18

“The Knights Templar, as you know, were formed after the first Crusade to police the high roads and keep the pilgrimage traveling to Jerusalem safe from thieves and cutthroats,” Garin explained. “They took vows of chastity, poverty, piety and obedience.”

“The cross on their robes,” Annja added, “didn’t that symbolize martyrdom?”

“Yes, and to die in combat was considered a great honor, a sure trip to heaven. They never surrendered in battle, unless all the Templar flags had fallen. They were a feared force of the times.”

“Medieval. Twelfth and thirteenth century.”

“Yes, the Templars fell in the fourteenth. Accusations of blasphemy and heresy led to their demise. They were accused of trampling and spitting on the cross. Engaging in vile sexual practices, such as homosexuality and head worshipping. Their doomsday happened on a Friday the thirteenth.”

“Really? Here I thought that was Freddy’s day,” Annja only half joked. “I thought I’d heard everything about the Templars. What with all the DaVinci Code and grail stuff in the media.”

“There is much on the knights, true. But the Skull of Sidon is often overlooked by scholars as mere myth.”

Garin leaned forward from where he sat on the couch, splaying his long tanned fingers before him as he explained.

“There was a Templar knight in love with a lady from Maraclea.”

“Clear waters,” Annja said. “Isn’t that what Maraclea means?”

“Yes, or simply sea. And then there are some scholars who will goad a person into believing it means something like greater shining, an allusion to the Holy Grail. Which makes the tale more interesting than not.

“The knight was actually a lord of Sidon, rumored to not only be a Templar but also a pirate. Sidon was rife with pirates at the time—the city was crawling with them. Anyway, because of his vows, the knight could not consummate his relationship with the Maraclean lady. But, after her untimely death, all vows were null. Or so he decided.”

“Oh, don’t tell me.” Annja could guess the next part, and it couldn’t be good.

Garin’s wicked grin made her lean forward, anyway. “He exhumed her corpse and, well, let’s say he had his way with it. Those of a certain mind would have the knight coming into the greater shining, actually gaining the grail, this means of enlightenment, through that copulation.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s a theory, Annja. So after the macabre act, it is said the knight heard a voice telling him to return to the grave in nine months. Which he did.”

“Because one always obeys disembodied voices after committing necrophilia.”

“Naturally.”

The two shared a wink, and Annja looked down and aside to avoid the man’s mesmerizing gaze.

“Upon returning,” Garin continued, “the knight found a skull placed above the woman’s crossed leg bones—which some believe is the origin for the skull and crossbones symbol. And if he was really a pirate, then all the more basis for the belief.

“Anyway, the knight took the skull and again the voice spoke. It told him to guard it well, because it would be the giver of all good things to him—become his protecting genius. That is also what the Holy Grail is supposed to do, be the giver of all good things.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that. So he left with the skull and—?”

“When he wielded it in battle his enemies were put back, destroyed. His protecting genius granted him all good things. Or so that is the story.”

Annja waited to see if he would continue. Garin rubbed his chin, eyeing her intently.

She broke out in laughter. “You’re kidding me, right? Who set you up to this story? Roux? I mean, please. A skull born of a necrophilic liaison?”

He stretched his arms across the couch back and propped an ankle across his knee. “Annja, bearer of a magical sword that appears from out of nowhere at her beckon, does not believe my tale of a magical skull?”

She chuffed out another half laugh and took a swallow of pomegranate juice. Why did the immortal men always have to mention the obvious?

“I believe what I can see, touch and hear,” she said. Yes, still a skeptic, and proud of it. “Giver of all good things? The skull didn’t do anything particularly good when I had it. In fact, it brought a nasty bad guy to my doorstep, who proceeded to tear apart my home. He destroyed some irreplaceable research books.”

“Better a book than you.”

She curled her fingers about her bandaged wrist. The long sleeve hid the bandages, but Garin noticed. The fact he didn’t ask about it went a long way toward his discretion.

“So that’s why you want it?” she asked. “You need good things? What, that money can’t buy, do you need?”

“I didn’t say I wanted the skull.”

“You don’t have to. You never show up to help me without an ulterior motive.”

“Annja, you bruise me.”

“Doubtful. That ego of yours is ironclad.”

“It is merely I feel you are out of your league. You don’t know the maelstrom you’ve stepped into. You think the bone conjurer won’t stalk you until your feet are bloody and you offer your own skull to get him off your back?”

“Bone conjurer?” She tucked a leg on the seat and leaned onto the overstuffed arm. “I’ve heard the term before. Is that what Serge is? And how do you know him?”

“I don’t know him personally, but I’ve heard of him, or rather his kind. Bone conjurer is an ancient term, used since biblical times. He’s a necromancer. One who summons the dead, can communicate with spirits, manipulate and redirect common mortals by utilizing revenants. Much like a modern-day medium. The term is old-world.”

“Peachy. I haven’t had any adventures with the dead lately.”

Garin steepled his fingers before his mouth and nose. “Annja, you must take this seriously. I believe in the immense power the man holds. A necromancer can manipulate the dead to great means.”

“So what good is a centuries-old skull to him?”

“I can only imagine it is a necromancer’s grail. And let’s just forget all the connotations to the real grail legend.”

“Hallelujah. There are so many it’s become comical.”

“This Skull of Sidon, born of a necrophilic encounter, will no doubt serve a necromantic master incredible evils.”

“I thought it gave good things?”

“Yes, but your perception of good may be completely opposite of what someone like Serge believes to be good. Good to him may be unspeakable to you and me.”

Anything unspeakable to Garin was definitely not good. As well, to Annja. She’d seen a lot since taking Joan’s sword to hand. Demons, murderers, twisted scientists intent on cloning history’s monsters, even those who would create Frankenstein’s monster.

“I still don’t buy it. Skeletons don’t give birth to skulls.”

“It is said the birth was most grisly.”

She laughed. “Wonder if she asked for an epidural.”

“Skeptic.”

“To the bone.” She rubbed her wrist again. A bone conjurer had a sample of her bone? That could not be good. “But I’m willing to do some research. You got a laptop I can borrow?”

“I do. I wouldn’t expect you to take my word for what it’s worth.”

“It’s worth a trick, if you ask me. And I’m so not buying you not having an interest in the thing. Worried about little old me? Last time I believed you wanted to help me I ended up dodging machine gun fire.”

“That was an oversight, Annja. Listen, I’m hungry. I’m going to order Thai. You have any requests?”

“No, just hook me up with a laptop, and feed me anything. I’m good.”

“It’s down the hall in my office. Second door on the right.”