The Templar's Legacy (Ancient Enemy) (28 page)

At that point, I moved my focus into Colette and met her, mind to mind. I was again exposed to her conviction in her cause—rigid, strong, and uncompromising. I had forgotten this part of her, it made me wonder if I was about to make a big mistake.

Her voice rang in my mind.
Give me the Iesu-sacrificium
. Reluctantly, I placed the Caduceus in her right hand and the fake in her left.

Now withdraw.

I almost did till Spring reinforced my backbone.
No, I need to watch.

There was a flash of irritation from Colette, quickly buried, before she said aloud, “Very well, but you must not interfere.”

I won’t.

She started with words,
Lord Jesus I thank you for your sacrifice for sinners such as me. I humbly beseech you to lend me your power...
A glowing point appeared in her mind and grew in brightness until it dwarfed her aura. I looked at it in wonder. Was this the power of Jesus?

More like the power of your Caduceus.

Colette reverentially took the power she’d summoned and began to shape it. It was fascinating to watch. Images and words flowed through her, intermixed with power. She skillfully tied a stream of transformed power from her captured bit of soul. It went from the Caduceus to the fake. She chanted the beginnings of her prayer. “
Erit unum, sicut altera
.” followed by a string of more Latin I couldn’t follow. The images of the two objects in her mind became one Caduceus. It was like an idea embodied in the energy of Colette’s weaving. It was beautiful, and I stared at it in rapt fascination.

I didn’t notice when Colette pulled another thread of power from the Caduceus.

Because of that, I didn’t see the surge coming at me until Spring’s alarmed bolt of fear hit me. She yelled,
Look out!

It was too late. Colette’s net of power snapped down around me and bound me mentally in place. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t pull up any power of my own, I could only watch Colette’s treachery in silent horror. If she took off with the Caduceus, my family and friends would die.

That’s as far as it got. As I watched, my left hand reached out and snatched the Caduceus from Colette’s hand as my right flashed out and struck her nose. The force of that blow threw her back into the bare metal shelving lining the shell of the van, and the net around my mind loosened. A strand of power appeared within my reach. I grabbed it and then shattered the net around me with a small effort of will.

Thanks
,
Spring!

De nada.

I released my Sight and sprang back into the real world. Colette was obviously stunned but not ready to admit defeat. She produced a knife from a mysterious hidden pocket, scrambled to her feet and...

Stopped dead when I commanded her, “Stop! Don’t move.” Her preparations to spring left her unbalanced, and she fell over. I jumped on her before she could shake off my command and I tore the knife out of her hand. I threw it out of reach and grabbed both her wrists just as she began moving again. She still wasn’t ready to give up. She slammed her head against mine and yanked her hands away as I fell back. She moved into a strike position as I tried to recover and put up some sort of defense.

The van slammed to a screeching stop, and we both tumbled forward. Unfortunately, she was faster at the recovery and bounced to her feet first.

“Don’t move, French fry, or you won’t live till your next confession,” barked Dave behind me.

Nice line!
said Spring.

Colette stopped while crouched above me and looked back to Dave. He held a pistol pointed at her head. She glared at him for a second, and I inhaled for a great sigh of relief. It was a half-breath too soon.

The sound of a horn was the only warning we received. A rending crash split the air a fraction of a second later, and the van bucked forward. Something popped up front, as I tumbled from the violence of the hit. I struggled to get back up. Another horn, crash, and lurch threw me head first into something sharp and unyielding. My butt took most of the impact of my rebound.

In the dazed silence that followed, panic urged me get to my feet before Colette could recover and come at me with that knife again.

I pushed up onto my knees, and a gush of blood from my forehead blinded my right eye. Panicked, I tried to clear my eye with the back of the fist holding the Caduceus and looked for an incoming strike. It didn’t come.

Colette was crumpled in a heap against the front cage, which protected the passenger seat from flying objects. She wasn’t moving. Up front, Dave had somehow fallen down into the well under the steering wheel and was cursing up a plague as he flailed to get out.

I checked to make sure I still had the real Caduceus, hung it back over my head, and drunkenly lurched forward to help Dave.

