Guardians of Stone (The Relic Seekers) (11 page)

“You think that will stop me?”

He gave her a rather nasty grin, pulled the key from his pocket and stuck it down the front of his underwear. “Go ahead.”

“Bastard.”

“Sticks and stones...” He pulled an empty water bottle from his pack. “You got any water left? I need to brush my teeth.”

“I found another one from the inn.” She handed him the bottle and watched him walk to the garderobe door. “Would you really kill Raphael?”

He stopped, hand on the doorknob. “Not if I don’t have to. If you follow instructions, we’ll get out without having to hurt
anyone. You use your mojo and find the damn box. Let me handle the dangerous stuff.”

“I know you’re trying to help in your own brutish way, but this tough-guy stuff is getting old. I’m not a china doll and I have a brain in addition to the breasts you keep staring at.”

His mouth twitched. “What did you feel when you touched the tapestry?”

“I felt as if I’d been stabbed in the side.”

“Uh...that was Christ’s crucifixion.”

“Yeah.”

“You
felt
it?” His expression was a combination of disbelief, fascination, and alarm.

“Just the stabbing, although I’m sure it was just a hint of what it really felt like.” She shuddered thinking what it would have been like to experience the other. Crucifixion was a cruel death.

“And this happens to you a lot?”

“No. Usually it’s simpler, like touching a figurine and knowing that it was made in the twentieth century, not the tenth. That’s why Nathan hired me.” She gave a frustrated sigh and turned away. A second later, she heard Jake close the door.

A small desk and chair had been placed against one wall. She pulled out the chair and sat. A jolt shot through her body, flattening her against the back of the chair. She felt her arms moving, even though she could see they were still pinned in her lap.

Trembling hands held a piece of paper. She couldn’t read the words, but she could feel the anguish written there. A tear dropped onto the page, and then the hands folded the letter and reached under the desk
...

The vision vanished abruptly. Her hands were free, her body released. She jumped from the chair and turned to find Jake, but he was still in the garderobe. What was happening to her? She’d never had so many intense visions this close together. It must be this place.

She lowered her body into the chair again, slowly letting her full weight settle. She waited. No vision, nothing. The desk appeared ordinary. Two drawers, four legs. She opened each drawer and found it empty. She tried to recall the writing she’d seen on the paper. Italian maybe—she wasn’t sure. She remembered the hands reaching underneath the drawer, so she ran her fingers along the bottom. At first she didn’t find anything. Then she felt the crinkle of paper. She got out of the chair and squatted. A scrap of paper was stuck to the bottom of the drawer. She moved the chair and scooted the desk out from the wall, tipping it back to expose the underside.

“You dismantling the furniture now?”

She whirled and saw Jake enter the room, shirtless.

Holy mackerel. His bare chest was as sexy as she remembered. Broad shoulders tapering to sculpted abs that made her itch to touch them. The faintest dusting of hair shadowed the center of his chest and another trailed from his navel, disappearing under his jeans. And she remembered what that looked like too. She jerked her gaze away. “There’s a piece of paper stuck here.”

Without making a noise, he appeared at her side. “What is it?”

“Part of a letter, I think.”

He squatted and took a look. “Do I want to know how you knew it was there?”

“No. I’m trying not to tear it.”

“I’ll push the bottom of the drawer away from the paper; you try to work it free.”

The space was small for two people. Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder as she reached underneath the table.

“Good thing I washed off, since your nose is almost in my armpit.”

“Yes, thank goodness,” she agreed, joking, but in truth, his scent was playing havoc with her senses. He smelled clean, but
masculine, and that sexy line of muscle running along his side made her want to touch skin instead of paper.

She freed the paper except for one edge. “Can you push up on the drawer a little more at the back?” She turned and caught him sniffing her hair.

“Your hair smells good.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“So does the rest of you.” His voice was too close. He was too close. She gave the paper one more gentle tug and pulled it free. She quickly stood, trying to put some space between them.

