Walking Through Fire

by C. J. Bahr

  “Bastard!”

  He didn’t see her right hook until it landed solidly on his chin. His head snapped back, but he kept his feet. He reached out blindly, but she managed to land a glancing blow to his shoulder. His temper snapped.

  He dropped the sgian dubh and grabbed her from behind as she spun to escape. Momentum and his own strength had him flinging her past the chair she’d been bound to and directly into the stone hearth.

  There was an audible crack as she hit and crumpled to the ground. He watched as her eyes rolled up and blackness claimed her. Damn.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Awareness crept upon Laurel. It snuck into her consciousness like a patient hunter, a stealthy step at a time. Her head pounded in her skull, while her face matched throb for throb.

  This was one hell of a hangover.

  She was afraid to open her eyes, wondering if light would pierce straight into her cranium causing her brain to explode. She had told Beth she’d been drinking way too much since arriving in Scotland.

  Beth, there was something about Beth.

  She couldn’t concentrate. New pain and aches kept infiltrating, all clamoring for attention. She felt bruised and battered. This was more than a hangover. Had she been in an accident? She didn’t remember an accident. Why was everything so mushy?

  She shivered and then couldn’t stop. Cold swept through her, chilling her to the bone. What the hell was wrong with her? She forced her eyelids open, and the room swam into view. It was Grant’s study at Cleitmuir and she was lying on his couch. She couldn’t remember getting here.

  Bracing her arms, she pushed herself upright. Pain lanced through her skull, and her vision pinpricked, all but going black. Nauseous bile climbed her throat. With a groan, she collapsed back onto the couch, eyes clenched tight, willing herself not to hurl.

  “Damn it, MacKenzie! Where is Beth? And you didn’t need to beat the shit out of Laurel.” Grant’s raised voice reached her from outside the closed study’s door.

  Reality came crashing in. Everything swirled and collided inside her head. Beth was dead. The exorcism from hell, Simon gone. Where had he been sent? Heaven, hell, oblivion? She was alone. What was she going to do? Grant. He could help her. He had too. Once she told him all about Alex and how he killed Beth, she’d have an ally. The next voice behind the door froze her in place.

  “Your concern for the lasses is touching, Murray, however a bit late. You knew what you signed up for. I told you if you stepped out of line there would be consequences. Beth was one of those. She’s dead. Maybe now you’ll understand just how serious I am,” Alex’s oily response sent new shudders racking her body.

  To think once she had loved the sound and cadence of his voice. She choked down more rising bile. Grant Murray, Beth’s husband. He was a part of this, involved. He’s helping MacKenzie.

  She really was on her own against a monster. She crammed her hand against her mouth stifling the moans she had no control over. Curling up into a ball, her shaking started anew, she was both sick and terrified. Shock. She was in shock.

  They were just outside. Only a door separated them.

  Oh God, oh God, don’t let them come in. Don’t let MacKenzie come in. Laurel prayed as she broke out in a cold sweat. She had to get herself together. She had to do something. She wouldn’t be a victim anymore.

  “Bastard! You fucking killed my wife!”

  “You couldn’t control her, so I did.”

  “What? I didn’t know about the séance, ghost-hunting thing. Beth arranged it behind my back. I wasn’t hiding anything from you. It was harmless. I warned you MacKay was here. You didn’t need to kill my wife.”

  “Watch your tone. Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, Murray,” Alex’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “If I wanted to kill her, or in fact you, just because you annoy me, that would be reason enough. You don’t give orders.”

  “I guess I’m useless to you. Might as well kill me.”

  “Now you’re getting it,” Alex retorted as they continued to argue outside the room.

  Laurel was stunned. Why wasn’t Grant doing more than verbally sparring with Alex? Beth was dead. He should be strangling MacKenzie, beating the shit out of him, or at least taking him to the authorities. Did Grant care nothing for Beth? Both men were assholes, and she couldn’t let them win. Beth and Simon’s lives had to mean something. Their deaths couldn’t be for nothing. She gathered her will and managed to sit up. The room swayed, and her stomach turned, but she managed to remain upright and not throw up. Good for her.

