck.

“I'll shave if you promise to keep your eyes open when you shoot,” he retorted.

She laughed.

And all was right with the world.

The End

. . .

A note from the author-

Thank you for reading the Daughters of Eve series. I hope you enjoyed
reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you would like to leave
a review, please know that I appreciate all reviews greatly.

All the best,

Danielle

Other works by Danielle Bourdon:

Romantic Suspense Series

The Latvala Royals

Heir Untamed

King and Kingdom

Heir in Exile

King Takes a Bride

Wrath of the King

The Society Series

The Society of the Nines

Violin Song

Vengeance for the Dead

Young Adult Fantasy Series

The Fates

The Fate of Destiny

The Fate of Chaos

The Reign of Mayhem

A Crisis of Fate

Visit the author's website: www.daniellebourdon.com

Excerpt from Society of the Nines – Thriller/Suspense:

Chapter One

If society wasn't filled with liars, deceivers and betrayers, Mahayla thought, I'd be out of a job. She stared at the stack of files on her desk, all consisting of just-completed projects. Most of them were cases of cheating spouses which required her to spend time snapping photos of clandestine rendezvous and collecting evidence for her clients to use in court. One or two were genealogy related—not her specialty—and still another was a business owner who suspected a rival was using underhanded methods to drive customers away.

She'd solved them all, even the genealogy cases, in record time. No new cases sat in the 'In' basket. Private Investigation work had slowed down as the troubled economy struggled to get back on its feet. There was little she could do to drive more customers through the door besides wait patiently and hope the ad in the yellow pages attracted some attention.

Maybe I should redecorate the office.

Mahayla glanced at the plush chairs on the other side of her desk, then the bookcases lining the walls, and finally the stylish divan and wingback in the designated 'waiting area'. The small, rectangular space got all its character from eclectic bits of architecture around the windows, molding on the walls, and the cream-burgundy-black décor that gave it a chic, vintage feel. Situated on the second floor above a book shop on La Palma Drive, it was perfect for her needs and really, if she was honest, didn't need a lick of updating at all.

It needed customers.

She needed customers. Mahayla didn't like to be idle.

Leaning over, she plucked the photograph of her father, her mother, and herself off the desk. She'd acquired her mother's dark hair, blue eyes, and five-eight height. From her father, the CIA agent who had inspired her to become what she was, Mahayla had inherited a love of mystery, thrills and the need to find answers to questions. A recommendation (and string pulling) from her father right out of high school landed her a job at the CIA, a job she left five years later to open her own business. The reasons for her departure were complicated and personal, reasons her father never understood, much less supported.

Four years on, she didn't regret her choice. Private investigation wasn't as intense or thrilling, sacrifices she was willing to make to keep her morality intact.

All she regretted was that she didn't have a challenging case to sink her teeth into.

Fate must have been listening in; a timid knock—taptaptap—came at the door.

Mahayla set the picture down. “Come in.”

At first, nothing happened. No one entered. Just as she stood up, the handle twisted and a woman stepped in.

Right away, Mahayla noticed three things: the wig, the fear and the weapon. Blonde, five-two, medium height and weight, the woman closed the door but hovered near it as if she thought she might have to suddenly flee. She also clutched a can of mace in a tight fist, skin white over the knuckles. Her clothes were the kind that allowed her to blend in with any crowd: whitewashed jeans, a mint green cardigan and new tennis shoes of an indiscriminate make.

A pair of gray shaded sunglasses hid the woman's eyes from view.

“Can I help you?” Mahayla asked. She had the distinct impression the lady was about to bolt. Interesting.

“Y...yes. I mean, maybe. How much for a...consultation?”

“The consultation is free, ma'am. Would you like to sit down? I have coffee here and a few cold drinks.” Speaking smooth and slow, Mahayla gestured toward one of the chairs opposite her desk.

“Is anyone else here?” the woman whispered.

“No ma'am, it's just me. I'm Mahayla Breland.” She didn't move around the desk, afraid she would make the woman flee before she found out what the problem was.

A husband turned stalker, most likely.

Again, the woman hesitated.

Mahayla saw the way the woman's sunglasses tilted toward the high corners of the room. Like she was looking for surveillance cameras. There were none in this specific office, though the building owner had them on the outside in case of breakins.

