“You’ve been waiting?” Warren was confused. “You couldn’t know that I would return.”
“It was hoped. I wanted—we wanted—to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“You’ve got gifts, Warren. Edith told us about you, just as she told Jonas about you. We didn’t believe her. Not until I saw the demon that manifested through the Eye.”
“You saw Merihim?”
“Yes.”
Fear rattled through Warren. He resisted the impulse to glance around.
“The demon isn’t here now,” Malcolm said.
Warren relaxed a little.
Malcolm approached, then slowly reached out to touch Warren’s face. Warren stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” Malcolm said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“I don’t like being touched,” Warren said. He never had. Growing up in those foster homes had ensured that.
“You were badly hurt.” Malcolm studied Warren’s face. “When I’d heard how badly you were burned, I have to admit that I’d believed the man I was talking to was exaggerating. Now that I see you, I don’t think he knew the extent to which you were injured.”
“I’m getting better,” Warren said.
“I can see that.” Malcolm locked eyes with Warren. “You have a lot of power. I know Edith and Jonas offered to train you to use it and you went to them. I’d like to extend the same offer.”
Warren nodded meaningfully at the burned-out husk of the nearby building. “The last time I agreed, things didn’t work out so well. For anybody.”
“We can handle Merihim.”
“Jonas and Edith thought they could too.”
Malcolm smiled a little. “The people that I’ll be taking you to are much stronger than Jonas and Edith. Also, you’ll be in a better-protected area.”
“I don’t think so,” Warren said. He didn’t want to be anyone’s guinea pig. “I’ve got enough troubles already, so—”
“The demon has marked you,” Malcolm interrupted. “I can see it. Anyone who has eyes can see it. Right now you’re living at his largesse. You don’t have a life.” His words were flat and damning. “You will die whenever you cease to amuse or interest him. Is that what you want?”
Warren looked at the burned-out building, then at his dead-white left hand. He was certain Malcolm was lying to him about something. Even without the gift or curse that he’d been born with, he would have known that. No one could make the promises Malcolm was making.
So what do you do, Warren? he asked himself. He wanted to live. He knew that for certain. After coming so close to dying—twice in his life now—he knew he wanted to live. More than that, he believed he truly deserved to live. The question was whether throwing his lot in with the Cabalists would help him stay alive.
In the end, though, he knew he didn’t have a choice. He found himself grasping at the unbelievable…just like his mother had. The thought shocked and angered him. He hated feeling trapped. He’d grown up that way, then lived that way for years.
“No,” he said quietly. “No, that’s not what I want.” I want my life back. No matter what it takes.
Twenty-One
T hrough his slitted fingers, Simon saw a dozen armed Templar standing before the opening. They held swords and rifles at the ready. Even as a group, they looked worn and haggard.
“Mr. Cross,” one of the Templar said, “divest yourself of your weapons. Carefully.”
Simon looked at Giselle, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Being addressed as Mr. Cross, like a civilian instead of a Templar, stung. He thought about ignoring the command, but decided against it. You knew they were going to hate you. You knew that when you chose to come here. Carefully, he lowered his weapons to the ground at his feet and laced his fingers behind his head.
Leah was forced to do the same.
Simon forced himself to remain calm when two of the men stepped forward with manacles and placed them on his wrists. They secured his hands behind his back, then placed another set around his ankles. They only secured Leah’s hands behind her back.
“Who’s the woman?” one of the Templar asked.
Simon didn’t know the man. The armor gave no evidence of his identity or his rank. If Simon had been wearing his own armor, his HUD would have identified the man at a glance.
“She was with Cross when we found him,” Giselle answered.
“I came here to search for my father.” Leah looked scared. “I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
“You shouldn’t have brought her here,” the Templar said.
Giselle frowned. “I couldn’t very well leave her out there to die. That’s not what we’re here for.”
After a moment, the Templar replied, “We’re here to kill the demons, Sergeant Fletcher. Don’t forget that.” Before Giselle could respond, he wheeled and walked away, giving orders to his men to follow with the prisoners.
Two of the Templar jerked Simon into motion. Welcome home, he thought bitterly. He wasn’t really surprised about their behavior. But he was surprised he’d thought things might have gone differently.
The Templar Underground was huge compared to what the average Londoner knew about the subterranean transportation routes. Simon didn’t know how much bigger it was. All of the various parts worked together, but they were also kept separate so they couldn’t all be compromised at once.
Besides residences, medical facilities, and training areas, the Templar Underground supported security posts, generator rooms powered by turbines driven by the River Thames, medical and weapons labs, forges where the armor was made, mausoleums, and the hydroponics farms that were kept ready in case of siege. They were at that point now, Simon supposed.
The guards took him to one of the security posts and left Leah there inside a cell. At least they had the decency to remove her shackles first.
Giselle stayed at Simon’s side, and he took some comfort in that. Until he remembered that she would slit his throat if she believed he was a threat to the Templar. Other Templar passed them in the corridors. None of them would meet Simon’s