  “You were too unfocused. I did you a favor, Grant. The world is within our grasp. Quit your belly aching, find your backbone, and become useful.”

  “Well, our one lead you beat senseless. We’ll be lucky if she’s conscious by tomorrow.”

  “It was an accident. The bitch landed a lucky hit. I was a bit over-zealous in my response. She’ll wake. But I’d like to know what she figured out before she comes to. I need an upper hand with that stubborn bitch.”

  The ring! She patted her jeans and found the sapphire miraculously still in her pocket. He never searched her. She still had the key. In fact, as adrenalin kicked in, she had a plan. The idiots had left her alone in the room leading to the catacombs. They’d never find her down there. Simon had told her the secret to the maze—how to gain entrance from this very room and the twisting path to the Orb’s lair. He warned her off the catacombs, telling her she must never enter, made her vow in fact. The tunnels weren’t safe. Too late now, she’d break her promise. There was nowhere else to go. She would rather chance death by cave-in than by MacKenzie’s hands. She couldn’t let him win. She would go into the labyrinth. Once safe, she’d find the Orb and take it to safety. Simon’s honor would be upheld and Beth’s death would mean something.

  Laurel stood on wobbly legs and silently went to the bookcase hiding the secret passage. She hesitated. Alex and Grant continued to argue. They could enter at any moment. She had to escape, but couldn’t just disappear out of a locked room. Scanning the room, her gaze fixed on a window. As swiftly as her battered body would allow, she crossed the room and opened the far window. With any luck, they’d think she fled that way.

  Light. It’d be dark in the catacombs. She went to the desk. Sliding drawers open as quietly as possible, she searched for a flashlight, a lighter, anything that would help her see in the pitch-black labyrinth. She hit the jackpot when she found a small but powerful LED penlight.

  She stuffed the light in her back pocket and went to the bookcase. The battered copy of St. James’ Bible was right where Simon said it would be, third shelf up, first in the row. She pulled it out and reached in. Finding the irregular knob in the wood, she pressed and the bookcase clicked then swung out toward her. She stepped out of the way and peered into the revealed space. It was a tight area, barely room enough for two adults. She could make out the hole in the ground. Satisfied, she put the Bible back in its slot and stepped into the secret passage. The bookcase had a handle on the inside. She grabbed it and heard the case click home just as the door to the study opened.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Alex was one step behind Grant as they entered the study.

  “Shite,” Grant cursed.

  He saw in an instant what bothered Murray. Laurel was gone.

  “She must not have been as hurt as she looked. The window,” Grant crossed the room to the open window. He joined him.

  “If we hurry, I’m sure we could catch her. “

  “Don’t bother.”

  “Why,” Murray turned to face him. “She couldn’t have gone far, not in her condition.”

  “Because she didn’t leave by the window.”

  “What? Of course she did. We were right outside the door. There’s nowhere else to go.”

  “Use your eyes,” Alex pointed at the ground below the window. The earth was pristine, not a mark, or footprint marred the soft, wet, well-tilled soil. “Search the room. She’s here.�
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  Alex took the most obvious choice, the study’s large desk. He crossed the room and checked inside the leg space, but it was empty. He examined the room. There were no additional places to hide. They had already seen behind the couch. The chairs weren’t large enough to use as a shield. Crafty bitch, how did she disappear? A slight smile curled up his lips as he contemplated the puzzle.

  “She’s not here, MacKenzie. She had to go out the window. Maybe she pushed herself far enough out to land on hard ground.”

  “No. Not in her shape. It’s just a decoy. It’s too obvious.”

  “Then how’d she escape the room?”

  “Obviously there’s another way out. A secret passage. These old estates are riddle with them.”

  Grant stared at him as if he were crazy. “I’ve lived here for years. There are no passages. I’ve done remodeling. No one has stumbled across anything like that.”

