Immortal Sacrifice: #4 The Curse of the Templars Read Online Free PDF Page A

Momentarily doubting his own nose, he lifted his chin and inhaled the air again. Aye, the scent still clung to the breeze that wafted through the open windows and swirled around the vast hall. “’Tis here. I swear it to you.”
    How could they not recognize the smell? They had been combating these evils for centuries. By now, the putrid aroma was second nature.
    Tane looked to their leader and choked back a groan. ’Twas one thing to follow a distracted man. Another when the distraction bore the form of a woman. Recognizing that conversing with Caradoc right now would be a fruitless pursuit, he directed his inquiry to Gareth. “You truly cannot smell it?”
    “Nay. I sense naught here.”
    His frown deepening, Tane surveyed the crowd. ’Twas not fanciful creations of his mind. The unholy prowled here. ’Twas just a matter of defining where.
    Caradoc’s muffled curse pulled him out of his quandary. He opened his mouth to inquire, then quickly snapped it shut, eyes widening as Caradoc shook off the woman who held onto his arm and stalked toward Isabelle.
    Saint s’ blood. This could not bode well. ’Twas unlike his brother to be so easily swayed from their assigned purpose. At this rate, they would be lucky to complete the duties they had been assigned.
    As if Gareth sensed his thoughts, he too muttered. With a shake of his head, a glimpse of his usual good humor appeared in his grin. “I do suppose we shall have to attend to business. ’Twould seem Caradoc is preoccupied.”
    “Aye.” The damnable jealousy reared its ugly head, twisting Tane’s stomach into knots. He grimaced with the effort of controlling it and forced aside the resentment over his brother’s good fortune. Of all of them, Caradoc deserved salvation. Still, Tane could not help but wish mayhap Isabelle was naught more than mere mortal. A ghost his brother must learn to accept, as opposed to the woman who would take the vile blackness from his soul.
    Tane sighed heavily. ’Twould be necessary to find a shelter, if this continued. To succeed in this duty, to keep from failing his Order as he had before, he must find a way to overcome the blackness that threatened to pull him into Azazel’s dark grasp.
    * * *
    Three feet away from Isabelle, Caradoc came to an abrupt halt. ’Twas foolishness to pursue her, and yet, naught could convince him to remain at his brothers’ sides and allow her to walk away once more. Though he was now convinced their paths would intertwine for the remainder of their stay in Sicily, ’twas the outcome that concerned him. As a mortal, she possessed the ability to denounce her seraph’s status. She could refuse to take the oaths. And his loyalty to the Order refused to allow him to give her the opportunity. No matter the pain it might bring, he must convince her to pledge herself to him, even if they never set eyes upon one another after these few days.
    His body, however, demanded he do all he could to insure these few days did not end. Standing so close he could breathe her sweet perfume, every fiber of his being tightened with the need to take her in his arms, speak the words that lay in his heart, and beg her to forgive.
    Steeling himself against the inevitable confrontation, he set his teeth together and strode forward, inserting himself between Isabelle and a heavy-set Italian at her right. “Isa, I must speak with you.”
    Bent over the case, jeweler’s loop lifted to her eye, she examined a sapphire ring. “Give me my papers. I have nothing to say to you.”
    “Nay, mayhap you do not, but I have words to say to you. Dine with me this eve.”
    She glanced up, incredulity widening her eyes. A soft laugh slipped off her parted lips. “I don’t think so.”
    Caradoc’s heart jumped as the one thing he had yearned to witness surfaced in her indigo eyes. There, he observed not the anger she had spewed on their first meeting, nor the derision her words strove to achieve. Nay, what briefly flashed revealed pain,