by Cherry Adair
Sara rubbed her temple with two fingers. “I’ll come to your office at, what? About seven?”
Baltzer switched gears, the annoyance gone from his voice. “I love you, baby, and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you because I didn’t remind you to consider things carefully before you use your powers. Just promise you’ll be careful.”
“Of cour—”
Baltzer had already disconnected. “And have a nice day,” she muttered wryly.
Jack started walking back to her just as an enormous antique lantern, almost as large as Sara, materialized beside her. She sighed.
“Heads up? That’s supposed to be a freaking flashlight. Still want me to go in with you?”
Jack’s lips twitched. “Get rid of it and try again.”
A camera flashbulb appeared in her hand next.
“Three tries and you’re golden,” he promised as she shot him a see-I-told-you-so look.
A large Maglite materialized in her hand. “Eureka!” She brandished it, looking very pleased with herself. “Have weapon, will travel.”
They turned to walk side by side through the opening into the cave. “Baltzer was pulling your chain, you know.”
She heaved a lugubrious sigh. “Can we please agree to disagree? I really don’t want to hear any more of this crap about Grant. Leave him out of it. Please, Jack?”
Same song, different chorus, Jack thought bitterly. “Sure.” For now. He leaned over and kissed her, because he hadn’t in a while. He had to touch her—in case she disappeared again. But he had to be damn careful he didn’t get hooked.
What had the Book meant? All that you seek is here. Here meaning here inside the Book? Pretty frigging cryptic. Here, as in the hacienda? That could mean he was seeking Sara. Or the truth. Or Grant fucking Baltzer.
All very mysterious. But in the meantime, he had a cave to explore and a beautiful woman, his beautiful woman, to keep him company. Barring the appearance of a snake, Jack was in geologist heaven.
“Listen,” he said, pausing for a moment. The cave was much deeper than it had first appeared, as they turned a little jog and continued on.
“What? I don’t hear anything unusual.”
He smiled. “That’s the good news. No roosting guacharo. That’ll make getting back in there much easier, not to mention quieter.” The pigeon-size oilbirds usually colonized by the thousands in caves, coming out at night to feed on the abundant fruit in the rain forest. If they were in this cave, the noise at their intrusion would be deafening.
“How do you know about oilbirds?”
“I went spelunking with friends a few years back at the Guacharo Caves in the Caripe Mountains in Monagas. The most remarkable sight was at dusk, when thousands of guacharo flew out into the night, screaming overhead in a frantic flurry of wings and unholy noise. They navigate the dark using a primitive echolocation system, like bats.”
“Excellent. No birds and, more important, no foul-smelling bird crap to deal with. Hey, you don’t see any bats, do you?” Sara pulled her ball cap down tighter over her head.
“Nope.” Materializing his own large Maglite, he turned it on, aiming it into the darkness ahead. He pulled out a few toys he’d retrieved from Australia. Time to explore.
Under the optical microscope and SEM, he could see that the masses in the limestone formation were perfectly formed needles of small crystals in en echelon patterns.
He motioned to Sara. “Look at this. See here? These speleothems originated by water condensation and very slow seepage from wall fractures.”
“Uh-huh.”
“All mineral species form at normal environmental temperature and pressure, but—” He stopped and looked at her, the tone of her reply having finally registered. “You don’t give a shit about bedrock constituents, carbonates, or trace minerals, do you?”
Her teeth were very white in the glow from his Mag. “Not so much, no. But it’s fun to see you in your natural habitat.” She pointed at the wall where the crystals were clustered. “That’s pretty, but hardly the find of the century. Unless they’re diamonds?” she teased.
His wrist vibrated, and he glanced down. The bezel on his watch was rotating—confirmation from his own crystal that the small crystal cave was on the same leyline as the village and Baltzer’s hacienda. It was a miracle that it hadn’t imploded during the recent earthquake, since the fault ran so close to this particular leyline.
The hair on the back of his neck rose. On a hunch, he took his handheld out of his back pocket. “Where did you say Baltzer’s new hotels are, Sara? There’s one in San Cristóbal, right?”
“Yes. But what—” She stopped talking as he punched in the coordinates for San Cristóbal.
With a rush of anticipation, he glanced up. “How about Colombia? Where was that one again? Cali?”
“No. Santa Marta.”
“Can you hold this?” He handed her his Mag so he could use both hands. “Okay. Where else?”
“Guayaquil, Ecuador.”
He stared at the string of numbers running across the screen as they kept walking deeper, the two flashlights shining a path into the darkness. “Holy shit. Peru … Chile.” Jack stared at the stats. If he did the rest of the construction locations Sara had been listing off, he’d bet his last clean shirt they’d fit too.
“What?”
“They’re all on the same leyline.”
She paused for several beats. “And we’re back to Grant, aren’t we?”
“In a roundabout way, yeah. It is all about fucking Baltzer. Because he’s always right here between us,” Jack pointed out. “He’s always been an issue between us, Sara, and you know it. He does everything in his power to keep us apart. I know I’ve said it before, but now I really mean it: when this is all over, you’re going to have to make a choice. Him or me.”
