Twelfth Sun

by Mae Clair

  She bit her lip. She’d had suspicions about Brody from the start, but had liked him despite her doubts. His friendship with Elijah and the obvious affection they had for each other had silenced her misgivings. But now…

  The hair prickled at the nape of her neck. She felt the familiar disorienting sensation of being watched. Turning quickly, she glanced over her shoulder and saw a shadow break from the darkness. The person stopped abruptly as if realizing they had been spotted. A second later, they turned and bolted down the hall.

  “Wait!” Reagan juggled her milk and ice cream into one arm, fumbling along the wall for a light switch. Her groping fingers encountered a rocker panel and she flattened it beneath her palm. Artificial brightness flooded the hallway.

  In the sudden glare, her pupils contracted. It took a moment to adjust to the brightness. She stumbled forward, but by then it was too late.

  Her nocturnal visitor had vanished without a trace.

  Chapter 7

  Reagan was one of the last to arrive for breakfast Tuesday morning. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, mulling over the exchange she’d witnessed between Pellar and Brody, trying to decide how much she should tell Elijah. If he suspected Brody and Pellar of plotting against him, he’d probably confront them and she wasn’t certain that was the smart thing to do. At least not yet. In the end, she decided to keep quiet and bide her time. When she had something concrete, she’d tell Elijah. Otherwise she was just blowing smoke about one of his friends.

  She dressed in comfortable khaki shorts and a pullover knit top the color of wild clover. She was halfway down the steps when the door opened below and Elijah and Brody walked in. Brody spied her first and performed a sweeping bow like a gentleman knight in a kingly court.

  “Ah, grace and beauty first thing in the morning! You bring sunshine to a bleak and cloudy day, Reagan.”

  Elijah rolled his eyes at his friend. “You are a pathetically shallow ass.”

  Reagan stepped from the bottom of the stairs, determined to act no differently toward Brody. “Thank you,” she said with a sweet smile. Then to Elijah, “You don’t think I’m graceful or beautiful?”

  “You know better than that.” He twined his fingers around hers and kissed her on the lips. “Don Juan over here took me into Serenity Harbor to get my Jeep.”

  Reagan blinked, surprised by his causal display of affection. Despite their hands-off agreement for the remainder of the week, he clearly wanted it known they were a couple. It didn’t help her resolve that he looked even hunkier than last night, his long curling hair tousled from being outside, his eyes a brighter blue than the sky. He wore black cargo pants and a white t-shirt under an open denim shirt, the tails hanging over his belt, sleeves rolled loosely on his tanned forearms. Her mouth went dry as she thought about last night and how he’d been aroused enough to make her blush.

  Brody glanced at his watch. “Well now that my taxi duties are over, and Elijah’s made it clear I’m to keep away from his woman–”

  Reagan whirled on him. “Excuse me. His what?”

  Brody chuckled. “Just an expression. I think we better get to the sundeck before Pellar disqualifies us from the next round of clues.”

  She couldn’t argue the point, though she had the notion to tell Brody where he could put his antiquated ideas. Elijah too. She pulled her hand from his, determined to reinsert distance. If she was going to pick up any undertones between Brody and Pellar, she didn’t need Dr. Cross and his damn sexy good looks or macho male posturing distracting her.

  Brody led the way and she followed.

  Elijah caught her hand again and drew her back, lowering his voice. “All I did was kiss you.”

  “We had an agreement.”

  “An agreement not to end up in bed together before the week was out. Can’t I even show affection?”

  She stiffened, irritated. “What makes you think I’d want to crawl into bed with you in the first place, Dr. Cross?”

  He snorted. “Don’t go formal on me, Reagan. We want the same thing.”

  “Ha!” She glared at him. Damn, but why couldn’t he turn into a frog or some hideous beastie from her Irish grandmother’s folktales? Why did he have to look like that–a combination of mythic prince and contemporary intellectual? “Maybe you want to fulfill some adolescent sexual fantasy but I–”

  “Reagan.” He drew her to a halt and turned her to face him. “Don’t do this.” When he spoke, his voice was low. “I care about you. If we ever do make love, it won’t be about sex.”

