Through Ancient Eyes (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Kimberly Adkins

  “Really, Miss…” His tone was very amused, and she could nearly hear the handset being placed onto the desk.

  “Miss Taylor!” she edged in and maybe caught him in time.

  “Ok, Miss Taylor, you clearly know your last name, which makes you halfway reasonable at this point.”

  “Mr. Majers, I know this sounds ridiculous, but I was digging in my garden and I found a silver mask inside a black, hard-shelled case,” She tried to sound sincere and not desperate, though there was no way to come off as sane.

  “Is your garden in Venezuela?” he questioned her gently, the way one might speak to a child who didn’t understand his reading assignment in fourth grade English.

  “No, my garden is about five miles west of your pretty little backwoods university which probably hasn’t made its academic mark on any type of record in a dozen years or so,” she snapped finally, and cringed as she waited for the receiver to slam down on the hand rest.

  There was a long period of silence during which she held her breath and wondered where the next nearest university might be located before he responded.

  “Five miles, you say, Miss Taylor?” His tone was different this time, a little intrigued perhaps, but she noticed a spark there that hadn’t been before.

  “Give or take a few feet for a random floating ‘X’ that marks the spot on my map.”

  “The area is farm country, for sure.” His conceding tone sounded almost calculated to pacify, but she was forced to ask herself if she was just cautious about the department head because of everything Adam had done to her.

  “Mr. Majers, please…” she began in an effort to placate him, looking for perfectly normal words that shouldn’t be so difficult to express.

  “I would be delighted if you could bring the mask by the university tomorrow afternoon. We could do lunch, perhaps, my dear?”

  Whatever he had just said didn’t register immediately because she had steeled herself for complete rejection from the start.

  “I suppose I could, Mr. Majers.” The sudden offer was stunning, and his instant, easy mannerism caught her off guard.

  “Please, could you call me Britton? I prefer it, you know. Might I ask you one more thing before I have the pleasure of meeting you on the ‘Morrow?”

  “Well, of course you can,” she said with a feeling of embarrassment. Here she was, a sophisticated woman of the big city, and her manners were deplorable at best.

  “Is there any chance that you are the charming, beautiful young woman I have heard so much about who has just purchased the Jake Wilde estate?”

  Never in her life had Danielle been so grateful that she was the charming, beautiful young woman who had just purchased the Jake Wilde estate.

  “I am, in fact,” she answered him steadily, trying not to appear too eager.

  “I thought as much,” he responded with audible pleasure. “I was told you were lovely and captivating. At least I now know the latter… Perhaps tomorrow I will discover the former.”

  The kettle finally whistled, and she nearly pulled her arm out of the socket to get at the ear-shattering noise. He was still on the line, and waiting for her parting words.

  “Until tomorrow, Britton, I look forward to meeting you,” she managed to breathe out, and though he made no sound on the other end of the line, she was almost sure he had a satisfied look on his face as she dramatically hung the receiver up on the base against the wall, her heart thumping.

  * * * *

  The campus was beautiful. Ancient trees were just beginning to let go of their lush summer greenery. Any day now they give way to the tones of autumn that painted the world with the most vivid colors of life in the last tendrils of the cycle.

  The cement walkways formed a unique and intricate starburst pattern as Danielle found herself forced to follow the angled pathways the university required for her to meet her destination.

  The extensive layout seemed so unnecessary at first, until she arrived at the ancient stone and ivy covered brick building that made up the Department of Antiquities. She felt as if she had traveled the exact route they had intended for her to behold the magnificent structure in front of her.

  The heavy stone of the castle-like building was impressive indeed, and she had butterflies in her stomach as she hefted the black case in her right hand to make her way through the huge, grandly carved oak doors at the center of the imposing brickwork.

  She could smell the parchment the moment she walked through the door.

  There was no mistaking the ancient scent of frail old paper and flaking, glued bindings. The floor at her feet was polished to a mirror like sheen and she was wary of marking it as she tip-toed carefully over the lovely marble tiles. Though she hadn’t gone out of her way to announce her presence, it was more than obvious that any sound made in this hall would echo throughout the entire establishment, alert the inhabitants, and probably drift off into space where a shuttle would hear it eons later.

  Danielle was immediately subdued. She had come from a world of paints, of art and magic. Although she had made a few tongue-in-cheek references to the ‘Backwoods University’, there was still a lofty sense of learning and reverence about the building as she proceeded to the directory located next to the elevator where she called the car for her ride upstairs.

  Dark leather couches lined the walls on the fourth floor as she exited the silent lift, though they were noticeably empty. The lights were much dimmer here, and she continued along the corridor in the only direction possible.

  Though it was the sunny height of the afternoon outside, the interior of this floor felt like a tomb, all shadowy and muted as she made her way along.

  Like a light at the end of the tunnel she saw a desk in the distance and an actual person sitting at it.

  The young woman was frozen, her look enraptured, as a multitude of computer colors splayed across her face. Danielle took just a moment before she became concerned for the girl’s well-being.