Finally, the woman walked to a chair at the desk and sat on the very edge. She didn't put the mace away. “I'm Emma Chapin.”

Mahayla didn't sit down yet, and she didn't offer her hand. Instinct told her that would be a bad idea despite her own personal protocol. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Chapin. Would you like something to drink?”

“No thank you.”

“All right. What can I help you with today?” Mahayla sat down and folded her hands over the top of her desk. She realized that she didn't expect the woman to talk about an unruly ex-husband, an obsessed lover, or an irate co-worker any longer. Intuition, which she'd learned to trust long ago, warned her that whatever brought Emma here was much darker.

Emma licked her lips and nudged the sunglasses up on the bridge of her nose with a knuckle. “Do you accept missing persons cases?”

“Yes, I do. Who is it that's missing, Ms. Chapin?”

“It's my son. Elliott.” Emma's sunglasses pointed down at her hands. At the mace.

“How long has he been missing?”

“Three years.”

“How old is Elliott, Ms. Chapin? Have you contacted the authorities?”

“He's twenty-nine, thirty in September. I can't contact the authorities. I need to do this on my own.”

Mahayla sat back in her chair. “I'm not sure I understand. The authorities have a much more intricate networ--”

“They have spies in the police department,” she whispered.

“They?”

Emma whipped a look behind her.

The quick motion startled Mahayla. No one had come into the office. What had the woman so spooked?

“I can't tell you unless you agree to take the case, Miss Breland,” Emma said when she glanced back. She seemed a little edgier.

“I'll take the case. I need a hundred-fifty dollar deposit. The balance will be due when I find your son.” Even if she'd had ten cases ahead of this one, Mahayla wouldn't have turned it down. This was more than a simple missing persons case, more than someone who'd run off in a fit or a fury. She could feel it in her bones.

Emma dug through her purse, keeping the mace handy at all times. She withdrew a wallet and then fished out the payment in small bills. Carefully, she made a stack on the desk.

Mahayla pulled her receipt book over and began writing one out. “Thank you. Now then, who is 'they'?”

“The Society of the Nines.” Emma's voice dropped below a whisper. So low that Mahayla had a hard time making the words out.

“I'm sorry, did you say the Society of the Nines?” Mahayla glanced up. Emma's face looked ashen and her mouth had compressed into a tight line.

“Yes, dear. Do you know them?” Her hand tightened around the mace.

Mahayla noticed; she also knew that Emma was watching her every move, as if she suspected Mahayla might be involved with this group. She tore off the receipt and set it down. Picking up the stack of bills, she put it in a plain white envelope and set it into the top drawer. She hoped the mundane task would take the edge off Emma's tension.

“I've never heard of them before. Why don't you tell me about them though after you tell me about Elliott.” Mahayla surmised this group, whoever they were, might have something to do with the entire situation. She gathered a notepad and a pen and glanced at Emma.

The sunglasses were pointed at her, suggesting Emma was staring. Mahayla strove to appear collected and calm. She wasn't entirely convinced of Emma's sanity at the moment, and really didn't want to be sprayed with mace.

“It's my fault they're after him,” Emma lamented. Sincere regret tinged her voice.

“Why is it your fault? What do they want with Elliott? Do you think they already have him?” Mahayla doodled on the notepad; endless little circles in a corner. Her busy mind worked over the evolving details.

“Because he was born on September ninth. If I could have only had him one day earlier, or one day later.” Emma exhaled what sounded like an exhausted sigh.

“I don't understand the correlation.” Mahayla wished the woman would remove the sunglasses. She might get a better read on her.

“Nine. Nine, nine, nine,” Emma said. She leaned forward and, without asking, flipped the pages on Mahayla's desktop calendar until the date on the pages read: September 9th, 1999.

Mahayla stared at the date. Obviously, the number Nine played a prominent part. Society of the Nines. All the nines in Elliott's upcoming birthday. Roughly eight weeks away.

“You didn't say whether you thought they'd made contact with Elliott,” Mahayla reminded her.

“No. No, I don't think they have. That's why I'm here.” Emma's sunglasses tipped up from the calendar toward her again. “I want you to find him before they do.”

“Why doesn't Elliott just find you?”

“Because he knows they watch me. Now, they'll be watching you too.”

. . .