By Alex Archer, Jean Rabe
In Charlemagne's footsteps, a guy who will be Holy Emperor…
It used to be the type of net posting certain to allure the eye of the yank cable television exhibit Chasing History's Monsters: "Dog-headed males sighted by way of travelers in Avignon." attracted to France to discover the parable of Saint Christopher and the cynocephalus, or the dog-headed, archaeologist and tv host Annja Creed unearths herself many times and inexplicably specified via vicious mercenaries. Her top safeguard is to track this brutal violence again to its resource, which she quickly discovers to be a millionaire and self-professed descendant of King Charlemagne.
Caught up in a romantic and ruthless sixth-century global, the guy is confident that if he collects mankind's most dear and holy swords, he can satisfy his medieval ancestor's failed target to construct the town of God. And he's stealing the helpful relics one after the other to arm his modern day paladins. Now he has his eye on a really particular sword—Annja's.
And he'll need to kill her to get it.
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Extra info for City of Swords (Rogue Angel, Book 39)
No knife. one can find i've got no weapon. ” She paused. “But i've got cash. Euros. We have been going to pay for an interview. We’ve bought cash for that. we will be able to return to the inn, we all, Gaston, and—” He laughed. “A ruse to get you right here. Dog-men. ” He spat. “Look, whoever you are—” She stopped while she heard the cry of a few huge chook passing low over the river, through the noise of a siren, which fast receded. What appeared like a ship at the back of her at the river... She doubted a person on board may well see into the shadows below the bridge, yet possibly she may perhaps do whatever to get their cognizance. “We don’t wish your cash, American. ” The tall one spat back, as though the thought of money left a nasty flavor in his mouth, and drew the knife down Rembert’s throat. The strain used to be sufficient to provide a line of blood, yet now not sufficient to reason the photographer critical damage. “Annja! ” Rembert howled. “Give them what they need. ” “I don't imagine you are worried approximately your buddy, American archaeologist. i don't imagine you think about us critical. i will promise you, we're critical. we are going to kill if we need to. ” His better half laughed and jabbed Rembert within the abdominal, back sufficient to attract blood. “She may still take us critical, eh, Dimitru? ” The tall one scowled. So she had one piece of knowledge, a reputation: Dimitru. certainly Romany. “Dimitru! ” Annja had the thug’s whole awareness. “You say you will want a sword. I could—” “No. no longer a sword. Your sword. the only you flashed in Paris, that evening so past due. prior to the police got here and took my brothers. ” “I’ll need to pass get it for you. ” She prolonged her fingers to her aspects and opened her palms as extensive as her hands may stretch. “I’m no longer wearing a sword. ” She grew to become slowly, taking a deep breath, pleased for the chance to appear in the back of her. She observed the send, a barge. now not but shut adequate. It didn’t glance as though someone used to be on deck. She hadn’t heard a person arise in the back of her. except the threats of the Romanies, she’d heard basically the sounds of site visitors around the bridge and prior the embankment. comprehensive her circle, she confronted the Romany back. They’d pulled Rembert a bit deeper into the shadows lower than the bridge. “It won’t take me lengthy. ” “You imagine me simple,” the tall one hissed. “You have the sword, Annja Creed. you've it with you. probably it truly is invisible. possibly it's a ghost factor. yet i do know you may have it. ” “We are performed chatting with her, correct, Dimitru? ” the opposite man poked Rembert back. “A boat is coming. an individual may perhaps see us. ” “They see nothing,” Dimitru stated softly. “This rain. ” “Annja,” Rembert pleaded. “What do they wish? we will be able to supply them cash, can’t we? My camera... I dropped it there. they could have that. Annja, inform them they can—” “We don't want your money,” Dimitru stated in English. “We wish the woman’s sword. i'm performed with this. ” “Stop! ” Annja cried. “Leave him by myself. allow Rembert out of right here, allow him go away, and you may have the sword. Let—” “Rembert is our assurance, Annja Creed. Is the sword worthy greater than his existence? ” “Of direction now not. ” She nodded. “Let him pass. ” “The ghostly sword for the photographer, then,” Dimitru stated.