Fallen Angel of Mine (15 page)

"As I said, the demon spawn involved in
the attack weren't Daemos. They were crawlers, rippers, and
chargers, which, if I recall correctly, are creatures native to the
demon plane."

Jack leaned back in his chair. "I think
it far more likely none of the Daemos were actually harmed. In
fact, I'd be willing to bet a select few Daemos unleashed the
creatures and watched the slaughter from the protection of a circle
while Templars had their souls devoured." He sighed and leaned
forward. "Sis, you're going off the word of one Daemas. She could
be feeding you a story. I imagine it's hard for you not to believe
her after the neat little brainwashing job Justin Slade did on
you."

Elyssa wanted to scream. And then she
wanted to beat the crap out of her brother. Again. But none of it
would do a bit of good and her window of escape was dwindling to a
tiny sliver. In all likelihood, it was already too late to prevent
the mind wipe from occurring.

A sharp rap sounded on the door an
instant before it opened. Jack's eyes widened. Elyssa turned and
saw who had entered and felt surprise light up her own
face.

"Michael?" she said.

He was even brawnier than the last time
she'd seen him, his tall hulking frame dominating the
room.

"I'd like a word with my sister," he
said, his deep voice almost a growl.

"Michael, we weren't expecting you,"
Jack said, walking to his brother and giving him a hug—one which
Michael didn't return. "I thought you were still—"

"Alone." Michael crossed his arms and
glared at the other Templars.

They wasted no time clearing out until
Jack was the only one left.

Jack nodded. "Well, we're
alone."

Michael's violet eyes blazed
momentarily. "Perhaps you don't understand the definition of
'alone', brother. I want to have a word or two with my sister
without anyone, including you, present."

"But I'm family."

"Don't you dare pull the family card on
me, boy. Not when you're all aboard for white-washing your sister's
mind."

Jack puffed out his chest. "Commander
Borathen—Father—gave me all the information regarding her
circumstances and I happen to agree with him. Besides, it's only a
couple months' worth of memories—nothing that'll cause serious harm
to her mind."

"You always were the one quickest to
jump to Father's side, Jack. Even when he's clearly
overreacting."

"Mother agrees as well," Jack said, as
if her word should set all doubt aside.

"Our mother fought tooth and nail to
prevent this from happening. But she's a Templar, first and
foremost, bound by the word of our commander." Michael took a step
toward Jack. "Now, little brother, may I please have a word with
our sister?"

Jack threw up his hands. "Fine. Just
don't take too long. And be careful. She's been a handful to
control tonight."

Michael shut the door in Jack's face
even though he'd clearly planned to say more. The lock clicked and
it was just the two of them in the windowless room. Elyssa opened
her mouth to say something but Michael put a finger to his mouth.
He slid a quarter-sized black disc from his pocket, set it on its
side, and sent it spinning across the table with a gentle thump. A
barely discernible sonic vibration hummed as the disc spun, making
it impossible for anyone outside the room to overhear their
conversation.

"Are you here to rescue me?" Elyssa
asked, hope rising in her heart, despite Michael's penchant for
unquestioning loyalty for the Templars. He'd rarely gone against
their father, but something about him seemed much different than
the brother she'd always known.

Michael sighed and shook his head. "I
already tried once but it wasn't enough."

"
You're
the one who attacked
earlier?"

He nodded. "I didn't count on Quinn
returning from assignment as you were making your escape." He
pounded his fist against the wooden table, causing the black disc
to jump mid-spin. It landed and continued to rotate as though
nothing had happened. "You don't understand how important it is you
and—that spawn stay together."

Elyssa strained against her restraints.
"He has a name."

"I know. Doesn't mean I have to use
it."

"And yet you want us to stay together?
What the hell kind of logic is that?"

"Wanting and needing are two separate
things. I don't care for spawn, never have. But I don't have the
blind hatred toward them Father does."

Curiosity tickled Elyssa's brain. "Wait
a minute, why do you think it's so important we stay
together?"

"Suffice it to say it's very important
in the coming days and weeks."

"Since when do you, of all people, go
against one of father's decisions?"

His somber eyes darkened. "He's not in
his right mind about this. Then again, few are these
days."

He was keeping something from her, but
Elyssa knew from experience how hard it would be to wrest
information from her oldest brother. His inner thoughts were locked
in a vault he rarely opened for anyone. She skirted the question.
"Are you going to give me a speech about Justin after the mind wipe
and just hope I'll believe you?"

He shook his head. "I don't know what
to do. I was hoping to gain access to a memory recorder, but
they're under lock and key and it'd be too obvious stealing one,
especially after arguing with Father about it."

Elyssa wondered if she dared trust him
with the recording she'd made, although at this point, it might be
too difficult to retrieve, not to mention messy. But what if this
was a plot by her father to make sure she hadn't made any
last-minute efforts to keep her memories? She felt much closer to
Michael than she did to Jack, but Michael had always been loyal to
the core. The question was, who was he more loyal to, her or the
Templars?

She couldn't bring herself to take the
chance. Odds were good she'd find the recording herself within a
few days and hopefully believe everything from her own mouth before
anything anyone else told her. She certainly wouldn't believe
Justin, if only because they would be certain to poison her against
him.

"So what can we do?" she asked after a
long silent pause.

"I don't know. After they're done with
you, I'll have to convince you Justin is okay. But I can't be overt
about it or then it'll be me taking the White as well."

"Or facing the penalty for
treason."

He nodded. "We're in dangerous waters,
Ninjette."

A smile stole over Elyssa's face at the
sound of the nickname Michael had called her ever since the first
time she'd done a flying kick and dislocated his jaw. He'd been
seventeen at the time, and she'd been only ten.