I’d barely gotten him up when a very angry, very large, red-faced man pounded on Dave’s door. Dave waved him away, which just caused the guy to redouble his pounding. Dave scowled and managed to squeeze back into the seat. He opened the door.

“What the hell are you doing, you little asswipe?” said the man courteously.

“It was an accident, asshole,” replied Dave diplomatically.

“Asshole?” The man roared. Diplomacy spent, he reached in and pulled Dave out of the van onto the street.

I yelled at him with all my hoodoo, “Stop it!”

The man pulled up Dave by his arm and punched him in the stomach. Crap, of course my hoodoo didn’t work on him! That would be too easy.

He punched Dave again as I scrambled across the driver’s seat and launched myself at him. He dropped Dave when he saw me and tried to meet me with a roundhouse to my head. I was at a disadvantage with only one working eye, but I still blocked his clumsy but powerful punch. The impact numbed my arm, but I followed through with a counter-strike to his head. He stumbled back and down. Krav Maga is cool.

I helped Dave up with my uninjured arm and practically threw him back in the car. “Make sure Colette’s alright!” I yelled. I slammed the van into drive, and we peeled away from the scene of the crime. Once I was a block away, I slowed down to avoid getting into more trouble. The two back doors were pushed in, leaving a gap of daylight showing between them. I really hoped the owner of this van was insured.

“She’s out, but she’s breathing,” said Dave.

I relaxed a bit. I didn’t want another death on my conscience. That let room for the anger bubbling just underneath.

“Get me something for my head, I’m driving half blind here.”

“Pull over, I’ll drive.”

“Like hell you will. You just got us rear-ended.”

“To save your miserable, unthankful hide,” he snapped back. I heard him fumbling and thumping around for a moment. “Here, use this.”

I glanced down at my T-shirt, which Colette had been wearing.

Unbelievable. “You took off her shirt?”

“Hey, I wasn’t going to get mine all bloody again. Besides, she still has her bra on.”

Yay
,
Davie, you go boy!

Not helpful, Spring.

I grabbed the shirt with a scowl, wiped off the worst of the blood, and then held the shirt to my forehead.

“They’re both my shirts, Dave. Remember, you changed at my house, too?”

“So what? She deserves it for pulling a knife on you again.”

“I can’t believe she did that,” I said. “Why did she do that?”

“You’re asking me?” said Dave. “I would have had her hogtied from the moment we left the warehouse. She’s a conniving, cold, bitch... By the way, just what did she do?”

I told him what she’d tried to do, all the while getting more and more angry with her attempted thievery. It was better than freaking out about our disappearing time.

After a pause, Dave said, “Hey Finn, you dropped the Caduceus back here. Man, this thing screeches against my bear.”

“That’s the fake. How does it look?”

“Really? It’s totally awesome. Looks like the real thing.” He held it up for me to see it. “It was shiny black and perfect.” Thankfully, it seemed unharmed. “Hoodoo is so cool. It’s almost like magic!”

I ignored his irony. “Now we just have to get it there on time,” I said. “Why did you take off your shirt too, Dave?”

He grinned. “I tied up your girlfriend. Sorry if I stepped on your turf.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Dave.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

We made it to Mark’s house at 12:05, and I was sweating rivers over it. The thought of missing Mark’s deadline wound me up so tight, I felt like my head would spin off.

Finally, I pulled into the drive behind two other cars. One was my parents’ wagon, and the other was a white rental sedan. My spring unwound a few times, releasing some of the internal pressure, when I realized that our courier was still there. I jumped from the van and rushed to the house.

“Hey, Finn, aren’t you forgetting something?” yelled Dave from the van. Realizing what I had done, I cursed, turned around, and ran back to the van. We swapped the two sticks away from the sight of the house. I could instantly tell the difference. The fake was far less powerful. I dearly hoped Wendigota didn’t notice. I’ve been told many times that I’ve got a considerable amount of talent for the hoodoo, so hopefully Mark would chalk the difference up to that. I don’t know why I kept relying on hope since the shit-storm of life continued to throw crap my way, but I guess I’m a glass half-full kind of guy.

