by Misty Evans
“Trelawney?” Sean chuckled. “That was a ruse, lad. The cross is in a crypt all right, but those no-good Trelawneys sure aren’t hiding it for me. If you want to find Finn and recover the cross, here’s what you need to know.”
Jaya and Jon both leaned in to listen.
15
Night had closed in, heavy and wet. Jaya’s breath fogged in front of her as Jon led the way with his flashlight through the dank tunnel.
Regardless of her Gypsy and Osage blood that both gave her a healthy respect of the dead, climbing through an ancient Irish vault with numerous caskets, and a tunnel that ran for miles, wasn’t high on her list of fun things to do.
Cobwebs hung from the low ceiling. In the shadows, rats and other creatures stirred. Shivers ran up and down Jaya’s spine.
She held Jon’s hand tightly, keeping her own flashlight pointed at the stone and dirt floor. Rivulets of water ran down the walls and the smell of ancient death and decay filled her nose.
These are my people.
Or were they? Her hand floated past a raised concrete casket whose inscription was worn and spotted. Murphee. It had been a little girl who’d died at birth. They hadn’t even given her a first name. Jaya bit back a curse. There were too many children buried here. Too much grief.
Even with the modern technology and better living conditions they enjoyed, she prayed her and Jon’s baby would be okay.
According to her father, the cross was not in any of these caskets in the O’Sullivan burial grounds, but she hoped she and Jon weren’t on a wild goose chase, following the tunnel to Blackrock. Her father had seemed earnest, but she’d learned long ago that his “truth” wasn’t necessarily fact. He always had a reason behind misleading or downright lying to you, but she wished with all her heart that she could believe him.
Too many times, he’d lied to her, Finn, and their mom, deserted them for endless months, and then showed up on their doorstep unannounced and in need of family. Or money. Or a clean bed. Take your pick. Why her mother had never divorced him was beyond Jaya, but what was that saying? Love is blind? Sometimes love was gullible too.
The CSI techs had left hours ago. The Gypsies had not returned. Percy had informed them that the body in the cemetery was indeed the black market criminal named Moreau.
Behind them, Miles and Charlotte spoke in soft voices, Charlotte seeming to love the adventure while Miles spoke in one-syllable monotones that told Jaya he was less than happy to go cross hunting. She knew the feeling.
Guarding the entrance to the giant crypt, Shelby and Colton endured the rain and cold.
Never in her life had Jaya imagined entering an old, abandoned graveyard and going on a treasure hunt. Even with all the stories her dad had told, she’d always pictured the search for hidden jewels and coins would be more fun and less…moist.
She rubbed a finger under her nose, squelching a sneeze. The dust was as prevalent as the mold, a seeming conundrum, but as real as her present state of mental seesawing. Was finding the cross imperative to rescuing Finn? Was she wasting her time here?
At least the baby had settled down a bit, the queasiness easing up enough that she wasn’t battling that on top of everything else. In fact, I’d kill for a cheeseburger right now.
Or that pepperoni pizza.
“Watch your step.” Jon illuminated a rise in the floor. The stones had parted, leaving a crack, one of them pushing upwards. He held her elbow, guiding her over it. “You really should have stayed at the hospital with your dad.”
“Like I need you making me feel guilty,” she teased.
He looked properly admonished. “I’m not laying on guilt. This isn’t the smartest thing for a pregnant woman to be doing.”
“Never claimed I was smart.”
“You have more common sense than most people I know.”
“You’re friends with Colton Bells. Can’t say your point of reference is particularly accurate.”
He laughed softly, as if worried he would disturb the ghosts. “There is some truth to that, Jaya Wind Catcher.”
Her pulse skipped. No one called her that. “I like it when you say my name like that.”
The caskets came to an end and the tunnel shrank. Jon had to bend at the waist to see into it, his flashlight bouncing off the narrowed walls. “Any thoughts on names for our baby?”
The placards of the long-dead infants floated through her mind. Sadness for them seeped into her very bones. Thank goodness she had Jon to keep her from sinking into that cesspool. “We’re in an underground burial site and you want to discuss baby names?”
