The Artifact: Natasha Burrows Series Book One

by Phillips, Michelle

  “Come on, ya bastard.” He growled menacingly at the pack leader, cajoling it to the fight, his own teeth bared like a wild animal. The wolf realised it had met its match. It could sense no fear in him, and backed away slowly.

  “Oh hell no” he cried rallying forward, ready to slice and dice the wolf like a sushi chef on a tuna steak. The wolf fled, denying him his kill, and he ran brazenly into the night, determined to be wearing its pelt by sun-up.

  When The Brotherhood arrived it was all over, and they lauded the one brave exceptional man who had fought off an entire pack of ravenous wolves. They had explained to him how lucky he was, the scratches didn’t matter but the bites did. The saliva you see, carried the mutagen, get that into your flesh and you were condemned to turn. Every winter he still went looking for the wolf, he knew one day they would cross paths again. No-one, ever, got away from Guillermo.

  The scratch however had changed him, he was what they called touched. It made him quicker, more perceptive than he had ever been. His hunting instincts increased and he possessed greater nocturnal fighting abilities. It had also left him with a sixth sense, the kind of sense that animals have about people. A sense that allowed him to determine if someone was truthful or not, a foe or friend that could be trusted. His sixth sense was telling him there was something off about Xavier, exactly what he was not sure.

  He knew puritans like Brother Gabriel did not accept him fully into their fold, they had a distinct dislike for him, but he didn’t care. At the end of the day they needed him, Gabriel and his grubby little elders, to do the dirty work for him, and in turn they gave him what he enjoyed, blood lust, killing and all the while they got to keep their white, or in Brother Gabriel's case unnaturally white little hands clean.

  The moment he saw Xavier and Tasha he knew it was on between them. That pretty boy and his delightfully beautiful smelling archaeologist. He’s seen it before, missions put in jeopardy because of friendship, love or a feeling of duty. That was why they called him the Lone Wolf.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Welcome to the Family

  “Well I can’t say I feel altogether satisfied about today’s outcome” Xavier complained as they walked slowly back to the hotel.

  “Which part?” asked Tasha.

  “Try the whole spanking lot, the lack of a solid plan, that is except for the gem of using you as bait.”

  “You mean ‘us’ as bait. We are in this together. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you either you know.”

  “Well I do declare” he enunciated in a fake English accent “I do believe that is the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

  “Well don’t get used to it” she joked bumping her shoulder into him gently as they were walking.

  He pulled her close “how about we do what we have been told then, and go get something to eat? I saw some pretty exceptional looking restaurants by the Trevi Fountain. Let's see if they live up to their gastronomic reputation.”

  They walked hand in hand through the streets of Italy. They could have easily been mistaken for two lovestruck lovers, tourists taking in the sights and sampling the delights Italy had to offer. They struck a handsome pair and caught the eyes of many passerby’s.

  “Let’s try The Fountain of Venus” suggested Xavier. It looked like a cozy restaurant with a nice ambience.

  “Careful” Tasha said, causing Xavier to shoot her a quick nervous glance, “I might actually start to believe I’m on a romantic holiday.”

  He visibly relaxed, laughing “come on, I’m sure they will be able to rustle you up an amazing vegetarian meal.” They entered the restaurant and were immediately greeted by a friendly waiter and seen to a cozy table for two.

  The waiter's English was very good, and they cheerfully ordered some wine and entrees, various local cheeses, tomatoes with balsamic vinegar and marinated olives. When the waiter departed, Tasha sat for a moment, silently reflecting on what had happened and what was to come.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” asked Xavier intently studying her.

  “Oh” she sighed “I was thinking about, you know” she lowered her voice to a whisper “the bunker and all the strange things inside. Centuries of unexplained, unseen wonders hidden away.” She twirled a strand of her hair with her forefinger, a motion Xavier found somewhat childish but endearing.

  “What about it?” he asked.

