Sin and Sacrifice (3 page)

“
I don't know. Sounded
like they were scared. Kinda,” Alex said.

From around the far corner
of the building, where the shadows were thicker, they heard it
again. A scream, faint but fearful.

Genevieve frowned and only
waited a moment before she started walking with determined strides
for the back lot. Evelyn followed behind Alex and Minna, the latter
of which had some serious kick ass abilities. If some drunk was
pawing at a girl, Minna would be able to handle it with no problem.
Her expertise in martial arts was impressive. Alex and Gen, while
not experts in those arts, were still not to be trifled with. They
had thousands of years to hone their skills and motivation in
spades.

Evelyn didn't particularly
like confrontation and liked weapons even less. She didn't hesitate
to provide whatever aid she could though, even if it just ended up
being a shoulder to cry on or assistance in calling the woman
another cab.

Passing several cars and a
gray van with heavily tinted windows, she rounded the corner on
Alex's heels. A halo of illumination provided a cameo for the scene
of horror that confronted them; the blade of a long, gleaming sword
tacked Galiana to the wooden fence surrounding a dumpster. Pierced
straight through the chest, feet suspended several inches off the
ground, her body twitched through the last throes of
life.

Evelyn processed what she
saw in strange, strobe like glimpses; Galiana's chin sunk low,
blood dripping off a pinky onto the ground, one shoe missing. The
pale cloud of blonde hair, streaked with red, looked like someone
had intentionally mussed and tangled it.

Shock severed Evelyn's
ability to react as fast as Minna did. The diminutive woman rushed
forward with Genevieve directly behind her and gave the sword a
yank.

It didn't budge.

The entire situation seemed
to take on an underwater quality for Evelyn, the noises of the
night oddly distorted, the image of her dying sister flashing like
still shots on a macabre slide show. Panting, she pressed a palm
over her forehead. She couldn't think. Violence had always been her
ultimate weakness. Face to face with it, she tended to freeze and
her mind went blank. The irony was that she was a better shot with
a gun than any of her sisters, able to consecutively hit her mark
on a non-live target with eerie accuracy. Put into a real world
situation, she couldn't hit the broad side of an elephant with a
shotgun from twenty paces.

Alex understood her
distress and pushed her the opposite direction of the gruesome
scene.

“
Go call for help,” Alex
ordered, before rushing in to try and help Minna and Genevieve
remove the sword from Galiana's chest.

The detailed hilt swam
through Evelyn's vision while she tried to make her feet move. She
knew that hilt. Had seen it before. Thick and heavy, with ornate
carvings in gold on the edges. A Templar's sword.

Could it be anything
else?

Behind her, the door to the
gray van opened with a bang. The sound ricocheted through the
parking lot. Evelyn whipped a startled look behind her in time to
see five men pour out from inside.

Another barreled around the
end of the dumpster, running full tilt. Steel glimmered under the
moonlight from the sword he carried in his hand.

Evelyn screamed and dropped
her purse, leaving her hands free to grapple with the hulking man
in black who reached her first. Teeth and fists clenched, she
swallowed down the bile that rose in the back of her throat and
battered him with impotent blows against the head and chest. He
felt like a brick wall.

Immovable. Indestructible.
Just as Templar Knights were supposed to be.

Genevieve confronted two of
the attackers while another two darted around them for Alexandra
and Minna. A sickening crack split the night when Genevieve kicked
the side of one man's knee, forcing him to the ground with a howl
of pain. The other attacker drew a sword with a hiss of steel and
pointed the tip right at Genevieve's neck, effectively stopping her
assault in its tracks.

It was the last thing
Evelyn saw before something dark got yanked over her head, blinding
her. She fought harder and sucked in another breath to scream. The
chop of someone's hand against her throat stopped it cold. She
choked and gagged, tears streaming from her eyes at the
pain.

“
Keep your mouth closed,
or I'll close it for you. Permanently,” a voice ground out near her
ear.

He sounded vicious and cold
as death.

Kicking wildly, she
flailed, weakened by the vicious strike. Through the thick material
of the hood, she heard Minna and Alex fighting for their lives. The
men had the advantage in numbers and weapons.

Templars and their battle
prowess with swords was legendary.

Hustled forward, she banged
her knee against the metal of the van when the man tried to shoved
her in. Hands wrenched behind her back, it was her chin that took
the brunt of the fall. Impatient, he bodily lifted and tossed her
inside, swarming in over her to secure her hands with plastic wrist
cuffs.

Gasping and wheezing,
feeling like her windpipe had been crushed, she struggled and tried
to kick him. He felt like a giant anvil, pressing her
down.

“
Go, get out of here,” the
man said to the driver. The van door cracked closed, shutting out
any sounds of a struggle. The vehicle lurched into motion, tearing
through the parking lot and out into the streets.

Her cheek banged against
the hard floor and she whimpered past the excruciating fire in her
throat.

She wondered if she and
her sisters
would share Galiana's fate.
After years of evasion, their nightmare had finally caught up to
them again. Evelyn was surprised the Templars hadn't tried to kill
her already. Of course they wouldn't though. Not until they had a
chance to interrogate her.

Evelyn knew what they
wanted. Besides her death, she knew what they sought. The same
thing they had probably tried, and failed, to glean from her
sister. Grief over the loss of her beloved sibling overwhelmed her.
Sweet Galiana, gone.

The van sped through the
city, taking so many sharp turns that Evelyn lost count. She
couldn't tell what direction they were headed in. Couldn't speak.
Couldn't even scream. Had no way to fight the bastards back. She
wondered if her sisters were being summarily captured and driven to
different locations or if some of them had been slaughtered where
they stood.

