by Anna Hackett
Dazed, Lexa dropped to her knees on the ground. “Maybe the vase and its map were a hoax. A big joke supposed to suck someone like me into it.” She laughed bitterly. “My father will have a field day with this.”
Damon leaned a shoulder against one of the standing stones, watching her.
Lexa scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’ll be a laughingstock among my colleagues.” Not that she really cared about that. The sneering, pitying glances wouldn’t be anywhere as bad as her father’s knowing, smug look. “I should never have set foot out of the museum.”
“You finished?”
She frowned. “What?”
“You finished with your pity party?”
Her head snapped up. She couldn’t have heard right. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Now, are you done?”
She shot to her feet. “I’m having a crisis here, Malik. All this is fake! There’s no temple, no treasure, nothing. Where is your sympathy?”
He waved a lazy hand in the air. “You don’t need it.”
She threw her hands up, despair changing to anger. “I’ve trekked halfway across the galaxy, and for what? To fail. I’ve wasted Marius’ e-creds, risked people’s lives, and on top of that, proven my father massively right.”
“This isn’t you, Lexa. Having a hissy fit and giving in. You’ve proven your father wrong for years by paving your own way and making your own choices. Who cares what he thinks?”
That ugly bitterness inside her exploded. “What would you know? Your father was some street trash who didn’t hang around long enough to see you born.”
Silence fell between them.
Damon’s face smoothed out and he straightened. “You’re smart, confident and insanely intelligent. What your father thinks shouldn’t matter.” Damon stepped away from the rock. “And I’m starting to think having a no-name absentee father was the better option.” He walked away.
Lexa froze, unable to move. Remorse was a choking sensation in her throat. God. She dropped her head into her hands. Everything was out of control and now she’d just been a bitch to the one man who’d ever believed in her unconditionally.
***
Damon sat on the rock ledge looking out across the desert sands. You’d never guess by looking at the smooth dunes and blue sky that a sandstorm had raged here not long ago.
He could hear Dathan nearby, swearing to himself. The kid was mad with himself for leading Lexa to what was clearly a hoax. A big elaborate fake. It wasn’t just a blow to her, but a blow to the young man trying to build his reputation.
Damon considered. Or a big deliberate misdirection.
Which also made him think of their unfortunate, abnormal mishaps. Could it all be someone’s concerted effort to keep them from finding the temple?
But who?
And how far would they go?
Damon heard her footsteps on the rock. Not her usual confident stride. These were much more hesitant.
She sat beside him. “I’m sorry.”
Straight to the point. Lexa would always be honest and admit when she was wrong. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
“Yes, there is. I lost it over this—” she waved her hand behind them “—and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Lexa, my father was likely some drug-addicted gangbanger. A piece of street trash. You said nothing but the truth. So, I may not be an expert on fathers, but I know that anyone who makes you feel less than worthy, especially someone who I believe is supposed to love and protect you, is not worth your effort.”
She nodded, her eyes so incredibly sad. “You’re right. Most of the time I think I’ve shaken it off.” A harsh laugh. “God, a grown woman with daddy issues. It’s so…lame.” She shrugged. “I guess some kids never grow out of wanting to please their parents.” Now she hunched her shoulders. “Whenever I hit a low, it’s his voice I hear.”
Damon tipped her chin up. He wanted to punch Baron Carter in the face for not cherishing this beautiful woman he’d been blessed with. Damon ran his thumb over her full lips.
She smiled, although it was a little lopsided. “So, you think I’m smart and confident?”
“Yes. And sassy, and a trouble magnet, and often a pain in my ass.”
She smacked him lightly on the chest, but he caught her hand and yanked her in close for a kiss. Like it always was with her, a kiss he’d intended to be short and comforting turned hot and potent in a blink.
“Damn, woman. You should come with a warning.” He was happy to see the sadness fading from her eyes. “You’re also determined as hell, Lexa. I saw that particular trait when you campaigned for this treasure hunt.” He tilted his head. “Why aren’t you back there—” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the temple “—showing those priestesses you mean business?”
She breathed in a long breath. “I’m not sure it’s real. What if I’m chasing a dream and wasting everyone’s time?”
“You authenticated the vase, right? And knowing you much better than I did before—” he raised a brow and made her laugh “—you would have checked that damn vase a hundred times to make sure it was the real deal. And translated that map a thousand times until you were sure you had it right.”
“Yes.”
“Was it real? No, don’t think about it, just answer the question. Was it real?”
She drew her shoulders up. “Yes.”
“You sure?”
She shot to her feet. “Yes, dammit. I am good at my job and that vase and its map are real.”
“Which means there’s a temple here waiting for us to find it.”
She nodded, a decisive move accented by the spark in her eyes. “Follow the Dragon’s Spine to the Temple Divine.”
“What was the next clue?”
“The Heart of the Goddess beats deep.”
He pondered that. “What do you think it means?”
Her gaze was on the stone circle. “I don’t know. This isn’t the Temple Divine, so I don’t know—”
“Focus, Lexa. Use that clever brain of yours. What’s the Heart of the Goddess?”