My parents and a nondescript, mousy guy of average height waited for me in the kitchen. I came in holding my bloody shirt to my head with one hand, carrying the fake with the other. I was obscurely relieved about my bloody state. Hopefully this guy wouldn’t notice that I was sweating like a horse from my frayed nerves.

I waved down my parent’s exclamations, tilted my head to the stranger and asked, “Is this the guy?”

“As far as we can tell,” replied my dad.

“I take it you’re Finn?” asked the man with a bit of a southern drawl. I nodded. “Is that the item?” I nodded again. I told myself that maybe my nervousness would come across as suppressed anger. I tried to make a scowl that looked like I was holding back a punch—not the contents of my stomach.

He held out his hand. “May I?”

I nodded and thrust it at him. He took it from my hand. Instantly Spring fell quiet—leaving me very alone.

The man turned the fake over and examined it carefully. He frowned and said, “Hmm.”

“What?” I said without a squeak. I swear, I didn’t squeak. Really.

He eyed me for a second and then said, “Nothing, it just feels strange. But it fits the description I was given.” He pulled out a foam-filled black box, put in the fake, and snapped it closed. “Would you like a receipt?”

I sputtered at him. “A receipt?”

The man gave a thin-lipped grin. “Just kidding. This is all I need. Pleasure doing business with you. He strode past me and out the door. I followed and watched him gesture at Dave to move the van. The silence in my mind was overwhelming. I felt hollow.

The courier pulled out into the road and disappeared. Instead of unwinding me further, it cranked me up a couple of notches. Now that we were committed to this course of action, I engaged in a useless marathon of second-guessing.

“Finn,” said my dad from behind me. There was steel in his voice. “What happened to you? What have you been doing all night?”

I cringed, and prepared to look as non-treacherous as possible.

I turned around and received another shock. Detective Hunter stood behind my parents with a camera in her hands. Apparently, she’d been hiding out of sight, taking pictures of the courier.

Crap, I really didn’t want to face her as well. I just wanted to go home, climb into bed, and explode. I scooted around everyone and headed back to the kitchen. I plopped down at Mark’s small kitchen table. My mother patched me up and got me a glass of water, and I gave them the short version.

“So you were in an accident, and you left before the police got there...” said Detective Hunter.

I squirmed in my seat. My sweat-wet underwear rode up in a most distracting way. I really hoped I didn’t get diaper rash. I hate that.

I forced myself back on task. I didn’t see any way to really conceal what had happened, so I copped a plea.

“Well, yes, but you have to understand, I couldn’t be late. You know what was at stake.”

“Did you at least exchange insurance information?”

I studied my lap for a moment. “No...”

“Did you at least talk to him?”

I squirmed some more in the seat. “No, not really.”

“Not really?”

“No.”

“What does that mean?”

My face started heating up. “...I punched him.”

“You punched him!” she exclaimed.

“Uh yeah, but he was hitting Dave.”

She squeezed her eyes shut enduring some sort of internal pain. Maybe I should have lied a bit better.

The rest of the interrogation didn’t go any smoother. When Hunter finally went out to talk to Dave and check on Colette, my dad held me back for a bit more explanation.

“So Finn, what were you doing all night?”

“Well, we were talking about what we could do instead of giving Mark the Caduceus.” True enough.

“Why didn’t you take my calls?”

“I didn’t have my phone.” I knew he’d been calling Dave.

Dad gave me the evil eye. “Really? You’re going to stick with that story?”

I flushed. “No, sorry. Dave didn’t answer because we didn’t want to risk having you ordering me home.”

“Did it ever occur to you that we might have been worried about you? Did it ever occur to you that maybe just telling me you were going to be gone all night would have been acceptable?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Finn, if you were a year younger, we would ground you for a month, but as it is, I just hope you realize your potential to cause your mother and I a lot of pain. You hurt both of us last night, and I am severely disappointed in you.”

Shame burned through me. I’d have rather had the grounding. “I’m really sorry. It will never happen again.”

“I hope not. Now, let’s go see what’s happening outside.” He walked by me, and my eyes caught my mother’s. She looked tired and old. There were lines of fatigue and sorrow through her face.