Deep Midnight
Page 61

She shook her head. “Just curious. Maggie thought she had met Sean before. That?that he had been the great love in her life, or something like that, years and years ago. And she told me that Lucian was convinced, when he met Jade, that she had been someone else.” He turned back to his magazine. “I’ve known many people throughout the years.”
“Ah. But there wasn’t a great love of your life?”
He stared at her again. “I’m sorry; if there ever was one . ..”
“Yes?”
“A long, long time ago, it was Nari.”
“Oh.”
She turned away from him, stunned, feeling like a fool.
Later, she thought she felt his fingers, smoothing her hair. She did. She heard his soft whisper. “Sad, huh?”
“What?”
“That I once knew Nari so well.”
“You still saw her in Venice.”
He shook his head. “Only to demand answers.”
“I thought for sure that you?I don’t know. That you were one of her ... kind. Well, you are one of her kind. That you were with her. I mean, part of her ... following.” He had leaned toward her, but he didn’t press his point.
“I will destroy her,” he told her softly.
“Can you, really?”
“Without blinking. Someday soon, I’ll tell you why.”
She wasn’t going to get any more out of him than that. She twisted in her comfortable chair, trying to sleep.
He pulled her little pillow against his shoulder.
She slept until the cabin lights came on, and the flight attendant offered breakfast before landing in Rome.
They transferred to their last flight.
And it was mid-morning when they at last reached Venice again.
They walked to the dock where the water taxis waited. Jordan didn’t have to remind Ragnor why they were back. He asked the driver to take them to the hospital as quickly as possible.
Seawater! She remembered.
Seawater could destroy the beasts.
CHAPTER 21
For years, Nari was the perfect companion. She so nearly perished that night; whether he had chosen to obey the ancient rules or not, Edgar had survived the carnage, and he would have gladly taken a sword to Nari’s throat. But she had cried so pathetically, begged forgiveness, and pleaded in such a way that even Lucian and Wulfgar had shrugged, saying that by their law, they could not simply take her head, or throw her with premeditation into the flames, or cut out her heart.
And so she had lived. And spent the next weeks, months, years, decades, trying to prove that she had learned loyalty, control, and moderation. Ragnor preferred to spend his time in the very far north; she seemed, for those years, to want nothing more than to be with him.
Wars came and wars ended. The world was ruled by the sane and merciful, and by the cruel. Every rebellion from a new lord brought about another new lord much the same.
But when King Philip of France sent out his call to arms in a great Crusade, Ragnor decided to leave the northern isle they had called home for so many years and ride to battle. Nari encouraged him and came with him on the Holy Crusade. The journey fascinated him; he loved the different places they went?France, Spain, and Italy?on the way to meet the Infidels. Italy especially fascinated him; the Romans had left behind such magnificent masterpieces in sculpture and architecture. It often amazed him that the ancient civilization had come so far, only to perish in the wealth of excess, with, of course, a little help from barbarian tribes. Nari was amused by his wonder at everything they saw. She was familiar with Italy and the days of the Roman Empire. It was as they traveled that she told him that it was a homecoming for her, in a way, since she had come from the East as a child, and lived in Italy for many years.
The Infidels were intriguing as well; they were exceptionally learned, and as dedicated to their Allah as the Christians were to their one true God.
But the desert sands were hot, the fighting was fierce, and in such a world, sides must be taken. There were gains, and there were losses, and Ragnor fought with as great an ardor as any man, and he killed, as death was the duty of a knight in battle. A man such as he needed enemies.
There were times as well when the enemies negotiated, and he was often with the leaders of the great Crusade when they met with the representatives of the great Arab leader Saladin. The tents of the enemy were exotic and rich, the fabrics of the draperies were exceptionally fine. During one such meeting, he met a man he quickly recognized as one of his own kind. When the talks had finished on a discordant note, he met with the swarthy fellow outside. “Your Christians will perish here,” he told Ragnor, as they stood by their horses, ready to mount. “I am eager for this battle; there is nothing like the taste of a holy warrior who is in the midst of an effort to seize the homeland of my people.”
“There is nothing like the taste of a man who believes his god will honor him for the death and destruction of others,” Ragnor replied.
The Arab shrugged, a grin on his strong, swarthy, face. “Indeed, for the two of us, there is simply the love of the taste of battle, and what better excuse than a war for ideals?”
