Immortal Surrender (Curse of the Templars) Read online

  Noelle folded her arms over her chest and scowled. “I thought you retired. Doesn’t that mean you can’t piddle around in my lab and interfere at will?”

  A hearty chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat. “Come now, don’t be cross. It’s one day out of your life. Besides, I brought you something to make up for it.” He flopped open his satchel and stuffed a hand inside.

  “More like something to bribe me with.” Unable to keep her grin under wraps, Noelle sidled into a chair next to him. Gabriel’s trinkets were always fascinating. But whatever he brought for her always included a personal request. Date some little object he’d picked up from someplace he wouldn’t say, in some corner of the world he’d forgotten. She suspected half of them ended up on eBay.

  True to form, he pulled out two felt-wrapped parcels tied with a white string. He selected the smaller and gently tugged at the ties. The ribbon fell away. Gabriel plucked the folded fabric apart. He held his open hand beneath her chin.

  Noelle looked down on a gold ring set with a vibrant red stone. She gingerly took it between thumb and forefinger and held it to the light. Intricate etching along the band formed a crude basket weave pattern that lacked even a hint of patina. Yet the artistry was old. Imprecise and rough—a product of an era where everything came from the hands of men. She brought it closer and traced a short nail over the prominent cabochon. Etched into the polished surface, a clubbed chevron had been spared the scars of centuries.

  Though beautiful, she’d seen many of similar type. “Roman.”

  Gabriel nodded. “I know that much. But I want to know if it’s empire or republic.” He nudged her elbow. “Try it on.”

  Smirking, Noelle gave in to the tradition. If she had a jewelry box for all the ancient decorations Gabriel had made her try on over the years, she’d never want for accessories again. She slid the ring onto her finger and cocked her hand, allowing him to inspect the trinket.

  “Lovely. Can’t you see who might have worn it? She would have dark hair like yours. Elegant hands.” He caught her fingertips and turned her wrist under the light. “It would glint at banquets, a symbol of her husband’s wealth. Perhaps she was an empress. That’s gold, you know.”

  She retracted her hand and slipped the ring off. “I figured as much. There’s no tarnish on it at all. This doesn’t look polished—but we won’t know until I get it tested. We might find chemical residue.”

  He winked in the affectionate way that always reminded her of her long-gone father. “You’ll tell me if you do.” Freckled hands pressed the protective cloth into hers.

  She wrapped it up, twisted on her stool, and stuffed it into the bag that would hold her precious cargo. When she swiveled around to face him again, Gabriel had the next package unwrapped. Sitting on the tabletop, a heavily patinaed arm torc waited. The patches of green and red iron oxide shimmered in iridescent color, marking it as bronze.

  Noelle picked it up to examine it more closely. Triple wound, it coiled in a near-perfect circle. On each end, a tiny serpent’s head came to rest in the center. Each bore fragments of some jewel, or perhaps glass, which served as onyx eyes. Cross-hatching behind the miniature heads created masterful scale work.

  “This is gorgeous,” she murmured. She turned the torc beneath the light, and her eyebrows furrowed. Out of place with the other artwork, a Templar cross had been etched into each serpent’s head. “That’s odd.”

  “I thought so too. Can you see if there’s any difference in the age between the crosses and the rest of it?”

  She brought the torc closer and squinted at the miniscule carvings. “I’ll do my best. When do you need these back?” Before he could instruct her, she eased the torc up over her elbow, fitting it snugly onto her arm. She pushed her shirtsleeve to her shoulder, then twisted to admire the piece. For the first time since Gabriel had started bringing her objects on the side, she could see what he saw—a visual of the long-ago person who might have cherished the forgotten object.

  “It’s really pretty, Gabriel.”

  His heavy hand clapped her shoulder. “I’m glad you like it. That one’s yours.”

  “Mine?” Noelle’s eyes widened. “I can’t accept this. It’s got to be worth a fortune.”

  Features that still held a hint of color from all his years in the field lifted with a smirk. “Where’d my skeptic go? You don’t know how old that is.”

