Authors: Lynn Viehl
Maria Salza at the Center for Archaeological Studies in Rome issued this statement: “We extend our heartfelt sympathies to the families of the young Americans who lost their lives in this terrible tragedy.”
According to witnesses, the students and their instructor had just entered the tunnel to retrieve some equipment when the collapse occurred. Although in the first hours after the collapse rescue workers held out hope of finding survivors, subsequent inspection of the site with specialized equipment revealed all of those who were caught in the collapse were killed instantly.
Workers have now begun the grim task of digging out the tunnel to recover the bodies and determine the cause of the tragic accident. An international search-and-rescue team provided by American biotech corporation GenHance, Inc., will be arriving this afternoon to provide their assistance.
“Our people will do whatever it takes to help with the recovery efforts,” GenHance CEO Jonah Genaro told reporters. “We will also be bringing home the victims of this terrible tragedy. It’s the least we can do for their families and loved ones.”
Police are still interviewing witnesses, many of whom claim they heard an explosion just before the tunnel collapsed.
She guessed Matthias didn’t want her helping herself to Rowan’s knives or the computer system, but she didn’t understand why the library had been made off-limits. Antique furniture and old books weren’t much of a threat—unless they were concealing something else.
If I had to protect sensitive information,
Jessa thought,
I certainly wouldn’t hide it in a filing cabinet.
Nothing told her where she was, except that she was obviously underground. She had to move carefully to prevent her footsteps from echoing, and the thick concrete sides of the tunnels and the absence of windows gave the place a cavelike feel. She was glad she’d never developed any form of claustrophobia, or she would have been climbing the walls by now.
None of what she saw looked new; from the stains, cracks, and condition of the concrete she guessed it was at least thirty or forty years old. She’d heard stories from her father about nuclear attack shelters that many paranoid American citizens had built during the Cold War era; for a time it had been quite a trend to have a bomb shelter in the backyard.
Was this place one of them? If it were, why would Matthias have installed a fireplace? The smoke had to be channeled up to the surface through a chimney or ventilation system, or he and Rowan would have suffocated. How was he dispersing the smoke without revealing the presence of his secret bunker?
She stopped in her tracks as she remembered something Matthias had said:
GenHance wants your ability. To have it, they must harvest it from your body.
Was this some sort of research laboratory, like the underground facilities Paracelsus had discovered during his searches for evidence about their past? Had she been brought here to be experimented on again?
Jessa went to the next door, tried it, and found it unlocked. When she looked inside, however, she didn’t see test beakers, Bunsen burners, or medical equipment. She saw big, comfortable-looking pillows scattered on the floor and three tiers of wall-to-wall shelving. Thin, brightly colored books stood in neat rows, arranged by height, and stretched the length of each shelf. She moved into the room, went to the nearest shelf, and took down one of the books.
The colorful front cover read
DK Eyewitness Books
and
Space Exploration
and featured a bird’s-eye view of an astronaut in a space suit standing in the open cargo bay of the space shuttle with Earth looming like a giant behind him.
What was Matthias doing with a book that was published for children?
She replaced the book, which was one of more than a hundred DK books on the shelf. Beside them were more picture books, ranging from
Old Penn Station
by William Low to
The Story of Negro League Baseball
by Kadir Nelson. All of the books featured exceptionally vivid illustrations paired with simple text, and all seemed to be about every subject under the sun, from travel to history to biographies of famous people. All had been read many times, judging by the dings to the covers and the faint cracks on the spines.
As harmless as they seemed, the books didn’t comfort her. If Matthias and Rowan had brought children down here …
She backed out of the room and closed the door. She couldn’t bring herself to believe they were involved with the doctors who had experimented on her and the other Takyn when they were children, or that the experiments were still ongoing. Paracelsus and Vulcan would have found some evidence of it.