“There will always be wars over ideals.”
“Indeed. Thank both Allah and your God for that!” said the Arab.
His name was Ali Eban, and in the battles to come, he excelled, and was noted by the Christian warriors with great respect. And as even the leaders of men, King Richard of England among them, were excessive in their slaughter, whatever rampant tastes he allowed himself went unnoticed.
One night, returning to the scene of a battle with Nari, Ragnor found that he was not the only man to slip back to the battlefield. The Arab Ali Eban was there, ripping into the injured with a wanton and careless abandon. He and Ragnor came face to face, and when Ali realized that he was not up against an easily taken opponent, he backed away, sharply reminding Ragnor of the law of the ancients.
“Seize upon your own dying then, and leave those who will walk again,” Ragnor told him.
Ali motioned to him, indicating that he would bow to that term. Nari stood at Ragnor’s side and was with him when they parted. She feasted upon those who were near to death, speaking gently, easing them on to their Heaven. She returned with Ragnor to the Christian camp that night, and she was more exotic and passionate than ever in her lovemaking.
In the morning, she was gone.
He hunted her through the months that followed. And when he came upon her and Ali again in the aftermath of a cataclysmic battle, he stole her back.
When she cried that time, he wrapped her in a shroud with a stake in her heart, found one of the oldest churches in the ancient town, and paid a somehow knowing priest to see that she was encased in stone, and buried deeply.
Nari would always be a child of her nature. On her own, she did not practice the wanton excesses that would see them all destroyed. But she would always betray him when she saw another pack with which to run.
Ragnor saw Nari once again in later years.
He was dividing his time between England and France in those days, having taken up company with a young French countess who had determined to help her countrymen escape the excess of the machine invented by Dr. Guillotine. The French royalty had certainly shown disdain for the masses, but the machine of the revolution rolled into a heinous persecution of so many innocents, it was impossible to stop the flow of cruelty.
Ragnor was glad of the challenge of stealing the innocent from the jails, and seeing the consternation of the powerful when their victims disappeared by night.
He had slipped into the Bastille one night to take the keys from the jailors and to take enough blood from the guards to leave them unconscious. He entered a cell to find that his old lover was among the broken and fallen on the floor. He hadn’t recognized her at first, but one of the other prisoners?a girl huddled against a wall as far as possible from her? told him that the woman was Countess Arabella?and that she was going to the guillotine for her abuse of her servants.
“Abuse?”
“She was married to the Lord d’Argentin. He was rumored to be a monster of a man, but he was killed when the father of a peasant girl he had taken went mad and sliced him to ribbons with a sickle. That did not stop the countess; she was the wife of royalty and protected by the crown. The law pretended that she did not entertain herself with the deaths of her servants,” the girl told him. “I beg of you! Save me. I have been in terror here! The guillotine would be a blessing over having her awaken in this cell and find me! As yet, she has not harmed me, for she was sorely injured when she was seized. If you must save her, then, good sir, leave me, for I would die happily rather than live with her near.” Ragnor paused there for a very long time. He had heard rumors about the Lord d’Argentin and the Countess Arabella, the nobleman’s lady who had caused the disappearance of many young maids and servant boys.
Hundreds of years had passed. He still felt something of an old pain.
Still, he turned away. He knew that it would be right for Nari to go to the guillotine.
“Come, we head for England tonight,” he told the girl.
He reached for the young girl, and left the cell.
In the days ahead, he waited, certain that he would know, that he would feel something when the time came, when the blade fell, and Nari’s existence was at last ended forever.
The feeling never came.
Then, years and years later ...
He awoke. And he knew.
She was back.
CHAPTER 22
Ragnor asked the questions at the desk when they arrived, explaining that Jordan was Jared Riley’s closest living relative.
He didn’t, however, come up with her. He said that he and Lucian had to start moving, but that she shouldn’t be worried; Sean would be there with her. He fingered the cross she wore around her neck, smiling.
“It doesn’t work against you,” she murmured.
He smiled. “I’m partial to nice pieces like this.”
“Does it mean anything to you?”
“Yes, actually, it does. One of the best friends I ever had was an abbot, and he taught me the safety of a church?and his faith. But keep it on, at all costs. It can help to keep you safe.”