by Lisa Kessler
He turned the camera around, walking closer to Harmony. She struggled against the bindings and the gag in her mouth.
John’s heart twisted at the sight, his hands instinctively tightening into fists as rage bubbled in his gut. His crew let the authorities handle Trumain the last time he interfered. John would see that the crew had a more permanent solution this time.
Trumain tsked at Harmony. “The more you struggle, the more oxygen you waste. Pace yourself.”
He turned the phone back to his face, eyes narrowing. “Tick tock, pirate.”
The video ended, and his stomach turned. He lifted his gaze to the others. “I’ll contact Agent Bale about the box, but my confidence isn’t high he’ll return it. He’d love nothing more than to hurt the Digi Robins.”
Colton cleared his throat. “Send the video to Bale. Maybe he has some magical tools that could help us figure out where they are.” Colton paused and added, “Send it to Skye, too. Maybe she’ll see something in the room that might be familiar. She could get one of her psychic visions that could help us.”
“Good idea.” He forwarded the video to Skye, but decided to wait until he spoke with Agent Bale before sending it along. John looked over at Keegan and Char. “If they have limited oxygen, he wouldn’t stay with them. Maybe you could use your gift to find Trumain?”
Char nodded. “I’ll try, but if he uses one of his barriers—”
“Just try, please.” John passed by all of them on the stairs. “I’m going to contact Agent Bale. Let me know if you get a lead on their location or on Trumain. If we can find the bastard, we can make him talk.”
John stormed out of the house and back to his car. Inside, he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, his frustration bordering on uncontrollable. He pressed Bale’s name on his contact list and waited.
“This is Agent Bale.”
“It’s John Smyth. We’ve got a problem.” John watched the others going back to the SUV.
“With?”
“I need to borrow Pandora’s box again.”
“That’s not how this works.” Agent Bale lowered his voice. “Besides, it’s already in the vault. This isn’t a library. I can’t go check out dangerous paranormal artifacts.”
John sucked in a slow breath and explained to Bale how he’d convinced Harmony to return the Digi Robins’ prize to him by promising her a replica of the box for them to sell.
“Let me get this straight. You helped that thief attempt to swindle a black-market artifact dealer, and now you want me to bail her out?” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Not happening, John. Sorry.”
“She’s still an American citizen,” John growled. “I thought your job is to protect them.”
“I can’t protect them from their own greed.”
John’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Trumain sent me a video from the place he’s trapped them. You must have software that can recognize where they are, right?”
Bale cursed under his breath. “As long as you understand I’m not bringing you the box. Forward me the video. We’ve got magic-imbued programs. I might be able to get you the location where he’s holding her.”
John’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I’ll send it now. Thank you.”
He sent it. Waiting on help from others was quickly driving him apeshit. He needed to do something. His tires squealed as he made a U-turn, speeding toward his office.
After Trumain lost his job at the Maritime Museum and since his brief stint in a mental institution, there was no way he had the funds to transfer to the Digi Robins for the box. Someone was backing him.
And if anyone knew how to follow the money—it was John Smyth.
…
David raked his fingers through his hair, watching the video one more time. He paused it when the camera panned across the male dangling from a hook by his wrists.
Christopher Bale.
Fuck. He paced the room. He couldn’t look the other way and let the kid die. But he also couldn’t justify retrieving Pandora’s box from the vault without revealing his conflict of interest to the department. Another agent would be assigned lead on this one, and if they went by the book, Christopher would die. There was no justification for taking such a huge risk. The needs of the American people outweighed the needs of two thieves from the Digi Robins.
Even if one of them was related to him.
He reached for the phone on his desk and hit King’s number on the intercom. “Any luck on a location from that video?”
Kingsley’s clipped accent made it impossible to miss his annoyance. “I told you I’d call the moment I had something. Perhaps my English wasn’t clear?”
David rolled his eyes. “Lives are on the line. What do you know so far?”
“Well.” King cleared his throat. “It appears to be a chapel, but the algorithm has searched through thousands of digital images of churches in the area, and none of them match. Are you sure he couldn’t have flown them out of state?”
“There wasn’t time. They have to be within an hour of Savannah.” He shook his head. “Keep looking.”
David ended the call and headed for the vault. It was a long shot, but maybe the damned box could tell him something.
…
Trumain ended the video and pocketed Harmony’s phone. “I better keep this so your pirate can reach me when he has the real box.”
He removed Harmony’s gag. She pulled in a breath to scream, but Trumain pressed his finger to her lips. “Don’t waste your oxygen. No one will hear you, anyway.”
Trumain moved over to Tuck and released his gag, too.
He coughed. “Get me the fuck down. This wasn’t our deal.”
What deal? Harmony frowned. What the hell was he talking about?
Trumain chuckled. “I was hired to test a relic, and the bulk of my fee won’t be realized until I deliver. You were never a part of it.”
“I am it. Cut me down. Now!”
“Tuck.” Harmony swung her feet, trying to see around Trumain. “What are you doing?”