  “Murray, don’t be an idiot. Start searching. There’s a passage. I know it. I haven’t made money treasure hunting all these years by not listening to my gut. There’s always a secret passage.”

  Grant just stared at him. Alex shook his head. Grant’s usefulness was quickly coming to an end. “I gave Laurel the option of the easy or hard way. I’ll do the same for you. You can be helpful and remain my partner in the most priceless treasure the world has ever known,” he paused, knowing the easy option would never reach its conclusion, because he’d kill Grant first, but there was no reason to point that out to him. “Or, I can kill you now.”

  Grant still hesitated, but then shook his head. “You know I need the money.”

  He shrugged. “Well then, you know what to do. Get searching.”

  Grant went to work. By his thin pressed lips and furrowed brow, he wasn’t happy with the situation. Well, too bad. He had warned him from the start. Alex started with the most obvious, again—the bookshelves. There were shelves covering two of the four walls. He began with the far corner, the wall next to the open window.

  Methodically, he examined each shelf, looking for anything that might be out of place. He even rapped his knuckles against the wood listening for differences in sound. Pulling books, he tossed them to the floor in careless heaps in order to get to the inside of the cases. Grant kept his grumbling low since it was his job to search for trap doors in the floor and occasionally got nailed by an errant throw from Alex. At least he knew better than to complain outright.

  It was a slow and tedious process. Minutes ticked by, becoming close to an hour, when Alex’s meticulous search bore fruit.

  He had reached the shelves that were across from the open window. He should have started there first. It seemed obvious now. She would have felt rushed, even panicked, the direct path would have been easiest. However, he never would have become rich if he had skipped over other possibilities and hadn’t searched thoroughly.

  Alex studied the third shelf from the floor, his gaze locked on an old bible that didn’t quite line up with the rest of the books. He would have missed it if he’d been glancing casually. Pulling the book out, he examined the battered leather cover. Nothing made it remarkable. Discarding it, he bent and peered into the empty slot. There looked to be something in the back, something irregular. Reaching in, he felt the worn, smooth knob and pressed.

  The click was almost inaudible. He stepped back as the bookcase swung outward into the room. Found you, bitch.

  He heard Grant’s gasp and Murray was at his side when he pulled the bookcase all the way open. They stared into the small alcove that was little more than a space for a hole in the floor.

  “I had no idea this was here,” Grant murmured.

  “Don’t ever doubt me, Grant,” Alex said. “You’re becoming a loose end to me. I don’t like loose ends.”

  Grant had the foresight not to reply.

  “We’ll need torches. I doubt there’s electrical.”

  “There’re a few in the pantry,” without waiting for a reply, Grant jogged out of the room.

  Adrenalin rushed through his veins, pumping him up. He itched to get down there. This had to be where Uriel’s Orb had been hidden all these years. Excitement caused him to pace. Where the hell was Grant?

  The Orb was almost in his hands. He was finally going to end his family’s search for the relic. Out of everyone, he’d won. Soon he’d have prophetic powers that would have the world coming to him for answers, begging on their knees. They would exalt him. And of course, they would pay him. He’d have it all, money, power, influence. He’d be a god on earth.

  Grant ran into the study with two torches and tossed one. Alex snatched it out of the air. Turning it on, he pointed its light at the hole in the hidden alcove. It was rough, but solid looking enough, but more importantly, in the centuries of dirt and dust covering the floor, obvious footprints were revealed.

  It should be a simple matter of following Laurel straight to the Orb. There was no way for her to conceal her passage. Smiling, he looked forward to the hunt. She would believe she was safe. He couldn’t wait to see her surprise and fear when she realized they had found the passage and followed her.

  “Grant, you get the pleasure of going first.”

  Murray shot him a frightened glance, but didn’t say a word as he entered the secret passage. Alex almost laughed. Smart man to be wary. Any faulty construction or traps and Grant would meet them first. That was about as useful as Grant could be now.

