by McKenna Dean
As we sprinted up the stairs and into the pavilion, I begged whoever might be listening, please don’t have changed the lock.
I charged up to the small stage that took up one end of the open floor plan. Behind the dais stood an ornate carving, depicting a series of scenes from Greek mythology. The moon went behind the clouds as I reached it, and I had to squint to make out the figures.
Paris holding the Apple of Discord before Aphrodite, Hera, and Athena. Hercules battling the Hydra. Perseus brandishing the slain Medusa’s head. Persephone descending into the Underworld. Goat-footed Pan, playing his wooden flute.
The moon came out from the clouds and the silver light intensified, illuminating the figures in question. It also highlighted the sleek canine forms streaking across the open field toward us.
As the sounds of snarling and panting approached from behind, with a shaking hand I pressed on the apple, twisted the lyre sideways, then back in place, and pulled Medusa’s head out from the wall before clicking it back where it had been. Something beneath us rumbled and groaned, and the dais slid to one side. A steep ladder led straight down into near Stygian darkness.
“Down here. Hurry!” I pushed Knight toward the opening.
“You first.”
“Go, damn it,” I yelled and shoved him again. I knew where the release was and he didn’t; we didn’t have time for his British politeness. I plunged into the dark hold, following behind Knight as close as I dared without stepping on his hands. My stockings were slippery on wooden rungs, and if I hadn’t scrambled down this ladder a million times in the past, I would have taken both of us down to the ground. The yip of delight as the first wolf shoved its head through the opening and spied us prompted me to jump off the ladder with a quick prayer that I wouldn’t break my ankle, and then I lunged for the lever mounted on the wall at the base of the ladder and pulled it down with both hands. Gears tumbled, and the dais slid back into place as wolves shoved and snarled at each other over the slowly closing entrance.
“Can they get in?” Knight’s voice, so close to my ear, made me jump.
“We should be safe enough for the moment. They must change back into human form and know the sequence to open the trapdoor.” I leaned against the damp wall for a moment to catch my breath and then stood up straight. “We can’t stay here. They may have sent a pretty little wolf-shifter to make a play for Tommy. Anyone who’s ever met him would have to know he’s the weak link in any operation. In which case, there’s a good chance he brought someone else here at some point. He wouldn’t be able to resist showing off.”
“It’s a miracle young Stanford has survived this long.” Knight sounded as though he’d be the first to volunteer to rectify that situation.
That thought had occurred to me as well. What had Tommy gotten himself into this time?
The hold wasn’t as dark as I’d thought. Our eyes adjusted to the gloom as we walked forward. Dim light glowed from a series of ancient bulbs encased in metal cages along one wall. A motorboat rocked gently back and forth on its moorings alongside the old wooden dock, the reflected light on the water sending spangled beams along its hull. From the dock, a walkway extended into the shadows, where a tunnel led to the main cavern. Over the water, the ceiling sloped down to a narrow passage leading to a fissure some distance away, which was hard to spot from the outside. It took a boat with a skilled driver at the wheel to access that entrance. Someone had installed a heavy mesh gate over this opening since the last time I was here, and I saw no mechanism at the dock to raise it. The air was dank with the odor of dead fish and brackish water from the nearby marsh.
Above us, we heard claws scratching at the wood. I could only hope it held.
“Is there another way out of here?” Knight waved toward the boat. The stone walls threw his voice back to us in a weird echo.
I nodded and lowered my voice when I spoke. “There’s a tunnel that goes all the way back to the main house. On the other side of the main hold. If it hasn’t been closed off, that is.”
“This just gets better and better.”
At least Knight kept his voice down, too.
“Being torn apart by wolves isn’t my idea of a good time, either. You realize someone probably hid the artifacts down here. The wolves wouldn’t be on the scene otherwise.”
And by implication, Margo must be in on the heist.
My words jolted him into recalling why we were there. The low-level lighting cast shadows under his eyes, making his face look drawn and severe. He gave a stiff nod.