Trumain walked away into the pews and returned with two plastic five-gallon paint buckets. He turned one over and placed it under Harmony’s feet. It wasn’t tall enough to give her much slack on her wrists, but it immediately relieved the pressure in her ribs from hanging.
“Don’t look so surprised.” He looked up at her. “I’m not a murderer.”
“But you’re fine with leaving us here to suffocate?”
He shrugged. “That’ll be on the pirate and the government agent. I have every intention of revealing your whereabouts if they deliver the real box.”
As soon as Trumain placed the bucket under Tuck’s feet, Tuck tugged on his bindings. “Get my phone out of my pocket. I can prove it to you. The Glasser Foundation that hired you and made the money transfer is mine.”
“Wait.” Harmony blinked, putting puzzle pieces together. “Glasser was the front business we were using to try to get Privateer Capital to invest.” Her pulse surged. “That money was supposed to be used to upgrade our software.”
Holy shit. Her eyes widened as the realization sank in. Tuck had used John’s money to hire Trumain to “buy” the box. Why?
Because Trumain had the spell to open it.
Damn it. This was all her fault. She’d convinced John, made him believe in her cause.
Trumain patted Tuck’s leg. “Tell me, did you honestly think I would hand over the box of the evils of the world for money?” He backhanded Tuck across the face. His snake ring cut into Tuck’s cheek, drawing blood. “It’s much too powerful to leave in the hands of humanity. It will go back to the gods and open the door to Eden.”
“Obviously the psych hospital didn’t help your delusions.” Harmony immediately regretted her words as Trumain came closer. Would he smack her, too?
His fingers twitched at his sides, but he didn’t raise his hand. The corners of his mouth curved. “I wasn’t a true believer in the beginning, either. But take my word for i
t, the Serpent Society has recovered enough of the biblical relics to convince even a jaded realist like me. A reckoning is coming.”
He turned, taking out a rusted skeleton key. “I hope for your sakes the pirate brings me the box, but if not…Godspeed.”
His footsteps grew distant as he disappeared up the stairs, leaving them behind in the depths. The screech of an iron door pierced her ears and briefly flooded the dank room with fresh air.
And then…silence.
“Marian?”
She opened her eyes. “No sense hiding anymore, right? My name is Harmony Andrews.”
“Guess not.” He shifted his weight on the bucket. “I’m Chris Bale.”
She frowned. “Bale? As in B-A-L-E?”
“Yeah.”
That was why he looked so familiar when she first met him at the warehouse in Darien. But Agent Bale couldn’t have been much older than Chris. “I think I might know your older brother.”
“Nah, I’m the oldest—I was.”
“Maybe he’s your cousin. I don’t know. He works for the government. Agent Bale is the one who took Pandora’s box from me.”
“We’re screwed.” He coughed. “If the box has already been logged into their inventory, even if they wanted to swap it for our lives, there’s no way they’d be able to cut through the red tape before our air runs out, whether I was a relative or not.”
She clenched her jaw, blinking hard to keep the tears at bay. “We’re not dying today.”
Damn, she wished John was here with one of his infuriating plans along with a backup plan in the wings. But for now—she was on her own.
…
John clicked through investment accounts, searching for any large transfers in the past forty-eight hours and trying not to keep glancing at the clock. Each passing minute slipped through his fingers like sand, leading him closer to the realization that Harmony could slip through his fingers just as easily.
His own name came up in his search. He’d transferred the money to upgrade the Digi Robins’ software into the front company Harmony had set up, the Glasser Foundation. Software wasn’t going to help them now.
He tapped his finger on the mouse and opened the Glasser Foundation account. The funds had transferred in and back out again. He’d expected as much. But when he clicked on the disbursement, his eyes narrowed.
Bile bubbled in the back of his throat as he stared at the name on the account.
Dr. Bruce Trumain.
John rolled his chair away from his desk and got up, pacing the length of his office. This had all been a clever scam. Harmony wasn’t falling for him. She was using him. He replayed the events in his mind. She’d stolen the box, but they couldn’t open it, and they didn’t have the money to pay Trumain to open it for them.
When he kept denying the investment in Glasser, she must’ve tried another angle. Seduction. And he took the bait like a hungry tuna.
But the Digi Robins must not have known about Trumain’s connection to the Serpent Society. The ancient group collected powerful relics in an effort to appease God and gain reentry to Eden. If he got his hands on Pandora’s box, no amount of money was going to convince him to turn it over.
But if she’d wanted Trumain to open the box, why present him with a fake one?
His answer came almost as quickly as the question. She was betting his feelings for her were real. Real enough for John to find a way to convince Agent Bale to return the real box. She would appear to be the victim. No charges from the government, and—and why would the Digi Robins want to unleash the evils of the world? It didn’t make sense.
He took out his phone and pulled up her hurried text. The one before the video.
Exchange is ducked. He knows its faked.
If the entire meeting had been a front for her kidnapping, why send this rushed text? The video would’ve been sufficient.
None of this made sense. He cursed under his breath, no longer certain of anything.
Nothing was as it seemed, and as real as his feelings for her were, he wasn’t sure he could trust her. Not anymore.
