by J L Terra
FORGOTTEN
JL Terra
Copyright 2019 Lisa Phillips
All rights reserved
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Prologue
Britain. AD 49
Rain seemed to hang in the air. The damp permeated even into the skin until each step across this foreign land seemed more like endless wading through rivers. The whole island cringed under the low gray clouds and curled back on itself long enough to produce the rolling hills of Brigantia.
“My sword, Slave.”
“Yes, Master.” Darius hefted the blade to the Centurion’s waiting grasp. This time without dropping it.
“You will remain with the horses while I kill this Druid.”
“Yes, Master.”
Darius could just about make out the dwelling, situated at the top of a hill. As though its resident wanted to be as close to the gods as possible—and equally as far from hell. Clouds obscured the roof. But when Darius stared at the house, it seemed like flames danced in the windows.
He shuddered. The old ways were to die, and the Druids were the last of the old ways. Most were learned, men and leaders. Darius had even liked some of them. No matter. Caesar had called for them to become part of civilized Britain, or die.
They’d searched across Brigantia for the one who had killed those animals. The one responsible for the slaves who had gone missing. A survivor in the last town they stopped at had whispered to Darius that the Druid wished to make himself immortal. Hardly. There was no place for the magic of the gods in Roman Britain.
A bigger body shoved him aside. Darius fell to his knees in the mud. He stood in time to see the soldiers move between the trees to the dwelling.
Darius rummaged in the satchel for a scrap of apple. Found a dried piece tucked in the folds at the bottom. The Centurion’s horse turned his direction. Darius slipped the treat into his own mouth before the horse could snatch it from him like last time.
The animal stepped back. Shifted to the side.
Darius glanced at each of the horses. Awareness rippled from one to the next to the next, as though Mars himself crossed before them. But mother had told him Mars was not a god. That there was one God—a man who had touched Darius’s head and blessed him before he was even one year old. He had believed in the God-man after mother was healed. Now…he didn’t know. Jerusalem was far from here.
Perhaps the Christ had never risen in Britain, and that was why it was so gray here. Darius had to squeeze his eyes shut and think hard to even remember the feel of the sun on his face. It had been so long.
The drizzle increased to a rush of raindrops. Thunder rumbled across the ground. Horses strained against the rope securing them to trees. Sixteen animals. Far too many for one boy to control if they got loose. Darius turned in a circle and beseeched the God-man to protect him once again.
Lightning cracked across the sky. The tip of that blade of light touched the dwelling.
The men inside screamed. The horses sidestepped. Darius saw movement to his left and twisted to where a wolf emerged between two trees, eyes locked on him. Its body swayed as it stalked toward him.
Another stepped into view.
Then a third.
The horses stilled.
Darius took a step backward. He stumbled on the soft earth and landed on his bottom, then rolled over and scrambled up. He raced for the dwelling through long grass. Between trees. One sandal slipped off. His next footstep sank into the mud. It made a sucking sound as he pulled it out. The screams grew louder as he ascended the hilltop. He grasped the door handle and hissed as it melted his skin, but he hauled the door open.
Darius pulled up short as he tried to comprehend the scene in front of him. Blood. Men. Trees, inside the house. Bodies were strewn across the floor, crisscrossed with tree branches. Skewered. Impaled. He’d seen battle before, but this was different.
The centurion roared.
Standing in the doorway, Darius watched as the wall reached out to envelope his master. A hundred thin arms wrapped his body tighter and tighter until his wide eyes popped from his head.
Across the room, a tall man dressed in flowing robes waved his arms. He spoke in a tongue Darius had never heard before.
Thunder rumbled the world outside. As though the earth itself protested what was happening.
Flames danced in the Druid’s eyes.
He yelled the final word…and clapped his hands together.
Fire whipped across the room, bright as the sun. Darius’s eyes burned. Fire rolled through him.
Darius fell to the floor. Pain scored his body. His back arched and his body strung taut, about to snap. He cried out. The sound was swallowed by the fire.
The Druid laughed.
Flames consumed him.
Chapter 1
New York, NY. Present day.
Daire O’Callaghan walked out of the Port Authority bus terminal like he was just another normal person. It had been a lifetime of study so far, attempting to blend in.
Traffic buzzed on the street in both directions. The low drone of engines a constant soundtrack. Exhaust hung in the air. He looked up at the skyscrapers across the street like he’d never seen such a place.
“Cab is approaching.” The voice in his earpiece belonged to Remy, his team’s resident tech who had hacked the GPS on the vehicle.
Two men passed him on the sidewalk, both wearing suits and looking at their phones. He sidestepped for a woman with a double stroller. Up the street, a yellow cab approached.
Daire stepped toward the curb.
“Not that one.”
He glanced back at the Port Authority building like he’d forgotten something.
“The one behind it.”
