The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (21 page)

Rory
couldn't help but smile. "Jamie is a very common female name. And so are
Taylor and Mallory and Brooke."

He
cocked an eyebrow. He had the most beautiful eyebrows. "How disgraceful,”
he grumbled. “Women are not mean to have a man's name else God would have named
Eve something as unsuitable as Jehosephat. What else are you called?"

Rory
couldn't believe she was standing in the hallway of a London hospital debating
names with an eight hundred year old man. "My grandfather used to call my
Shorty," she said snappishly. "Is that better than Rory?"

He
allowed the insolent tone to go unpunished. "It is not. And you are not
short. What else?"

Rory
sighed; she wanted to leave. He wanted to discuss an appropriate name. Finally,
she rolled her eyes in frustration.

"I
don't have any other name," she said. "My name is Rory Elizabeth
Osgrove."

"Elizabeth,"
he repeated, rolling it off his tongue with his wonderfully strong accent.
"Much more suitable for your comeliness. I believe I shall call you
Elizabeth."

"Whatever."
She moved him down the hall, heading for the elevator banks. Even though his
balance had returned and his coordination was much better, still, he seemed to
be dragging. Rory turned to see what was delaying him this time when she notice
he was peering at the lights.

"What
are you doing now?" she demanded.

He
pointed to a bulb, touched it, and drew his hand back sharply. "What is
this device?"

She
grasped him by the arm once again and pulled him along. "They're called
light bulbs."

He
seemed to ponder her explanation as she pushed the button for the elevator. He
was about to ask her how such a miracle worked when he suddenly noticed the
glowing elevator button. Rory was nearly shoved to the ground in his haste to
examine it.

"How
does this light?" he demanded, thumping at the plastic. "Where is the
wick?"

Rory
watched him, her irritation fading. Looking at the world through eyes eight
hundred years old would certainly be a remarkable thing. Even though she
remained confused in her own right, still, she had always possessed an open
mind. Hence her devotion to biblical relics the conventional world believed to
be myth. Keeping that in mind, she tried to imagine what Sir Kieran must be
feeling - thrust into a world that didn't understand him. That
he
didn't
understand.

But
maybe that was the point. Whatever the reasons for his return to life, Rory’s intuition
told her that somehow, some way, her knight had indeed become real. It still
didn't make any sense. But maybe it wasn't supposed to.

Kieran
was still examining the elevator button when the doors suddenly opened. A man
dressed in blue hospital scrubs almost bumped into Kieran as he emerged from
the elevator, excusing himself politely. Rory grasped Kieran as he watched the
man stroll down the corridor, pulling the knight into the vacated car. Kieran
was still pondering the strangely-clad man when the elevator lurched.

"God's
Blood," he gasped, touching the walls as the elevator rose two floors.
"What
is
happening?"

Rory
smiled faintly. "It's an elevator. Just like stairs, only without the exertion."

He
looked at her, uncertainty in his eyes, when the car came to an uneven halt.
Kieran emerged from the elevator struggling with his equilibrium again as Rory
directed him out the way she had come.

"I
do not think I like elevators," he said frankly, rubbing his stomach.

She had
him by the hand as they reached the emergency room, hardly daring to hope that
they would escape unmolested. She had been positive the voices she had heard in
the morgue had been employees who had discovered the break-in. But no police
had been forthcoming and Rory nearly shouted with relief as they entered the
large emergency ward, the wide doors to freedom straight ahead.

Until a
nurse stopped them; or rather, stopped Kieran. "Thank God you've come,
doctor," the woman said urgently. "We've our hands full with the
football players and have hardly been able to dispense medical care because of
their constant fighting!"

Rory
opened her mouth before Kieran could speak. "I'm sorry," she said
quickly, realizing the woman had mistaken him for a physician in his green
uniform. "Dr... uh, Hage was just going home. He's been on eighteen hours.
You understand, of course."

The
nurse looked desperate. "Oh... I'm sorry," she said, listening to the
roar of the football players grow louder. "We put out an emergency call
for all available doctors in the building and I assumed... well, he's still in
scrubs and I thought...."

Rory
shook her head again, tightly gripping Kieran's massive arm. "I'm sorry.
Dr. Hage is going home."

Suddenly,
one of the football players shrieked like a wild man and leapt from his chair,
rushing the man across from him. The entire waiting room erupted in turmoil and
the nurse detaining Kieran turned toward the mass, pleading for calm. Rory
tried to use the chaos to their advantage by pulling Kieran to the automatic
doors, but he was unwilling to follow. Gently, he removed her hand from his
arm.

"Remain
here," he said calmly. "This will take but a moment."

Rory
opened her mouth to protest but it was too late; for a man who had been moving
laboriously slow not moments before, Kieran suddenly came to life. As orderlies
and nurses struggled to restrain one or two men between them, Kieran began
tossing men aside as if they were no match for his incredible strength. One
man, two men, several ended up thrown back into their seats, dazed by the
massive doctor's brutal bed-side manner.

He
hardly raised a sweat. By the time he was finished, nearly two dozen men had
been forcibly calmed. As Rory and a host of amazed hospital employees looked
on, Kieran steadily informed the rugby players that if he was forced to return
to quell the situation again, they would need more than a doctor. They would
need a grave-digger. There wasn't one person in the room who didn't believe
him.

Returning
to his open-mouthed companion, Kieran took Rory by the hand and, for a change,
pulled her toward the large double-doors. Once outside in the chill London air,
she came to a stop.

"Why
did you do that?" she demanded softly.

He faced
her, feeling the brisk breeze like a rejuvenating slap in the face. His
strength, his vigor was returning rapidly, and he was amazed at how well he
felt. Better than he had felt in eight hundred years.