Chapter Twenty-One
David hurried down the silent aisles of the warehouse toward crate #999666. The whispers assaulted his ears as he turned the final corner. By the time he stood in front of the shelf, words were discernable through the hiss.
Freeeeeeee ussssssssss. We can save himmmmmm. Save youuuuuu.
“First tell me where he is.” The whispers ceased, wrapping him in sudden, deafening silence. David cleared his throat. “If you really can help, then you must know where to find him.”
Still nothing. Shit. This was getting him nowhere. He rubbed his forehead, dreading his next move. There didn’t seem to be another way around it. He needed to bring the box to the rendezvous with Trumain. If he didn’t, he’d be condemning Chris to die.
Unless King finally got a match on the location, or this damned cursed box gave him an answer. Why would the box want to help Chris, anyway?
David blinked, answering his own question. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Chris promised to open the lid, didn’t he?”
Suddenly, David’s ears buzzed like he was standing beside a hornet’s nest.
Heeeeeee found a man to help ussssssss. He hasssss the key to open the box.
Trumain.
Shit. With Trumain’s connection to the Serpent Society, there was a high level of probability the historian might actually have a key or a ritual or a chant. Fuck. There was no way David could risk bringing the box to a meeting.
He’d have to find another way to save Chris.
David stared at the crate. “What did you promise Chris if he got the box open?”
Department Thirteeeeeeeeeen.
David spun on his heels, his pulse thumping in his ears as he exited the warehouse. When he’d ambushed Chris earlier, the kid seemed shocked. Could it have all been an act? Chris couldn’t possibly know about Department 13.
As the lead-lined warehouse door lowered, Heather’s advice echoed through his head. Evil lies.
But what if the box wasn’t the only evil one in this equation?
…
Without sunlight coming through the windows, Harmony had no way to measure how much time had passed, but judging by the throbbing ache in her shoulders and the tingling in her cold hands, they’d been tied up for more than an hour.
Either way, she’d had plenty of time to stew on the bitterness simmering in her belly, and lack of oxygen or not, she couldn’t hold it inside any longer. Wiggling her fingers, she turned her head toward Tuck. “Why didn’t you tell me about the deal you made with Trumain? I thought that money from John was for security software.”
He lifted his head. “We had another buyer who would give us twice as much if we could open the box.”
“Bullshit.” She rolled her eyes. “You know damned well if someone opens that thing the world as we know it is screwed.”
“Fine. No more lies.” His gaze met hers. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face. He swallowed, his voice raw. “The box made me promises. Didn’t see this twist coming, though. I didn’t know Trumain was…trying to get back into Eden.”
“If John finds the transfer records for the Glasser Foundation…” Her heart sank. “He’ll think I was in on this.”
Chris shook his head. “This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to play out.”
“Is that an apology?” She narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute. You were the one who gave me the lead on the box at the dock in the first place. How did you know Department 13 had it? And don’t try to say the box told you, because we didn’t even have it yet.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Harmony would’ve kicked him if she could’ve reached. “Give me a break. What’s the point of secrets now?”
He smirked, and in the dim lantern light, his eyes went cold and distant. “You must be pretty convinced we’re dying here, but I’m not going to monologue away our air.” He tugged at the bindings over his head
. “Short answer, I’ve heard of Agent Bale. I finally got to meet him earlier today when he tried to convince me to leave the Digi Robins. So, if your pirate doesn’t care about you as much as you think he does, maybe my great-great-uncle will use one of his magic trinkets from Department 13 and save the day.”
“Agent Bale’s not much older than you. No way he’s your uncle, let alone your great-great-uncle.” She moved her hands again, hoping to keep the blood flowing. “We won’t need Bale, anyway. John will find me. Trumain sent him that video with my phone. John won’t stop until I’m free.”
Chris chuffed. “Your heart is doing all the talking. Use your head. Where do you think we are right now?”
“A chapel.” She scanned the dust and cobwebs. There were eight pews, four on each side with a narrow aisle down the middle. She twisted on the bucket. Behind them was a visage of Christ, bleeding on a cross and wearing a crown of thorns. “An old, very dusty chapel.”
“Yeah. No one’s been here in…” His words drifted off as he stared into the shadows.
She followed his gaze to the other end of the small room. On the far wall were square engraved plaques. The largest was in the center. She squinted. “Noble W. Jones?”
“Fuck.” Tuck jerked the bindings above his head, but the hook didn’t budge from the massive oak beam. “This is a tomb. He buried us alive, Harmony. The Noble Jones plot had an underground chapel inside the Bonaventure Cemetery.” His voice wobbled. “We’re at least ten feet under.”
She struggled to keep her breathing slow and even as panic dragged a cold fingernail down her spine. “But it’s…a chapel.”
“Some of Savannah’s old money, including Noble Jones, built underground chapels in the 1800s to hold private family services and keep people from seeing the jewelry being buried with the dead.”
Harmony closed her eyes, willing her heart to slow. Claustrophobia choked her lungs until her chest rose and fell with shallow pants.