Love Immortal (2 page)

Sheriff Payne wandered from the mangled car
to the ambulance that held one of the victims, probably the
Mustang’s driver considering his condition. The young man in the
ambulance did not look like he was going to make it. He listened as
the EMT worked to communicate the young man’s vital signs to
University Hospital.

As he suspected, one of the drivers was
drunk. In another ambulance the paramedics were attempting to
administer to the driver of the Hummer while the police restrained
him. The driver’s outbursts signaled to Sheriff Payne that the
driver was drunk; drunk drivers tended to be combative. Well, maybe
he could get a few statements from the driver while the memories
were still fresh. Sheriff Payne inhaled deeply as he approached;
but within ten feet of the driver, he could smell the stale alcohol
on the driver’s breath. It was clear that the driver was in no
condition to respond to questions, or to give any coherent answers
as to the sequence of the night’s events. He would deal with it
tomorrow.

Early the next morning, Sheriff Payne laid
the MVA file in his “In” box to work on later rubbing his eyes to
clear his head. The hospital had called just after midnight to let
him know that the Mustang’s driver had died. That would mean there
would be a charge of vehicular manslaughter, which would mean the
District Attorney’s office would be contacting him. The message
light on his phone was blinking an angry red, probably the DA, but
he wasn’t ready to speak with anyone. He still needed to speak to
the witnesses, and he wanted to speak to the Hummer’s driver first,
now that he was sober.

* * *

At the hospital, Sheriff Payne leaned on the
receptionist’s desk. “Morning ma’am.” Sheriff Payne smiled a tired
smile at the hospital’s receptionist. “Where is he?”

She turned to the computer, ready to pull up
the information he was seeking, smiling sweetly as she asked “Which
one did you want to see first Sheriff?”

This brought him up short. He was tired, and
in no mood for games. “The one that’s still alive – I would assume
that the dead one is rotting in the morgue.” He answered
tersely.

She glanced up from the computer with a
questioning look on her face, “Didn’t anyone call you? The
Mustang’s driver survived. He’s in intensive care. The driver of
the Hummer is in room 387.”

Sheriff Payne blinked, trying to assimilate
the information he had just heard. In an MVA, the hospital never
calls until after a victim is pronounced dead. Sheriff Payne stared
at the receptionist with his jaw hanging open. When he finally had
the sense to close it again, he was at a loss for words.

CHAPTER 3

Jewell arrived at the hospital at about 5:30
that evening, almost twelve hours since she had left the hospital
early this morning at the end of last night’s shift. As she pulled
into the parking garage, she saw the police cars. The gate, which
was usually up, was down blocking the entrance to the garage. She
stopped at the attendant’s booth and waved at Tom, who worked in
the parking garage during the day. “What’s going on?” She
asked.

“Seems that guy they brought in last night is
a bit of a celebrity.”

“What, you mean he’s someone famous?” She
asked, incredulous. She hadn’t recognized him, but then, his
injuries had been pretty severe, and it wasn’t unusual to see
famous people in New Orleans.

“No.” Tom waved his hand to indicate that she
had misunderstood. “Somehow it got out that this guy died and came
back to life. The local news wants to get the story.”

“Poor guy. What’s with the police?”

“Patient privacy mostly. Doc Babineaux is up
there giving a press conference, explaining how this sometimes
happens and it’s not that unusual. Sheriff Payne is up there with
him, making sure that the press leaves this guy alone.”

“That’s good. I’d hate to wake up after an
accident like that just to have a bunch of reporters in my face. I
won’t see you until this weekend; this is my last night this
week.”

Tom smiled and waved as he closed the gate
behind Jewell’s car. At the doors to the hospital, a small stage
had been set up with a podium set in the middle. Jewell could hear
Doc Babineaux’s explanation making the incidents of last night
sound as if this was as common as humidity in New Orleans; not rain
in Death Valley.

Edgar Durand was among the reporters
clamoring for information, even though he wasn’t a reporter. His
interest had a far more important purpose. He was only half
listening to the doctor’s explanation as his mind wandered to the
possibilities of this event. If this particular patient was what
Edgar thought he was, the patient would not only wake up, but walk
out of the hospital within weeks, to live a long, long life unless
he was punished for his crimes.

