Walking Through Fire

by C. J. Bahr

  A low rumble and Grant’s cry of pain halted Alex. He shined his torch behind him, discovering dust filled the air like a filthy fog bank. He heard a groan and took a careful step into the cloud using the crook of his arm to shield his nose and mouth from the swirling thick particles.

  “MacKenzie.”

  His name drifted to him followed by another groan of pain. The air was clearing, and his torch pierced through revealing the partially collapsed tunnel. Half of the wall and some of the ceiling had caved in, the tunnel was almost completely blocked. He studied the rock pile and thick support beam. With a little effort, he’d be able to get through. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but more importantly he wouldn’t be trapped on the return trip out, unlike Grant Murray.

  “MacKenzie. Help me.”

  He stared down at Grant. Murray was crushed flat, the rubble piled thick and high on his back and legs, only his head and one arm flung out before him were visible. He squatted down next to his former partner.

  “Help you?” He whispered.

  With agonizing effort, Grant turned his head and managed to glare at him. “Dig me out.”

  He shook his head and treasured the look of anger that was quickly followed by fear as Grant realized there was no help coming to him.

  “Look, Grant. We had a great run, but the clock is ticking. I can’t spare the time or effort. You’re on your own.” Alex stood and followed Laurel’s trail without a single look back.

  “Ye arse,” Grant’s pain-filled voice choked out. “Don’t leave me like this. You owe me—” his plea was interrupted by a coughing fit. “MacKenzie!”

  He halted. There was no telling how far ahead Laurel was. The advantage of surprise might have been lost with the noise and Grant’s shouting. There was no telling what lay ahead of him now. He weighed his options. It always paid to have multiple plans. It had saved his life more than once.

  He turned and walked back to Grant. Murray’s eyes were glazed in pain, and he now had blood on his chin from his earlier coughing fit—internal bleeding. Well, that narrowed his choices.

  “Thank you, Alex,” Grant gasped out.

  “Aye, well, couldn’t just leave you here, mate.”

  He crouched down and placed his torch on the ground beside him. With one hand he covered Grant’s mouth and with the other, drew his sgian dubh strapped to his leg and slit Grant’s throat.

  He wiped the dagger on Murray’s exposed sleeve and stepped away from the spreading pool of blood. He snatched up his torch and slipped the knife back into its sheath.

  Back on Laurel’s trail, he began to jog, his footfalls light and silent as he dodged debris. The time for caution was over.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The deep rumbling boom froze Laurel in her tracks. She swung her light back down the tunnel and it broke through the airborne dust of her passage to reveal nothing unusual. She shivered with foreboding. The catacombs had collapsed somewhere. Dear God, was she trapped down here? Not after everything she’d been through. A cold sweat drenched her skin, and she started to tremble. Her knees buckled crashing her to the floor. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She was going to pass out. Quickly, she forced her head between her legs and tried to slow her breathing.

  She wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging herself, and willed herself not to give into the panic. Long breath in, hold, measured exhale, repeat…repeat…repeat. Her breathing quieted, and her eyelids slid close. God, she was tired. She hurt, mentally and physically. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and give up. She couldn’t do this anymore. Lara Croft, she was not.

  A choked laugh turned into a sob and she started trembling anew. Beth and Simon were dead. She was alone. She wasn’t strong enough. God, please help me. Tears streamed down her face as she slowly rocked in place. She was at the end of her rope as shock took a strangle hold and squeezed. Why hadn’t she died? It should have been her. This was a nightmare.

  Her tears dried up leaving her drained. Resting her cheek on her knees, she stared blindly down the tunnel. Her mind drifted. She remembered Beth’s smile and easy laughter, her sense of adventure and caring heart. Beth’s sixth sense when it came to Laurel and the straight advice freely given made her the sister she’d never had. And Simon…

  Laurel blinked rapidly, forcing the tears away. She wished he were here. His strong arms wrapped around her, his deep brogue caressing her in Gaelic. She closed her eyes, summoning his image. He stood before her, barefoot, bare-chested and wearing low-slung jeans—her favorite vision. His black hair, loose, brushing his broad shoulders and framing his face, wearing a slight, mischievous smile. And his crystalline gray eyes staring back at her, eyes that saw straight through her, to inside. Eyes filled with love. Mo aingeal. His angel.

