Immortal Hope Read Online Free PDF Page A

Demon? Had she heard him correctly? At a loss, she gave him an incredulous look. “What?”
    “Do not play coy with me. Tell me your name so I may condemn you with it.”
    Yep. She’d heard him right. What the hell? Who barged into a house with a sword?
    He took a step forward.
    She backed up, her stare glued on the blade. “I, ah.” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but if you want money, my purse is to your right.” Maybe, if she were lucky, he would take the satchel and disappear.
    A sword. She struggled with the absurdity. He looked like he knew how to use it too. The weapon had to be heavy, yet he held it as easily as he might a glass.
    “I do not need your money. Tell me your name, demon.” He took another step forward, fully entering the light. He thrust the sword at her heart.
    Her gaze followed the length of the blade to his face, and Anne sucked in a sharp breath. Dark hair. Eyes like chips of onyx. Strong jaw set in a familiar, grim manner. The same man from her visions with the cross, and the armband, stood in front of her. Oh God.
    The room took a sharp tilt to her right. She grabbed at the table to keep from wobbling and stared in stunned silence.
    “Mayhap I should carve off a limb?” He lowered the blade, bringing the sharp tip against her wrist.
    Her heart jumped to her throat. He was serious. He actually meant to hurt her if she didn’t tell him her name. Good God! She swallowed hard. “A-Anne.”
    “Anne?” He let out a disbelieving snort. “’Tis a human’s name. Tell me the name Azazel gave you.”
    Vision from the past or not, he was nuts.
    Her gaze slid sideways to the door. If she could draw him deeper into the room, she could make a mad dash for freedom. Pretending to cooperate, she edged away from the table and met the invader’s frosty glare. “Anne MacPherson is my name. Who’s Azazel?”
    Eyes narrowed with suspicion, the man ignored her question. His gaze swept down her body, canvassing her worn blue jeans and loose blouse so thoroughly a strange chill tumbled down her spine. She took another step toward her purse, then stopped as reality sunk in, and with it, despair. As tall as he was, he would catch up to her in three strides.
    Which meant she would have to disarm him. Although how, eluded her. Her self-defense classes had covered knives, not three-foot-long swords. What she would do once she had him disarmed, she didn’t know either. He was too large to tackle, too heavy to throw. She fought back a rush of panic, determined to keep her wits. She could outsmart a man who clearly wasn’t right in the head.
    She extended an arm toward her purse. “I’m going to get my wallet. I’ll give you whatever’s in it.”
    The stranger’s gaze riveted on her outstretched hand. “How did you come by such?”
    She followed his stare, noting she still held the armband. Relief washed through her. Gabe must have given her some black-market artifact. Some trinket that the existing Freemasons didn’t want revealed. If this man wanted the armband, she’d surrender it. It didn’t seem to want to tell her anything further anyway. “This?” She offered it to him. “Take it.”
    He crossed the room in two strides, disproving her theory that it would take three to intercept her run for the door. Sword pointed at the ground, he snatched the armband from her hand. Their fingers brushed, and trapped by the unfamiliar jolt of energy that arced up her arm, Anne couldn’t move. With the surge, a picture of a man at rest emerged in her mind. Not just any man, she realized. This man. Dressed in chain and the same white surcoat with a crimson cross he’d worn both times before, he clasped his broadsword against his chest.
    Not at rest. Dead.
    “Stay here,” he ordered.
    She held back a renegade laugh. Like she was going anywhere. Not as long as he had that sword in hand.
    Backing up, the invader kept his gaze fastened on her. He stumbled over