by Kim Allred
AJ reached for Maire, wanting to hug her before being dragged away, but Dugan's men grabbed her arms before she took a step. She managed to get a last glimpse of Maire before the door clanked shut. Her friend had simply watched her go. There was nothing else she could do.
She tried to walk, but once again, the men kept a brisk, uneven pace as they rushed her to the cell next door. As soon as they stepped through the threshold, they tossed her to the ground. AJ reached out instinctively to break her fall, but her head still managed to skim the floor.
The sound of the door banging shut brought a gasp of despair. She had to stay positive, but for now, with her head pounding, and the truth of their predicament staring her in the face, all she wanted to do was close her eyes and wish it all away. She curled into a ball and reached into her deep pocket to close a fist around her wedding ring. Stella would agree this was a proper moment for a pity party. AJ rested her head against the floor, for the moment uncaring if the cell contained a pallet. The cold stone eased the constant ache, and she closed her eyes to the darkness, hoping her dreams held an answer to her dilemma.
28
Tap. Tap, tap, tap.
At first, AJ thought a bird might be at the window, but she was positive she'd filled the bird feeders. The soft knocking continued, and she reached for the bed covers to ward off the morning chill. There were no covers. No soft mattress. Then she remembered where she was. She tightened her muscles, pulling her knees up to maintain her fetal position in a vain attempt to stop the shivers.
The tapping became louder.
She pried open an eye. Shadows formed from the filtered light streaming through the narrow window in the cell door. Her first question was how long had she been sleeping. With no answer available, she moved on to her second question. Was she okay? Her headache had subsided, and her muscles relaxed at the good news. Her body was stiff, but nothing seemed broken. She tentatively stretched out one leg, then the next. Just stiffness brought on by the cold. She dragged herself upright with arms as stiff as her legs and glanced around.
She winced at the dull throb in her head, but then the ache eased. With the smallest movement possible, she took in her meager surroundings. Most of the room remained beyond the dim light. To her left, she noticed a pail by the door. After a few shaky steps, she peered into the bucket. Empty. A clay pitcher and a cup sat a foot away. She sniffed the pitcher, then poured a small amount in the cup. Water. She filled the mug and drank it down.
Maire had said the water was only replenished once a day. She set down the cup and turned to frown at the bucket. After taking care of her personal hygiene, she paced the length of each wall. It seemed to be as large as Maire's and filled with the same meager amenities. A thin pallet lay limp in a far corner, her lips curling in disgust at what might be living in it. A table with two chairs hovered in another corner with a candle and a handful of matches. She lit the candle and sat when the added light revealed there was nothing else.
She wrapped her arms around her and tried to think of something other than how cold it was. Not even a filthy blanket. Did they intend to freeze her to death? Her stomach growled. She performed another personal inventory. She had to strike while she had the energy.
They'd dragged her to the cell next to Maire. That would put Maire's room on the opposite wall from where she sat. She picked up the candle and, starting at one end of the wall, worked methodically as she checked each stone for an opening. She'd covered a third of the wall when she found it. A narrow gap between the rocks about a foot off the ground. She placed the candle on the floor and checked for buildup of dirt. Nothing. The hole must have been there for some time, possibly decades.
She knelt and peered through the gap. A dim light was all she could see, but that was something. She thought of calling out, but if there was a guard outside the door, he was sure to hear. Needing to know, AJ hefted a chair and placed it under the grated window in the door. She stepped up and peeked out. Flames flickered on torches along the wall. Light filled the hall several yards in both directions, including the second gate they had come through. No guards were visible. They may have been positioned earlier for show, but Beckworth and Maire both mentioned the guards were shifted at random.
At least they were alone for now. She dragged the chair back to the table and dropped down to peer through the hole.
"Maire?" Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat before trying again, a little louder. "Maire?"
She dug into her pocket and waited for any sound. If someone came, they'd have to come through the gate, and that required a key which was sure to make a clatter. She pulled out her dagger and worked at the crack, trying to make it larger. The sound of her dagger on stone reminded her of the earlier tapping that had woken her. Had Maire tried to signal her?
She stopped prying at the rocks and began tapping. After a few seconds, she waited. Hearing nothing in return, she tapped again. Then she heard the other tapping. She peered into the hole and saw a blur of a shape.
"Maire?" Silence. Scraping.
"AJ?"
"Yes." Thank God. "I'm here. There's a hole here."
"Yes. I found it some time ago, but there's only been a handful of other prisoners."
"There are others?"
"Not currently. But occasionally someone is brought down. They only stay a few days before they're taken away."
AJ didn't like the sound of that. They would need to double their efforts to escape. "Do you know how many guards are usually outside your door?"
"No. But there are usually two when they bring meals and water."
"How often do they bring food?"
"Once a day with the water."
AJ glanced to the clay jar and cup. "I guess they decided not to feed me today."
"They didn't feed me the first day either. I think the viscount is trying to make a point."
"As if the accommodations didn't already make a statement."