How she did any of that tech stuff was beyond him. Daire just went with it and let go of frustrations as they came. Making as though he was dithering, he walked another ten feet up the street and flagged the next cab instead. Like a tourist, new to the city.
When the cab pulled over for him, Remy said, “That’s the one.”
Daire sighed and opened the rear door.
“Don’t give me that look. You’ll get frown lines on your face.”
He glanced in the direction he figured she was parked in her surveillance van and didn’t change his expression. Then he got in the cab.
“Yeah, that one.” She chuckled over the comm link. “It’s making you look like an old man.”
He couldn’t respond to that even if he wanted to. The cab driver turned around. He surveyed Daire’s leather jacket, T-shirt, and cargo pants. “Where to?”
The driver—his name was listed on the license as Sanjay Ghorbani—turned back to his steering wheel. In his split second assessment of Daire, he decide
d it was best not to make further eye contact with this fare.
Daire gave him the cross streets. Not that it mattered where he ended up. The only thing he was interested in was what Sanjay could tell him.
“Fella like you in a neighborhood like that?”
“I can take care of myself,” Daire said.
“Sure you can. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna wait around for your return trip.” Sanjay pulled up in a line of cars and glanced over his shoulder to assess Daire one more time.
A mile later, Sanjay pulled onto a side street to get out of traffic. Daire lifted the needle from his pocket and took off the cap. He grabbed the hair on top of Sanjay’s head. Before the man could yelp, he injected whatever Remy had concocted into Sanjay’s neck.
Sanjay’s foot slipped off the gas and the car began to slow. A slender Chinese woman opened the front passenger door and climbed in while it was still moving. She grabbed the steering wheel so they didn’t hit the side of a building and slid the lever from Drive to Park.
“Mei.” He replaced the needle in his jacket.
“Daire.” Her reply matched his tone of greeting.
The car jolted to a stop. She glanced back at him. “We only have a minute or two before someone realizes things are amiss.”
“What are you wearing?” He also didn’t know what was going on with her hair. Pink and purple strands among the straight black locks made her look like one of those monster dolls his niece had liked. He didn’t know anything about current trends. The dress…was that even a dress? He didn’t know.
“New York fashion, darling,” she said in an exaggerated drawl. “How long is it supposed to take before—”
Sanjay sat up, gasping. “Whoa.” He glanced around. Realized he wasn’t alone in his cab. “Who are—”
Mei lifted a Glock and pointed it at his face.
Sanjay blanched.
Daire didn’t want her shooting the guy just because she was bored, so he said, “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”
Sanjay gave him a look not dissimilar to the one Daire had given Remy on the street. “Who are you? What do you want?”
That was the first trace of an accent Daire heard from him. Remy’s research indicated Sanjay had worked hard to lose the tell-tale speech patterns of someone who’d grown up in Iran. Evidently his American accent wasn’t immune to stress.
“Who we are is not the point.” Daire lifted a photograph out of his jacket pocket and showed Sanjay the picture. “Three days ago this woman took a ride in your cab. You picked her up from LaGuardia and drove her into the city.”
“Doctor Silver?” Sanjay shook his head. “That’s what this is about?”
“Among other things,” Mei said, gun poised.
“She’s just some archeologist.”
“One who is currently missing,” Daire said.
She’d either gone AWOL intentionally or she’d been kidnapped. The British Museum wasn’t sure which.
“Are you guys cops?” Sanjay glanced between them. “No. Not cops.”
“Not cops.” Daire didn’t give the man anything else. What they were was complicated.
Sanjay made a face. “Then I don’t have to answer your questions. Not my civic duty.”
Daire pulled a roll of cash from one of several hidden pockets in his jacket and held it out. Sanjay took the money, not even bothering to pull off the rubber band and count it.
Daire said, “What can you tell me about Penelope Silver?”
Sanjay’s eyebrows folded toward each other, and his eyes hardened. He opened his mouth. His whole body swayed in the seat. “Wha…” He touched a hand to his head.
“Penelope Silver.”
Remy’s drug was working.
“Wednesday. LaGuardia,” Daire prompted.
“Pink blouse.”
Mei shot Daire a look. “If he spent the entire car ride with her thinking only about her boobs, that’s all we’re going to get.”
She would destroy her eardrums shooting Sanjay in a small space like this. But Daire didn’t figure that was much of a deterrent to her putting a bullet in him.
Daire ground down on his molars. Thank the heavens above for modern dentistry. He said, “Sanjay. Was Doctor Silver with anyone on Wednesday, or was she alone?”
They had footage from the cab. If Sanjay replied that she was alone, it meant they were talking about the right visit. Doctor Silver’s visits to New York were half a dozen times a year, and always with another co-worker from the British Museum.
“She…alone.”
“Where did you take her?”
“Uptown.”