  “Excuse me,” she said a little forcefully, laying her hands on the counter. The captive’s rapt expression almost changed for a moment, as she realized there was another human being at her doorstep.

  “We’re almost finished with Kael’Thas. I’m a healer and if I stop for a second, my whole guild will wipe out.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” Danielle leaned across the desk to see the assistant was avidly playing World of Warcraft. She was an artist, sure, and like most creative people, she knew what an addictive pastime the online multiplayer computer game was.

  The battle was engaging until the entire pixilated group was slaughtered in the game, but she was relieved when the girl released her death grip on the mouse and turned to her with feigned interest.

  “May I help you?”

  “I have an appointment with Britton,” she said as quickly as possible, hoping the young lady had a few moments to direct her to the proper office before she resumed her online play.

  The red-haired student gave her a harshly appraising look before she reached for the scheduling ledger.

  “Doctor Majers is expecting you, it seems,” she replied with a less than enthusiastic welcome. Danielle got the distinct feeling the girl did not like the familiar way in which she had addressed her professor.

  “If you could just point out the corridor to his office, I’ll be on my way.”

  She tried to hold back a smile with her statement, knowing the pretty receptionist had other things to do besides leave her desk.

  “Behind me, to the left,” she managed to say before she hastily grabbed the mouse once more. In that short amount of time her face changed again, focused on the computer screen as swirling color drew her attention back into the alternate world of fantasy.

  “Kids these days.” Danielle tossed the obligatory lament into the empty hall. It fell on deaf ears, of course, and she was glad the preoccupied girl hadn’t offered to escort her.

  A long row of office doors stretched along the hallway to the left of the spacio
us reception room. Next to each impressive mahogany frame hung a bronze placard with the name of a professor and his department. Most of the names listed were unpronounceable to her, and if she had to be honest with herself, many of their specialties were alien to her as well.

  She stopped in her tracks and took a moment to fully regard the hard, black plastic carrier in her hands.

  What if I am crazy, wasting this guy’s time?

  She nearly turned on her heel in an effort to save herself from what would likely be an embarrassing encounter, when a soft click echoed just ahead in the distance.

  “Miss Taylor?” a deep, cultured voice inquired from within the gloom as a slender figure emerged from one of the many offices along the corridor.

  A shiver shot directly up Danielle’s spine as he approached, so handsome with his dark hair just grazing his crisp, white collar. When he came near enough to extend a hand in greeting, she saw his deep blue eyes sparkle with interest, and she placed her fingers in his palm.

  She had expected a firm shake, but he took her offering and turned the back of her hand upward. His lips were warm and soft as he placed a swift kiss lightly against her skin.

  She reacted just as any woman would do in that situation. She froze up entirely and felt weak in the knees.

  “Ah, you must forgive me if our way of greeting a beautiful woman differs from that of others in these United States. I certainly did not wish to startle you.”

  “I’ll allow it just this once, but don’t make it a habit,” she replied with a grin, not willing to completely succumb to his charm without calling upon some kind of willpower.

  The smile he rewarded her with was stunning, but something about it felt a little rehearsed. She also noticed he did not release her fingers, but slid his right hand deftly up the base of her palm before he intimately stroked her exposed wrist with his fingertips.

  Though he had really done nothing untoward in any way she could pinpoint, she was nervous and edgy as he held out a leading arm to his quarters.

  “I hope I am not bothering you with this needlessly,” she began as they passed through the door, though any words she formulated were lost with her first impression of his office.

  Somehow she had expected a Spartan layout of decaying bookshelves and antiquated office furniture as she entered his domain. No stretch of the imagination had prepared her for the obvious status of this resident. Glossy wooden floorboards lined each suite of rooms, all of which went on until she could see no further from her vantage point. Glass cases that contained bizarre and unusual objects were placed strategically around the main space with soft lights illuminating the displays. All of the exotic items were heralded by identification cards in museum fashion. Once again, she felt a longing deep inside her soul to see the far off places where these well placed treasures once resided.

  It did not impress her as much as it reminded her of the broken remnants left behind in her basement, and that made her remember why she was there in the first place.

  “Mr. Majers, I honestly feel a little silly bringing this to you, now,” she continued, her fingers fidgeting along the handle of the weighty case. It was obvious this man was a collector, a historian and probably an important figure in the community.

  She looked up at him quickly and saw the deep pride in his eyes as he viewed his collection alongside her. What she noticed most was the passion that marked his face as he gazed upon the items. She was left with a distinctly uncomfortable feeling, almost like she was an ill-fitting presence among the glorified objects of his exhibition.

  “Oh, but where are my manners?” He seemed to shake off his mantle of reverent review to focus once again on his agenda. “I invited you for tea.”

  Danielle felt like she had fallen down the rabbit hole and nothing less as he led her along, very politely, by the elbow.

  “I will be happy to carry this for you, of course,” he stated smoothly, placing his hand over top of hers as she gripped the handle of the box with white knuckles. Before she could reply, he began pulling her fingers away from the hard plastic, and Danielle stopped short. If he hadn’t tried to take it away before she agreed, he would have had it easily, but his forward gesture put her off.