  The image blurred and changed to Simon’s pain-filled expression as he stood trapped in the circle.

  “Mo aingeal. Stay alive…” and then he disappeared. Left her. Abandoned her. Grief raked her. How? How was she supposed to go on? She needed him, needed his strength and he’d left her.

  No. It wasn’t his choice, he had fought so hard, struggled valiantly, and the bastards killed him.

  Stay alive.

  Laurel needed to live. She needed to fight. Giving up wasn’t an option, not with everything she had been through. She could be strong. Simon expected that of her. Why was she just sitting here on her ass?

  She picked up the flashlight and struggled back to her feet.

  Stay alive.

  Laurel dug out the signet ring from her jean’s pocket, and the sapphire sparkled in the reflected LED light. The etched Gaelic leapt out at her—Bi Tren. Be true. She’d made a promise. She’d told Simon she’d help him protect the Orb. She wouldn’t let him down.

  This was the last tunnel. She had to be near the chamber. Get a move on, girl, she admonished herself. In this dark, you could be a few feet from the door and not even know it. Give up when you’re that close? Never.

  Her hand closed around the ring, forming a fist, in her new determination. She’d do this. She’d get it done. Her pace quickened. It was close, she could feel it in her bones.

  Shortly, her light revealed not another intersection, but a dead end. She slowed and then stopped before the granite wall. Had she taken a wrong turn? Mentally, she went through Simon’s directions. She was positive she hadn’t misstepped. This had to be the door.

  Shoving away any negative thoughts, she slipped the ring back into her pocket and started to meticulously study the wall with her hand and light. After a minute, she found the small depression. It was low, just a few inches from the floor on the right corner of the wall. She squatted and shone her light directly on it. Reaching out her hand, her fingers brushed the impression, revealing a clear spot on the rock. Simon’s hand over the years had kept it clean as he studied the lock to the door. It was a concaved circle with grooves lining its diameter, just as he described.

  Laurel pulled the ring back out of her pocket. She pressed the ring into the hole and felt it lock into place. Excitement tingled down her spine. This was it. She had found the Orb’s resting place and was about to gaze upon the treasure with her own eyes. She waited, almost shaking with the anticipation.

  Nothing happened. Really? It was way too anticlimactic. Of course, it couldn’t have been easy. Nothing had been so far.

  Sighing, she released her hold on the ring. She stood and placed her hands flat on the wall and pushed, then shoved. Still nothing. It’d been ages since the vault was opened. Simon’s father the last to do so. Was it possible it was stuck, like a painted window frame? She took a step back, thinking. Maybe she needed to turn it? She crouched down and twisted the ring to the right. Nothing again. Oh right, lefty loosey, righty tighty. She turned the ring all the way to the left. She heard a click, snatched out the ring, and quickly stood, backing away.

  Seams appeared in the stone. Slowly, the chamber door silently swung inwards.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Light spilled fr
om the chamber. The glow, like the sun on a late summer day, embraced Laurel then surrounded her. The golden yellow light filled the tunnel behind her and flooded the room before her. Blinking rapidly, her eyes adjusted to the sudden illumination. She stood, stunned and mesmerized by the sight.

  St. Uriel’s Orb rested on a simple linen and lace cloth covering a small wooden table. It was exactly as Simon described, but for one thing. He’d never mentioned the way the teardrop diamond shone. The light within proved the diamond’s flawless perfection—smooth and crystalline clear. She had never seen anything like it. The Orb seemed to call to her, its warm golden radiance, a lure to her soul.

  She stepped into the rough hewed chamber and paused when she crossed the threshold. A quiet peace enveloped her, and she slowly exhaled the unconscious breath she had been holding. By the grace of God, indeed. Hesitantly she stepped forward, her footfalls silent as she crossed the woven rug beneath her feet. She stopped in front of the altar.