  He waited, giving Murray some distance. When no shouts or cries of pain reached him, Alex entered. He reached the hole and looked down. Grant’s torch was bobbing below as he climbed down the wooden rungs fixed into the hardened earth. Pocketing his light, but leaving it on, he eased himself down into the hole and began the long climb down.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  I hate this. Laurel was in a horror film. Too bad the credits wouldn’t roll and the lights wouldn’t come up to reveal it was just make believe. Sadly, her situation was all too real as she crept through the labyrinth of tunnels—a dark place filled with cobwebs and the unseen skittering of bugs. She shivered. Her progress was slow, hindered by the absolute darkness, and fallen support beams she had to squeeze, climb, and shimmy past, and all the while getting coated by the endless webs. Simon hadn’t been kidding when he warned her off the catacombs. Part of her was grateful she couldn’t see more than the few feet in front of her, or she might have been too scared to continue. She had no idea what she’d do if she found a skeleton.

  It was obvious she was the first warm body down here in years, she thought as she broke through yet another web barricading her path. Using the flashlight, instead of her hands, the sticky strands smothered the metal casing as if to strangle the beam. She didn’t want to think about the creature that could have spun a web this big and thick. No matter how careful she was, they covered her in their clingy grasp. She could feel strands on all parts of exposed flesh. It’d take a million hot showers to make her feel clean again.

  She reached the next intersection. This time she should take a left, Simon’s directions were imprinted on her brain. Shining her light down the tunnel, it pierced the darkness revealing more of the same—wood debris, rocks, and webs. The tunnels went on for miles. They were all the same, long and no openings until she’d reach an intersection. An underground maze. She was beginning to feel trapped and claustrophobic.

  The passageways were narrow, wide enough for two people walking abreast if they didn’t mind getting cozy with each other. The height wasn’t much better, maybe a little over a foot above her head, not much clearance. Simon would have had to worry about smacking his head on something. The weight of the earth, tons of dirt and rock above her, pressed down on her. It was too tight, too dark down here.

  She tried to ignore the dark and the niggling feeling she might be lost. No, she wasn’t lost. Absolutely not. She’d worry when she reached the end of Simon’s directions and there wasn’t a door. She turned left and entered the next tunnel.

  Laurel felt so alone.
Her grief continually slammed at her, draining her of hope and determination. It cost her everything to dig deep and continue through the catacombs. She was a bookworm, a researcher. Adventure, near death experiences, and fatalities weren’t in her repertoire. She longed for her best friend, who always managed to make her laugh. She longed for Simon, wishing for his strength and fortitude.

  Her battered body screamed at her to sit down and rest, but she couldn’t. She knew she had to press on for Simon and Beth. She wouldn’t give in. She’d drive herself until she collapsed if necessary. Her head throbbed, and she pressed fingers from her free hand to her temple. She wished her head would stop pounding, but the more she walked, the worse it got. She thought she might be hallucinating. Movement appeared to flicker just out of range of her light and sounds dimly echoed in the tunnels. There was no telling where the sounds came from as they bounced off the granite walls. Concussion. It was playing with her mind. The only thing down here was her and some creepy crawlies. She squeezed past another beam. Her only course was to go forward.

  Sighing and brushing another cobweb off her face, she forced herself to walk. She could do this. From her calculations only one more tunnel to go.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Alex was pleased. They were making excellent time. He could feel the gap closing. He’d catch Laurel. It could be just around the next corner. In his excitement and anticipation, he took the lead over from Grant since it was obvious by now the catacombs held no booby traps except its own decaying dangers, but it behooved him to keep an eye on Grant, he didn’t trust him at his back.

  He’d been worried Grant would make an incompetent tracker, but Laurel’s passage was clear in the disturbed dirt, any idiot could have followed her path. Good of MacKay to have shared the directions with her, or at least that’s what he assumed. After all, that’s how the trail read—at every intersection a choice was made with no back tracking, relieved doubts, or misleads. Her path appeared to lead true and following her to the Orb was child’s play.