She checked several other rooms, bracing herself each time as she expected the worst, only to find the most innocuous of discoveries: closets packed with collections of old radios, calculators, small electric motors, and lamps. In the next room she found a collection of fifty different folding chairs neatly arranged in concentric circles, and in another she wandered through a maze of stereo equipment. None of what she saw made sense to her; if Matthias were collecting these things, he didn’t seem to care what they were worth. He displayed rare antiques next to yard-sale finds.
Her search also made her realize that Matthias was fond of very old weaponry, which he displayed in several locked collectors’ cases hung throughout the tunnels. Most were some form of dagger or short sword, but there were two cases of antique pistols and one large collection of spiked hammers and maces. Each weapon had the marks of age and care; most had been carefully polished to a weathered gleam. The pristine condition of the blades reminded her of the old bronze sword in the glass case over the library fireplace. He had never cleaned that one, she guessed, not with the dark bloodstains streaking the ancient metal.
She wanted to ask Matthias why he was collecting things in such odd ways, and then she turned a corner and picked up a trace of his scent on the air. Everything seemed slightly magnified in this place; the smells seemed to be much sharper and more pervasive. But by following Matthias’s scent she was able to locate his room, and after listening at the door for some time she decided to look inside.
As soon as she saw his bare body stretched out on the camp bed she should have backed out and left, but he didn’t wake, and she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to search his room. He kept almost nothing in the small chamber, which made it obvious he came here only to sleep. After moving quietly around the interior, she stooped to glance under the thin and uncomfortable-looking mattress upon which he slept, but found nothing, not even dust bunnies.
She stood and looked down at him. Asleep he should have looked younger or vulnerable, but his strong, handsome features appeared unchanged. Only when he smiled, she decided, did he change into someone less godlike.
For the first time she wondered whether he were one of the Takyn, and didn’t yet realize who she was. They had been so adept and thorough at concealing their exact abilities as well as their identities that she had no way of recognizing one of her friends in the flesh, unless …
At some point during the experiments that had been performed on them, each of the Takyn had been tattooed with the image of an animal. After searching one of the abandoned facilities, Paracelsus had told the group that the doctors had used the tattoos to name them as well as classify their abilities. Aphrodite had suggested it might be better for all of them if they kept their tats under wraps, but Jessa had taken the extra step of having her own removed, which had taken several months and many painful treatments.
She reached down, bracing herself before she ran her fingertips quickly across the inside of his wrist, feeling it for the telltale texture left behind by laser treatments. Fortunately the shadowlight didn’t take her, and all she felt was smooth skin over dense muscle. His other wrist proved to be just as unmarked.
Jessa straightened and bit at her bottom lip. Some of the others hadn’t been marked on the wrists or arms; Delilah said her tattoo had been placed in an unmentionable area, while Paracelsus complained of always having to keep his shirt buttoned to the collar to cover the ink on his collarbones.
Matthias moved, making her catch her breath and freeze in place, but he only turned over onto his side and settled back into sleep.
He
was
marked.
Jessa stared down at the snake tattoo, wound in the shape of a sideways figure eight, that had been inked into the side of his throat. The only color used had been black, but the work was particularly detailed; she could count the tiny individual scales along the entire body, and counted three mock lights reflected in the reptile’s single eye. The snake was depicted as biting—no, devouring—its own tail.
She knew enough about symbolism to recall that the snake eating itself represented infinity.
What do you think should last forever?
She didn’t meant to touch the tattoo, but something about it drew her fingers like a magnet. Only after a minute had passed did she realize something else—sometimes she could get away with a quick touch, but extended or repeated contact with anyone always triggered her ability. Yet touching Matthias like this was not sending her into the shadowlight.
Surviving a blizzard and an avalanche isn’t a sin,
she thought, shivering a little as she remembered the brutal cold he had endured.
Why would such a terrifying experience make you feel guilty or ashamed?
Curious as she was to discover the reason he felt guilt and shame over his ordeal, Jessa had to be practical. The snake didn’t prove anything except that Matthias had been tattooed sometime in the past. If she were going to believe his story about the Kyndred and being part of some rescue operation, she’d need more to go on than a mark on his neck.
