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

light of the Almighty, her power would combine with his dark purpose and grant him the ability to claim the divine throne.
    A whole new sense of urgency rushed through Caradoc’s body. Even worse than the thought of never again knowing Isabelle’s love was the thought she might suffer, mayhap even die. He could not bear the idea, especially not when he could prevent that terrible fate.
    Determined to eliminate the possibility, he shoved away from the case, necklace temporarily forgotten , and stalked off to find Tane and Gareth. Tomorrow the bidding began. For four days, a seraph and the tears would inhabit the same building, a recipe guaranteed to bring catastrophe.
    Isabelle might want him to disappear, but he had no intentions of complying. He would give her tonight. Tomorrow, however, he would not accept her excuses.
    He acknowledged Tane and Gareth with a curt nod. “Come, we must leave. It grows dark, and my belly demands food.” He directed them with a wave of his hand and started for the wide, open arches that led to the villa’s garden and the parking lot beyond. “What did you discover about the other relics?”
    “The urn will be auctioned day after tomorrow,” Tane supplied, his quick steps revealing his anxiousness to also leave.
    From the corner of his eye, Caradoc observed Gareth lagging behind, his attention sidetracked by a passing redhead in a white tunic-style summer dress. Gareth shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and jogged up to join them once more. “Tomorrow the statue will be auctioned as well as the reliquary cross.”
    “Aye, good then. We can take tomorrow to observe who our contenders for the tears are.” As Caradoc let himself inside the silver SUV and slid behind the wheel, another thought rammed into his gut and threatened to steal his air. Saints’ teeth! What if Isabelle had come for a relic they had been charged to acquire? ’Twould not be unlikely; she possessed powerful clients with money to throw away.
    Sighing heavily, he dropped the SUV into reverse and jammed on the gas. Sweet heavenly Mary, could he not obtain a brief respite? If they were to be at further odds, he would never regain her trust.
    His anger at the archangels returned with the speed of a lightning strike. The archangels would not dream of sending their warriors into combat without swords, chainmail, and shields. But for some reason, when it came to the quest for seraphs, they seemed intent on leaving their knights unprepared.
    Tane leaned between the two front bucket seats. “Caradoc, stop at the edge of the city. I wish to find a shelter house to donate time. The hotel makes me uncomfortable.”
    “Nay, brother.” Caradoc glanced in the rear-view mirror, meeting Tane’s confused squint. “You are being tested, as you well know. I have it on Mikhail’s word that the hotel is a measure of your ability to control your envy.”
    Tane let out a muffled oath . He fell back, his scowl as dark as thunderheads. His would be a hard journey. He craved the wealth and respect he had once known as Lord du Breuil. Each day his soul contained Azazel’s taint, he struggled with the code of simplicity he had once embraced as willingly as the rest of the Order. But if he were to prove to Mikhail and Merrick that he could be trusted to maintain his duties, he must overcome the poison in his heart.
    As they all must...except for those like Gareth, whose good health, even Caradoc could not deny created a measure of jealousy. That wellness, combined with the unspoken knowledge that many of the younger European knights had once claimed ownership of lands the original Templar left behind, made working with Raphael’s warriors difficult.
    Caradoc’s gaze slanted to the man in the passenger’s seat who remained strangely quiet. “Something ails you, Gareth?”
    Gareth startled then shook his head. “Nay. Merely thinking, ’tis all.”
    “Do you wish to share?”
    Gareth’s jaw worked as if he chewed on his