Gift of Fire (Gift #2)

Gift of Fire (Gift #2) Page 25

Verity felt the air around her shimmer slightly. She got out of bed and pulled on her robe. "Okay, master historical scholar. What's with that section of wall?"

"I'm not sure yet. Whatever it is, it's not enough by itself to trigger a trip into the psychic corridor. But there's something here. Let's take a look behind this tapestry." He lifted the old fabric carefully and peered at the wall. "You with me?"

"I'm here." She walked over to stand near him.

"All I'm getting are a few faint vibrations. I can keep them under control."

Verity nodded and sucked her lower lip between her front teeth. She could feel herself beginning to perspire again.

Jonas put his hand flat on the wall and moved it slowly along the stone surface.

"Watch out for booby traps," Verity muttered.

"I think we'll sense them before we spring them."

"Only if they've already been sprung by some other unfortunate treasure hunter," Verity pointed out.

Jonas's psychic talent was linked to violence. If the traps had been used in a deadly manner at some point in the past, he would sense it. But if they had never been sprung, there would be no previous history of violence to alert him.

"All I'm getting is a vague feeling of danger—almost like a warning. It was the same way when I opened the stone where the crystal had been kept. It's strange, Verity. It's as if someone managed to plant mental warnings around his secrets, not just a few hidden stilettos."

His hand continued to glide over the stones. When he touched a chink in the mortar there was a distant dull thud that sounded like ancient machinery moving inside the wall. Verity shivered inside her robe.

"I think I'm onto something here," Jonas said softly.

Verity heard the controlled excitement in his voice. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I think I could get into treasure hunting. It'll never replace dishwashing as a satisfying career, but it might make a hell of an interesting hobby. What do you think?"

"I'm beginning to think I was nuts to have you take this job."

"But this is a hobby we can share together. Some people ski together; others play tennis. You and me, we'll be part-time treasure hunters."

Verity was considering the pros and cons of this when a large section of the wall creaked loudly, groaned, and then swung inward. A wave of musty air billowed out.

"Whew!" Jonas stepped back quickly.

"It smells awful in there." Verity peered into the dark passage that had been revealed. "Probably full of rats."

Jonas went back across the room and returned with the flashlight and his knife.

"What's that for?" Verity demanded, eyeing the knife.

"You never know. The door is so heavy I don't think it can close again unless it's pushed, but I'll prop this chair against it, just in case. Wouldn't want to get trapped inside this passage." He hauled a heavy chair to the opening in the wall and placed it firmly across the threshold. "All right. Stay behind me and don't touch anything."

"Don't tell me, let me guess," Verity said. "In spite of what common sense dictates, we're going to explore this secret passage, right?"

"We're after treasure, remember? This is the sort of place people bury treasure. At least, it's the sort of place they would have buried it four hundred years ago."

"Are you still getting some vibrations, Jonas?" Verity hurried over to where she had left her shoes. Jonas was already stepping into his boots and buttoning his shirt.

"All I'm getting are a lot of old echoes. Nothing specific, and nothing to worry about."

"If you say so." She followed him into the dark corridor. The passageway was narrow. The stone ceiling was just barely tall enough for her to stand upright. Jonas had to duck his head.

"Men were a little shorter four hundred years ago," he remarked.

The flashlight beam revealed an empty stone tunnel that seemed to follow the inside wall of the bedroom.

At the point where the adjoining wall connected, the interior corridor turned to follow it.

"Do you suppose this passage connects the entire villa the way the main hall does?" Verity asked.

"Possible."

"Yuck. Look at the dust." Verity lifted the hem of her nightgown and then gasped. "Jonas—look at the footprints in the dust! Someone's already been in here."

Jonas bent to examine one footprint. "There's a thick layer of dust inside it, so it's safe to say it's been a long time since someone walked through here."

"Maybe it was Digby Hazelhurst."

"Could have been. The prints are too mixed up to tell if there was more than one person in here. Digby probably made several trips down this passage once he discovered it. I'll bet he was excited." Jonas stood up and started down the corridor.

"It's cold in here. You should have brought your jacket, Jonas."

"Yes, dear." He glided on down the passageway.

Verity raised her eyes toward the dark ceiling of the stone tunnel and swallowed a retort.

"You know, I don't think I like this place, Jonas."

"Want to go back to the bedroom and wait for me?"

"No, I most certainly do not."

"Then stick close and stop complaining."

"I was not complaining. I was making an observation, and I do not want… Oops." Verity stopped and looked down.

"What's wrong?" Jonas swung around, playing the flashlight over her.

"I hit something with my foot."

"Let me see that. Looks like part of an old sword." Jonas picked up the dark, tarnished chunk of metal.

It fit into his palm as if made for it.

"Wait!" Verity cried out as the stone corridor immediately began to give way to another kind of corridor, one that she knew existed only in her mind and Jonas's.

She was too late to stop the transition. Jonas was gripping the broken sword firmly, and the walls of the psychic time tunnel coalesced around them. She held her breath as reality shifted and a second reality was superimposed on the first. When she opened her eyes she was standing beside Jonas in an endless tunnel, staring at an apparition that hovered in midair in front of them.

The image was of a grim-faced, powerfully built man who appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties. He was seated at an intricately carved wooden desk littered with ancient tomes and writing instruments. The man was dressed in a wine-colored velvet doublet and hose, and he wore a waist-length fur-trimmed cloak. Several heavily embossed rings adorned the apparition's fingers, and the hilt of a jewel-encrusted sword was just visible under the fold of his cloak.