“I’ve seen a few interesting ones in here.” He shrugged, easing into the confined tunnel. “Got me to thinking about it.”
“Yeah?” She followed him, not having to stoop as much as he did. “Like what?”
“Nathan, Absalom, Hannah, Jefferson.”
“Ah, you like traditional names, then.”
He took her hand, keeping her close as the tunnel began to descend. “Not necessarily. Just thought it would be cool to name the baby after one of your ancestors.”
“I kinda dig Neptune.”
He glanced back at her. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Keanna’s good too. I like my grandmother’s name.”
“What if it’s a boy?”
“I saw a guy named Tyrannus back there. At least I think that was his name—it was hard to tell with the mold and decay.”
“Tyrannus? That’s a mouthful and sounds like a dinosaur.”
“We could call him Ty.”
“Okay.”
She laughed at the abject fear in his tone. “I’m kidding, although I do prefer less traditional names. I really do like Neptune.”
“I like that too.”
This part of the tunnel was wetter, the stones growing slick with seepage. “What’s your mom’s name?”
“Violet Morningstar Wolfe.”
“Morningstar…hmm. How about Neptune Star? It has a sweet ring. I like it.”
“Sounds cosmic.” He smiled at her over his shoulder. “I like it too.”
They continued on, Miles and Charlotte catching up. The tunnel had several treacherous spots where the sides were caving in. They had to turn their bodies sideways to squeeze through. Jaya’s feet were cold, and the wetness was beginning to seep through her boots. By the time the tunnel widened out, they found themselves once more in an underground vault with multiple caskets.
This one was smaller than its O’Sullivan cousin on the other end.
“What do you want to do with the cross if we find it?” Jon asked, shining his light over the various placards on the caskets, looking for the one her dad had told them about.
“I have no flippin’ idea,” Jaya answered, her teeth chattering.
Charlotte sidled up beside her and stomped her feet to warm them. “I suggest you don’t try and keep it. You said it’s cursed, correct?”
Jaya laughed, the sound strained as it echoed off the stone walls. Everywhere the beam of the flashlight touched reminded her of a horror movie. Her skin crawled, the feel of spirits and specters breathing down her neck so very real. “The O’Sullivan curse has been with me my whole life. I don’t think the actual cross could cause me any more bad luck.”
Jon skirted the largest of the caskets, working his way back to a second row. “Why exactly is it cursed?”
“Who knows at this point,” Jaya said. “I’m guessing it has to do with the fact the O’Sullivans have always seen a lot of death and sorrow. Someone along the way decided it was because of the cross.”
Miles frowned at Charlotte in the shadows of his flashlight. “You don’t really believe in curses and that kind of stuff, do you, Char?”
“Ancestral curses are no joking matter.” She nodded at Jaya. “And yes, I very much do believe that objects can be cursed. Of course, I happen to know a few ways to break those curses, and I bet ol’ Neptune has a few up her sleeve as well.”
“All I want t
o do is get Finn back,” Jaya said. “If that means handing over the cross, so be it.”
“Found it,” Jon said. “Sparks Strawbridge, 1540 to 1611.”
Miles handed him the pry bar they’d brought while Charlotte mused. “Sparks Strawbridge. What a cool name. Sounds Harry Potter-ish, don’t you think, Jaya?”
Sparks Strawbridge. Kind of weird, but it had a cool ring to it. “Who names a kid Sparks?”
“It’s Old Norse, I believe,” Charlotte said as the men worked to pry the concrete lid off the casket. “I used to know some folks whose surname was Sparks. A good lot.”
A scraping noise echoed in the room, drawing her attention to the casket as the lid slid back with much effort from Jon and Miles. “We can’t set it down,” Jon grunted. “Shine your flashlight in here, J.”
Teeth chattering harder, she fiddled with the flashlight. Truth be told, she’d never seen human bones before. Sure on TV and in the movies, but not in real life.
