by Jackson, Pam
Something inside of her was telling her it was here and they were close. She followed an instinct and walked toward the edge of the slope they had just ascended. She got down on her knees and began to move the heavy snow with her gloved hands, exposing the muddy surface below. Clay stood behind her, motionless, as she methodically removed a three-foot section of snow cover.
She suddenly stopped and looked at Clay with glassy eyes. “Snakes, Clay. Snakes,” she calmly uttered, pointing to the ground.
He shot her a look of confusion as he noticed she had just uncovered thick, black roots that entwined together, partly submerged in the dark mud.
“Sweetheart, I don’t even want to know how you knew that was there, but I’m sure grateful for divine intervention at this moment. Hell, yeah!” He let out a deep grunt that was more like a battle cry and less like anything to do with pain or pleasure. A wide grin lit his face, and he motioned for her to stop. “Here, let me do that, your hands probably still hurt.” He helped Andie up from her kneeling position, handed her Uncle Owen’s map, and then continued to clear the snow from the entangled roots protruding from the ground.
“I don’t understand any of this.” She folded the map and placed it into a pocket in her jacket. “Something, or someone, just told me to dig right there.” She was chilled to the bone, and she didn’t know if it was from kneeling in the wet snow or from the fact that the ghost of Claudius had just whispered in her ear, ‘Tis near ... dig here, my little dove.
Clay stopped clearing away the snow and looked at her. “Andie, don’t try to understand it, just accept it. We’re together, and that’s all that matters now. A leap of faith, baby.”
He flashed a smile, sending butterflies to her belly, and she realized he was truly hers. He loved her—he’d said it at the cabin last night, and right here and now, she could feel the overwhelming devotion between them. And she would tell him, too ... soon. No. Now.
“Clay,” she softly uttered. Her voice quivered with emotion. “I want to tell you—” Her declaration of love would have to wait.
“Holy shit! It’s here, Andie. Look!” He pulled out a long, blue-steel knife from its sheath in the thigh holster that also carried his Colt 1911.
She was relieved this morning when she’d watched him arm himself with weapons and load the backpack with supplies. Even if Luca Eberstark was dead, who knew what other freelance killers Tivoli had sent this way?
Clay stabbed at the tangled roots protruding from the muddy surface. Within a few seconds, Andie heard a distinct metallic clinking sound. She looked with bewilderment at the rectangular panel being exposed through the mud and roots.
“What is that? Is that the hatch door?” Her heart was doing flip-flops in her chest.
Clay pulled out some of the smaller, more brittle roots that surrounded the rusted iron hatch. There seemed to be only a few thick, black roots left, but they were tenacious, and they held the hatch down tightly. He stared at the roots with contempt and grumbled out a curse.
“Andie, come stand behind me. I don’t want you to get hit with a ricochet.” He returned the knife to the sheath and pulled out the Colt 1911 from the thigh holster.
Andie eyed the large gun that looked perfectly proportioned in Clay’s hands. “Umm—ricochet? What are you going to do, blast your way through those roots?”
Clay just smirked and gave her a sexy wink and a nod.
“Yeah, of course you are. Why did I even ask?” She moved behind Clay and watched him precisely place two rounds into the thicker roots that covered the hatch. Wow! He’d made it look easy—no hesitation, not even a long pause to aim. It was as if the weapon was an extension of his arm. He holstered the 45 and began removing the splintered roots.
“I can’t believe this is really here. My uncle would’ve loved this. All those years of searching, and it was right under his nose.” Clay shook his head and laughed bittersweetly.
He looked at Andie, excitement teeming over his usually stoic features, and he motioned for her to step closer to the iron hatch.
“Is it locked?” she asked, running her fingers through her hair and wishing she hadn’t left her hair tie back at the cabin. “How do we open it? Claudius was a crafty SOB, so be careful.” Andie wondered if some eighteenth century booby trap might go off if they opened it incorrectly.