  “I can get this just fine,” she let him know firmly, in a tone that left no doubt about her feelings for his actions.

  Britton bowed before her with a slight smile on his face and casually motioned for her to continue along their path ahead of him.

  As she proceeded she was acutely aware that he walked just behind her and did not offer to touch her again. The tiny hair on the back of her neck stood up on end and she had all kinds of wild visions in her mind as he followed just out of view; werewolf and vampire fantasies vied out for dominance and he shape shifted repeatedly in her imagination as she approached what must have been a workshop table.

  The case was heavy itself without the unusual mask inside, and she was finally grateful to lay it on a bare spot along the wooden surface, which was filled with partially opened scrolls, compasses and old world abacus trays.

  Danielle turned abruptly to face the esteemed professor, weary of all the tension and protocol. She was about to let him know this wasn’t her style when she saw the sweet look in his eyes. She also wasn’t an expert on that sort of thing either, but if she were, she’d have to say it was decidedly non-vampirish and very amorous.

  “Forgive me, Miss Taylor, but you have the most lovely honey-colored hair,” he said gently, and she was caught off guard.

  “Mr. Majers—” She blushed and instantly wished she hadn’t begun the sentence before she had the words to finish it.

  “I asked you once to call me Britton, my dear. It is still my fondest desire you will do so.”

  Danielle was torn between her feelings. His actions were somewhat questionable, and yet his words were flattering and very interested. After everything she had gone through with Adam, it was difficult to not accept this little application of esteem.

  Don’t I deserve a small boost of self confidence? She thought silently, knowing there was more to this situation but ultimately unwilling to pass up the opportunity for some much needed attention.

  “Can I show you what I have?” She looked candidly into his eyes, her hand subconsciously never leaving the case.

  “You can show me whatever you like,” he responded, a satisfied smile on his face.

  She ran her fingers along the tip of the locking mechanism, and though she had done it many times to be sure it still worked, she’d never had the courage to look at the piece again after the incident in the garden. Her heart beat fiercely in her chest, so full of primal might and magic at the thought she would see the lovely effigy again.

  The latches sprang open in just the way she remembered, and it seemed as if they were both holding their breath when she gently lifted the lid of the case. With slow anticipation, she pulled the black velvet from atop the artifact within, and his sharp intake of breath matched her own as the mask was revealed inside the fold.

  “I knew it,” he whispered in a voice that sounded far away, and the vision of the soft silver mist began to cover her again, like the moonlight that enthralled her perception of reality the first night in the garden.

  Danielle experienced the same pull, the same promise of mystery and eternity as she gazed for the second time at the work of art in front of her.

  She was physically drawn in an instant to the artifact within, to the dream she had in the garden when it was discovered. Her hand reached for the mask with an irresistible pull and Britton gazed upon her face in naked wonder.

  “It’s you…” The words barely left his lips before a horrifying screech, issued from the outer hall, tore away their focus.

  “You promised!” A shrill, angry voice reached her mesmerized ears before she could touch the soft, glowing metal within the fold.

  A loud crash and the sound of shattering glass sent a tremor of disharmony through her soul, and Danielle quickly pulled away.
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  She cast a quick glance of alarm in Britton’s direction as the destruction came closer. Flying shards of glass and history smashed against the walls and made their way to the center room.

  The professor deftly snapped the lid to the case closed and turned with an almost animal fury to the doorway as the whirlwind entered.

  “You bastard!” Anna snarled at the professor with open hostility, and then favored Danielle with a venomous look of hatred. “I knew it as soon as she came here. I knew this would happen…”

  Mary Jane’s daughter fell to her knees in apparent defeat, sobbing into her open palms which were cut and bleeding from the broken glass. Stunned, Danielle looked to Britton to make the next move, amazed as he simply went to the intercom on the desk and called for security as if it were an everyday occurrence.

  The young girl’s heartfelt cries resonated through her soul, and Danielle stepped lightly through the shattered, broken cases to lay a comforting hand on Anna’s shoulder.

  “Don’t you dare touch me!” she exclaimed, her eyes desperate and furious.

  “All of this is your fault… Britton promised me!”

  “Get up you twit, before you ruin everything.” Britton suddenly appeared at her side, harshly instructing the girl on the floor as he cuffed her lightly against the side of her head so quickly Danielle wondered if she had even seen the action. Anna looked up at him for a fraction of a second before the nervous guards arrived, but it was enough for Danielle to see the hope, the fear and the love in her young eyes.

  “Mr. Majers, what would you like us to do with her?” They tapped the handcuffs on their belt as if suggesting a method appropriate for this situation.

  “Just get her out of here,” he sneered in obvious anger as Anna buried her face in her hands and sobbed all the louder for it.

  “And make sure she stays quiet!”

  Danielle backed away from the troubled girl in shock as red-tinted tears began to flow through her wounded fingers and blindly set her hand on the newly closed case. She had barely lifted it from the table when Britton laid a firm grasp on her wrist.