  “What about it” she turned her head her tongue held between pursed lips. “About how much I would love to get in there and dig around. I’m an archeologist remember? It's what we do.” She leant forward her elbows on the table.

  “Forgive the crudeness, but that would be any researchers wet dream. Think of all the missing links that must be in there, explanations for unexplained phenomenon. Who knows? They probably know the identity of Jack the Ripper, what if he was a Vampire, or something else?” she saw him staring at her and she lost her train of thought. “What?” she asked him, confused by his look.

  “Nothing, I mean it's you. The joyous celebration for life that you have, the curiosity teamed with the innocence of a child.”

  She blushed.

  “Well right about now, I’m actually most curious to find out what the ladies room looks like.” She stood up, leaving her tote on the table. Thinking better of it, she grabbed it up and headed towards the ladies room. She glanced behind on the way, giving him a mesmerising smile.

  Xavier sat by himself at the table, the cutlery was already laid out before them and he started unconsciously toying with his fork, deep in thought. He heard footsteps approaching him and looked up expectantly, his expectation turning to surprise, shock and then fear like four seasons in one day. Instead of Tasha, there were three men standing before him. Despite the warmth of a Mediterranean spring day, they were all wearing large black trench coats.

  “What are you doing here?” Xavier scowled recognising them instantly. One of them, the apparent leader, flipped back his coat with both hand and seated himself across from Xavier. “So it was you that has been following us all this time?”

  “Surely you must have been expecting us?” the man stated with a grimace. “We’ve been sent here to bring you home” he stated matter of factly.

  “Where is he, why couldn’t he come himself?”

  The man chortled, a decidedly uneasy laugh that crackled and rasped. “You know he’s a busy man” he grinned, but just like his laugh, there was no friendliness to it. “You’ve been busy too. Somehow you’ve managed to disappoint him even further of late.”

  One of the men turned and slowly walked towards the ladies room. Xavier’s eyes narrowed and his hand clutched at a steak knife lying on the table in front of him. The man casually placed his hand over Xavier’s.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you” he warned, fiercely frowning. Everything you are thinking about we have already accounted for; the restaurant staff have been paid for their silence.

  “Don’t hurt her” he pleaded, every muscle in his body tensing, prepared to fly into action.

  “That depends entirely on you and what you choose to do next.” The man removed his hand and tapped it gently on the table, his fingers rolling one after the other across its crisp white tablecloth, waiting for Xavier's response. Xavier reluctantly moved his hand away from the knife. It was the second time he had been bested today and he could swear he was literally allergic to failure.

  The man, who went by the name Argento smirked “I knew you would see reason.” Xavier glowered at him, wanting to cuss and spit in his miserable face. He checked himself, thinking it was wrong to speak ill of the dead, and although Argento didn’t know it yet, he was already dead.

  Tasha stood looking at her reflection in the glass, whilst washing her hands under the golden faucet. She bowed her head looking for a paper towel or something she could dry her hands with. She had place the clutch next to the basin and she kept one wary eye on it.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement, a black shadow and she turned quickly gr
abbing up her clutch. The orb inside was fake, but she still couldn’t afford to lose it. She cried out as she felt the price of something sharp against the skin of her neck, as a shadowy figure sidled up behind her, and then nothing, darkness entered.

  She felt like she was falling, falling into a deep chasm of which there was no end. She had been teetering on the edge, as her feet slipped on the screed, she scrambled to recover, but not matter how hard she tried, she kept slipping and fell tumbling, into the depths of dizzying chaos, an abyss of darkness of which there was no end.

  Tasha started to wake, she felt disorientated, fuzzy and she could not feel her legs. She tried to move, but she felt stuck like she was superglued to the spot. She heard a dull humming sound, the drone of what sounded like an engine, but the dizziness and disorientation would not allow her to determine what. Her ears started ringing from a buildup of pressure, causing her to wince in pain.