“Well, it could be locked, but I don’t see how it could be rigged with explosives, since eighteenth century gunpowder would’ve decayed or just washed away up here, exposed to all the elements. I think we’re good, but just to be safe, stand behind me.” He squatted down and tried to slip his fingers under the lip of the iron hatch. “C’mon you tenacious whore!” He looked at Andie and mouthed a silent apology.
Cursing from men never bothered Andie; growing up on an army base had desensitized her to that many years ago, but she thought it was gallant of him to apologize.
Finally, the hatch began to give way, and Clay groaned along with the grating sound of the decrepit hinges as the iron door slowly opened. Inside the narrow opening was pure darkness, and Andie detected the distinct smell of mildew and putrid, stale air. Centuries of decay were trapped underground; she prayed that the Atros Fallis hadn’t fallen to its demise from the harsh environment. Even though she knew it had to be destroyed for the sake of mankind, she was damned curious, and she wanted to see and touch this remarkable tome said to have been created by God.
She watched Clay remove a handful of glow sticks from the small backpack. He systematically cracked them so that the liquid inside reacted and the small tubes began to glow lime green.
“Here we go, darlin’,” he said. He threw the glowing tubes into the dark hole, followed by the backpack.
A chamber filled with cobwebs and roots shined eerily as the glow sticks produced just enough light to give dimension to the small underground cell.
“This must be the antechamber that Katherine described in her diary,” Andie said as she sat down next to the opening and dangled her booted feet into the darkness, ready to jump.
“What the hell are you doing, Andie?” Clay yanked her back by her shoulders, shaking his head. “No way am I letting you into that pit until I clear it. Got it?!”
Disappointed and ready to protest, Andie pulled away from Clay, but she realized that of the two of them, he was the best candidate to jump into a dark hole full of God knew what and resurface without a scratch.
She nodded reluctantly and watched as Clay squeezed his torso through the opening. He jumped to the chiseled rock floor below him and stood straight up. The top of his head was almost touching the ceiling of the chamber.
“How big is the room?! Can you see another room?! I’m coming down.” She rapidly shouted questions, giving Clay no chance to answer them.
“Just a minute, Andie! You really need a lesson in patience, babe. Do you know what kind of nasties have been living down here for over two centuries?” He poked his head out of the hole to look at her. “Well, I can’t see much in front of me ... it’s a pretty small space, but then again, I’m bigger than the average male.” He snickered, full of cockiness.
“Okay, yes, we know—you’re large and in charge.”
He reached up through the hole with both of his hands and summoned Andie to descend into the chamber. “Just jump. I gotcha.”
Without hesitation, she jumped into the hole and found herself safely in his arms. She noticed a lovely, dark lock of hair falling loosely on his forehead, and she liked the way the newly grown scruff on his chin looked in the green light from the glow sticks. When she breathed in his musky scent, it reminded her of the ecstasy she’d felt last night.
As if sensing her arousal, Clay moved one hand off her back and tenderly grasped her inner thigh. He slowly worked his hand upward and cupped her sex as he began rubbing his thumb against the soft fabric that separated his magnificent touch from her sensitive and tingling clit. He didn’t say a word, but his dark stare told her that he wanted her again.
He blin
ked rapidly, returning his focus to their task, and released his sensual grasp on her. He reached for the backpack to retrieve a long, military-style flashlight. He switched on the lamp, and it sent out a wide beam that illuminated the antechamber and beyond. Instantly, many creepy crawly things began to scatter in the light, and she put on a brave face, not wanting Clay to know that her skin was crawling and itching from the mere sight. Get over it, Andie ... move through it. Don’t show fear. She repeated the mantra to herself, trying to get past this unpleasant situation and keep her focus on finding the Atros Fallis. She stood very close to Clay, wanting to bury her head against his shoulder until they made it past the tight opening that separated the small antechamber from the dark open space in front of them. Instead, she grasped his hand and pulled close to him until they found their way into the larger space.
