The Red Cross of Gold I:. The Knight of Death Read online

  ‘Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul.’ The scriptural passage just seemed to pop into his head from nowhere along with a vision of black water and a yellow-eyed rat. He stepped back from the mirror instinctively and the vision disappeared.

  When his head cleared, he tried to look at his back and the Pixie came at once to his aid, checking him over.

  “It’s going to be all right, Mark Andrew,” she told him as she ran her hands over his back. “There are only a few scratches. That was very mean of Maxie to do that, but we didn’t know how you would react when you woke up. I didn’t know he was going to tie the ropes so tight. And I've reported his actions to Valentino. He shouldn't have hit you or kicked you.”

  He turned suddenly, grabbed her by her upper arms and looked into her bright blue eyes. He felt as if he should be able to read her mind somehow, but he saw only surprise in her eyes at the rough treatment.

  “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” he asked her angrily. “You have to tell me. You didn’t bring me here to decorate your boudoir.”

  “I didn’t bring you here, Mark Andrew,” she told him. “You brought yourself here.”

  “I don’t understand. That’s not how I remember it.” He let go of her and shook his head. “I didn’t tie myself up and then drive myself here at gun point. Your ugly friend did that.”

  “Valentino wants you here,” she told him. “Valentino wants to ask you some questions, that’s all.”

  “What kind of questions? Who is Valentino?” he asked and went in search of his clothes. She hurried after him.

  “About the key and about your brothers,” she told him. “Remember? Your eleven brothers?”

  “I dunna ’ave a key and I dunna ’ave eleven brothers, Madame,” he grumbled as he pulled on his pants and grabbed his shirt. “I need t’ be goin’.” His suddenly pronounced brogue shocked his ears as much as his eye color had shocked his senses earlier. None of this was right.

  “Where are you going?” She asked him. “Maxie won’t let you leave.”

  “Let ’im do ’is warst, lady,” he told her and went to the door bare-footed. “I canna stay ’ere. Ye’re wastin’ my toime and toime is precious.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  She began to cry and he stopped to look at her in surprise.

  “You can’t leave! You have to stay. Maxie might shoot you and Valentino will be mad at me for it. She’ll blame it all on me.”

  “I don’t know any Valentino other than Rudy and he’s dead,” he told her, trying to resume a more civilized tone. “For that matter, I don’t know you either.”

  “But…” she sobbed in her hands and fell sitting on the bed. He went back and pulled her hands from her face.

  “Please don’t cry, lassie.” He bent to look in her eyes and felt the electric charge of attraction when she met his gaze. Her eyes were beautiful even full of tears. He would have to pray mightily for forgiveness if he ever got back to… back to… “For God’s sake, tell me your name, lass. I can never ask God to forgive us if I can’t even tell Him your name.”

  “Merry. Meredith,” she said tearfully.

  “All right then, Meredith. I’m going to pray for you when I get home and I’ll never forget you, I promise, but you must understand the concept of kidnapping? You and your big, ugly friend have kidnapped me and brought me here against my will. That is a crime in every country in the world. If you will let me go now, I promise not to say a word about it to anyone other than my priest. Thank you for the beef and the wine and the… bath. Now let me go peacefully.”

  “And what about you? Kidnapping is a crime, sure, but what about intent to commit murder? You came here to kill Anthony. What about that little detail?” she asked. Her tone had gone from bewilderment to indignation.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. You have me confused with someone else. I don’t know this Valentino and I have no idea who Anthony is.”

  “And where are you going to go without shoes?” She asked and looked down at his feet. “You don’t even have shoes. You’ll cut your feet.”

  He looked down at his feet, remembering the pecan shells and rocks in the drive. Now she sounded like a concerned nursemaid. He sighed in defeat and headed for the door only to have her drag him back, covering his face with desperate kisses and more tears.