She chewed on her lip, which almost threw him off track. She had a deliciously full bottom lip and he wanted to chew on it himself.
“It can’t be a literal heart, but the heart was an organ the priestesses knew gave life. So the Heart of the Goddess could be something that gives life.” Brown eyes widened. “The egg! It’s their ultimate symbol of life and birth.”
He nodded. “So, the egg is…somewhere deep?”
Together they spun. Dathan was wandering the stone circle, hands on his hips.
“Another tunnel?” Damon suggested.
“Maybe.” Her tone was distant, she was lost in her thoughts.
Damon smiled. God, he loved watching that mind of hers at work. He shook his head. He’d always considered himself a breast or a leg man. Now, apparently, he was a brain man when it came to her. Not that she didn’t have a fine set of both those other attributes.
“Hey.” Dathan’s voice. He was now crouched by the egg-shaped rock in the center of the stone circle. “This has grooves worn into it…looks like maybe water flowed through here once.”
Lexa hurried down and Damon followed. She crouched beside the treasure hunter.
“I think you’re right. It’s some sort of fountain or water feature.”
Damon stuck his hands on his hips. “How did they get water to the fountain?”
“Not over these dunes,” Dathan said. “It’s been desert here for centuries.” He scowled. “Maybe it never had water.”
Lexa shook her head, her hand stroking the rock. “This had water in it. Look at this basin near the bottom. It’s just like the one I found on the other side.”
“There is underground water here, like at the oasis,” Dathan offered.
She turned her full attention to the fountain now and ran her hands all over the rock. She reached under it, then beamed. “There’s a carving under here.” Her smile widened. �
�It feels like an oval, another egg.” Her brow creased. “There’s some sort of…lever.”
The fountain stone moved with a groan of rock on rock and Damon pulled Lexa back beside him. Together, they watched the fountain sink down into the rocky floor.
When it stopped, the three of them leaned over and looked into the dark, circular hole.
A set of stairs led down into the blackness.
Chapter Sixteen
The steps went on forever. Lexa felt her thigh muscles start to burn but she kept moving downward, her heart beating in time with the tread of her boots. Damon was just ahead of her, holding up his ion light, while Dathan followed immediately behind her.
“This is the bottom,” Damon said.
They all stepped into a long, stone-lined corridor. It was dank and their footsteps echoed around them. At the end, a large door waited.
“Big sucker,” Dathan murmured.
The treasure hunter tried to move the heavy door, but it refused to budge. It took all three of them, grunting and shoving, before it inched open.
“Ready?” Damon asked.
Lexa swallowed and nodded. Funny to feel nervous when she’d wanted this for so long. Maybe she just wasn’t sure she could face another dead end.
He held out his ion light to her. Suck it up, Lexa. She took it and stepped inside the door.
She gasped. The narrow beam of light reflected back off the dull gleam of gold in the darkness. It was hard to tell, but she thought it was another chamber, similar to the one in the sinkhole.
But unlike the empty sinkhole room, this one was filled with brilliant paintings, and carvings etched into the walls.
Her light cut across a set of glyphs and her chest tightened as she translated them—Temple of the Goddess Divine.
“This is it.” Her head was spinning.
“Hang on a second, I think I’ve found…” Dathan’s words trailed off as he touched something in the dark that made a clanging noise. “Here we go.”
Lights flared to life.
“There’s some kind of ancient lighting system. Don’t know what the energy source is, but it’s obviously still working.” He sounded pleased with himself.
Oh, Goddess. Lexa pressed a fisted hand over her thumping heart. It was…indescribable.
Every wall was filled with art. The room was packed with treasures, most glittering with gold and gems.
“All this history.” Her throat was thick, thinking of the final priestesses setting these artifacts here.
“And all this treasure,” Dathan added.
“Shh.” She shot him a scowl.
“Surely I can take some of this!”
“Not a thing. Not until it’s catalogued.
“That’ll take forever!”
“I have to call in the Institute of Historical Preservation for a find of this magnitude. You’ll get paid and after, I’ll make sure you get your three things.” She moved over to the wall to study the brilliantly colored paintings. She ignored the treasure hunter grumbling under his breath. A glance at Damon showed he was smiling.
The paintings showed the priestesses at work, right here in this temple.
Lexa turned and saw it.
The Fabergé egg.
Amazing. She bit her lip, emotions running wildly through her. It was nestled into an alcove in the wall. A well-placed light illuminated it perfectly.
She’d done it. But not alone.
She moved the few steps to Damon and threw her arms around him. “Thank you.”
“For what? You got us here.”
She pressed her cheek to his chest and pulled in his scent. “I wouldn’t have made it without you. And I’m not just talking about wrestling desert wolves or following me into a sinkhole.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I think you would have made it by yourself just fine. You wouldn’t have given up. Now, go see what we came all this way to find.”
She walked over to the egg. The red was deeper than she’d expected, the shine of the gold brighter. It was in excellent condition for being here for centuries. She frowned. Too good.
“I’d really hoped you wouldn’t find the temple.”