  She swallowed hard. His tone was sincere and his eyes, bright blue moments ago, were smoldering and dark, backlit by passion. He stood too close, the feel of him reverberating through her clothing, charged with the surging current of a fierce summer storm. Her skin felt alive, overly sensitized, every small body hair crackling with electricity. All he had to do was touch her. To stroke her flesh with the warm pads of his fingertips, and she’d explode into a thousand pieces.

  He lowered his head, his mouth dipping toward hers. “Let me show you.”

  His kiss took her breath away. Unlike the light peck he’d given her only moments ago, there was nothing casual about it. His mouth covered hers, flooding her body with a sensation piercing and sweet. It carried pledge and desire. A promise of trust, tangled with a smoldering undercurrent. He raised one hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, deepening the kiss. His lips burned with heat, a rush of molten fire. Reagan sensed his effort to check his arousal, simmering dangerously below the surface.

  “Hey, kids,” Brody called, aware he’d lost his entourage. “You wanna save that stuff for recess? Five more minutes and Pellar’s going to send out a search party.”

  Elijah pulled back from Reagan. “Coming.” He gazed down at her, a small smile playing around his lips. After a moment, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and steered her down the hallway.

  She didn’t protest, but sent him a sly glance from the corner of her eye. “That was a far better greeting than Brody’s. I guess we’ve established ‘hands-off’ doesn’t mean hands off completely.”

  “Good.” He winked at her. “That means we can modify the rest of the agreement before the week is out. I was never good at following rules.”

  That didn’t surprise her. He’d probably spent most of his life breaking them.

  * * * *

  Most everyone had eaten by the time they reached the sundeck, but Reagan didn’t care. Between what she’d witnessed last night involving Brody and Pellar, the mysterious person who’d disappeared in the darkness and her growing feelings for Elijah, food was an afterthought. Clarice arrived with the crystal bowl and they all drew clues. This time Reagan chose for her and Elijah, but followed his lead and didn’t open the envelope in front of the others.

  Pellar was no different, short and snippy, muttering how he was burdened unjustly with the whole troublesome group. Gone were the confident bass tones she’d overheard last night, his voice bordering on nasal and screechy.

  “Will we ever get to see Mr. Sothern?” Livy Franklin asked. She clutched her clue near her chest, her eyes darting from the paper to Pellar. Her bottom lip quivered as she stared across the table at him.

  For a moment he seemed not to have heard, busy complaining to Clarice that he had specifically requested the blush crystal bowl this morning, not the clear one. He clamped his mouth shut mid-tirade and swiveled his head to blink owlishly at Livy. “My dear, didn’t you hear me explain the other night that Mr. Sothern was called away on business?”

  Livy swallowed and bobbed her head. She blinked, her eyes sparkling with tears. “But…but this is becoming so complicated,” she objected, nodding to the clue clutched in her hands. “I don’t see how we can possibly solve this. It doesn’t seem a fair way to choose who should get the journal. If I could only talk to Mr. Sothern–”

  “Mr. Sothern is not available,” Pellar interrupted bluntly. He looked imperiously down his long nose. “If you can�
��t solve the clue, you’re out of the hunt. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Don’t be such a pal, Felix,” Elijah snapped.

  Pellar straightened his cuffs, unperturbed. “Dr. Cross, I would appreciate it if you would address me as Mr. Pellar. As for Miss Franklin, you are more than welcome to help her and her brother solve their clue. I do not make excuses for Mr. Sothern or offer advice, but, in my limited opinion, you are all wasting time idly standing around when you should be engaged in solving your clues.”

  “Damn straight,” Tarvick grumbled and headed for the door. A minute later Monica followed.

  Alan wrapped an arm around his sister and hugged her close. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

  Reagan looked at Elijah, who was still glaring at Pellar as if trying to decide a suitable means of execution. She tugged on his sleeve. “Elijah.” She pulled again. “We have to talk about this.” She waved the envelope under his nose.