  She’d done it. She’d actually had both the key and the Orb. Grief swamped her. If only Simon could be here. If only Beth could be alive. She sniffed hard and blinked, determined not to break down again. She reached a shaky hand toward the diamond.

  Her fingers brushed the shining surface and then caressed the Orb. It was warm to the touch. A feeling of peace descended on her again.

  The Orb was beautiful, stunning. It stood about ten inches tall, wide at the rounded base about half its height, tapering to one inch at the top. It was completely smooth, like polished glass. The relic’s interior matched its exterior. You could see straight through it, no roughness, or fracture lines marred its perfection. She had never seen an uncut gem like this one, she doubted the world had ever seen its like. Truly holy, as if God had shed a single teardrop and upon reaching Earth, transformed it into the tangible diamond she dared to touch.

  Quickly, before she changed her mind, Laurel scooped up the relic with both hands, juggling her hold on the flashlight, trying not to drop either. She wished for a backpack or satchel, but there hadn’t been time before her descent into the labyrinth. Settling the Orb in the crook of her arm, she was able to free her other hand for the penlight, though she probably wouldn’t need the light with the glow of the artifact. She had to get out of the catacombs. Hopefully by the time she returned to Cleitmuir’s study it would be empty. Where’d she go from there, she hadn’t a clue, but escape she would. She’d find a place of safety for the diamond, where no one would be able to use it for harm ever again.

  Laurel turned and froze.

  “Hello, luv. Surprised to see me?”

  No! Alex stood with the sharp sgian dubh casually held in his hand, blocking the exit from the chamber. How had he known? Dear God, she had led him straight to the Orb and now she was trapped.

  “Did you think I’d be so stupid to fall for the open window? Honestly, it was simple to find the secret entrance, it’s how I make my living.” He took one menacing step forward. “Now, be a good lass and hand over the Orb. Make this easy and I just might let you live, after all, it might have taken me months searching these tunnels, but,” he gestured to the floor with the clearly disturbed dust and dirt. “You so helpfully showed me the way.”

  Her heart sank. It was her fault. She should have really left by the window, or found her spine and kept her mouth shut, even if he had tortured her. Anything would have been better than leading him to the Orb. How had she failed so miserably? She had to do something, but didn’t know what. She couldn’t think through the panic flooding her system.

  She had to escape. Though she never got around to taking those self-defense classes, she had grown up with brothers. She knew how to fight, as her right hook proved earlier. Laurel hadn’t come this far to give up without a fight. If the diamond wasn’t indestructible, she would have tried shattering it on the stone floor in hopes of keeping it away from MacKenzie.

  Alex lunged, grabbing at her. With a shout of alarm, she darted behind the table. His hand tugged at her T-shirt, but she managed to slip free. Turning, she kicked over the altar. It caught and tangled in his legs. And as he started to go down, she made her bid for freedom. Dodging past him, she leapt the table and headed for the chamber’s opening.

  Her jeans snagged and she fell, dropping both the Orb and flashlight. She kicked her leg, trying to free herself, only to realize Alex had a hold of her.

  “I don’t think so, bitch,” he growled.

  He plunged his dagger into her thigh, and she screamed. Pain flashed through her. With her free, uninjured leg, she kicked him in the face. He fell back, tearing the knife from her leg as he went. She scrambled on knees and hands away from him and staggered up. As she stood, her wounded leg almost gave out, but the entrance was before her as well as the Orb, so she gritted her teeth and took a wobbly step forward. He snagged hair, and she was yanked backward.

  Laurel slammed up against Alex and turned, trying to claw his face. He cursed, letting go of her as he pushed her behind him and away from the door. Her leg crumpled, and she started to collapse. Twisting, she grabbed for Alex’s waist trying to catch herself. Her hand landed on the gun at the small of his back, and she snatched it. The gun slipped free from his pants as she crashed to the ground. Instantly rolling onto her back, she flipped the safety off and fired blindly.

  The gun’s report was deafening in the small chamber, swallowing Alex’s cry of pain. She’d hit him in the shoulder

  “Bitch!”