Edgar Durand was not an ugly man, but he was
not remarkable either. Edgar was the type of man that a person
could meet, and then forget within minutes after leaving his
presence. It was seldom that someone remembered meeting him if he
happened upon him a second or even third time.

Edgar was born twenty-eight years ago in an
unremarkable house, in an unremarkable town, to unremarkable
parents. He was however, a devoutly religious man.

It wasn’t until college that his life became
interesting. As a requirement, he had to take a class on early
European history. Edgar enjoyed this class. His professor spoke of
fascinating events, but what Edgar enjoyed the most, the lecture
that changed his life, was the passionate lecture given on the
subject of the Crusades and the Templar knights. Edgar remembered
that lecture well. But what he remembered most were the stories
claiming that the Templar Knights were allowed to meet on the
Temple Mount. It was here, on the Temple Mount, that it was rumored
that the Templar Knights unearthed the Holy Grail and its secrets
of immortality. This was how the lecture ended.

Edgar eagerly attended his next class, hoping
for more information about the Holy Grail and the secrets it held.
However, the next lecture detailed the disbanding of the Knights
Templar, and the creation of new orders with similar purpose, the
Teutonic Knights and the Knights Hospitaller. The professor never
again spoke of the Holy Grail. This spurred in Edgar an interest so
fierce, so overwhelming that it consumed his life from that moment
onward.

His personal quest for the Holy Grail began
with his professor. His professor was a wealth of information. He
explained that the myths of the Grail have been romanticized since
the publication of Le Morte d’Arthur. He also explained that
besides the Teutonic Knights and the Knights Hospitaller, a third
order existed, the Obsidian Knights who sought to right the wrong
that transpired so many centuries past, to kill the unjust that
stole the secret of the Grail, and reclaim what once belonged to
the rightful.

It was only a chosen few who were invited to
join the Obsidian Knights. They were hand selected and initiated
into the Order only after it was ascertained that they could be
trusted to carry on the search for the Grail while maintaining the
secrets of the Obsidian Knights. It was three years before the
Order was convinced that Edgar was of the caliber of individual
they were seeking for their yet unfulfilled task.

Upon initiation into the Order, secrets were
shared teaching the true nature of the Holy Grail and the gifts
that it endowed upon those that drank from it. There were people
that not only knew of the Grail’s existence, but drank from the
Grail and gained its gift of immortality. These were the thieves of
God’s gifts to the faithful, the enemies of the righteous. The
mission of the Obsidian Knights was to identify these infidels, and
to swiftly mete out justice through beheading, without trial or
mercy.

It was one of these infidels that Edgar
sought now.

CHAPTER 4

Jewell walked into the women’s locker room at
the hospital. In the locker room, she was immediately the center of
attention. The other nurses clamored around her, asking their
excited questions at once. “They said you were there, when he came
back to life!” This question was from Megan, another new recruit to
the hospital. Jewell had met her during orientation.

“Um, yeah.” Jewell pulled her scrub top over
her head.

“Was he really dead for an hour?” Jeannie
asked this.

“No, it wasn’t like that. It was only a few
minutes.” It was all Jewell could do to get dressed while being
bombarded with questions from the other nurses. As quickly as she
could, she left the locker room and went to report to her
supervisor. She wanted to go see the man before she started work.
She could not stop thinking about him, and was certain that it was
just her concern for his well-being. Once she saw that he was doing
well, she would be able to let it go.

Nurse Carla Yohanan, the ER nurse supervisor,
had a stern bearing about her. Most of the other nurses that worked
with Jewell in the ER hated Nurse Yohanan; they thought she was
insensitive, but Jewell liked the woman.

Jewell found Nurse Yohanan talking to one of
the doctors but didn’t remember the doctor’s name. When Nurse
Yohanan finished with the doctor and noticed Jewell standing behind
her, she turned with that tight lipped smile she always wore; it
almost looked like a grimace. Some of the other nurses said that
Nurse Yohanan didn’t know how to smile. Jewell knew differently.
She had watched Nurse Yohanan with some of the patients. She had
more compassion, and more caring than most of the other nurses
combined. Nurse Yohanan reminded Jewell of her mother who was also
a nurse before she died.