“If we’re quiet, we can sneak up on the main room, confirm the presence of the artifacts, and withdraw to contact Redclaw. There has to be a way to raise the gate, and if push comes to shove, I’m sure I can pilot the boat.”
Knight shot me a look of frank disbelief. “Or we can just look for the gate mechanism, take the boat, and hightail it out of here to notify Redclaw.”
As an alternative plan, it wasn’t half-bad, but it wouldn’t give me the win I needed.
“I thought the entire goal of the weekend was to find the artifacts. Do you really want to call Redclaw out here on a possible fool’s errand before we know all the facts? Not to mention, taking the boat will tip our hand to whoever is behind the theft.”
“That was before we knew how many players were involved. It’s too risky. If we leave now, we can call Ryker and his minions and let them take over here. It’s the only sensible thing to do.”
Being told what was sensible or not had the same effect on me as waving a red flag in front of a bull.
“Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll check out the cavern. You stay here and look for a way to raise the gate. It won’t take me more than a minute to see what’s in the next chamber. Then we can get out of here.”
“We’re not splitting up.” His words pelted me like unexpected hail.
I lobbed his own words back at him. “It’s the only sensible thing to do. You’re right. Figure out how to lift the gate while I check out the hold. If we need to leave in a hurry—”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re too damn stubborn for your own good? You can’t stop me from following you. Let’s get this over with. If I have to risk my neck, I’d rather not prolong the agony. We’ll confirm our suspicions and come back for the boat. We don’t have a choice.” He pointed toward the trapdoor above us. “It’s the fastest way out of here past the wolves.”
The passage to the main chamber was just wide enough for a man carrying a crate to navigate. Moisture dripped down the walls, gleaming in the faint beams cast by the periodic posting of a lightbulb, networked by a strand of electrical wire snaking down the length of the tunnel. The wall had crumbled in places, leaving piles of broken rock. I regretted the loss of my shoes. My stockings were in shreds, and I’d be lucky if I didn’t turn an ankle or cut my feet on the sharp shale. As we neared the main room, the murmur of voices echoed with an odd reverberation off the walls.
The layout of the main hold hadn’t changed much since the last time I’d been there. The tunnel ahead opened out into a small space behind a row of large boulders ringing the cavern, with a narrow path between them into the larger cavern. With luck, the natural rock wall would shield us to a certain extent as we scouted out the activity there. The light grew brighter as we approached, but the rocks cast long jagged shadows deep enough to hide the careful spy. At the sound of the voices, I felt around inside my clutch for the ray gun, and my hand had just closed on the smooth warmth of its barrel when I heard Knight’s sharp intake of breath. His hand clamped down like a vise on my arm, but it was too late. I’d crossed the faint beam I never saw, causing a wave of green light to envelop me. And because Knight was in contact with me, the same energy washed over him as well.
I don’t even remember falling.
Chapter Eighteen
I came to, head pounding, and mouth as dry as if I’d swallowed sand, worse than the worst hangover I’d ever experienced in my days as a carefree, party-going socialite. Oh, I did h
ave actual sand in my mouth. Disoriented and confused, I lifted my head and whimpered against the clanging of a hammer on my skull. When I tried to wipe the gritty, damp dirt off my face, my arm refused to cooperate, flopping around like a dead fish barely connected to me. Panic-fueled adrenaline surged through my veins, and I tried to sit up. The dimly lit cavern spun with my movement. Shifting chain links clanked as the shackle around my wrist went taut and kept me from falling over on my back.
Someone had dragged us into the main chamber. My wrist was encased by an iron shackle and attached to a ring on the cave wall. We were surrounded by wooden crates, some of which opened to reveal a mishmash of contents. Silver and dull-green objects of various sizes, marked with the familiar designs I’d seen on other artifacts, lay in crates packed with straw. The confined space was ablaze with light—powerful lanterns of a design I’d never seen before supplemented the anemic illumination of the low-wattage light bulbs above. The bluish light cast by the lanterns would have made Knight’s fingers itch to get his hands on them. Ryker’s, too, for that matter.