Like that narrowed it down. Daire said, “The address.”
Sanjay shook his head. “Idea…where to go.” His accent had slipped away completely now.
“What was she looking for?”
“Person who…” Sanjay said, “Collector.”
Penelope Silver had been searching for someone. A collector of artifacts? Daire figured that bumped kidnapping down in probability given she’d been searching for something. Unfortunately, it didn’t rule out her having been murdered. What had she gotten herself into?
Mei sighed. “Can I shoot him now?” Daire shook his head. She said, “So that babble means something to you?”
“Maybe.” Daire tapped Sanjay on the shoulder. “Did you drive past Mount Sinai at any point?” It wasn’t exactly uptown, but he had to know.
“What does—”
He silenced Mei with a look. She didn’t need to know why he was asking about that particular part of town.
“Sinai. No.”
That was something at least. But it didn’t mean Daire could relax. Good thing he had safeguards in place for when people like Penelope Silver started sniffing around his business. He’d learned the hard way that it was never nothing.
And the weird feeling he’d had lately that things were amiss hadn’t gone away yet.
“None of this was on his GPS,” Mei pointed out. “How long have you been fiddling with the car, Sanjay? Keeping a little extra money for yourself. What the bosses don’t know won’t hurt them, right?”
Sanjay started to shake his head. A tear slipped from the corner of his left eye. “I…”
“He’s crying, Daire.” Mei shifted in her seat. “I should shoot him just for that.”
“Mei.”
“Fine.” She lifted one hand, palm out. Hardly a retreat when the gun was still pointed at Sanjay.
“Did your cousin Hamal hack the GPS?”
Sanjay nodded and a sob escaped his mouth.
Mei said, “How’d he get the odometer to match?”
Sanjay didn’t answer.
Daire said, “Where else did you take her, Sanjay?”
Mei made a face, which he ignored. At least this banter was where they were at. It was better than the weird détente from recent weeks that had them squarely in the friend zone. Daire didn’t know what was going on between them. All he knew was what wasn’t going on. And how he felt about that? Well, there wasn’t time to figure that out right now.
Sanjay said, “Doc…Silver. Hotel.”
“This is a waste of time.” Mei stowed her gun and started taking off Sanjay’s watch. He batted at her hands, but she ignored him. “We should cut our losses and go.”
Daire wasn’t so sure. He didn’t believe Sanjay had just left Doctor Silver at her hotel. “Where did you take her? Somewhere you didn’t want your employer to know you were.” He paused for a second. “Tell me.”
Mei picked through the man’s wallet. She tossed cards she didn’t tuck in her dress-thing on the floor by her feet.
“Sanjay.”
The cab driver jerked in his seat. “Cape…man Wells.”
“On it.” Remy’s voice came through his earpiece.
Daire already knew what the business was.
Mei cracked her door. “You wanna try to get anything else from this waste of time and risk getting caught, or are you ready to go now?”
Mei climbed out of the front seat.
Daire wiped down the interior and pulled the roll of five dollar bills with a hundred on top from Sanjay’s hand. He wouldn’t want the man to be disappointed with the fact he’d been duped—and drugged—into talking. Plus leaving the money wouldn’t jibe with making this look like a simple mugging.
He walked down the alley, back toward the busy street. Keyed his radio. “Remy…”
“I already took care of the cameras in the cab.”
He reached in his pocket and pressed the button again. Twice this time. The double beep meant, “Copy that.”
Remy said, “Sanjay’s phone?”
“In my hand,” he replied quietly.
“Turn the Bluetooth on. I’ll see what our friend has been up to, aside from stealing from his employer.”
Mei’s voice came through his headset. “Like you’ve never taken a pen home. Or a roll of toilet paper.”
Daire did as she asked while he turned onto the sidewalk. He merged with pedestrian traffic, a smile playing on his lips.
A couple of blocks later, Mei appeared beside him.
“This way.” Daire turned the next corner. “We’re gonna want to head to—”
“Caperman Wells,” Remy said in his earpiece. She gave them the address. “It’s an insurance firm, very select clientele. Basically referral only.”
Mei stopped on the sidewalk to look at a street sign. “Looks like we’re going in that direction.” She eyed Daire.
He shrugged like he hadn’t even noticed. “Uptown.”
She started walking again. “Anything else, Remy?”
Daire hung back, going over Caperman Wells’s business practices in his head. He tried to think of anything Remy might find that would lead back to him. But that was pointless, considering she was probably already in their computer system.
“They mainly insure art. Paintings, pottery. Jewelry. That kind of…oh.”
“What?” Mei asked.
Daire said, “Later. We’re almost there and have made no plans yet to breach the place.”
“I’ll turn off the alarm.” Remy’s voice was distracted. “You guys can look around.”
“Or I can come back tomorrow and sit down with an employee. Get the information by asking for it.”
