Relic (The Brethren Series)

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Relic

Copyright © 2012 by Deena Remiel

ISBN: 978-1-61333-204-7

Cover art by Fiona Jayde

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

Look for us online at:

http://www.decadentpublishing.com

Also by Deena Remiel

Trinity

A Brethren Novel

Ghost of a Chance

A 1Night Stand Story

Relic

A Brethren Novel

By

Deena Remiel

~
DEDICATION
~

To my father, whose soul is always with me

~
Acknowledgments
~

Writing Relic was such an exciting experience for me. I remember the exact moment when I knew how it would all come together. I was sitting having coffee with my Aunt Adrian at the Starbucks Café in a Barnes and Noble. We were talking books and writing, and I’d begun to share my ideas for Relic. Just like a lightbulb turning on, illuminating everything, I had an epiphany. I bounced in my seat and shouted, “Oh, my goodness! I know what the relic is!”

So thank you, Aunt Adrian for being there at that magical moment. And thanks as well to her, Mary Kay, and Elizabeth for reading through the endless versions and giving invaluable feedback.

Accuracy of procedures is crucial to solidify believability, even in a fantasy. So I’d like to thank Officer Dave Kobler for verifying certain police procedures I’d written in Relic.

I absolutely adore my editors! Nicole and Meredith, you bring out the best in me. Your edits and comments are always a source of positive energy and make me stronger.

Decadent Publishing has been my home since I first submitted Trinity. I couldn’t ask for finer folk than Heather and Lisa. They are the epitome of what a great publishing company should be.

My family is an amazing force of nature, enduring days of having to fend for themselves while I wrote Relic. At this point, they are a well-oiled machine, with my outstanding husband taking over household duties without a whimper, and my kids, well, they’re kids, but they never complained and they’re just plain awesome.

Where would I be without my fans? Between my Disciples, Inner Sanctum, and Street Angels, I have an army of followers who love The Brethren and promote their world across the country and around the world. I cherish you all dearly!

Angels really do exist on earth, and you’re mine!

Prologue

Ancient Gaul

Raphael charged into the Temple of Sirona. “Where is she? Where is my wife?” He asked anyone and everyone who would listen, but no one knew, and they shook their heads solemnly. “Aiden,” he called to one of the guards.

“Yes?”

“Something’s wrong. I haven’t been able to sense Sirona all day. Now, tell me where she is, man. Tell me so I can see her and know she’s all right.”

“I can’t tell you something I don’t know myself.” Aiden worried the short beard on his chin. “We’ve been looking for her since after midnight when she fooled us into thinking she slept. She’s wanted to free herself of the guards for hundreds of years now, even though she knows we are here to protect her gift at all costs. Looks like she finally succeeded. Everyone who can is looking for her, I promise.”

Raphael glanced around at the hordes of followers bringing the day’s offerings to the temple, and a sudden chill ran up his spine. He unfurled his wings and took flight, praying he’d find her safe somewhere admiring the beautiful scenery. He would give his impetuous, stubborn wife a strong talking to. But as he approached a set of foothills, every nerve-ending in his body fired at once, filling his heart with dread. A golden sandal glinted in the sunlight near a cave opening. He descended to get a better look and knew, as he came closer, that it belonged to her. He picked it up and unsheathed his sword as he cautiously entered. On the ground were drag marks. He quickened his steps. Another sandal lay in his path, and he picked it up as well. He whispered forcefully, “Sirona, where are you? It’s me!” He took a few more steps. He stopped just short of stumbling over her. There she lay, in a crumpled heap with a dagger’s hilt sticking out of her right shoulder blade. “Oh, dear Gods, Sirona!”

He immediately set to work with his healing powers. Carefully, he removed the dagger and closed the wound. He worked deeply to repair the torn tissue and discovered nearly every bone in her body had been broken. He turned her to lie flat and began to knit those bones back together. So focused on the gravity of the injuries, he didn’t notice her unusual stillness. He moved to heal her mind and soul. His hands turned to ice when he placed them on her forehead and heart. No heartbeat.

“No, it’s not possible.”
What the hell is going on here
? “This can’t be. Sirona, wake up. You…you can’t be dead. Wake up, I say. Sirona!”

He stood, cradling her body to his, wings trembling furiously, and screamed his rage. “No!” He fell to his knees and swayed back and forth with her in his arms. He kissed her hair gently and cried out, “
Mo chroi, mo chuisle, graim thu
. My heart, my darling, I love you. I beg you. Please don’t leave me to face this world without you! I need you with me, by my side, forever and always. Don’t leave me all alone. I am nothing without you!”

What he had flown in urgency, he now walked with despair. Within his arms he carried a precious bundle, the woman he loved. And as he walked, people noticed and followed behind in a mournful pilgrimage. He ultimately laid her to rest on the altar where offerings were usually left in her honor. While her shell-shocked priests and followers carried out their rituals to prepare her for the afterworld, Raphael left to make a pilgrimage of his own…to the Beyond, where he had come from. To his liege, E.L.

He pushed the security guards aside as he stalked, undaunted to his office.