The stranger’s voice made her start. Damon was already moving, his body tensed and ready.
“What the hell?” Dathan burst out.
Lexa turned. She blinked. “You!”
“Who is he?” Damon demanded.
She studied the older man, with his salt-and-pepper hair and strangely ageless face. “He’s a stall holder I saw near the Desert Dragon in Kharga. He was selling fake artifacts.”
The man stood straight and very still, there was no sign of his cranky-stall-owner persona now. “A way to throw people off course, and you hear all kinds of good information in the market. Especially outside the bar. I can easily learn of anyone who thinks they have a map that might threaten the Temple Divine.”
“You overhead us talking about the map?” Lexa frowned, wracking her brain to remember what she’d said, and if she’d spoken close enough for this man to hear.
“Yes.”
“And you’re…what? The temple’s caretaker?”
He inclined his head.
“What now?” Damon asked.
The caretaker’s eyes flashed red. Lexa tensed. What the hell?
His hands clenched into fists. “Unfortunately, now you die.”
Before Lexa could react, the man moved, faster than any man—young or old—should be able to move. He slammed an unforgiving fist into Lexa’s belly, and the incredible force of the blow lifted her off her feet.
It was like being hit by a public transport. She flew backward several meters and slammed into the wall.
Gasping for breath, she fell to the floor. Through her wavering vision, she watched Damon and the caretaker square off.
***
Damon pulled out his laser pistol and shot the man. He wanted to race to Lexa, but first he had to neutralize the threat.
The caretaker barely blinked. The laser had no effect on him.
Damon pulled the trigger again, but the man just absorbed the laser fire without blinking.
With a curse, Damon tossed his pistol aside and moved forward to attack. He kicked the older man in the stomach before following with a hard punch to the face.
The man’s head snapped back, but his face remained composed. No reaction.
Damon fought back a frown, circling, readying for his next attack.
This time the caretaker came at him.
Damn. The man’s blows were far harder than Damon had anticipated. He was stronger. Too strong.
They moved around each other, ducking and dodging each other’s blows.
A chop landed between Damon’s shoulder blades, sending him stumbling. He caught his balance and spun around, but the caretaker had moved in the blink of an eye and was out of reach.
He was too strong and too fast.
Damon studied him more closely, but couldn’t see any enhancements or implants that would indicate he was a cyborg. Maybe some sort of stimulant?
Dathan raced out of the shadows and swung a hefty golden statue at the caretaker. The statue made contact, but the caretaker just spun, grabbed the idol and tossed it aside. Then he slammed a wicked front kick into Dathan’s chest.
The younger man flew backward, taking out a few larger treasures with a loud crash. He groaned and flopped onto the stone floor.
Damon snatched up the statue from where it had landed near his feet. He held it up like he was stepping up to the plate in the Galactic Baseball Championships. When the caretaker turned back to him, Damon swung the statue with all his strength.
It connected with the caretaker’s head.
The man’s head turned under the blow, but he didn’t stagger or lose his balance.
Slowly, he turned back to face Damon and Damon’s stomach tightened.
The blow had ripped off the left side of the caretaker’s face, uncovering a mass of wiring and blinking lights.
“You’re a syndroid.”
“Yes. Appointed and programmed by the priestesses.”
And he was a damned good model. More lifelike than anything Damon had seen.
Lexa stepped forward. “That isn’t possible.” She was cradling her middle but seemed okay. “You’re clearly a modern model of droid. The priestesses have been gone for centuries.”
“For eight hundred years, five months, and twenty-seven days. That’s when Tialla, final Orphic priestess, took her last breath. She was the one to program the first early model droid—not much more than a metal can with a computer—as caretaker of the temple and the treasure of the goddess.”
“First droid?” Damon prompted.
The caretaker gave one small nod. “Part of our programming was to continually update and download our programming into a new model syndroid as the years passed.”
“Ingenious,” Lexa murmured.
“Tialla wanted to ensure this temple’s legacy, to ensure the security of the egg and ensure it never fell into the grubby hands of those who only saw its monetary value.” His dark gaze landed on Dathan.
Dathan cocked a hip. “Hey, my hands are not grubby.” He held them up.
“Phoenix, Dathan. Treasure hunter in training, apprenticed to your father, Phoenix, Brocken. Your sire has sold a small fortune in ancient artifacts. The probability is that you will follow him.”
“I’m not planning to follow him anywhere,” Dathan said vehemently.
Lexa shifted “Look, I think—”
The syndroid’s gaze landed on her. “Carter, Dr. Alexa Cassandra. Astro-archeologist, finished in the top percentage of your class. Currently curator of the Darend Museum.”
“Then your records tell you that I restore and safeguard artifacts and treasures.”
“But not in their rightful places.” His gaze moved over all of them. “The egg stays here.”
“Where no one can see it?” she asked, her voice earnest. “It should be enjoyed. Appreciated.”
“It’ll be where someone can’t sell it.”
“I don’t want to sell it!” she said. “I want to know its story, and share that with the galaxy.”
The syndroid regarded her steadily and took a step toward her.