"I'm trying, Michael, but I don't think
I'm going to make it."

He knelt in front of her and hugged her
tight despite the bonds holding her prisoner. When he withdrew, his
eyes looked away from her, the shame evident on his chiseled
features. "I've failed you."

Elyssa took a deep breath to keep the
tears at bay. "No. I'm the one who's failed. I never should have
let things reach this tipping point. I underestimated Father's
reaction and didn't try to appeal to him. Now everything has
reached a boil and I'm in the water." Justin's face flashed into
her mind and pain stabbed into her heart. Her head sagged. "It's
over."

He kissed her on the forehead. "Be
brave. We'll get through this." Michael snatched the still-spinning
disc from the table, went to the door, and opened it.

Jack stood outside, curiosity plain on
his face. "Finished?"

Michael scowled. "The conversation is."
As he walked away, Leia, their mother, walked around the corner,
her mouth set in a tight line.

She walked past her two sons and
entered the interrogation room, slammed the door in Jack's face
behind her.

"You couldn't listen to reason, could
you?" Leia wiped a tear as it escaped the corner of her
eye.

Anger heated Elyssa's face though
sadness tightened her throat. "I followed my heart."

"I tried to convince Thomas this wasn't
the answer." Leia squatted in front of the chair and looked Elyssa
in the eyes. "But after your trip to Thunder Rock and showing up
with a Daemas of House Assad, I'm afraid his decision became
final."

"That doesn't make it
right."

Her mother nodded. "I know. But if we
don't follow orders—if the wife of Thomas Borathen doesn't follow
orders—the Templars will fall apart. I can't be the cause of
disruption and your father is convinced this will set things
right."

"Or it might wipe out a lot more than
just the past two months. It might be the end of us all. Justin is
important. I'm supposed to be with him. Why can't you two just
accept I'm not brainwashed? Maybe I'm the one acting rationally
while you two are overreacting like a couple of hover
parents?"

Leia pressed a hand to Elyssa's cheek.
"Maybe so."

Jack cracked open the door and peered
in. "It's time to light the torch."

Leia nodded. "I'll be in the
escort."

He smiled. "See, sis? We care about
you. This will all be over soon."

Elyssa clenched her teeth to bite back
a brutal retort.

The other escorts waited outside.
Elyssa had hoped Michael would be there as well, but saw no trace
of him. She couldn't blame him. If the positions were reversed, she
wouldn't want to be a part of this travesty either.

They left the manor through the back
door and took the stone path to the chapel. Inside and out, the
building looked much like a small church from the dark ages with a
three-story tower housing the communionary. The Templars had, in
fact, relocated the ancient building from Italy, stone-by-stone,
and reconstructed it.

They entered the chapel and took her
inside a room with a pool lined with brilliant white stones. Two
female attendants waited there for the ritual bath. She decided not
to give them any trouble and emerged fifteen minutes later, dressed
in the white ritual robe, to rejoin the others who'd kept a tight
guard on the door.

The group trudged up the spiral
staircase to a thick iron door guarding the circular room beyond. A
rack held several torches, some Elyssa knew by sight, others she
had either never heard of or forgotten. Thomas Borathen stood
nearby, his face grim but set in stony determination.

He gripped the White Torch in his right
hand and opened the iron door. "May the Divinity bless you,
Templar."

Elyssa glared at him and thought
briefly of kicking the torch from his hand. The handle looked like
engraved porcelain but was actually something much stronger, though
nobody knew exactly what. The head of the torch also had little in
common with its medieval kin as it had no oily rags wrapped around
it. Instead, the handle ended in a flat surface with a hole in it.
The Novice Torch, Blessed Torch, and other holy torches looked much
the same. The Black Torch, an ebony version of the White, was used
for executions, though Elyssa had never heard of it being
used.

All thoughts of torches fled from her
mind as the Templars led her to the Chair of Communion in the
center of the round room and bound her there with diamond fiber.
Two shiny black pedestals stood to either side of the statue of a
woman who held her arms outstretched in greeting. Thomas placed the
torch into a hole atop one pedestal where he knelt and whispered a
few words while the other Templars filed out.

Elyssa's mother gripped her hand and
looked her in the eye for a brief moment before following the
others. Thomas finished the ritual prayer and stood.

"Journey well, Templar," he said, his
tone formal, his face betraying not a hint of uncertainty or regret
in them.

"Go to hell, Father."

A glint of emotion sparked in his eyes
before he turned and walked through the door, closing and locking
it with a clang, leaving Elyssa in the pitch black of the
windowless room.

Just as she wondered what would happen
next, the torch burst into a flame of pure white, illuminating the
room like a small sun. Desperate to hold onto her memories, she
recited her most treasured moments over and over again, telling the
stories in the hope of beating this stupid torch at its own
game.

Nearly half an hour passed, however,
and despite the knot of worry in her stomach, none of her memories
seemed to have faded in the slightest. Maybe the torch was broken,
she hoped. She didn't know how the others outside would know the
ritual was over, though with the Blessed Torch, the candidate rang
the bell after receiving the blessing.

Elyssa thought back to when she'd
received the novice blessing and found her memory of the trial to
be rather fuzzy. No one was allowed to ask others about the novice
trial. Even if she wanted to tell someone about it, the only
recollection she had consisted of her father placing the Novice
Torch in the pedestal and then of her walking to the rope at the
back of the room and tugging it to ring the bell atop the tower.
Everything in between was a complete blank. Even stranger, she
couldn't recall thinking about the novice trial a single time since
then or wondering about the missing time.