Excerpt:“I promise not to take more than five minutes of his time.” Drusus smiled again, deeper and longer this time, diving through the protective layers of her conscious mind. Devout believers could not be possessed, but they could be influenced. All it took was a firm, gentle touch.
The nun’s shoulders eased and she beckoned him farther inside. “Can’t see the harm in that. Come, I’ll show you to his room.”
He followed her up the stairs, flinching as he narrowly avoided bumping his shoulder on a large wooden crucifix on the wall. The scent of lemons was harsh now, burning his nostrils, clawing at his skin, but he pushed on. Everything worth having demanded a high price. And he was close to his prize; he could sense the faint undercurrent of the relic’s power.
The old nun smiled shyly at him as she waved him into the sparsely furnished bedroom at the end of the hall. Feeling magnanimous, he returned her smile.
Then he faced the priest.
Like the other Protectors he’d encountered over the years, this one recognized him immediately, despite the intricate human veneer he’d adopted for the occasion. Something in the eyes, perhaps. No matter, it simplified his task. He shut the door.
“Let’s get to the point, shall we? The Linen, if you will.”
“You’re too late,” the priest responded. “It’s gone.”
The words snatched the breath from his lungs, their meaning instantly clear: Although there’d been nothing but confusion in his eyes last night, at some point MacGregor had experienced an epiphany. He’d stolen the Linen. Again. “When did he come?”
The rosary in the priest’s hands slid from one bead to the next as he prayed, silently weaving a powerful shield. “Just after lunch.”
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