  There was a feeling of pins and needles in her fingers. She tried to open her languid eyes, but the light was too bright. Her body jumped involuntarily he whole system spasmed as one, a delayed reaction of shock as her mind recalled the image of a shadow and a sharp stab of pain. She forced her eyes open and realised she was onboard a private jet, her hands and feet bound together like a calf being rustled from a ranch. She tried to move but the ropes bit into her wrists. The more she struggled the more they chaffed and burned.

  She looked and saw a door ahead and realised she must be in the attendants section. She felt a chill of fear, for the umpteenth time in as many days terror started to grip her, desperation had become a firm friend.

  “Xavier!” she cried out her voice sounding hollow and dry. “Xavier” she rasped again, forcing herself into a dry cough. The door opened slowly and a man in a black trench coat sauntered in.

  “Save your voice” he barked tersely. He regarded her as a kid does a fly when they are picking off its wings.

  “Who are you?” she continued to resist against the restraints, accepting the burn as a reasonable price for blessed freedom.

  “No one of importance” he answered impassively his expression inscrutable.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing in particular. You’re just along for the ride.”

  “Where’s Xavier?” she coughed as the acrid sting of vomit started to rise in her throat and nostrils. He remained stolid, it was like having a conversation with a chair.

  “Xavier” she called out frantically wild eyed, “Xavier!” The man approached her, she spied something in his hand. Her eyes widened as he approached her, she could smell the stench of alcohol and sweat emanating off him “No! No!” she protested in vain. Straight faced he lifted his hand mechanically and placed the cloth over her face. “No!” her cries were muffled as she tried to wrest her head left and right away from the odorous rag. It was to no avail, her eyes rolled back into her head and she was unconscious for the second time.

  This time Tasha’s head jerked up with a sudden jolt and a massive inhalation of air. She sat gasping releasing the restraints had now been removed and she was seated on a chair. Ahead of her she could see two men, one was Xavier and the other she did not recognise, they looked like they were in the midst of a heated discussion.

  “Xavier!” she cried out weakly. He turned and rushed to her, squatting down to hold her head in his hands.

  “Are you ok?” he asked a look of concern consuming his face. She nodded slightly. Without any real inkling as to what ‘ok’ was supposed to be. She had been kidnapped, drugged twice and had no idea about what was going on around her.

  Her voice sounded raw and husky, it felt like someone had scraped on her vocal chords with sandpaper. “Can I please have a glass of water?” she begged.

  “Of course.” Xavier jumped up and went over to a desk which contained a carafe of water and some glasses. The liquid gushed into the glass making a gurgling noise and she realised she also needed to go to the toilet. She gulped down the water greedily like a camel at a desert oasis, finally coming up for air.

  “Where are we?” she asked still a little dazed.

  “India” he replied his face taut, distant.

  Tasha looked at the other man in the room. He was tall, impressive looking and had an air about him that she couldn’t seem to pin down. She started to smell a rat.

  “Xavier” she said her eyes looking calculating “is there something you are not telling me?”

  A veiled look of shame passed over Xavier's face, all of his pigeons had come home to roost and the perch had buckled and broken under the pressure. Like poop in a pressure cooker, shit was about to hit the fan. She was too smart for him to lie to, truth was the only remedy. Only this remedy was like cutting off your foot to save your leg.

  “Tasha, there is something I have to tell you, I was hoping to … to have more time?”

  “More time?” she repeated incredulously, “more time for what?” Xavier faulted, he could not speak, he felt incapable of forming the words. The man in the suit stepped forward, smiling a smile she would recognise anywhere. He was finely dressed in a bespoke suit, his dark hair slicked back, a widow's peak reminding her of a slick Count Dracula.

  “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Neron, Xavier's father.” He dropped the sentence like stone in the room, it landed heavy and hard and resounded throughout the room with a strange finality to it, unlike an introduction, it felt like and ending.

  “Xavier” she fumbled for the words “Xavier is this true?” She felt the start of tears in her eyes but pushed them back. He nodded unable to look her in the eye. “How could you?” the look on her face was part anger, part anguish. She guessed he had kidnapped them for the orb.