“What does it say?” Jake asked, setting the table back on the floor.

“There isn’t much writing, but I think it’s Italian. The paper has been here a while. The ink is faded.”

Jake studied it with her. “Do you think it’s connected to the box?”

“I don’t know. I’m not getting anything.”

“Paranormal juice dried up?”

She frowned. He was probably right. All this activity was draining her.

“You can study it. I’m going to get some sleep. We have a lot of work to do tonight.” He took out his gun and a knife and put them on the floor beside his boots. Then he unbuckled his pants and let them drop.

Double holy mackerel.

He dropped onto the bed, lay back, and closed his eyes.

“How can you sleep? Raphael might come back with a whole tribe of guards and kill us.”

“He wouldn’t need a tribe to kill us. But the door’s locked.” He adjusted his pillow, which made an interesting play of muscles across his abs. “He doesn’t want us dead. At least not yet.”

“Yet?”

“First he needs to find out where you got the cross.”

“Then he’ll kill us?”

“We’ll be gone before he has the chance.” Jake wiggled his shoulders, getting comfortable, creating more muscle play to tempt her. “In the meantime, I need rest in case I have to rescue you.”

“Do you have to be so insulting?”

“Not if you weren’t so obstinate. Come on. We both need sleep. It’s gonna be a long night. God knows where this box is.”

“You can have the bed. I’ll...” She looked around the room. There was nowhere else to sleep. Unless she sat in the chair.

“Don’t be a prude. I’m not going to attack you.”

“I don’t know how you can sleep,” she grumbled, although she was exhausted.

“You close your eyes, clear your mind, and ignore any distractions.” One eye opened and he gave her a withering one-eyed stare before closing it again. “Then you go to sleep.”

Kendall wasn’t ready to crawl in bed next to Jake Stone in all his masculine glory just yet. She made another sweep of the room, dragging her fingers over surfaces hoping to find something else that would give her some idea who these people were and where they might be keeping the box. But she got nothing more.

“Are you coming to bed?”

“With you in your underwear?”

“I can take it off if it bothers you.”

She cursed him under her breath and flung back the covers on her side. She climbed into the bed, fully clothed, and lay stiffly, so close to the edge that if she sneezed she would roll off. Something was digging into her shoulder. She rolled onto her back, but she had to keep her arms stiff to keep from touching Jake. Touching Jake would be a bad idea, because her girl parts wanted it too much. Her brain, on the other hand, said, “Run.”

The mattress squeaked and Jake’s upper body loomed over her. “Are you gonna toss all night?”

She shrank back into the mattress. “This bed’s uncomfortable and I’m cold.” She regretted the words as soon as the wicked grin formed on his lips.

“Bet I could warm you up.”

She’d bet he could too. The sound of his voice was already making her hot. And he was close enough that she knew he had removed the key from his underwear. She put her hand on his chest. Firm. Warm. Male...“Down, boy,” she said and pushed him away. She rolled closer to the edge again. He chuckled and the mattress dipped as he lay back on his side of the bed.

“Sleep tight, Legs.”

“You too, jackass.”

Minutes later he was asleep. It took her longer. She wasn’t used to sleeping next to a male. Other than her father or Adam on a dig, she could count on half a hand the number of times she’d woken up with a man. Jake was nothing like her father. And Adam hadn’t gotten the chance to become a man.

She listened to the steady breathing and occasional mutter that everyone makes, even a big, tough bodyguard like Jake. She drifted off listening to him breathe and didn’t wake until the ghost came.

H
E STOOD BY
the bed, a shadowy figure in a dark garment, his head covered by a cowl. At first she thought it was Raphael, until her eyes adjusted to the soft glow cast by the lantern and she noticed that she could see through him to the wall. She lay there, frozen, while he stared at her. She could feel waves of sadness rolling off him even though she couldn’t see his face. She reached back for Jake, but he didn’t wake.