Although she tried several times to find it, Jessa couldn’t locate the security hatch Matthias had shown her. She felt sure she was moving through the correct tunnels, but found herself reaching only one dead end after another. Exhaustion began to tug at her feet, and reluctantly she returned to the room he had given her.
The door didn’t have a lock on the inside or outside, so she took the straight-backed chair sitting beside the washbasin and propped it under the knob. It was too flimsy to keep the door shut for long, but if someone came in, the sound of it falling would wake her.
Normally she slept nude—another habit she and Matthias shared—but she kept her clothes and shoes on as she curled up on the bed. When the opportunity to escape came, she thought as she closed her eyes, she had to be ready.
Jessa fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, and she was so tired she didn’t expect to dream. Yet when oblivion overtook her, she felt herself drawn through the darkness back to more familiar surroundings: her bedroom in her apartment.
She stood beside her bed and saw someone in it, covered by her sheets. On one level she knew she was seeing herself in the past, but the shape under the linens seemed wrong. It was bigger and wider than it should have been.
Carefully she reached out to draw back the sheet, and went still as a large, hard hand caught her wrist and pulled her down on top of the body. Another male hand pushed aside the linen to reveal Matthias’s face.
“This isn’t real.” She rolled off him onto her side. “This never happened.”
“I watched you.” His gilded jade eyes shifted as he looked at her skylight. “From there.”
Jessa glanced up. “From the roof?” He nodded. “Why?”
“I wanted to see you.” His fingers smoothed a piece of hair back from her face. “You were restless that night.”
“I have trouble falling asleep,” she admitted, placing her hand on his hip as if it were perfectly natural. She remembered what she usually did when she was restless and groaned a little. “You saw what I did?”
“I did. You were beautiful.” He brushed a fingertip against the fringe of her lower lashes. “I wanted so much to come inside.” His fingertips moved down to rub across her lower lip. “You brought me pleasure that night. Watching you, I shared yours.”
“This is a dream.” She ran her palm up to his waist, and then over the corded, unyielding muscles of his abdomen. “None of this is really happening.”
He seemed amused now. “And if some of it did?”
Jessa buried her face against his chest and laughed. “I think I just got even.” As she spoke, her mouth brushed against his skin, and she felt his body tighten. “God, this feels so real.”
“It can be.” His hand cradled the back of her head as his other arm curled around her, urging her closer. “Between us, it can be everything you’ve imagined and more.”
“I can’t even bump into a stranger without seeing the ugliness that they hide inside. Now I’m touching you, and all I see is you.” Jessa lifted her face. “Who are you, and why are you in my dream?”
“The gods brought us together,” he murmured as he bent his head. “Nothing will keep us apart.”
Before Matthias’s mouth touched hers, Jessa woke to the feel of something prodding her in the shoulder. She opened her eyes, expecting to see him, but only Rowan’s scowling face hovered above her.
“Let’s go, Queenie,” the girl said. She was nudging her with a wooden spoon. “Come on, wake up. I haven’t got all day.”
Jessa sat up and blinked. “What time is it?”
“Breakfast time.” Rowan thumped a tray filled with food onto the end of the bed. “French toast with almond butter, sliced peaches, and black coffee.” She took a neatly folded pile of garments from under her arm and dropped them next to the tray. “Clean underwear and clothes, brand-new and in your sizes. Before you ask, I was the one who checked your labels while you were napping yesterday.”
“Thank you,” Jessa said.
“Bring the tray back to the kitchen when you’re done. If you want a shower, your bathroom is at the end of the hall on the right. The hot water lasts about five minutes, so I’d make it fast.”
Jessa eyed the chair, which was back in its original place by the basin. How had Rowan dislodged it and put it back without waking her? Or had Matthias come in and … She wanted to crawl under the bed now. “Did he come in here to check on me?”
Rowan arched her brows. “I cook for him, Queenie; I don’t keep a GPS on him.”