  “He has a habit of disappointing the ones that love him” chimed in his father smugly.

  “You would know” Xavier flashed back, “an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” His father's smug smile flicked off, like a switch being flipped and was replaced with a cool regard.

  “You are part of the Illuminati” Tasha stated the obvious pointing out the elephant in the room “you have been searching for the orb?”

  “I can see why you like her” Xavier's father directed the statement to him “she really is quite intelligent.” From his cool countenance Tasha couldn’t determine if he was being truly genuine or sarcastic.

  “All this time you have been with me, and the orb and you knew what it was, and who wanted it?”

  “Not exactly” Xavier answered.

  “Then how exactly?” asked Tasha.

  “I knew that my father thought an orb existed but I wasn’t working with him trying to find it, that was a co-incidence.”

  “Pretty big co-incidence if you ask me.” Tasha’s expression was tense and she started to fidget nervously with her hands.

  “Much as I would not like to get in the middle of a lovers tiff” mocked Neron, I can confirm my dolt of a son was not working for me. I was however, still watching him. It's quite fortuitous that you lead me directly to the orb, but very disappointing that you managed to get away from my men and give it to those heretics.” She looked at him and this time she was able to discern that he was not lying. He was the one who had been following them all along, or his men anyway.

  She looked around the room she was in, it appeared to be an office of some sort. She was seated on a leather lounge in the corner, and facing the door with shuttered windows behind was a large desk, for the first time she noticed that her clutch was sitting on it. Neron saw her eyes lingering on the clutch and the door.

  “Don’t bother” he said casually, I have a team of men waiting outside this room.

  She decided to play it coy. “Look I don’t know what family business you have going on, but you have the orb, why don’t you let me go?”

  Neron scratched his chin broodingly as if thinking. “I don’t think so” he replied inscrutably after some time. “You have stumbled onto something bigger than yourself, bigger than all of us, and you are no
w a part of it. You know of them now, The Brotherhood, they have gone by many names over the centuries, all with one singular misguided cause.”

  He paced across the room now, his mood factious and mercurial. “Did they feed you the pretty little fairytale, the one about, oh, let me see, the aliens flew off into the sunset never to be seen again, we don’t know why?”

  “My Uncle did say that” she responded.

  “Oh, your Uncle, did he?”

  “Father please” Xavier begged him, knowing where it was leading.

  “How can you lie to your girlfriend? Keep her like a hothouse flower like all the others, you heard her, she deserves to know the truth.” Xavier hung his head dejectedly, the secret that was haunting him was soon to be exposed, his father would see to that. He was a sadistic bastard, he was sure he was the kind of kid who burnt ants with a magnifying glass or pulled the wings of butterflies.

  “Why couldn’t you just have let us be, let her be,” complained Xavier looking morose, defeated.

  “What is he talking about now?” Tasha asked Xavier. She was tired of the runaround, tired from being drugged, hungry and ornery and most of all she just wanted all this malarkey to end. Xavier had no intention of answering her, crestfallen he sat on the chair next to her, his head in his hands in an admission of defeat.

  “Perhaps I should show you?” asked Neron gleefully. Xavier groaned, a strange strangled sound, knowing this was the end of it all.

  Neron strutted to his desk pressing a button located underneath and with a whirring sound the shutters lifted, exposing the factory floor below him. Tasha looked for a moment, unsure of what she was seeing.

  “Are those…. Are those” she gasped with horror “bodies?” her voice was a deathly whisper. Before her was a conveyor belt of what looked like vacuum packed bodies, rolling along one after another like a morbid assembly line. “What in …” she clutched at her stomach suddenly feeling sick, the bodies looked like sausages stuffed in clear skin. Xavier grabbed up the waste paper basket sitting by the couch and she dry reached into it, courtesy of the fact that they hadn’t gotten to eat back in the restaurant.