But they’d come this far and the plane was waiting for them at the airport to take them back to the States. Beatrice had sent Trace Hunter and a couple other guys, Jon had told her, to get a bead on the Thief River kidnappers before they got back, but the sooner they were in the air and on their way to Finn, the better. It was no time for sissies or the faint of heart.
It’s just some old bones. Nothing to be scared of.
Except, eww.
Sticking your hand inside a container with a dead body, disturbing that ghost…
Boy, her bonkers life in Oklahoma certainly paled in comparison to this kind of craziness.
Taking a deep breath, she took one step, then two, Charlotte joining her alongside the casket. Jon and Miles had slid the lid far enough to the side to create a large triangle of space into the vault. Jaya took her flashlight, hand trembling, and shone it into the shadows.
What she saw didn’t make her jump, nor did it gross her out. Instead she frowned and leaned forward. “There’s nothing here.”
“What?” Jon and Miles asked at the same time.
Jaya bent farther, dipping the light under the lid and into the expanse. “There are definitely no bones. It’s empty… Wait!”
At the far opposite side of the long rectangle was a lump. Is that a bag?
It was the same color as the concrete vault. There was no interior casket or even a lining. No body, no bones, just that lump of fabric.
“He lied again,” Jon said. “Your dad sent us on a wild goose chase.”
“I don’t think so,” Jaya said, her voice sounding muffled as she ducked her head lower. “There is something here. In that corner.”
She pointed and both men groaned, realizing they had to shift the lid in the opposite direction.
Grunting and the shuffling of feet ensued and Charlotte and Jaya took up residence at the other end of the stone vault. As soon as there was enough space for her hand, she stuck it inside, fingers brushing something rough.
Shining the flashlight to get a better look, she saw the material of the bag looked like burlap. Relieved there were no bones or body parts, she started to lift it out. “Gosh, it’s heavy.”
She maneuvered it through the opening, dust particles rising in the air and making her nose itch. Once she cleared the top, Jon and Miles relocated the lid back to its original spot with a loud thud.
Jaya set the bag on the lid. The top was sewn shut with a thick cord. Her pulse beat faster as she imagined what the item inside might look like. Yes, it was the key to getting Finn back, but it was also a part of her history. A part of her family. Were there actual emeralds inlaid in the handle? “Anyone got a knife?”
“Let me help you,” Jon said, extracting a mean-looking tactical knife from his cargo pants.
In one swipe, the cord was cut. Jaya worked to unravel it through the burlap. Inside the bag, her cold fingers hit more fabric, this material soft and slippery. Satin.
Carefully lifting the inside contents, she fought to get the burlap off the interior cover. Jon finally yanked on the sack, causing a slight tear along one seam.
The slippery fabric was a black cloth, wrapped around and around the cross. With help from Jon, she unwound it until the elaborate gold cross emerged.
The thing had to weigh ten pounds and was over a foot in length. Even in the shadowed light, the emeralds sparkled bright in the center where the two sections of the Celtic cross met, each gem as big as a marble. Intricate etchings around the jewels added to the ornamentation.
“It’s a beauty,” Charlotte said softly, reverence in her tone.
Jaya ran her fingers over the lines and words carved into the gold, over the emerald stones. Her grandfather, great-grandfather, and who knew how many other of her ancestors had held this cross.
The thing was so heavy it gave her a feeling of being weighted to the ground, in touch with the men and women who’d once handled it, some of them buried in the caskets she’d walked by on her way here. Quiet descended as everyone stared at the beautiful cross, seemingly as impressed as she was.
There was engraving on the back, roman numerals and several letters that might have been Latin. “It is stunning.”
The cross had a long and ill-gotten history, and even with its immense beauty and infamous reputation, she found it hard to believe people had killed over it. Would still kill over it. If the cross wasn’t handed over to the criminals holding her brother captive in the next few hours, the bloody thing would be responsible for yet another murder.
One hundred and seventy-seven million dollars.
Holy Moses, as her dad would say.
A sigh as weighted at the cross escaped her lips. She began wrapping the heavy family heirloom once more in its protective, satin material. “I know what I have to do to end the curse,” she said, more to herself and the ghosts hovering around her than to the others.