AJ dug at the hole. The mortar crumbled from dampness and age. Beckworth never mentioned how long the cells had been there, but the building must have been built long before he'd been born. Had he ever thrown anyone in here?
After some time, and several limited conversations later, she'd managed to enlarge the gap until the two women could hear each other without raising their voices. They discussed the guard rotation and whether any of them seemed persuadable. Maire quickly dashed any hope. A servant came once a week to empty her bucket. The duke's son came about as often to check Maire's progress on deciphering the book.
"Do you have the book with you?" AJ asked.
"No. I only get one page at a time. The viscount has someone copy the words onto a single page for me to work from. I don't think they're given to me in order, or the druid was truly mad. Individually, the pages don't make sense."
"What's with all the other books?"
"They're supposed to have keys to help me with the encryption."
"Do they help?"
Maire laughed. "Not in the slightest."
"It sounds like this viscount doesn't know what he's doing."
"That was my thought in the beginning, but he knows more than he should."
"Does he know about the Heart Stone and the torc?"
"He doesn't seem as interested in those. At least, he hasn't mentioned them more than once or twice. The pages he's given me say nothing of the Heart Stone, but I have seen references to the smaller stones. I think the man might be slightly unhinged. It can be difficult to know what he's searching for."
"I'd agree with your assessment of him, but I can't say we met under the best conditions."
After a moment of silence, AJ asked Maire how she was holding up. Her response made light of her situation, but AJ heard the tiredness behind her words—and the fear. This incarceration was nothing like her time spent with Beckworth.
"We should stop for a bit. I'll tap when I think it's safe to talk more." Then Maire was gone.
AJ returned to her empty table. She considered
her trip to town and her attempted escape from Dugan's men. Beckworth's surprised expression confirmed he would have also seen the men chasing her. She bolted upright, grabbing her head at the sharp pain from moving too quickly. When she could think clearly again, the memory of the second man slammed home. Lando. Jamie had sent someone after all. And Beckworth had tackled him, probably saving Lando from one of these cells—or worse.
Could Beckworth and Lando pull off a rescue with just the two of them?
And did she dare wait?
29
Before they retired, AJ and Maire kept their conversation light, sharing simple memories. When AJ grudgingly dropped onto the thin pallet, she squirmed to find a comfortable position. She thought about the passion in Maire's voice when she spoke of Hereford. The estate had been a home to Maire, even if she hadn't been there long. AJ couldn't help but wonder if Ethan had something to do with that.
Her musings turned to Finn, but before she could summon his image, keys rattled somewhere in the hall. Not close enough to be the door to her or Maire's cell, the sound must have come from the second gate. She tried to recall being dragged down the hall but couldn't remember how far it had been between the two gates. If she hadn't heard anyone come through the first gate, the building must be larger than it appeared from the outside. Maybe the building wasn't that big, and the first gate wasn't locked. Would the outer door be locked from the inside?
Her only advantage would be surprise. Earlier in the day, she'd considered different options, working through each one, weighing their feasibility for success as Finn and Lando had trained her. With enough foresight and the right conditions, she could take out one guard, maybe two if they weren't built like Dugan. She wouldn't be able to kill them, but they'd be down long enough to find keys, release Maire, then get the hell out of the building. Simple. Unless there were more guards down the hall or outside the building, which was likely.
What the hell was she thinking?
She was in over her head.
Even with the odds against them, AJ made a mental note to inventory the guards' weapons. If there was a way for her and Maire to get their hands on them. She was doing it again. Their only true hope was a rescue by Beckworth and Lando. She snorted. Beckworth would be the last person to risk his neck to free them. But with any luck, he'd share his knowledge of the building, and Lando would find a way.
She rolled to her side, assuming the guards were being posted for the evening when she heard keys again. Then the door to her cell squeaked open. She froze. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned toward the scuffle of boots. Two men, outlined by the torchlight from the hall, came to a stop ten feet from her. Each carried a sword at their side, a dagger sheathed on the opposite leg, and a pistol on their belt. Well-armed. They were muscular, but no taller than Finn. They looked like bookends, both dark-haired and bearded. The one on the left had a scar on his chin. The names Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum came to mind.
Why were they here?
The sound of approaching boots provided her answer. The man ducked as he entered the room. He stopped after a few steps and stared down at her. Then he crossed the room to sprawl in one of the chairs. He lit the candle before folding his arms across his chest.
Dugan.
Terror crawled up her spine at the smile that appeared on his scar-ravaged face. Had Finn felt that fear each time Dugan and his men had visited his cell in the monastery? Would she soon be feeling the same pain he'd felt after each interrogation? They had nearly killed him. Could they do the same to a woman? Based on the ugly grin marring Dugan's face, she'd guess the answer was yes.
AJ pushed herself up until she stood with her chin high, preferring to face this threat on her feet. She wouldn't be an easy target, and though her head thrummed with a dull ache, she kept her spine straight, just like Maire would do.
Dugan nodded, and the guard on the left with the scar—Tweedle Dum—grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the table. Tweedle Dee followed and stood so close behind her, she could smell his sweat. She instinctively took a tiny step forward. His tactic meant to intimidate, and it was working.