The reflected light gleamed off an ornate gilded frame sticking up out of another crate, revealing a stack of oil paintings. An open jewelry box sat on a packing crate; a pearl necklace draped in an artful fashion over its lip. A pair of emerald earrings lay beside it on the rough wood, glowing in the strange light. Silver candlesticks stood next to an immaculate tea set. Tiffany, I suspected.
Curled on his side a scant two feet away from me, Knight lay unconscious, also chained to the wall.
At least, I hoped he was unconscious. No one would shackle a dead man, right?
An assessment of our situation was in order. For the moment, we appeared to be alone. I spied my clutch lying on one of the crates. Had they found the ray gun? Even if they had, it was unlikely the gun would have allowed anyone to take it. Either way, I couldn’t get to the purse, so the gun might as well be on the moon for all the good it would do me.
Right. I had one hand free. The heavy iron band around my left wrist was too tight to pull over my hand, though I spent several minutes trying. I fancied with a little butter I might have been able to manage it, but my bruised and battered skin said otherwise. Likewise, I couldn’t budge the chain bolted into the wall. If I had a pin, I might have been able to pick the lock....
The thought of a pin reminded me of the enameled ladybug. Relief washed through me when my fingers closed over it, still attached to my dress. If ever anyone needed to fire off a Bat Signal, now was the time, but how? I should have asked Ryker before blithely assuming it would be self-evident when I needed it. Pressing down on the center of the ladybug’s back, I heard a faint click. The wings glowed, pulsing brighter, then fading before pulsing again. I repinned the ladybug inside my bodice to hide the glow. I couldn’t risk using it as a lock pick now. If it worked as a homing signal, then damaging it might prevent anyone from coming to our rescue.
Knight’s stillness concerned me. I stretched as far as I could within the confines of my chain and nudged him in the ass with my foot. My breath whooshed out of me in gusty relief at the groan and feeble movement. Definitely alive.
“Knight,” I kept my voice low and shoved him a little harder. “Wake up.”
He shifted a leg as though he were crawling in place but didn’t respond. I went cold at the sound of movement nearby and turned my head at the pathetic whimper that followed. A small white dog with black ears lifted a foreleg in supplication from inside his wood and chicken wire cage, his tail moving so fast it blurred. He looked just like the dog in the Master’s Voice advertisement.
“Aw, what are you doing here, little buddy?”
The dog sneezed with excitement and pawed at the wire. The name on the collar’s tag read Delilah. Odd, because he was clearly male.
“I’d help if I could.” Lifting my hand, the heavy links of the chain clanked together like that of Marley’s ghost. “But as you can see—”
Another groan preceded words rusty with disuse. “Who are you talking to?”
“There’s a little dog here. Are you all right?”
“Define ‘all right.’” Knight pushed himself upright in stages, to stop short when he reached the end of his chain. The metallic sound as he tested the length of his confinement seemed to emphasize his disbelief when he tugged harder. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Did you see anyone before we were...whatever it was that happened to us?”
He palmed his face, opening his eyes wide as he took in our surroundings. “No. Damn it, I owe you an apology. You were right about the cache being hidden here.”
“I owe you an apology as well. You were right about the risk. Our mutual recriminations will have to wait, though. Whoever locked us up will be back soon, and we have no idea what they’ll do to us when they return. Can you reach my purse?”
He stretched, first with his free hand, and then with one of his legs, angling with his toe in an attempt to knock over the crate where my clutch lay. He fell back with a wince and rubbed his wrist. “Sorry. It’s too far.”
A quick check of my watch relieved my mind on one point at least. We hadn’t been out more than five minutes. And though things looked bad at the moment, I had activated the ladybug, and help was on the way. Most likely. Provided I’d activated the signal correctly, and it didn’t have a limited range.
All we had to do was stall for time.
“Do you have any of the tech still on you?”
Knight patted his pockets and sighed. “No. Stripped clean. Knife’s gone, too. How about you?”