  Still perturbed, he followed her from the room. “We’ll take my Jeep,” he said, but his thoughts seemed elsewhere. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Don’t you think it’s odd Sothern gives Pellar so much authority?”

  Reagan kept pace at his side as they headed down an open hallway toward the front door. She had her own qualms about Pellar. “What do you mean?”

  “Sothern is never here. If I had something as significant as Rook’s journal, I’d want to meet the people contending for it. Why leave something as important as the treasure hunt in Pellar’s hands? The clues were thought out well in advance. If Sothern went to all that trouble, why skip town when the plan is set in motion?”

  Reagan was silent, considering. Elijah had a point. Even someone as eccentric as Sothern would want to see his plan unfold. He’d want to be an observer, witnessing who solved clues and who failed. Why leave that in the hands of Pellar, a man she was certain secretly schemed with Brody?

  They walked in silence. Weak sunlight streamed through a series of skylights, tinting the carpeted floor with a dull haze. Outside the sky was overcast, mirrored by the rolling gray waves of the Atlantic. By contrast, the air was warm and humid, creating a mucky closeness that made Reagan wish she’d tied her long hair in a ponytail.

  They took Elijah’s Jeep Wrangler into Serenity Harbor, neither in a hurry to read the clue this time around. Reagan found her mind full, the thought of adding something else threatening to kindle a headache. She thought Elijah would head for the Soda Shack but he mumbled he needed something to eat and drove to an open-air cafe located midway on Serenity Harbor’s small boardwalk.

  Reagan sent a cautious glance to the overcast sky as the hostess seated them at a table. The cloud cover was thick, composed of layers, but appeared nonthreatening. She glanced at the menu out of curiosity. When the waitress arrived, she asked for a cup of decaf coffee and wheat toast. Elijah ordered a three-egg ham and cheese omelet with home fries and a buttermilk biscuit. Watching him spout off the order, she wondered, not for the first time, how anyone who ate the way he did could remain so trim. His metabolism obviously worked on the same accelerated scale as his brain.

  “How long have you known Brody?” she asked, remembering what she’d witnessed last night.

  He took a swallow of the orange juice the waitress had left him. “About three years. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” She swirled a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. “You seem like good friends.”

  “We are. I might never admit it to Brody, but I respect him. A lot.” He grinned. The breeze ruffled his dark hair, scattering the loose curls on his collar. “I only started getting involved with bidding on antiquities at the request of a friend. I’ve never had the desire for myself, but I don’t mind helping out friends and colleagues, like your uncle. That’s how I met Brody and Tarvick.”

  “And Brody is St. Croix’s buyer?”

  Elijah nodded. Past the boards on the narrow stretch of beach unfurling to the ocean, a handful of seagulls pecked among the sand for discarded scraps. An older couple walked hand in hand at the water’s edge, the gentle surge of low tide lapping at their feet. Farther down a jogger ran smoothly across the sand, and two teenage girls struggled to launch a brightly colored kite. The boardwalk buzzed with a steady stream of activity–early morning walkers and joggers, a few people riding bikes, mothers pushing strollers, children running and laughing.

  “Tarvick’s in it for himself,” Elijah said, bringing her back to the present. “He’s not interested in antiquities, only cash. Whatever he picks up, he resells for profit on the international market. Tarvick is ruthless. Brody’s just irritating.”

  He grinned again and she heard the affection in his voice. It didn’t seem possible Brody would do something to undermine such a steady friendship, but what did she know? Would he cheat Elijah to keep St. Croix happy?

  “What about St. Croix?” she asked. “Brody says he lives in Monte Carlo.”

  “Isn’t that where all eccentric billionaires live?” Still grinning, Elijah slumped back in his chair. “St. Croix is every bit as elusive as Sothern. I’ve never met him, but I know him by reputation. He can afford the best, and he’s hired the best to represent him. I lose to Brody more often than he loses to me.”

  Well, that was interesting. Maybe Brody just wanted extra insurance this time around and had slipped Pellar a sizeable sum to guarantee he’d walk away with the journal. Before she could mull it over, the waitress arrived with their food and Elijah dug into his omelet as if starved.

