Braxen shook his head.
Merrick just stared at me.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think I was asking for permission?” I lifted my brows. “Let me clarify. I'm not. I'm going. This has to be done to get my insurance money.”
“Can't he mail you the paperwork?” Merrick asked.
“No. He needs me to show him the damage and give him a statement. Plus, I'd like to check out the damage myself. We haven't been back since the attack.”
“Just go with her,” Darius said as he came into the living room. “We can hold down the fort in case a job comes in or we get something on the Host.”
My men glared at Darius.
“Right,” Darius said. “Not my business.” He turned and left the room.
“I'm going,” I said. “One of you can come if you want, but I have to go.”
“We're all going,” Merrick said.
Rune and Braxen looked at him in surprise.
“Darius said they'll watch over things for us. And with three of us there, we can form a shield around her. It will be harder for a spirit to get past us.”
“Is that true?” I asked.
“It's not something that we've tested,” Rune said. “But the magic that protects us from possession extends a foot from our bodies. You should be safe if you're within that radius.”
“All right then. That's settled,” I said.
Braxen cracked his neck.
Rune looked worried.
Merrick seemed resigned.
I almost chuckled. Maybe it was foolish of me, but physical threats scared me more than spiritual ones.
Chapter Thirty
Three hours later, I was finished with my insurance meeting and was in my apartment with the guys. They waited in my art studio, checking out my paintings, while I grabbed some fresh clothes from my dressing room.
When I came down, they were standing before the paintings of the warriors. I started to smile, remembering how fascinated Rune had been with my nemesis. But then I saw that he was in front of that very painting again, his expression odd. Braxen stood in front of the gladiator, and Merrick was staring at the medieval knight. Something about the way they looked at the images sent a shiver down my spine. If there hadn't been a fourth painting—that crusader—I would have thought something crazy. Something about the subjects in my paintings being . . . but no, that was impossible. I couldn't see the past.
Braxen noticed me first. “Lomasi,” his deep voice rolled over me as he pointed at the gladiator. “Who is this man?”
I went to stand beside him and looked from him to the painting. Brax looked nothing like the man in the painting. Well, beyond his physique, although the gladiator was even larger than Brax. Still, there was something about the warrior that reminded me of Braxen. Something beyond his body. Something in his expression.
“I don't know,” I said. “The only painting I've been able to figure out is that one.” I waved at the one in front of Merrick. “His name is Sir John Chandon. At least, I'm ninety percent sure it is. I pieced together the clues—how he's dressed, his armor, his horse, and that flag. It's the Oriflamme.”
“You painted it,” Braxen said. “How can you not know what you painted?”
Meanwhile, Merrick shuddered and jerked back.
“Merrick?” I went over to him.
“The Oriflamme,” Merrick whispered. “It was larger than that. Large enough for an entire army to see.”
“Merrick?” Rune grabbed his arm.