  A flush crept into her cheeks. “I know it’s authentic. You’ve never brought me a fake. No matter how old this is, it’s still got to have significant value.” She pushed at the trinket to slip it off her arm. “I can’t accept it.”

  Gabriel grabbed his satchel, snapped it shut, and stood. “You can. Consider it your reward for successfully dating the Sudarium.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, then braced himself on his cane. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the men I hired.”

  Noelle pushed at the torc again, but it refused to budge. Under her breath, she muttered an oath. She should have known better than to shove it onto her arm thoughtlessly. The last time she’d tried on something that was a little too tight, she and Gabriel nearly had to cut it off. If not for his brilliant idea to soak her hand in ice water until her fingers almost froze, she’d have destroyed a ring worth thousands.

  “Try soap later,” he commented.

  Noelle watched Gabriel limp toward the door. A frown pulled at her forehead as his long-ago accident sifted into her mind. He hadn’t expected someone would try to shoot him, especially not after disproving the theory on the shroud. Maybe his guard wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. She glanced at the canister. “I need a few minutes, Gabriel. I don’t have this packed right.”

  Knowing glinted in his eyes. “I’ll hobble over to the candy machine. Want anything?”

  Noelle shook her head.

  When the door to her laboratory thumped shut, Noelle picked up the canister and shoved it inside her oversized purse. She lugged the larger satchel Father Phanuel had packed it in to her locker, and stuffed in the change of clothes she kept on hand in case of a chemical spill. Satisfied it didn’t look too bulky, she snapped the tiny padlock on the fastener shut and pocketed the key. Stopping at her cluttered desk, she scribbled a note to Seth instructing him to pick up the relic at the boarding gate. While she’d like to convince herself Gabriel was being overprotective, she knew in her heart he was a practical man. He wouldn’t caution her unless he felt she had reason to worry. Better to take precautions, even if they were unnecessary.

  Still, the idea he’d hired private security niggled at her pride. She did a reasonable job living on her own in D.C., even with her apartment being in a shadier side of town. She hadn’t been mugged, hadn’t been threatened, and hadn’t once felt as if she needed a protector. Accepting Gabriel’s suggestion that now might be a wise time to become dependent on someone else just didn’t sit well.

  A knock signaled Gabriel’s return. She tossed the bag and her purse over her shoulder, grabbed her coat, and pulled on her winter hat. Winding her heavy scarf around her neck, she headed for the door.

  In the hall, she handed Gabriel the canister’s satchel. “Take this to the airport for me, would you? Gate 23—I’ll meet you there with Seth.”

  Gabriel reached down, and in a gesture that could only be marked as fatherly, he clasped her hand in an affectionate squeeze. “I’ll have Lucan do the honors.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “One of the men I hired.”

  Even better. Gabriel might observe the weight difference. Someone unfamiliar with transporting artifacts probably wouldn’t catch on. When she arrived at the airport, she’d reclaim the bag, and no one would ever be the wiser.

  Gabriel urged her toward the back stairs. “We’ll go this way. There’s a slew of reporters on the front steps.”

  Noelle rolled her eyes. The things people would do over a myth. She’d never understand religion or the power it held over mankind. It was so much easier to comprehend the properties of science,
the genetic links between the different species, as opposed to trying to sell the creative fiction of a greater power. Science could be proved. Theology only existed as long as people believed.

  She followed Gabriel up the musty metal stairs reserved for employees onto the rooftop parking lot. The sun glared off high banks of snow, a false illusion of warmth against the frigid blast that whipped through her hair. As they stepped around the first row of multicolored vehicles, the front doors on a silver SUV opened. Two men climbed out. Two giant men who looked like they could turn that SUV on its side with little effort.

  Noelle bristled. Gabriel hadn’t hired security, he’d hired damn bodyguards. “I won’t forget this, Gabriel,” she mumbled under her breath.

  His chuckle only annoyed her further. Gritting her teeth, she sank into her coat and accepted she didn’t have a choice. Maybe she could have gotten out of this back in her laboratory. But not now. Not after she’d agreed. And certainly not when she couldn’t pry his bribe off her arm.