“Good evening Jewell. Are you ready to start?
You’re a little early.” She started flipping pages on the clipboard
she held, looking for an appropriate assignment.

“Actually Nurse Yohanan, I was hoping that I
could take a few minutes to see the man that they brought in last
night. I just wanted to see how he was doing.”

Nurse Yohanan’s face hardened. Jewell could
see that Nurse Yohanan was thinking that another one of her nurses
wanted to gawk at the freak, as if he was some sort of circus side
show. It was clear that Nurse Yohanan was getting tired of hearing
the story of last night’s raising of the dead. After a minute
though, the corners of her lips turned up in what Jewell could only
guess was a smile. “That’s right. You were one of the nurses who
took care of him last night, weren’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, I think that would be very
appropriate. He’s in ICU, but seems to be stable.”

Jewell sighed in relief. She had been worried
about the young man’s fate, afraid that his heart had restarted,
only to fail again. “Thank you Nurse Yohanan. I won’t be long.”
Jewell didn’t wait for Nurse Yohanan’s reply.

Although she wasn’t exactly running, she was
moving as fast as she could towards the ICU. Something inside her
made her want to see him again, a need, and a burning desire. She
could feel her heart speed at the thought of seeing him again; her
hands started trembling at the excitement of seeing this man she
had only glimpsed briefly the night before.

As Jewell rounded the corner, she saw Carol
sitting at the nurses’ station in front of the ER. Jewell liked
Carol. She was an older woman, with graying hair and a pleasant
smile.

Carol’s face lit up when she saw Jewell
nearly running down the hall. “Slow down honey, or you’re going to
end up in ICU when you trip and land on your face. Trust me, he’s
going to be here a while.” She smiled, knowingly.

Jewell slowed her pace, embarrassed that
someone had seen her in her excitement to reach the ICU; to see
him. “I know,” she answered. “I was just…concerned.”

Jewell signed the log at the desk before
moving to the entrance of the ICU. She paused before the door,
trying to catch her breath. Suddenly, she found it very difficult
to breathe, her breath coming in short gasps. Her heart was racing.
It felt as if her heart was going to punch through her chest and go
bouncing along the floor. She choked back a laugh at the thought
and turned to look at Carol, certain that Carol could hear her
heart thudding against her ribs, but Carol just smiled her
reassurance.

Jewell reached for the doors, and pushed
through. The man was in the first bed on the left. He had been
cleaned up, so he looked better than he had the night before. His
hair was a soft sandy color where she could see it sticking out in
short spikes from beneath the bandages that covered his head. She
knew that the gash underneath the bandages had been cleaned and
sutured, his head partially shaved to administer to the wound. She
grieved for the loss of his perfect hair, even if it was only
temporary. Both of his legs were in casts, but on his left leg, the
cast only went up to his knee. His right leg had a cast that
covered his entire leg. Two metal pins stuck out of the side of
this cast near his knee. His chest was bandaged, but no longer
sunken as it had been last night, though she knew this was only
because his ribs had been set. His collarbones were no longer
disfigured. He wore a figure–of–8 brace to hold them in place.

Her knees felt weak as she gazed at the man’s
face. It looked so familiar. It was like looking into the face of
someone she had known her whole life. Someone she was meant to know
for the rest of her life. Someone she should have met a long time
ago, but didn’t due to cruel circumstance. Her hand started moving
of its own accord toward his face. When she realized what she was
about to do, she snatched her hand back just before her fingers
could brush along his perfect cheekbone. She longed to touch his
face, to hold his hand, to look into his eyes.

She reached for the man’s chart on the wall
next to his bed. She flipped it open. His name had been filled in
on the chart; Collin Sykes. She looked at his birth date next to
his name. She was surprised to see that he was older than her by
two years. He looked so young. She glanced through the rest of the
chart. She was shocked by the extent of his injuries. He must have
been with the surgeons for most of the day to correct everything
that was cracked, broken, and bruised.