They had no way of stopping Julian’s escape.
Worse, Duncan realized Ferhat and Cardinal Tissot had vanished, too. His last sight of them was when the pair had fled from the tossed charge. Ferhat had been pushing Tissot in front of him.
Had they made it out?
Across the chamber, Julian reached the exit, tossed the cumbersome shield aside, and dove into the tunnel.
Duncan cursed, ready to go after him. Blood dripped thickly from Duncan’s wrist and pain stabbed up his limb. The bullet had broken his ulna, but not his radius, and seemed to have missed major arteries.
I can do this.
As he moved to follow, Julian came flying back into the room. The bastard crashed onto his back and slid. Atop his body rode a snarling, hissing monster. Julian raised a defensive arm, only to meet fangs that tore deep. A toss of the lynx’s head ripped long lacerations across the man’s forearm.
He screamed in pain, and surely some terror.
But Julian was not Katch’s true focus. The lynx leaped away and stalked into the chamber, fur bristling, lips rippling from bloody fangs. Julian used this moment to roll to his feet and flee again.
Duncan was about to pursue him, but Laurent grabbed his arm.
“Stay still.”
Duncan obeyed, recognizing the threat closer at hand.
Katch edged toward them, moving low, haunches quivering. Still, for now, the cat ignored the group clustered behind the gold altar. He crossed to Russo’s body, moving ever slower. Once he reached her, he nudged her with his muzzle, shifting a limp arm, then letting it rest. The cat sniffed at the blood, then shifted to her face, which lay turned on its side. He nosed her, as if trying to wake her. But he knew the truth. His hissing quieted to a low pained mewl. He rubbed his muzzle along her chin, no longer trying to stir her.
Only to say goodbye.
But like his mistress, Katch was not overly sentimental. He had done his duty, paid his respects. He backed a step, turned his head toward the exit, and chuffed at the air. A growl returned, flowing from deep inside, then rose to a ferocious yowl.
Duncan knew not all the blood soaking Julian’s clothes had been his own. Russo’s body had been blown against him, marking him as her killer.
Maybe Katch understood this, too.
Or maybe his fury simply called for blood.
The massive cat leaped away and raced for the exit.
Duncan remembered Russo telling him lynxes were ambush hunters, perfectly evolved to stalk in the dark. Intending to follow his example, Duncan slid on his hip across the table and set off after Katch—and the man he hunted.
But Julian wasn’t the only danger. Ferhat and Tissot had possibly fled, too. None of them could get away, not with the knowledge they possessed.
As Duncan set off, Archie followed at his heels, ever his friend, ever his sidekick.
They both grabbed rifles.
“Stay with Sharyn!” Duncan called back to Laurent, knowing the big man wobbled on his legs. “In case anyone circles back.”
72
2:33 p.m.
Even if Laurent were not compromised, Sharyn knew the man needed little convincing to stay behind. It wasn’t only her that needed protecting. Even though much of the chamber was damaged, the archaeological and religious importance of this site had to be preserved.
It couldn’t be lost to the enemy.
TheConfrériehad already come too close to achieving that goal. And they might yet still.
Laurent swept out into the chamber, collected a rifle, then returned. By now, all the wounded had expired, leaving the room silent, turning it into a golden morgue. Laurent rejoined her, focusing his attention on what else had been lost this day, what lay in a ruin on the floor.