  As they approached the waiting vehicle, Gabriel gave her a sideways glance. “I’ll send Lucan ahead with the Sudarium. I would trust him with my life, so you don’t need to worry about its safety. Farran will escort you to your apartment, then take you to the airport when it’s time to leave.” He came to an abrupt stop and pulled on her elbow to turn her around. Bracing his hands on her shoulders, he dropped his head to meet her gaze. All traces of good humor drained from his expression. His eyes glinted with warning.

  “When you get to Spain, Gareth will meet you at the baggage claim. He’ll have a red armband over his jacket. Allow no one but him to escort you to your hotel.”

  A chill worked its way down Noelle’s spine, and she shivered. In all the time she’d known Gabriel, she’d never seen such deadly seriousness.

  She opened her mouth to ask for an explanation, but Gabriel silenced her question with a gesture at the waiting men. “Dr. Keane, please meet Lucan.”

  To her utter surprise, the dark-haired man took her hand and kissed the back of it. “A pleasure.” Silver eyes shone with sincerity, a striking contrast to the tousled locks that brushed against his shoulders.

  Before she could recover from the surprising greeting, Gabriel cut in. “Lucan, you will take the second car with me, and we will go to the airport ahead of Dr. Keane.”

  With a respectful, subordinate nod, Lucan accepted the directive.

  Curiosity pulled Noelle’s gaze to the larger giant at the same time Gabriel addressed him. “Farran, this is Dr. Keane. You will escort Noelle to her apartment so she can gather what she needs. Do not leave her side.”

  Noelle’s gaze traveled over the imposing figure leaning against the driver’s door. Blond hair tumbled in the crisp winter breeze. A slight wave to his long lengths gave them a softer appearance. He dwarfed her easily, his broad shoulders a good five inches taller than the top of her head. Dressed in faded blue jeans that hugged thick thighs, and a well-worn leather jacket that accented a trim waist, he cut a breathtaking picture. As her gaze drifted up, taking in his well-defined chin, high cheekbones, and nose that sat slightly off center, it skidded to a stop and locked with an intoxicating pair of ale-brown eyes.

  Her heart kicked into her ribs. Wow. Maybe Gabriel’s bodyguard wouldn’t be half bad. She could spend a few hours with this guy and live off the resulting high for months to come.

  With a tentative smile, she extended her hand.

  Farran glanced at it. Then, on an indistinguishable mutter, he scowled. Not even bothering to accept her handshake, he pushed off the door, yanked it open, and climbed behind the steering wheel.

  To her shame, Noelle wilted inside. Although his gruff rebuke stung, his reaction didn’t surprise her. Men like Farran had never found her remotely attractive. Then again, glasses, ponytails, and lab coats didn’t appeal to many men, period. If Farran hadn’t brushed her off now, he would have when she tried to talk to him and all that came out was drivel about elements, reactive compounds, and carbon footprints.

  Anger rose on the heels of her hurt, and she shot Gabriel a look meant to kill. Except Gabriel had already crossed the parking lot, leaving her the only option of getting in Farran’s vehicle. She grumbled to herself, crossed to the passenger’s side, and opened the door. So much for that euphoric high. In this man’s company, time would crawl at a turtle’s pace and with each agonizing tick, remind her of all her shortcomings.

  CHAPTER 2

  Farran curled his fingers around the steering wheel as Noelle’s perfume assaulted his nose. The faint sweet scent of jasmine soaked into the air, making it impossible to pretend she did not sit beside him.

  A woman. A cursed woman. He had been sent to guard the Sudarium, not to act as maid to a woman. God’s teeth, did Gabriel seek to punish him? For what, Farran could not fathom. Yet he could think of no other reason the archangel would assign him to such a menial task.

  Aware he could not sit in the parking lot forever, he slid his gaze sideways to the wench occupying his passenger’s seat. “Where is your apartment?”

  “Go right at the end of the block, left at the next, and left on the third block. It’s the townhouse without Christmas lights.” She did not look at him, rather kept her gaze fastened out the side window. Still, he could not help but notice the way she slunk down further into her seat.

  Good. So she sensed he cared not for this distraction from his purpose. If he had known Gabriel intended to have him serve as chauffer, he would have insisted on staying in the stronghold with the other Templar knights. Whilst their commander, Merrick, healed, there was much Farran needed to do.