Clay moved the flashlight so the beam could illuminate the walls of the cavern. The room was large enough that the powerful beam of light seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness. Andie saw the light reflect off several silver candelabras, still bearing their ivory-colored candles, and a dulled eighteenth century dining table. She gasped with emotion and could feel her stomach tighten with excitement. She wanted to touch and look at every item in this room, but this wasn’t a visit to a museum.
Clay swept the beam to the other side of the room, trying to illuminate every item. Andie watched as the light reflected off of two more silver candelabras, and she reached into Clay’s backpack to retrieve a box of matches from the bottom of an inside pocket.
“Good girl, you read my mind. Let’s see if these candles still light.” He removed several matches for himself and struck one against the side of the matchbox.
“These are spermaceti candles, they’ll still light a hundred years from now.” She struck her own match and began lighting the slim, ivory candles that sat tastefully in a three-arm candelabra. These were magnificent candelabras; the silver alone would’ve been worth a fortune in the eighteenth century, never mind the fee for the silversmith to hammer, polish and engrave these bad boys. Claudius definitely had been looting from the upper crust to fill his coffers with these riches.
“Wait. Did you just say these are sperm candles? Ewww! As in, sperm whale? Or are the candles made from whale semen? Damn, I never understood what the hell old fashioned candles were made from!” Clay pulled back his hand and reluctantly waved the lit match over the wick.
“Really, Clay? You’re not afraid of psychotic, pistol-packing assassins, but something like whale sperm gives you the heebies?” Andie’s laugh echoed along the vaulted ceiling. “Besides, it’s not made from whale semen. Spermaceti is a thick liquid found in the head of sperm whales—it’s used for buoyancy and sonar, sort of like the fluid in our inner ear.”
His eyebrows arched and he lit the candles on a similar candelabra a few feet from her. “Still gross, Andie. Not much difference between whale semen and head fluids. Blah ... gross!” He shook his head and moved on to the next candelabra.
They finally finished lighting the room’s eight candelabras. The light was strong enough to illuminate the large cavern so that Clay could turn off his flashlight and save a few of the glow sticks.
“It must’ve taken years to hand chisel a room this size,” Andie said, blowing out a low whistle and shaking her head in amazement.
He turned and covered her mouth. “Never whistle underground. Bad luck!” He smiled, letting her know that his superstitious comment could be taken lightly. “Yeah, it’s pretty spacious in here. Legend has it that it took forty Lenape men to clear the cavern, and it took ten years to build it. But looking at these striation marks on the walls, I think ol’ Claudius blew this space bigger with some black powder.”
They separated, each walking slowly and methodically among the antique furniture and plundered items that filled the room. There was enough furniture in here to fill a home, and a stately one at that. Copper cookware littered a corner of the room. The dining table held mahogany chests filled with ornate porcelain and silver serving sets. Andie realized what this room was; it wasn’t a hideout for thieves and bandits, it was a bridal present. A dowry of sorts, from Claudius. That’s why he kidnapped Katherine and made sure she was taken to this room. Brilliant! And knowing her love for books, Claudius had used the Atros Fallis as another means of seducing Katherine.
“Holy shit! Look at this, Andie.” Clay was bent over an iron strongbox filled with gold and silver coins. Both of his hands delved into the mass of shiny metal discs. “It’s like a pirate movie!” He began counting the iron boxes filled to the rim with gold and silver coins. “There are six of these strongboxes! We are looking at a lot of do-re-mi here! Definitely in the millions.”
Andie walked to the chest and picked out a few of the heavy coins. There was a mix of French guineas, British silver shillings, and of course, Spanish silver dollars, or “pieces of eight,” as they were commonly called. “These coins were all in circulation during the Colonial period, especially in New York. Claudius had a nice treasure trove here, but he had no idea what he was sitting on with the Atros Fallis.” She dropped the coins back into the chest and noticed a glass-faced, mahogany breakfront, a Chippendale. The beautiful piece was meant for storing china and ornate serving pieces, but in this case, the shelves stored books behind the traditional honeycomb-shaped glass panes.