"Do
what? End a minor brawl?" he shrugged. "Would you prefer that I allow
it to escalate and destroy the entire room?"

She
shook her head, slowly. "I... of course not. But the way you handled those
men...."

He
turned away from her sharply when he heard the honk of a horn. Witnessing an
automobile for the very first time, his eyes widened dramatically as he pointed
to the passing vehicle.

"God's
Blood," he gasped. "What
is
that?"

"A
car," she said, shaking off the visions of his amazing strength when she
realized he was unconcerned with her astonishment.

"A
car?" he repeated, watching as another went by, and another. "What is
this car, Libby?"

"Libby?"
she looked at him curiously.

He
watched a bus go by, instinctively standing back to allow the vehicle a wide
berth. "I told you I did not like the name Rory. Libby is a familiar of Elizabeth
and I like it." He was still staring at the bus. "What was that
monstrous car?"

"A
bus," she replied, rubbing at her temples as the jackhammer started again.
It was two o'clock in the morning and they needed to find shelter for the
night. But not back at the Parkwood; Bud was waiting for her and Rory wasn't
sure how she was going to explain the appearance of Sir Kieran. Until she could
sit the man down and discover the reasons behind his return to life, she wasn't
about to tell Bud anything.

Kieran
continued to watch cars drive by, amazed, as Rory wrapped her arms around her
body to ward off the night's chill.

"Come
on," she said, moving down the sidewalk. "I'm cold and I'm tired.
We've got to find some place to stay and... well, figure this out."

He
trailed after her, almost stepping in front of an oncoming Jaguar until Rory
pulled him back onto the sidewalk. Feeling the iciness of her hand, he was
distracted from the incredible concept of cars.

"My
lady is chilled," he said, holding her hand in his massive palm. "A
bit of mead and a soft bed will see you warmed."

Rory
looked up at him, way up, realizing that he was taller than Bud had originally
estimated. She was coming to think he was closer to six feet five inches in
height, although she could not be sure. All she knew was that the man in life
was far larger, far more imposing, than he had ever been in death.

"I
don't think they make mead anymore," she said, shivering involuntarily
when his thick arm went about her shoulders. "But as for a warm bed, I'm
all for it. Right after I make a call."

Kieran
pulled her against the curve of his torso."Libby?"

"My
name is Rory."

"And
I say it is Libby. Who must you call?"

She
didn't reply for a moment. "I've got to call a... friend."

"What
must you call her?"

She
sighed. Then she laughed. "It's easier to explain when you see what I'm
talking about."

He
nodded faintly, watching another car go by before returning his attention to
the strange, smooth cobblestones they were walking on. "Libby?"

"My
name is
not
... oh, hell. What?"

"Who
awakened me from my suspended state?"

She
shook her head. "I don't know. But I intend to find out what, exactly, is
happening around here."

Kieran
was silent a moment. "Did you kiss me?"

Rory
paused, stopping to look at him. His arm fell away from her shoulders as they
faced each other beneath the haunting moonlight. "Why... what kind of a
question is that?"

"Answer
me. Did you kiss me?"

She
lowered her gaze, looking embarrassed and defiant at the same time. "I
did. But I was saying good-bye to you. I had a good reason."

A slow
smile spread across his face. Reaching out, he collected her hand in his big,
warm palm. "Then it is you."

She
cocked an eyebrow, warily. "What is me?"

He
continued to smile, his twinkling brown eyes driving daggers of excitement deep
into her heart. After a moment, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it
softly, tucking it into the crook of his elbow as they resumed their walk. Rory
was still lingering on the kiss.

"Nothing,
sweetheart," he murmured, gazing up at the moon, the trees. "Forget
my foolish statement."

She
tried. But she couldn't.

CHAPTER
TEN

Rory was
feeling like a criminal on the run. She and Kieran found a pub not far from the
hospital, nearly void of customers, which was a good thing since Kieran was a
sight in his green scrubs and seemed to have little tolerance for those who
stared at him. Sitting him in a secluded booth and ordering a drink from the
bartender, Rory found a payphone by the lavatory.

She had
a bird's-eye view of Kieran as she rang the Parkwood, watching as he examined
the ashtray, the table, the picture on the wall. She was so involved with her
observations that she was genuinely startled when Bud's urgent voice came over
the phone.

"Hi,
Bud," she said softly. "It's me."

"Christ,"
he exclaimed. "Rory, where are you?"

She
paused, watching as the bartender brought their drinks. Kieran sniffed the
liquor, drank it, and made a face. "I... uh, I'm all right. I guess I just
lost track of time."

"Tell
me where you are," he demanded. "I'm coming to get you. Hell, I knew
I shouldn't have let you go alone. What happened at the hospital?"

"Something
wonderful, I think," she replied, noting that Kieran had cornered the
bartender and was pointing to his obviously inferior drink. "Look, I've
got to go. I'll call you later, ok?"

"Like
hell!" Bud exploded. "Dammit, Rory, tell me where you are!"

"I'm
fine, Bud, really," she repeated. "Please don't worry."

"Don't
worry?" he snorted. "It`s two o'clock in the morning and you're
wandering around the city alone. How can you ask me not to worry?"

"Please
Bud," she whispered into the phone, using a sweet tone that could coerce
him into buying her the world if she wanted it. "Please don't ask me
anything else. I'll have more to tell you tomorrow. Please?"

There
was a pause on the line. "Christ, Rory," he muttered. She could
literally see the torn expression on his face. "For God's sake, please
tell me where you are. I can't let you run around London by yourself. I'm sorry
for all the things I said and I promise I won't bring it up again. Please,
honey?"