  Before she could move, his foot connected with her hand and sent the gun flying. Next, he closed the gap between them, then pressed the heel of his boot into her thigh, grinding it into her open wound.

  She screamed again, her vision tunneling as she curled in half on the cavern floor, clutching the knee of her wounded leg to her chest. Her breath came in gasps as she willed herself not to pass out. The Orb. Laurel had to protect the Orb.

  Too late. She saw Alex holding the diamond as he reached for his gun. He turned and met her gaze. Her blood chilled as she stared back. She saw her death in his eyes.

  “MacKenzie!”

  Laurel tore her gaze from Alex to dart to the entrance.

  “Simon!” She shouted. There he stood, no fanfare of trumpets or glowing holy light, nor in smoke and the smell of brimstone. Somehow he had returned. From where, she didn’t care. All that mattered was he was here now. It was a miracle.

  Simon stood in the opening to the chamber, blocking Alex’s escape. Hope flooded her as she stared at him in disbelief.

  It was quickly dashed, when in one long stride, Alex reached her side, squatted down and pressed the barrel of his gun against her temple.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Rage flooded Simon, giving him the energy he sorely needed after the exorcism and manifesting. Hate filled him, against MacKenzie, God, and his situation. He was too late. Laurel was hurt, the cur had the Orb, and he barely had the energy to remain solid. Only pure strength of will kept him here. But MacKenzie didn’t know that significant fact.

  “Drop the gun, MacKenzie.”

  “Or what?” His flippant reply came. “I have the advantage.”

  His mind raced. Laurel would not die for him or that blasted relic. He’d willingly damn himself to save her.

  MacKenzie stood, keeping the gun aimed squarely at the top of her head. By God, he wanted MacKenzie dead. The smug devil smiled at him before issuing orders.

  “MacKay, I don’t know how you managed to return, but if you want your precious girlfriend to live, you’ll enter. Carefully. I want you to hug the walls and make your way to that cross.” He nodded in the direction of the Celtic cross hanging opposite the entrance. “Do it! Or she dies now.”

  Blood boiling, Simon stalked into the room and started to edge around. He went slowly, stalling. There had to be an opening, a weakness somewhere. Laurel wouldn’t die.

  “Simon.”

  His gaze snapped down to her pain-filled eyes. His gut twisted. If only he had managed to get here earlier, but
his energy had been all but drained from the exorcism. He had returned to that cursed circle as soon as he felt himself recharging, but he was weak, too weak, so nearly empty. His heart had plummeted when he saw the evidence of a struggle, the knocked over chair, the damning blood on the fireplace, but the fight had at least one benefit. The circle had been broken, and he was no longer trapped. He instantly started his search for Laurel. Dread filled him, knowing she was hurt and with the enemy.

  He stared first at the large bloody bruise marring her forehead before allowing himself to inspect her open bleeding thigh. Accessing it in a blink, he knew it was bad. He’d seen enough battlefield wounds to know if he didn’t do something soon, she’d die. He met her wide-eyed gaze. Stay alive, mo anigeal.

  “Keep moving, MacKay. I don’t mind shooting her.”

  Simon jerked himself back to awareness, never realizing he had stopped walking.

  “This isn’t over, MacKenzie. I’ll hunt you down.”

  “We’ll see,” Alex replied as he stepped away from Laurel and one step closer to the cave’s entrance, always keeping the gun trained on her as she laid curled on the floor. “Though I admit, you’re a hard ghost to get rid of. I thought the exorcism had worked.”

  “Exorcisms are for evil—demons and spirits. Which I’m neither.”

  “What are you?” MacKenzie asked with a curious tilt of his head, keeping the gun pointed at Laurel’s temple.”

  Good question, he thought, but only replied with a half smile.

  “Simon,” Laurel drew his attention as he passed her on the way to the cross. “The Orb, it has another name. Remember? The link,” she pushed herself up, grimacing in pain as she managed to sit upright. “Remember who you are. Have faith.”

  What was she telling him? He looked at Alex, holding the glowing Orb—St. Uriel’s Orb, the fiery stone. The fiery…. The stone was just an instrument for prophecy. It didn’t do anything else.