  Tamping down a rush of annoyance, he shifted the SUV into drive and eased onto the gas. Would that this chore ended quickly, for he could not stomach hours of idleness. Not when so much lay at stake. Not when they had all been warned Azazel would attempt to take the Sudarium. The master of darkness coveted the cloth’s power. ’Twould give him another victory in his quest to overthrow the Almighty. Whilst Lucan could fend off a great many of Azazel’s demons, if Azazel sent a fallen Templar knight, ’twould take both their swords to protect the holy cloth.

  He glanced through the rearview mirror into the backseat, ensuring Lucan had not forgotten his blade. Only one silver scabbard sat in sight, and Farran allowed the tension in his shoulders to dissipate. He would speak with Gabriel on his return and make his displeasure known. Until that time arrived, however, there was naught he could do except cart the woman where she instructed.

  They drove in silence, a welcome sound to Farran’s ears. The less she engaged him in conversation, the better. If not for the subtle aroma of her perfume when she shifted, he could dismiss her presence. At least Gabriel had not sent a comely wench to torment him. This one’s brown ponytail did not taunt. Her oversized coat did not cling to shapely curves. And her complete lack of conversation did not plague him with the need to find words he did not wish to speak.

  As he wound down the twisting residential street, she pointed at an aged, brown brick building. “It’s there.”

  Farran pulled to the curb and shut the engine off. She gathered her purse to her chest with one hand, opened the door with the other. “I need to shower. I’ll be a little while. You want something to eat? Or drink?”

  Nay, he wanted neither. But Gabriel had ordered him to not stray from her side. He dared not linger outside. He let out an exasperated sigh and opened his door. “I will have water.”

  Noelle rounded the front of the car, leading the way up the building’s front steps. As she bounced up the snow-covered stairs, her ponytail bobbed against the middle of her back, catching the rays of afternoon sunlight. Farran’s gaze fixed on the unexpected, reddish brown sheen. ’Twas not the color of a mouse’s coat after all. A most startling discovery, for naught about the tiny little woman had caught his attention upon first meeting. Naught beyond her wire-rimmed glasses and the passing thought that he knew no woman who preferred the bits of glass to contacts.

  She punch
ed her pass code into the security system, and the bolt on the doors clicked open. He followed wordlessly down the hall, up another flight of stairs. She unlocked her apartment and entered, leaving him to shut the door.

  Inside, Farran halted. The apartments he frequented were small, unlike the vast expanse of her front room. Polished planks of wood adorned the floor, and where he had anticipated crisp modern furniture and appliances, he found simplicity. A couch, a coffee table, a plush rug. He glanced around, noting the same lack of frivolity applied to her dining area, the sparse but tasteful hangings on her walls. Even the open kitchen, he noted, held naught that could be considered luxurious.

  Not what he expected to find in Washington, D.C.

  Nor had he expected to find a gray cat lounging in the nearby chair.

  He blinked as Noelle scooped up the feline and buried her nose in its fur. “Hey, fella.” The way she nuzzled her cheek against the cat’s head and closed her eyes struck a chord of dissonance deep inside his soul. ’Twas so tender, so natural, he felt at once out of place. Oversized. Too harsh.

  When she opened her eyes and her gaze met his, Farran realized he was staring. He gave her a curt nod, then distanced himself by sitting on the couch. A colorful magazine atop her coffee table caught his eye, and he picked it up to thumb through it whilst she attended to her affairs.

  From the kitchen, he recognized the sound of a can opener. The anxious meows that accompanied the noise told him her pet expected dinner. A plate clattered onto the countertop. Silverware pinged against the dish.

  “Here you go, Scat Cat.”

  Scat—what manner of person named her pet the very word meant to drive a cat away? For some unexplainable reason, the oddity of her chosen name amused him. Long dead humor stirred, and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch. Listening with more interest, he tracked her movements through the house. Behind him, she shrugged out of her coat. After she entered the kitchen once again, ice cubes plinked against glass. The sound of running water blended with the melodic sound of her voice as she hummed a tune he did not recognize.