  ((((((((((((()))))))))))))

  Maxie had watched the entire scene play out on the monitors in the security office under the stairs. Merry was a fool. A lovely fool, but a fool, none-the-less, but he was not complaining. It had almost been as good for him as it had been for the dipshit. Better than renting a video and just one of many perks he enjoyed as part of his job, though he doubted that Miss Valentino would approve of the monitor he had installed in Merry’s bedroom and the fact that he’d had to borrow it from the verandah. Now, the dipshit thought he was just going to waltz out the door and leave Miss Priss crying, not to mention, leave him in deep trouble with Valentino, if she came home and found the over-sexed Scot gone. How grand it must feel to have a woman as beautiful and rich as Miss Sinclair begging for more!

  He picked up the shotgun and checked to make sure it was loaded before locking the door of the monitor room behind him. On the way upstairs, wondered what Valentino would say if she knew her ‘little girl’ had banged the guy four times in the past three hours. He knew who this guy was supposed to be, but sometimes Valentino’s bullshit was just too crazy for him. Immortal! Bullshit! There was no way this idiot was going to get past the shotgun. No matter what Valentino had told him. He rounded the stairs and headed up toward Merry’s room.

  He loved his job. Where else could he have gotten such first rate live show and be paid to watch it? And the guy wasn’t bad looking either. A hell of lot better than that little wimp, Anthony, had been. Merry hadn’t even gotten to first base with that little faggot. It didn’t matter that Valentino’s ditzy blond bitch teased him mercilessly; at least she paid attention to him. That was all he needed to make him happy. When they were tired of playing with this one, he might have a chance at him as well, but that would remain to be seen.

  He waited in the hall for Ramsay to come out. He didn’t have long to wait. Ramsay opened the door and stepped into the hall as if he owned the place. He didn’t pause until Maxie pushed himself away from the wall and stepped in front of him. Ramsay looked him dead in the eyes, causing him to shudder in spite of the shotgun between them. Maxie could hear Merry sobbing inside the bedroom.

  “Now why’d you want to go and hurt her feelings like that, dipshit?” He asked and prodded him in the stomach with the barrel of the gun. “That ain’t very nice.”

  “Step aside, sir, or I will be forced to kill you. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, I am simply in a hurry, but I believe God would understand if you press the point,” Ramsay said coldly and lowered his head slightly.

  Maxie’s laugh died in his throat as the Scot made his play for the weapon, disarming him before he had time to register what had happened. The gun was simply in Ramsay’s hands with the barrels pointed directly at his face. Maxie swallowed hard and took a step backwards, looking at him in dismay. Mark smiled wickedly at him and pulled back one of the hammers. The blood drained from Maxie’s face as the trigger clicked into place.

  “Back!” Marked ordered him with a slight jerk of the barrel.

  “Please be careful with that, sir,” Maxie took a step backwards. “That’s a hair trigger, Mister. I filed it myself.”

  “Back!” Mark repeated the gesture and Maxie complied until he bumped into the railing and stopped.

  “Turn around,” Mark told him and moved carefully toward the stairs, trying to keep his eyes on the man, the doors along the balcony overlooking the foyer and the stairs leading from the third floor at the same time.

  Maxie turned around slowly and grasped the railing for support as his knees turned to water.

  “Now jump,” Mark told him and took two steps forwa
rd toward him.

  “You can’t be serious!” Maxie moaned and Mark jabbed him in the back with the shotgun. “It’ll kill me!”

  “Jump or your brains will precede you down,” Mark repeated the order and Maxie heard the other trigger click into place and felt the cold metal against the back of his head.

  Maxie was crying as he lifted one foot and placed it atop the railing. His bladder let go and Mark rolled his eyes in disgust.

  "Get on with it!" he growled and the man whimpered in fear.

  The bedroom door behind him suddenly burst open and the Pixie rushed blindly onto the balcony, shouting at Maxie not to shoot Mark Andrew. She ran directly into Mark’s back in her panic, causing him to stumble forward. The gun rammed into Maxie's back, knocking it loose from Mark's grasp before he went down on one knee to catch his balance. Maxie screeched as the shotgun’s butt struck the floor and both barrels discharged into the ceiling, barely missing his head. Mark Andrew cursed, Merry screamed and the shotgun clattered away across the marble floor.