“You do?” Jon asked.
A loud click reverberated behind them and they whirled to see a man in a bulky coat and faded jeans behind them on the Blackrock side of the tunnels. “I’ll tell you how to end the bloody curse,” he said. A second man emerged from the tunnel, also with a nasty looking black gun in his hand. “Hand the fecking thing over, love, and I’ll take it off yer hands.”
Bloody hell, Jon thought, as everyone in these parts was prone to say.
He still had the knife in his palm, and with the room only lit by the flashlights Miles and Charlotte were holding, he hoped neither of the gunmen saw it. One of them was Paddy Doyle.
Knew it. Paddy was either one of Fitzpatrick’s investors who’d turned on him, or he’d put the mercenaries working for the dead Moreau onto Sean.
Now, he just needed the backup he’d put in place to get their asses moving.
“Come on, now, girl,” Paddy Doyle said, wiggling his fingers at her. “Hand it over.”
“Fat chance.” Jaya sounded calm, but Jon knew she had to be shaking in her boots, and not from the cold. She glanced at Jon. “Guess black market criminals have no problem getting hold of handguns, huh?” Her gaze flew back to the man. “Now, if you’re in possession of Finn, then we can talk, otherwise, get the hell out of my way. I have a brother to—”
Before she finished, Jon stepped in front of Jaya and threw the knife.
Miles—excellent wingman that he was—jumped Paddy as the first man screamed in pain. The knife had landed in his thigh, and he staggered back against a casket.
Charlotte lunged for Jaya, taking her to the ground as gunfire erupted. Jon felt a bullet whiz past his shoulder, a sudden reminder of the one he’d taken in Oklahoma only a few months before.
“Jon!” Jaya’s voice blasted in his ears. He jumped the lead gunman, bringing a swift knee to his balls and slamming the hand holding the gun into the stone wall behind him. It clattered to the stone floor.
A punch, a kick, and the man went down and didn’t move. Glancing over, Jon saw Miles had incapacitated Paddy.
Jon scrambled to Jaya’s side behind the concrete casket. �
�Are you okay?”
Charlotte was crouched and ready for action. “Miles?”
“I’m fine.” He stood over their two assailants with his gun trained on them.
Jon helped both women to their feet. Jaya hugged the cross to her chest. “I’m okay, too. We need to get out of here.”
Kieran emerged from the side the two culprits had come from, pushing a third in front of him who was bound and gagged. “Nice work,” he said, eyeing the two men on the floor.
Percy suddenly appeared in the narrow entrance to the O’Sullivan’s side of the tunnel. Colton and Shelby with him. “You were right. They followed you from the hospital,” Percy said. “I’ve got a car going to pick up Mrs. Doyle now. We’ll see what she knows.”
“They’re probably all part of the crew that’s been after us since we landed,” Shelby added.
“Took your sweet time with the backup,” Jon said.
Bells kicked at Paddy’s foot. “We didn’t want to tip them off.”
“We handled the situation fine, didn’t we, Jaya?” Charlotte guided her out from behind the casket. “And we found what we were looking for.”
Percy strode forward. “The cross? It was here?”
Jaya hugged the burlap sack to her chest. “You don’t get it until I have my brother back.”
He looked crestfallen. “I only want to see it, cousin. It’s legendary. Not many people in our lifetime have seen it, much less held it.”
She relented, unpacking it from the bag once more, fingers careful as she unwrapped the satin material and handed it to him. Percy whistled low under his breath, shining his flashlight on it as he turned it over. Colton, Shelby, and Kieran moved in to peer closer.
The sparkles off the jewels were mesmerizing, the heavy gold in sharp contrast to their dingy surroundings.
“You know I can’t let you remove it from the country,” Percy said. “It’s an Irish treasure, and there are a lot of legalities surrounding its true ownership.”
Jaya snatched the cross away from him. “This is the key to getting Finn back, and just so you know, it’s been out of the country since my grandparents went to America. My dad’s the one who brought it back.”