Unthinkable.

Ten minutes later, at least
by her warped estimation, the van came to a stop. Drug from the
hard metal floor by her arms, she staggered onto the pavement,
blind, mentally protesting the rough handling of her captor.
Somewhere along the way, she'd lost a shoe. She staggered beside
the Knight with a strange, hitching gait. Like a bug with a leg
torn off. Dragging, scrambling, shuddering from one place to the
next. He moved too fast for her to easily keep up.

A door creaked open and
closed behind them. Footsteps, three pair besides her own, followed
in their wake. They traded gruff whispers that she couldn't make
out. Another door, a set of stairs leading down. Treacherous and
steep, she pitched forward several times, saved by the grueling
wrench of the man's hand on her elbow.

At the bottom, she sensed
they were in a corridor below ground; their steps echoed off the
walls and it was colder here than it had been outside. A confusing
maze of twists ended when he pushed her across the threshold into a
room. Fear took hold and she wrenched against his grip with a
violent yank, using the foot with a stiletto still on to try and
punch a hole through his shin.

Her scream got cut off when
a sharp blow to her head made the whole world go black.

Chapter Two

The rough material of her
hood made it impossible to see when she surfaced from oblivion and
tried to open her eyes. Abrasive and scratchy, the cloth made the
skin of her cheeks and neck itch. There was an odd smell every time
she breathed.

Old, stale. A little like
smoke.

Slumped on a hard metal
chair, she inched her posture into a straighter line. As the
cobwebs started to clear, she realized her hands were still bound
at the wrist and resting in her lap. The tingling in her feet felt
like a thousand ants swarming over her skin. Through her toes,
around the bones of her ankles. There didn't appear to be any rope
securing her legs.

Silence, the kind found in
crypts and graveyards, surrounded her. The oppressive weight of
thick stone walls and a heavy ceiling felt cloying and confining.
Enclosed spaces and Evelyn had never been good
companions.

She wasn't sure how long
she'd been out, or where her captors were. Her throat felt like it
was packed with slivers of glass. Every time she swallowed it
brought tears to her eyes. A throbbing pain made itself known on
the back of her head. Pieces of memory came back one at a time,
linked together in a haphazard string.

The club. Her sisters.
Galiana.

Galiana.
A small, choked sound of grief bubbled from dry
lips.

“
She's awake. Bring him
in.”

Startled by a gruff, deep
voice, she stilled.

“
Who's there?” Evelyn
wanted to weep at the pain speaking caused.

A door, the hinges creaking
and squeaking, opened. Footsteps led away, receding into the
distance.

“
Hello?” She tried again,
testing the binds on her wrists. The plastic had been replaced by
rope. It didn't give an inch.

She received no
answer.

“
I demand to know why I'm
being held.” To her own ears, she sounded less forceful than she'd
intended. Of all the survival instincts kicking in the hardest,
denial of who and what she was lurked at the top of the list. If
she feigned ignorance, insisted she was only a normal, mortal woman
that they'd mistakenly kidnapped, maybe they would eventually let
her go.

Still no answer.

The door opened again and
two sets of footsteps returned. Sensing someone approach, she
recoiled, drawing her head and shoulders back. A suffocating,
cloistered feeling made the hair on her nape stand on end. Whoever
it was stood right in front of her. Looming.

“
It has taken us a very
long time to find you. Unfortunately, we had to kill your sister.
The annoying little blonde. I hope her example inspires you to be
more cooperative than she was,” he said.

Evelyn couldn't place the
voice. Male, deep and smooth with a hint of Italian accent. She
tried not to have any outward reaction to the baiting he did with
Galiana.

“
I don't know what you're
talking about. I have no sisters.” Years of effortless lies made
her reply sound sincere.

“
Come now. We
know
what you are. We
know who
she
was,” he said with a cajoling lilt. A feverish, fanatical
quality tempered the way he presented his information.

“
What I am?” She injected
confusion into her own question to make him think she didn't
understand.

Unprepared for the blow to
her cheek, she cried out, head snapping to the side. Blood filled
her mouth and trickled down her chin under the hood. For a few
terrifying moments, she feared she would choke on her own blood.
Her throat felt that swollen.

“
How many of you are
left?” he asked.

Evelyn coughed, fighting
through a stunned haze to concentrate. “I don't have any sisters,”
she repeated, bracing for another blow. Her back stiffened and her
shoulders grew taut.

“
Really. Then who were the
women with you outside the club? The ones who fought back and
escaped?”

When he didn't immediately
strike her, she eased in her seat. Not for a second did she think
the danger was past. She hid her relief to know that her sisters
escaped. “Just friends.”

“
Friends
who all bear the mark of the serpent?” With a
quick, harsh yank, he snared her hands and lifted them like she
might be able to see the small, black dots on the inside of her
left wrist.

The mark of the
serpent.
It was the first time she'd ever
heard them refer to the marks like that. Evelyn wondered if the
Templars knew what it meant.

“
That's an...old wound.”
Denial felt like the only advantage she had at the moment, if she
could even consider it an advantage.

“
An old wound that happens
to be the same one the blonde had on the inside of
her
wrist. Do not
lie to me!”
He grabbed
the back of the hood along with a fistful of hair and yanked her
head back.

She yelped in surprise.
Evelyn wanted to shrink away from his obvious hatred. This time,
when he spoke, she could smell his breath through the cloth. An odd
mix of liquor and mint.

“
It is a mark of evil, and
you, like the rest of your sisters, will be eradicated from the
face of the earth.”