  The big man stopped screeching, turned around and opened her eyes and saw his chance. He tackled Mark before he could get up again; grabbing two handfuls of the long, black hair. The bigger man put his weight into the desperate move and cracked Mark Andrew’s head against the base of a marble pedestal. The Knight grabbed his head with both hands and tried to get up, but darkness overwhelmed him and he was out cold.

  Maxie struggled to his feet, picked up the shotgun and smirked down at Merry, who sat crying beside her fallen Knight as flakes of plaster floated down from the ceiling like falling snowflakes.

  “Thanks for the help,” he told her and laughed.

  Chapter Three of Twelve

  O God, thou knowest my foolishness; and my sins are not hid from thee.

  Mark Andrew Ramsay awoke thankfully enough knowing who he was, but unappreciative of the one errant ray of sunshine, which had found a home directly in his eyes. When he tried to move, pain radiated from a spot on the top of his head.

  Voices… subdued, angry voices had awakened him from a nightmare wherein he was starving in a dark place made of stone, dank, oppressive. He had been chasing rats with his dagger. Fortunately, he hadn't caught any of them. A distinctive relief since he knew that he was planning to eat one of them. The dream’s disturbing horror faded gradually, but as his vision cleared, he was dismayed to find that he was, once again tied in a very bad position. He could see that his wrists were rather sloppily bound with tasseled satin ropes. At least he could remember where he was and why his head was hurting, though he could not imagine when or how he might have allowed himself to be tied to Merry’s bedposts. The pains of hunger had returned rivaling those in his head. The persistent sunbeam precluded further forays in the direction of the voices, threatening to blind him if he insisted. He closed his eyes, lay still and concentrated on the word.

  The Pixie’s voice he recognized. She was apparently near the windows speaking to a second woman somewhere else in the room, possibly near the door. His clothes were gone again, though he didn’t remember taking them off a second time. Only a feather light comforter of smooth satin covered him partially. He moved his leg and the smooth fabric slipped several inches to the right. Not a good idea. He relaxed again and listened.

  “I did not!” Merry was saying.

  “That’s not what Maxie told me,” the other said angrily.

  “Maxie is a pervert!” Merry objected indignantly.”

  “He’s in your bed, Merry, just like Maxie said he was.”

  “He was hurt, Cecile,” Merry explained unconvincingly. “Maxie caused him to bang his head. Maybe even gave him a concussion or something. He’s a sadistic bastard. Maxie wanted to kill him and he was going to shoot him. Right there in the hall. Murder him. Did he tell you that?”

  “You’re lying, Merry. You always lie. If I didn’t love you so much, I would send you packing. Maxie is not a murderer. He was just doing his job. I told him to watch him. He’s dangerous. I told you that. And you let him loose in the house. How could you be so irresponsible?”

  “I am not lying. Maxie wanted to kill him and leave him in the ditch even before we brought him home,” the Pixie began to cry. “I slept on the couch. You can see that he takes up the whole bed! For Pete’s sake, how could I have slept with him like that? You’re being stupid.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m always the stupid one, huh? Then why did you bolt the door?”

  “I was afraid of Maxie. You know I’m afraid of him. I asked you not to leave me here at night with him! How many times have I asked you not to leave me with him? I always lock my door. Get rid of him, Cecile, puh-lease? I hate him. We can find another guard. One with better manners and one… who looks better, too.”

  “Listen to you! A nice guard. A pretty guard. Meredith Nichole, I swear, what would a nice, pretty guard do for us?” There was a brief silence and the sound of someone walking around the room. “You gave him a bath,” he could hear the one called Cecile moving around the room. Her voice kept changing directions as she poked about, looking for something. What?