"The viscount was surprised to learn of your history with the stones." Dugan studied her for a moment then motioned for her to take the other chair. AJ remained standing.
"I've come here for a chat, Miss Moore, but I won't tolerate insolence." He motioned to his men. Tweedle Dum moved so quickly, she didn't have time to dodge him. He grabbed her arm again and shoved her into the chair. He took a position directly behind her to the left while Tweedle Dee stood to her right.
The quick movement made her head pound, and she squinted at the renewed intensity of it. If Dugan noticed her discomfort, he didn't give any indication.
"That's better. Your obstinance will only make our discussions more difficult. Where have you been all this time?"
When she didn't answer, he leaned toward her, elbows on his knees as he waited. "I think you need another lesson."
Before she realized what he meant, Tweedle Dee moved in front of her and slapped her hard enough to make her ears ring. She had a split second to wonder if her earlier injury had given her a concussion before another slap made her rock in her seat. She raised her arms to ward off another blow, but the man had already stepped behind her.
Dugan leaned back. "Let's try again. Where have you been since the monastery?"
"America," she spat out. Finn always said to stick as close to the truth as possible.
That made Dugan's brows rise. Good. Keep him guessing.
His eyes narrowed. "Why did you return?"
She had asked herself that question on more than one occasion. "I received word that Maire had disappeared. I came to find her."
Dugan laughed. It was a rather unexpectedly pleasant sound. She hadn't thought he could laugh, and if he did, she was expecting something more diabolical. His rich tenor would have warmed her if she didn't know what a dangerous man he was. What had made him such a monster? Or was he a true believer in the stones and the crazy story his new viscount preached?
"Well, you certainly accomplished your mission. Bravo, Miss Moore. See how easy that was?"
AJ had a feeling the questions were going to get more difficult.
Without dropping his gaze, he crossed a leg over his knee. He settled back as if they were old chums sharing stories of their time apart. "Where is Mr. Murphy?"
This time it was her turn to bark out a laugh. "That's a very good question."
With the barest of a nod from Dugan, Tweedle Dee came around and delivered another slap, followed by a punch to her stomach region. She would have fallen if Tweedle Dum hadn't caught her and returned her to an upright seated position. Her head hung as she sucked in deep breaths. Previous self-defense training had taught her to tighten her stomach muscles to ward off a blow, but she hadn't seen the hit coming. Her head ached to a blinding degree. When her breathing returned to normal, she touched her cheek. It was warm, and she'd probably have a bruise to match Maire's by morning.
"Try again, Miss Moore."
She held her arms in front of her body, protecting it from further abuse. But it was her head that worried her. It was difficult to stay focused. Her earlier concern about a concussion faded away with the newer fear of a brain hemorrhage.
"I'm not lying. I don't know where he is."
When Dugan looked like he might give another signal to the guards, she raised a hand. "It's true. He was preparing a ship, but I couldn't wait. I was worried about Maire, so I took the first passage I could find. He was going to follow." She stopped, took a breath, and winced. "I haven't heard from him." She hung her head.
He didn't respond, and she took that as a positive sign. His belief in her words might have come from the soulful tone of her voice. The one that truly wanted to know where he was. Would he find her in time?
"Where's the Heart Stone, Miss Moore?"
Even with her minced brain, she knew she'd have to be convincing in her lie. She touched her head, grima
ced, then waited out each second of silence he'd give her. When she finally pulled her thoughts together, she raised her head and sneered.
"Do you still believe in magic?" She shook her head, which was the wrong thing to do. Dugan began to blur, which was a better look for him. Her breath hitched, her diaphragm still sore. "The stones are a fake. Time travel is a fantasy, propagated by a powerful man in a vain attempt to reclaim his lost position." She tried to hold his gaze. "If I came from another time, why the hell would I come back to this?"
That made Dugan pause. Was he a non-believer, following out of blind loyalty? He was too practiced to reveal anything. He tried another approach.
"Did you leave the stone with the monk?"
When did Dugan leave France? She couldn't think, and this should be an easy answer. They had searched for Beckworth and hadn't found him. But Beckworth was slippery. Dugan might have been able to hide on his own, but with his men? No. He had left town as soon as the battle turned. He was probably gone before Finn killed the duke. Rather than fight for the right memory, she stopped trying. She let her mind wander until she heard Sebastian's calm, even voice. Then she remembered a story he'd told her and Maire, and gave Dugan a partial truth.
"I imagine whatever stones Sebastian collected were scattered to the far reaches, just as the Prior before him did with the stones during the Reign of Terror."
Her tongue seemed too large for her mouth, and talking became a challenge. She'd never experienced a migraine before and found herself hoping for that over a brain bleed. She felt herself slipping and one of the Tweedle brothers pushed her back onto the chair.
Dugan cracked his knuckles and shifted in his seat, once again leaning forward. "Who are you working with?"
"What?" She didn't mean to be an ass. His line of questioning kept changing, and she couldn't keep up.
