The Five-Day Dig (26 page)

“Uh, uh, uh – the make-up!” Dunk called from across the room.

His voice pulled her focus back to their surroundings. Looking over, she saw he’d entered with Jack and Hank. As he approached the table, Dunk grinned at her. “We’re about to roll. No fraternizing on camera.”

Even as intoxicated as she was, she didn’t want to make out in front of the TV viewership. With a sigh, she pulled away from Chaz and tried to concentrate on the business at hand.

Jack now wore horns and a shorter purple toga, she noticed. As he sat down across from her, the headpiece slipped askew, and she laughed. “Nice horns.”

He straightened them out. “I’m the horniest person in the room.”

She giggled.
Not likely
, she thought, but she kept her mouth zipped and didn’t dare glance at Chaz.

Tuning into the scene around her, she saw Amara had put the basin on the table next to the basket. Now she poured water into it from the pitcher.

On the other table, Enza had laid out candles and matches from her crate. She set the crate aside, stood up and smiled at the group. “Now I must move to the doorway to watch.” As she walked away, she added over her shoulder, “
In bocca al lupo!
”

Into the mouth of the wolf
was the Italian equivalent of
Break a leg
. Somehow, it sounded more ominous than the English idiom, but Winnie grinned and gave the prescribed response: “
Crepi!
”

May it die.

“OK, we’re ready to shoot.” Amara took her place and pulled out the clapboard, positioning it in front of Dunk. “Initiation ritual, Take 1.” She snapped it, then stashed it away again.

The host addressed the camera. “We’ve finished our Roman meal, and we’re about to initiate two young worshipers into a mystery cult.” He looked at Jack. “Jack, can you provide some background for our viewers?”

Hank pivoted the lens toward the lead archaeologist.

“Mystery cults were distinguished by secret rituals that only initiated members were privy to,” he said.

“Like a college fraternity? Dunk asked him. “Or the Freemasons?”

“Sort of, only they revolved around worship of a deity. Initiates swore not to reveal the mysteries, so we don’t know much about what they entailed, but we’ve reconstructed some rites for tonight using clues we’ve gleaned from classical writers and scenes from ancient art.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Dunk turned to Winnie and smiled. “Our priestess will start by purifying the initiates with sacred water.”

Holding her shoulders back in her interpretation of a formal posture, she picked up the clipping of laurel and dipped it in the water. “She of the Myriad Titles demands her followers be cleansed for the sacred rites,” she recited.

Using the wet clipping, she sprinkled water on Amara, who flinched and giggled.

Winnie then repeated the gesture with Chaz, holding his gaze. His eyes reflected the same pleasure she felt looking at him. Primal sparks shot between them, but she concentrated on her role and broke the stare.

Playfully, she dipped the sprig once more and shook it at the others. “I’d better purify everyone. We don’t want to risk the curse coming down on us.”

They laughed, brushing droplets off their clothes and limbs.

For good measure, she gave herself a sprinkle, then set down the clipping. She picked up the basket and held it out toward Chaz and Amara. “What do you bring for the goddess, petitioners?”

Amara put her bowl of cakes in the basket. “I offer these sacramental cakes, sacred to the goddess.”

Winnie nodded and looked at Chaz. “And you?”

He placed the bowl of eggs in the basket. “I offer these eggs, sacred to the goddess.”

That was all the team had scripted for the sacrifices, but Winnie picked up the tyet and added it to the basket. “I’ll add this trinket. May the goddess find it worthy.”

She stood and took the basket to the tree, kneeling to place the offerings in front of it. When she got back up, Hank’s spotlight followed her, and the needle-sprigged branches of the juniper cast long moving shadows on the fresco behind it. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the priestess’s bracelet move. Her focus shot to the snake’s head at one end of it. As she watched, the twisted band slithered up the woman’s arm.

She froze, awestruck. The priestess gazed back at her with a Mona Lisa smile, as if the two of them shared a secret. At once, Winnie knew what it was:
The goddess was present.

A deep contentment settled over her. She felt like she’d been cold all her life, and someone had just wrapped her in a blanket.

Dunk cleared his throat. “Winnie, we’re ready for the next rite.”

She spun around and saw everyone watching her.
Egads
.
That purple beer had really gotten to her. Chaz must have been right about the wheat.

Forcing her thoughts back to the script, she returned to her cushion. “You may now petition the Great Mother as you light candles dedicated to her.”

Amara struck a match and held it to a candle. “Queen of Heaven, grant us a fruitful archaeological dig.”

Everyone laughed.