The ghost turned from her and began to pace the floor, head lowered. Every now and then he would look back at the bed. Then he turned suddenly and vanished into the wall. She sat up. “Jake,” she whispered. “Wake up.”

He didn’t wake, so she shook him. He still didn’t move, so she shook him harder, and when that didn’t work, she slapped him. Then she became alarmed. Jake was too alert to sleep through a beating. She pulled the covers down and put her ear against his chest. It was warm and his heartbeat was strong. What was wrong with him? Had he been drugged? They hadn’t eaten or drunk anything from the castle. She had to get help.

She started to the door, and then remembered the key. She knew it wasn’t in his underwear, so she checked under his pillow and found it there. She hurried to the door and unlocked it, but it still wouldn’t open. She yanked on the knob and then the door in vain. They were prisoners.

She looked back at the wall where the ghost had disappeared. Maybe that was why he came. To show her a way out.

Her heart pounding, she slipped on her shoes, and since the room was chilly, she pulled a jacket from her bag and put it on over her shirt. After picking up her backpack, she leaned over Jake once more and touched his face.

“Jake. If you can hear me, I’m going for help.” God knew where she’d find it. Not from Raphael. He must have been the one who’d locked them inside the tower and somehow drugged Jake.

Using the lantern, she examined the wall where the figure had disappeared and found a notch in one of the stones. She pushed it and heard a click. A section of the wall swung open. She called to Jake once more, but he didn’t wake. She checked her watch. Midnight. She would follow this entrance. Maybe the monk would lead her outside the castle.

She grabbed her flashlight and stepped inside the secret door. It smelled musty and stale. The passageway was narrow, but she was used to tight spaces. She’d spent more time inside pyramids and tombs than most kids had spent in a sandbox. A set of steep, curved steps led down. Keeping the light low so as not to startle the ghost in case he was interactive and not a residual haunting, she followed the narrow stairs. At the bottom the passage opened slightly. This must be the third floor. She didn’t see the monk, but he must have come this way.

Idiot. He doesn’t need an exit. He can walk through walls. You’re the one who’ll probably get trapped.

It was so quiet she could hear her own breath echoing. Then another noise. Singing. Like she and Jake had heard earlier. If there was someone else here, perhaps he would help Jake. Unless he was the one who’d drugged him, not Raphael. She tried to pinpoint the sound, but it was too muffled through thick walls. She found a small doorway a few feet away. She opened it and peered inside. This was a part of the castle they hadn’t seen. There were two doors, one on either side of the hallway. The soft
singing sounded louder here, but she couldn’t tell if it was English. Someone else must be here, or Raphael was listening to music.

Even if Raphael hadn’t drugged Jake, if he caught Kendall here, he’d probably kill her. If she could get to the main part of the castle, surely there was some kind of phone. Considering the lack of electricity, that might not be the case. If she couldn’t find a phone, she would have to get somewhere with a cell signal so she could call Nathan.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a robe. She followed the shadow down two more sets of winding stone stairs. At the bottom, she stopped to get her bearings. This must be the first floor. The passageway began to slant downward, changing from stone to dirt. The air was different here, not as dank. The path ended at a set of stairs leading up to a wooden wall. There must be a way out. Using her light, she found a circle like the one on the wall surrounding the castle. She pushed and the wall opened into a space the size of a closet. There was another door in front of her, but no knob or motif. She put both hands on the door and pushed it open. A rush of fresh air lifted her hair as she stepped out. She was in a graveyard. Looking back, she saw that she had stepped out of a massive tree.

For a minute, concern over both Jake and the monk faded into the background as she studied the graveyard. Its pull was powerful. The moon was full, so she didn’t need her flashlight. The graveyard was small, perhaps a few dozen graves in all, and edged by the same woods that surrounded the castle. The headstones varied in shapes and sizes, but they were all old, some leaning, others fallen. A breeze stirred, rustling the leaves, and the whispers came, teasing with their secrets, pulling at her to enter the woods. Why?