Chapter 68
Sharyn backed away from Julian Wright. A rising fury—stoked by his smug, self-satisfied look—pushed through her shock and dread. She had been used, deceived, and terrorized by this bastard. She had been chosen because she had survived childhood abuse and judged weak.
Julian remained standing in place, still holding out his hand. “Bring me the book.”
Even now, he wanted to humiliate her, to make her deliver the volume to him. He could have easily come forward and taken it, but instead he continued this passive-aggressive torment.
Sick of such men in her life, she clutched the book harder.
Julian sighed and pulled out his pistol. He waved it negligently, like a teacher with a pointer. Only this lesson would be a grim one.
“I can make your deaths slow and painful,” he warned. “Or mercifully quick.”
He settled his aim and fired. The blast deafened. Russo’s head snapped back, shot through the forehead. She slumped in Laurent’s arms, his face spattered with blood.
“Like this,” Julian said calmly, standing in place.
“She was going to die anyway. Blood loss, sepsis. It’s a kindness.
One I can offer you all if you cooperate.
Otherwise, I will let Captain Ferhat’s men find some entertainment before we leave.
Losing two of their men to a sniper has them looking for satisfaction. ”
Sharyn stumbled another step back, her legs shaking. “No . . .”
“A shame.” Julian turned to the soldier next to the cardinal. “Captain Ferhat, maybe a demonstration is necessary after all.”
The soldier unsheathed a long steel dagger.
“Wait,” Sharyn gasped out. She steadied her stance and forced her legs to move her body forward.
Julian holstered his weapon. “Very wise, Ms. Karr.”
She took the three steps to him and held out the book. “Take it. It’s caused nothing but misery.”
He smiled and reached for it.
She whipped forth her other arm and stabbed her karambit knife through his palm.
As he screamed, she twisted on one leg, lowered her hip, and snapped out a kick with the other.
Her boot heel struck him high in the midriff, under his ribs, hard enough to knock the wind out of him and lift him off his feet. He went flying backward.
She did not slow. She continued her turn, back to facing her friends, and lunged for the only path open to her. Toward the flaming menorah. She had already come to a decision, knowing what needed to be done. Saint-Germain had made it clear in this transformational Temple of Fire.
She remembered the horrors depicted in the Third Adage. Skinned and dissected bodies, cruel experimentations. It was a depravity of science. Even the skull that graced its title page was like a warning to those who dared delve deeper into the book.
She would not make that mistake.
She lifted the book—still loose and open after unlocking the secret door—and thrust it into the menorah’s flames.
Cries rose behind her.
From Tissot, from Julian, even from Laurent.
The book’s pages burst into fiery glory, as if waiting for this moment over centuries. She turned and held the book aloft, like a torch for all to see. Rifles leveled at her, but no one knew quite what to do at this moment.
The searing heat burned to her fingertips. The flames splayed the book wider, a fiery bible now. She cast it away, sending it spinning across the floor and behind the neighboring gold table.
“You fool!” Julian bellowed and yanked the impaled knife out of his hand.
The man thrust to his feet, gasping both from her kick and from the horror of her fiery act. In a stumbling run, he tried to reach the table and the flaming book, clearly in the desperate hope of snuffing out the flames and salvaging what he could.
Sharyn simply fell to her knees and stared behind the gold table, toward the burning pyre, recognizing she had made the right choice.
The book needed to be destroyed.
Julian continued his run. Others stirred behind him, unsure what to do.
But another had also come to a decision.