“Excuse me, Raphael, but he’s busy right now. Raphael!” His hand swiped a display of small statuettes off the assistant’s desk. Her disgruntled mumbles fell unheeded at his heels. The floor-to-ceiling, stone double doors wouldn’t stop him either. He pushed them open as easily as he would curtains and stalked over to his superior’s desk. He rested his hands on the mammoth slab of  a stone desk, his muscles pumping with pent-up fury.

“My work for you as a Brethren Savior has kept me from saving the one I cherished more than my own immortal live. I can’t live throughout eternity without her, and bear this guilt and misery. I won’t. I don’t want to feel love for anyone ever again. So I ask you, as my boss, to do what’s right. Wipe all memories of Sirona from my mind. Harden my heart so I will never feel love’s pain anymore. That’s the only way I will be the Savior you created me to be.”

Chapter One

Sedona, Arizona

Eighteen months ago

“Yo, Serena. Get a load of this!”

“Get a load of what?” Serena shouted as she jumped down from her Jeep and poured the waiting bucket of cool water over her head. “Ahh, just what the doctor ordered.” She breathed in deeply, dragged her fingers through the tangled mess of honey-kissed hair, and sighed. It had been a brutally hot tour of Sedona’s most popular vortex sites this morning.

“You got one heck of a package delivered earlier. It’s sitting on your desk. Why don’t you go into your office and check it out?” Callie had mischief in her eyes and a shit-eating grin on her face. She’d  changed her hair color, again. Shocking pink waves framed her pale face today. It matched her lip color and complimented her bold personality. Serena shook out her hair and wiped her face with her shirt sleeve as she walked past her best friend. She gave her a playful shove and stuck her tongue out as she pushed her way through the door to her office. She froze a moment and screamed.

“Jared!” Leaping to her desk, she nearly knocked her brother off his perch with a hug. “I can’t believe it. When did you get back from Germany?”

“Whoa! Hey there, big sis. I just got back today. God, it’s great to see you, even if you are soaking wet.” He smiled as he swiped at his dampened cheeks.

“Yeah, well you don’t need me tellin’ you how freakin’ hot it is out there, now do ya? So, spill it,” she continued while scrutinizing his bedraggled appearance. “How’s your boss been treating you? Digging morning to night, even if it’s a rare archeological find, can’t be fun. I hope Mr. Big Shot Archeologist is at least going to give you some credit for helping with the dig. I know you don’t have any kind of schooling or credentials, but clearing away dirt from important artifacts still takes a level of skill. You should be getting something for your efforts, don’t you think? Money would be even nicer, come to think of it. He
is
paying you something, isn’t he?”

He crossed his arms and waited with a mask of familiar annoyance. “You done?”

“I think so,” she conceded and grinned. “For now.”

“I just got back, and all you can ask is if I’m getting paid for my work? Christ, but you never let up a bit, do you? If you must know, I
am
getting paid. In more ways than one. And that’s all I’m saying. I’m a grown man, Serena. Back off. Now, knowing it’s your birthday tomorrow, I thought I’d come back with a gift for the most incredible, if not the most overbearing sister in the world.”

“Oh, really you didn’t have to,” she admonished. “I know you’re broke. Just having you home is gift enough for me.” He snorted. She laughed, too, and shook her head in defeat. “Oh, all right. What on earth could you have gotten me? And how much is missing from my bank account because of it?”

“Very funny, and I didn’t raid your bank account for anything. Here, open it.” He handed her an unwrapped Styrofoam box. She opened it gingerly; an inexplicable feeling of excitement and dread washed over her as a figurine slowly emerged. A bronze statue appeared, about ten inches tall, of a beautiful woman in a long, flowing gown, holding a serpent in one hand and a shallow cup, in the other. She had a star-shaped crown on her head from which a veil draped down. The stunning woman’s face remarkably mirrored Serena’s own. Her mouth dropped open, but no words came out.

“I finally did it! You’re actually speechless!” He slapped a hand on his knee. “This is brilliant! Happy birthday, Serry. When I saw her face peering up from the ground, she immediately reminded me of you, so I had to have her. For you, I mean. Hey, you only turn thirty once, you know.”

Serena lumbered over to her office door to close it and returned to her desk. As she sat, she stared at the piece of art still cradled in Styrofoam, troubled. She felt her brows take a dip into a scowl as she readied herself for yet another infernal but necessary interrogation of her brother. Every time he brought home something that cost more than a dinner at Wendy’s, he was suspect.
And with good cause
. She remembered soberly how, on more than one occasion, he’d acquired items that had “fallen off the truck,” and he landed in hot water with their parents. Before he’d left for the dig, they’d fought constantly about how much she paid him to run tours at the shop. To have the finer things in life, he’d argued, he deserved and needed more.

“Before I say thank you, tell me everything, now. Where did you get this?
How
did you get this? Are the police going to storm in here at any minute looking for you? Oh, my God! Should I even be touching it?” She took in some deep breaths to calm her racing heart and over-taxed brain. This wouldn’t be the first time her brother seriously screwed up and landed in jail. To make matters worse, he didn’t have their parents to bail him out anymore. Not with their mother long since passed and father in a nursing home.