She moved to the breakfront and opened the hazy glass door. Centuries of grime and mildew had built up on the glass and wood frame, and the leather-bound books showed serious signs of decay from this harsh, wet environment. She searched carefully through the rows of books, but nothing even faintly resembled the description Katherine gave of the Atros Fallis.
Andie’s head was beginning to ache with disappointment; all this chaos for nothing, she thought. The Atros Fallis was nothing more than a myth. But why was she being haunted by the memories of a love-struck thief and a farm girl? This past life experience had to be rectified here in the present. But how? Her entire life, she’d been rigid and prepared. She’d made lists to remember her lists. Facts and words were what she was most comfortable with—the stuff you couldn’t debunk because it was written down for centuries. Now, she found herself believing in drifting dreams and a man whom she’d just met; she felt as though she had loved him for centuries. All the pieces were coming together. She just needed to let go of all that she feared and take a leap of faith into the unknown.
Chapter 20
“Okay, where can you be hiding?” Andie closed her eyes and tried to remember the vision she had of Katherine standing in this spot as Claudius appeared before her and declared his intentions to the young girl. Everything was the same as she saw it in her dreams—the table, the candelabras, the breakfront stuffed with leather and vellum bound books. Even the jeweled pen knife still lay on the table—the same knife with which Katherine had threatened to take her own life after Claudius had shamelessly boasted that he could place a love spell on her using the powers of the Atros Fallis.
Andie looked at the jeweled pen knife as its small rubies and emerald chips shimmered in the warm glow of the candlelight. Something struck her as odd about the shape of the knife as well as its precise placement, dead center on the grand table. She removed her gloves and moved closer to the beautiful object, the gold handle still shining and remarkably unstained from the damp environment of the cave, the jewels sparkling like small stars in the straight handle of the knife—but the blade seemed dull and blunt. This was unusual, since blades in most eighteenth century pen knives were curved and made of steel so they could easily cut and sharpen a quill for neat penmanship. This blade was straight and made of soft gold.
“What the hell are you?” she whispered with a half-deranged notion that the object would answer her. She picked it up and held it closer to one of the candelabras. Then she noticed a small line that encircled the top half of the dulled gold blade. It was a cap, like on a modern pen. Andie removed the cap and exposed a skeleton key. Her heart was pumping so
fast she was amazed Clay hadn’t heard it thumping in her chest. She suddenly realized he wasn’t beside her, sharing in her discovery. Her eyes darted across the room to the open strongboxes of gold and silver that lined the far wall of the cavern—but he wasn’t there.
“Whatcha got there, darlin’?” His smooth, sexy voice questioned her. He was close behind her, and she felt a strong arm wrap tightly around her waist.
“Shit, Clay! I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You need a cat bell around your neck. You scared me.”
“What can I say, Andie? I like surprising you,” he said, with more than a hint of sexual suggestion.
Her head was foggy; maybe it was the stagnant air in the cave, or maybe it was her bewilderment about the unusual little key. She knew what was making her head swim most of all—it was Clay’s strong hands roaming down her hips and the beginnings of his erection nestling at her backside. This wasn’t helping her focus on finding the Atros Fallis. Somehow, she managed to shake off Clay’s advances and show him the pen knife.
“Look at this! The pen knife is really a skeleton key.” She pulled the cap from the knife again, exposing the detailed curves and notches at the head of the key.
She looked over at the grimy breakfront, but there was no keyhole to lock the glass doors. And the decaying books were bound in leather and vellum, not the aged copper of the Atros Fallis.
“This key is important. It was placed methodically here in the middle of the table,” she said, examining its jewels and beautifully polished gold. She squinted, hoping to see an inscription or a clue to what it might unlock. “What’s your secret, little key?”
“Hmm. Can I see that for a sec?”
Andie handed the object to Clay and watched as he rolled the gold handle along his large palm. He was onto something—Andie had seen that keen look in those dark eyes before. Three seconds was all he needed to analyze an intense situation, and then—action. At least this time, it was only the two of them in the cave, and the possibility of dead bodies piling up was slim.