Chaz took his turn. “Great Mother, reveal your mysteries to us so that we may understand you.”

Without warning, the gray cat from the previous night leapt onto the table, knocking over a candle. Everyone jumped and yelped. Somehow the candle landed upright on the floor, the flame still burning.

“Holy cow!” Heart pounding, Winnie slapped her hand over her chest.

A wisp of fog floated
through the entrance and across the room. As Hank followed it with the camera, Amara watched it and shuddered. Aside to Dunk, she whispered, “Did you set this up?”

He shrugged, a slow smile unfurling across his face.

Assuming he had staged the fog, if not the cat’s appearance, Winnie grinned. In keeping with the mood, she picked up the mirror for the next step in the rites. As she turned the glass toward Amara, Dunk pulled an eerie hag mask from the folds of his toga and held it up behind Amara to reflect in the mirror.

Winnie put on a serious expression. “Face your future, petitioner.”

Amara peered at the reflection of the mask. Her eyes grew round, and her jaw sagged.

Her reaction gave Winnie second thoughts. The mask was pretty creepy, and Brits didn’t celebrate Halloween, so maybe poor Amara wasn’t used to being spooked. She lowered the mirror.

At that moment, a muffled boom sounded nearby, and the room shook. A gust of wind blew out the candles and lanterns, and everyone gasped. The cat hissed and ran outside. Fortunately, Hank’s spotlight still lit the room but in a spooky way.

Winnie looked at Dunk, trying to gauge whether this was staged, as well.

“What was that?” he asked, glancing around.

The others were all scanning the room, too. Amara looked terrified.

A slow cracking noise ripped around them. Plaster crumbled from the ceiling, and dust rained down. A chunk of masonry landed next to Winnie.

Chaz jumped up and yanked her to her feet. “Everybody out of here!”

They ran for the door, choking on particles of debris.

S
EDICI

S
HE RAN OUT
of the temple holding Chaz’s hand, her free arm draped over her head to protect herself from falling fragments.

As soon as they hit the night air, the noises behind them died, supplanted by the chirping of crickets. A full moon shed cold, pale light on the path beaten into the dirt over the last few days.

About thirty feet from the building, the group slowed and looked back, coughing and gasping. The exterior appeared the same as it had before – no outward sign of damage.

A couple of yards to Winnie’s left someone sobbed. She looked over and saw that it was Amara. A dust-free Enza brushed her off, murmuring words of comfort. Hank stood beside them, looking concerned about Amara but not sure what to do for her.

On the other side of Chaz, Jack sat on the ground, using the edge of his toga to dab at a smear of blood on his cheek. One of his horns stuck out to the side with the tip broken off.

Winnie pulled Chaz toward a pile of soil that had been covered with a tarp, and they sat down on it.

He put an arm around her and stroked her hair. “Did that masonry hit you?”

“No.” Leaning against his chest, she soaked up his warmth and strength. Even amid the chaos, the new experience of feeling him, smelling him and studying him excited her. “It just scared me, I think.”

“You’re trembling. Lie down.” He helped her into a prone position with her head in his lap. She gazed up at him, smitten.

“Keep shooting!” a familiar male voice shouted from the direction of the temple.

She lifted her head to look over, only then realizing that Dunk wasn’t with the rest of them.

Hank hoisted the camera onto his shoulder and turned it toward the building.

Coated in white dust, the show host ran from the door and toward Hank, looking directly into the lens. “We seem to have had an earth tremor,” he said, gasping for air. “I think it’s over now.”

He coughed, took a deep breath, and surveyed the rest of them. “Is everyone all right?”

No one answered. Winnie couldn’t believe he was still performing. She supposed the show must go on, but continuing under these circumstances seemed too much to ask of them.

Dunk rushed over to Jack and looked at the cut on his cheek. “Do you need a doctor, Jack?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No, it’s superficial.”

“What do you think just happened?”

“A tremor, as you said.” He sounded irritated. Pulling off
his
horns, he threw them aside. “Hopefully isolated. If there are more to come, this site is in danger.”

“Are you ready to go back in and see how much damage we’ve sustained?”

Jack gave him a look of disbelief. “Hell, no. We’ll need to monitor what’s going on seismically in the area. If all is quiet during the night and our structural engineer gives us the go in the morning, then we can go back in.”

Domenico’s Quattroporte pulled up in the background, its headlights shining on them. Doors on both sides of it opened, and he and Farber jumped out and ran up to the rest of them. Domenico rushed to his daughter’s side, but her composure made it clear she wasn’t hurt.

“What happened?” he asked the group in general. “A collapse?”