  “He was… he needed a bath. You know how hot it was yesterday. Maxie tied him to a tree,” the Pixie’s tone changed and she sniffed loudly. “I couldn’t let him sleep in my bed like that. All sweaty and everything. I wanted him to be presentable for you. I did it for you. And where were you all night? Why didn’t you come home?”

  “I had urgent business in town. Now, Merry, don’t cry,” the second voice softened a bit. “You know I can’t stand that. As long as you didn’t do anything you… or I… will regret. I’m just looking out for your welfare, Merry, that’s all. And we have the ceremony coming up. You know how important your role is.”

  Muffled sobs and more sniffles followed.

  “Go downstairs. Check on breakfast and bring me some chocolate. OK? I’ll watch over him for a while. You take a break, sweetie.”

  The door opened and closed again. His only ally, if she could be called that, was gone.

  Faint footsteps muffled by deep carpeting, drew near the bed. The owner of the other voice, which he presumed to be the infamous Valentino, picked up one corner the comforter and he tried not to hold his breath as she looked him over. The cover dropped back over him.

  “Mr. Ramsay?” The voice was all business now. He waited, pretending to be asleep a bit longer, just to be convincing.

  “Mr. Ramsay!” The voice was more insistent. “Wake up.” She bumped the bed with her knee.

  He opened one eye. The sunlight had moved out of his eyes, but his mouth was so dry, he doubted he could make a sound.

  “You cannot stay in this bed, sir,” she told him.

  He raised his head slightly, opened his other eye and looked at the knotted cords on his wrists before focusing on her face. She was surprisingly enough, quite lovely in her own right, though completely opposite the Pixie.

  “I have another room for you,” she continued.

  Her black eyes glittered, calculating and cold. She had an olive complexion and short, very dark hair. She appeared to be dressed in some sort of ceremonial garb with a broad red ribbon embroidered with two turtle doves in a heart-shaped wreath draped over one shoulder and fastened at the waist. . A garland of baby yellow roses adorned her hair.

  “I have waited a long time for you,” she told him with an appraising glance that made him feel very exposed. “You look better than I expected, but where is your beard? I though you guys prided yourselves on your beards?” She chuckled softly and the sound of it made him shudder inwardly.

  He made no response to her remarks and questions. She seemed irreverent. But what did that make him? Some kind of priest? It seemed that he thought of everything in terms of sin and religion.

  “I have been searching for your people for a long, long time. Of course I’ve found plenty of pretenders… here and there,” she sounded almost tired as she curled onto the far end of the bed and leaned against the bedpost. “I don’t intend to hav
e my quest spoiled by misbehavior on your part or Merry's, for that matter. You will have to forgive her ignorance. She doesn’t really understand what you are and I want to thank you for not hurting her. I'm sorry that Maxie treated you… less than hospitable. He gets a bit over zealous at times.”

  Mark Andrew still could not bring himself to speak with her. There was something very dangerous about her and silence seemed to be the best course of action.

  She smiled when he raised his head to look at her. “But Merry is a very desirable specimen, isn’t she? You would do yourself a great favor to avoid any future contacts with her without my permission. If things go well… who knows? But for now, won’t you do us both a favor now and tell me where your Master is. I just want to talk to him.”

  He had no idea what she was talking about. When he made no answer, she got up and leaned over him. He could smell her faint perfume mingled the lingering aroma of wine on her breath. She looked into his eyes as if trying to physically find the answers to her questions there. When he turned his face away from her, she pressed the fresh cut above his eye with two fingers and new pain shot through his head.

  “I do not like to be ignored, Mr. Ramsay. Do you understand me?"

  He nodded briefly, but did not look at her.

  “Good.”

  She ran her fingers down his face before straightening up again. He cast a wary glance at her and saw her contemplating the blood on her fingertips. She had re-opened the wound that Maxie had inflicted on him in the orchard. She held her fingers under her nose and sniffed the blood before wiping her fingers on his chest with a smile. “Maxie will take you up to your room. I will see you again at breakfast.”