  Reagan buttered her toast, watching as a flock of gulls followed a wooden fishing boat into shore. “I guess we should look at the clue,” she said almost wearily. Part of her felt sad for Livy Franklin, who obviously thought her latest clue too complicated. Pellar had said there would be easy and complex clues in each round. With any luck, she’d drawn an easy one this morning. She fished the envelope from her purse as Elijah continued to eat.

  “You’re going to ruin my breakfast,” he said.

  “Then don’t listen when I read it.” She popped the seal on the envelope and pulled out a folded slip of paper. Her heartbeat quickened in anticipation as her eyes settled on the unfamiliar lines of script centered on the page. She read the words aloud:

  The western wave was all a-flame.

  The day was well nigh done!

  Almost upon the western wave

  Rested the broad bright Sun;

  When the strange shape drove suddenly

  Betwixt us and the Sun.

  Exasperated, she leaned back in her chair. She had to agree with him. Breakfast was ruined. “I guess Sothern likes poetry?”

  Elijah speared a clump of home fries on his fork. “At least The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.”

  She blinked. “Samuel Taylor Coleridge?” Her eyes dropped to the paper. She’d read the whole complicated ballad in school, but remembered little about it. “The mariner killed an albatross and his crew paid the price.”

  “Something like that.” Elijah worked his fork against the omelet, cutting off a chunk. “Did you know in nautical superstition, sailors believe sea birds are the reincarnated souls of men who’ve died at sea? They’re omens of good luck, especially the albatross. But if you cage an albatross on a vessel, it brings bad luck.” He swallowed some orange juice. “In 1958 the crew of the Winter Star abandoned their ship because they blamed a caged albatross for a series of mishaps, including engine trouble. The bird eventually died in its cage and a new crew was hired. Imagine killing an albatross like Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner did. Is it any wonder his crew suffered a supernatural death?”

  “I don’t remember much about it,” Reagan admitted. “But I think it’s interesting Sothern chose a stanza relating to the sun. Maybe this relates to the Twelfth Sun.”

  Elijah frowned. He pulled the paper across the table and dug his glasses from his pocket. She watched as he reread the clue:

  The western wave was all a-flame.

  The day was well nigh done!

  Almost
upon the western wave

  Rested the broad bright Sun;

  When the strange shape drove suddenly

  Betwixt us and the Sun.

  “If this doesn’t relate to the Mariner and his crew,” he said carefully, “And we interpret the sun as the Twelfth Sun, then who is us and what is the strange shape?”

  “Maybe the strange shape is the thing we have to retrieve,” Reagan suggested. “The alternative is Sothern is talking about unforgivable sins and horrible mistakes. That doesn’t seem like something an eccentric millionaire would do.”

  Elijah looked at her across the table, his eyes bright blue. “You don’t think Sothern has ever done anything he’s sorry for? That he regrets?”

  She laughed, disturbed by his intensity. “Possibly, but this isn’t about soul-cleansing. It’s about finding a clue in a treasure hunt. About Rook’s journal.”

  He looked thoughtful. “I’m beginning to wonder.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.” He popped a fork full of egg and ham into his mouth.

  Reagan had the sneaking suspicion he was using the excuse of chewing not to talk. It didn’t matter. Her mind was on overload again. She felt like Livy Franklin had that morning, faced with the impossible task of solving a mind-bending clue. No doubt Pellar had made sure Brody got the easy one.

  “Let’s go with your assumption that this is related to the Twelfth Sun,” Elijah said at last. “And the item we need to retrieve is the strange shape. In The Rime of the Ancient Mariner the strange shape Coleridge referred to was a skeleton ship carrying Death and his partner, Life-in-Death. I think it’s safe to say we can rule out supernatural ghost ships and ideologies.” He grinned crookedly. “So, what strange shape is associated with the Twelfth Sun?”

  Reagan shot him a pointed glance. “You’re the expert, Dr. Cross. I decorate homes, not boats.”

  “Ships, Reagan. And grape soda and jogs on the beach aren’t going to work this time. I need a kiss to clear my head.”