AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Now would be a very, very good time to do your thing,” she screamed, stepping backward. Her bare foot caught on something, and she stumbled, falling onto the grassy field, which put her nearly eye level with the lion as it rushed her.
She opened her mouth to scream, but the lion was on top of her, jaws open. Lifting protective hands to her face, she started to scream but was shocked by what the creature did next.
A warm, rough tongue began lapping her on the cheek, then the nose. All the way down her face and neck, nuzzling her.
“What the . . . ?”
The truth hit her then: some elemental structure of her own painting had altered, changing the knight trapped inside. He was no longer the one in the armor but had become the lion itself. The same big cat that was now affectionately licking her all over, a supernatural manifestation of her own little kitty, Cézanne. But this killer was no tabby cat.
You heard claws against stone in your dream that first day that
Claude arrived, she reminded herself. The knight must have transformed then, briefly, as well.
She slid hands around the lion’s powerful neck, feeling the warm lushness of the creature’s fur. His mane was thick and soft, and she found herself stroking him all over just as he blanketed her with such sweet affection.
You are very close, he whispered within her. Near to freeing me.
The words rang inside her center, unspoken yet keenly felt.
“You warned me against Claude. What am I supposed to do? Finish the puzzle?”
I will protect you from him. But you must . . . heed my instructions. Trust . . . me.
She slid hands deeper into his fur, petting him just as she would Cézanne, unsure what else to do except treat him like a giant house cat. For one long moment, he rumbled in deep, satisfied reaction. Then she said, “You’re a freaking lion, man. What happened to you being the knight in the painting?”
He burrowed his heavy head against her breast. Claudius has claimed my form. He believes his will to be nearly dominant over mine now.
“Is he wrong?” She worked her fingers through his thick mane. “You’re not even human anymore.”
I am as I have always been. The true slayer.
“Tell me your name,” she insisted, holding his heavy body even closer. “It’s all I’ve ever asked or wanted out of this. To know who you are.”
He lifted off her, staring down with stark eyes. To hold a man’s name is to hold him captive. Claudius knows that truth above all others.
“I want to free you. You know that. You’ve always realized that. Surely you trust me by now?”
He backed away, opening his mouth with a roar as he turned toward the knight. Only then did she realize that the other figure was frozen. Dark hair, dusky skin, murderous expression. The knight was now Claude. Her lion stared up at the paralyzed figure, baring his sharp, gleaming teeth in a threatening expression.
He turned back to face her, his words moving inside of her mind and soul. If you learn my name, Claudius could use it as a weapon against you, he explained. The very speaking of it has slain much stronger knights than you.
She shook her head firmly. “I’m not a knight. . . .”
He moved forward and nuzzled her one last time, breath hot against her cheek. Finish the puzzle . . . and I will finish what Claudius began in me so many years ago.
She held the saw in her hand, wielding her “sea wave” pattern. As her favorite design, it had seemed most appropriate for her knight’s task. They’d been forced to wait until the evening to begin cutting the pieces, the gold not fully dry on the canvas until then.
Although Claude paced, growing increasingly impatient, she’d warned against how disastrous rushing might prove, reminding the man of her previous failed attempts. As those last hours ticked off, the gold slowly drying, Claude had nearly lost his impenetrably cool composure.
As she worked beneath the light now, nearly finished with the design, he hovered much too close beside her. She paused, saw in hand, and glared up at him. “If I make a mistake, the whole thing’ll be botched.”
He inclined a slight bow, backing away from her table. “As you say, Anna. You are the expert in this matter.” But then he gestured toward the clock that hung over her desk. “Still, allow me to indicate the time. We are fifteen minutes from the solstice.”
She bent almost eye level with the puzzle, squinting as she moved the saw. “And I’m no more than a minute from being done. That leaves plenty of time.”
And then what? she wondered, panic seizing her as she recalled her knight’s warnings in that final dream. He would battle Claude for his very soul, apparently. Where would that leave her?
The tool made a dull, buzzing sound as it reached the edge of the puzzle, and she turned it off, staring down to examine her handiwork. It was a splendid, rare piece, without a doubt. Perhaps her greatest work ever. If she’d wanted, she could have sold it for tens of thousands of dollars, an almost unimaginable sum, really, when you considered the rare Templar gold involved.