“Same here.” With a cautious glance around, I tapped my bodice where I’d hidden the pin. No point in giving away information, should a listening device be in place. Knight frowned at me a long moment before his eyebrows lifted and his expression cleared.
A low growl made me look over at the little dog staring at the tunnel behind us. His hackles lifted in a sharp-edged line down his back. The reason for his unease soon became apparent.
Voices echoed as someone approached from the dock entrance.
“We should be safe enough.”
A little shiver of déjà vu ran through me as Tommy repeated my own words to Knight about the wolves.
“It doesn’t matter. Even if someone gets through, the energy field will stop them, as it did with our friends here. Moving the field closer to the dock was smart. This way, the field will stop any intruders before they get this far. And if the shifters are busy trying to get in at the pavilion, they won’t see us when we leave by the river.” The woman’s voice sounded sultry as smoke, but steel resided there too. No question who was in charge.
The look on Knight’s face was that of a man who’d been shot but hadn’t yet realized the wound was fatal. Shock drained the color from his skin as if a bullet had pierced his heart.
“But to raise the gate, we have to turn off the field. We should load up the boat and get out of here. Go while we can.”
The urgency vibrating in Tommy’s voice reminded me of other times, other escapades, when Tommy had skirted expulsion from school—or worse—because of his shenanigans. Easily manipulated by his desire to ‘be a good sport,’ Tommy was ever game for a lark until things got dicey. Then he cut and ran, neatly absolving himself of any responsibility.
“I’m sure you’re right, darling.” The woman spoke in an absent tone, her voice devoid of any true affection as she stepped into the light. “But I have a few questions first.”
The gleaming fall of dark hair spilled from a side part in a soft wave across her cheekbone in the peek-a-boo style made famous by Veronica Lake. It was no doubt seductive, but a stupid affectation for someone clambering about a smuggler’s cave with stolen goods. She’d changed out of the slinky dress she’d been wearing back at the club. The black catsuit was a smarter choice, but had the effect of making her look like a comicbook villainess, especially with the addition of a flared skirt that came to sharp points at knee-level, even as it accentuated her long le
gs.
I wondered if the material was dragoncloth.
But it wasn’t my reaction that interested her. She dismissed me with a quick glance and turned her full attention on Knight.
He stared at her as if seeing a ghost. The sight of her rocked him back against the wall like he’d been sucker-punched, his jaw working without sound as he tried to speak. A drowning man might have gasped for air in the same manner going down for the third time. At last, he took a long, shuddering breath and mouthed, “Margo.”
“Good. You’re awake.” An overweening air of superiority vied with amusement as she spoke.
Knight gaped at her for a long moment, and then an extraordinary change came over his face. Had I not known better I’d have said he’d used the image enhancer to slide that cool mask of indifference into place. One sardonic eyebrow lifted, and when he spoke, it was in that clear, cutting voice I knew so well. “Good. You’re not dead.”
Tommy, looking rumpled in his evening wear with his black tie pulled askew, divided his glances between Knight and Margo before focusing on me. The ubiquitous silver flask dangled from one hand. “What the hell are you doing here, Rhett? I never took you for the jealous type.” He shook his head and waggled a finger several times in Knight’s direction. “You know this man, Eve?”
Before she could respond, Knight cut in.
“Eve?” Knight curled his lip. “Eve? Eve as in the original temptress, bearer of the forbidden fruit? That’s rich.” He flicked a whiplash sharp glance at Tommy. “Yes, she knows me. I’m her husband. Or did she forget to mention that?”
Tommy’s mouth flapped open and closed several times, making him look rather like a guppy. “You’re married?” He stared at Margo with the woebegone expression of that little cartoon fawn on discovering hunters had killed his mother.
“Not to worry, Stanford. Since she’s officially dead, in another four years, she’ll be a free agent. Though under the circumstances, I think faking your death qualifies as extreme cruelty. I should have no problem getting a divorce. Tell me, Margo. Was any of it real?”