“Right now, there is no you, Jackson. Or did you forget that? And for the record, giving me an ultimatum like that is patently unfair. It wasn’t fair before, and it sure as hell isn’t now. I’ve known him longer, loved him longer, than I have you.”
She took a few steps back. “You’re asking me to give up my past, my only family, even if it’s just a surrogate family. Other people have their families and the people they love; why can’t I?”
“Because he’s constantly driving a wedge between us in an underhanded, insidious way. Because he and I dislike each other intensely. Because, goddamn it, I’m asking you—hell, begging you—to choose.”
“I’ll give you the same answer I did the last time we had this conversation. No. You can’t have all the crayons in the box just because you don’t want to share.”
“I hope to hell that you come to your senses before Baltzer forces everything you give a damn about out of your life so he can have you all to himself.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. My God, Jackson. Grant is like an uncle to me.”
“Then you haven’t seen his damned eyes when he looks at you. All he needs is chocolate sauce, and he’d eat you with a spoon.”
“Shut up, Jack.” Her voice shook with anger. “Just shut up.”
He was so pissed he didn’t notice the steep ledge ahead until his foot went over.
“Jack!” Sara grabbed his arm. “Watch out!”
He corrected his balance, squinting against the beam of light from Sara’s Mag. “Put that damned thing away, would you plea—”
The floor at his feet fell away into a drop he hadn’t seen. Across the gap, the cave ended at a solid rock face. The mountain was plenty deep enough to support a cave a hundred times this size beyond that blank wall. All he had to do was find a way in.
Christ, he thought suddenly. Was he going nuts connecting dots that really had nothing to do with one another? But what if he was right? Was Sarulu linked to Ophidian? Had he stumbled across the Omnivatic’s portal? His heartbeat did double time. He had to find a way across the gap. He stepped back and peered down, focusing his flashlight into the deep darkness to s
ee just how far down the drop extended.
Below, the floor seemed to undulate and move. “What the hell is that?”
Sara moved her light to look. He wished she hadn’t. She sucked in a scream. “Snakes—hundreds of snakes.”
An icy flash of fear froze Jack solid.
The ledge he was standing on gave way.
He tumbled down the rocky, crystal-strewn slope and landed in something soft. And it was moving. Jack yelled. Snakes, dozens of them, writhed and twisted around him, on him, over him, under him. He fought to breathe. Struggled to think.
Above his head, Sara screamed, “Jack! Teleport!”
He was immobilized by fear. As the fucking snakes slithered around him, he sank deeper and deeper; they wiggled over his chest and coiled about his arms and legs.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck!
Sara! Jesus. Sara. The thought of her in danger freed him from the spell, and he tossed a handful of snakes aside. “Get back. Move away from the edge. You aren’t going to do me any good if you’re down here too.” He attempted to shimmer. Nothing. He tried again. Nada.
Damn it to hell. He wasn’t going to stick around while he kept trying. He fought his way up from the moving snakes, pulling them off and ignoring the painful bites. Crawling up the slope, he was shaking and sweating, not from mere exertion but from gut-deep fear. It was every bit as terrifying as he remembered from his childhood. Down in the darkness of the ravine, he’d thought he’d die. Now he knew better, but it still scared the hell out of him, and he didn’t want Sara anywhere close to it.
He focused on Sara, homed in on the pulsing beat of her heart, her unique wizard signature, and dug into the slope with his bare hands until he managed to get his shit together and teleport back to where she was.
He lay there panting, his feet still dangling over the edge of the cliff and the pit full of snakes.
Sara fell to her knees beside him. “Oh, my God. Jack, speak to me. Are you okay?”
He rolled over. He wanted to puke. “Did I mention I hate snakes?”
image
SARA AND WILLIAM ROE, the company’s project manager, sat in a small restaurant across the street from the Lima construction site. Though shorter than Grant, William had warm brownish-topaz eyes and well-groomed light brown hair. Like Grant, he dressed well, but wasn’t quite as conservative. His great smile was bracketed by dimples that made him look boyish and trustworthy, both of which he was.
But as fond as Sara was of him, William didn’t light any of the fires Grant kept trying to add fuel to.
“Want a drink while we wait?”
She shook her head. “Water’s fine for now.” She glanced out of the picture window beside their table and people-watched.
Wearing a fitted black-and-white raw-silk jacket, a short white skirt, and a black scoop-neck silk shell, she felt cool, professional, and girded to deal with the architect.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Jack falling into those damned snakes right in the middle of their argument. That was no coincidence. Nobody would consider that a coincidence. Her temper had caused both the accident and his fall into what he feared most. He’d been so terrified he’d been incapable of teleportation.
Her temper had almost gotten Jack killed.
She rubbed the pain in her temple. Despite the sun shining through the window, she shivered, ice cold all over.
The fourteen-story, two-hundred-room Lima Resort Hotel was almost complete. The area was frequently covered with coastal fog, but today the hotel’s gleaming bronze-marble façade looked simply stunning in the sunlight. It gave her a thrill of accomplishment, knowing she’d had a hand in creating such beauty.
The four penthouse condos had been sold before they poured the foundation of the hotel, and they already had 70 percent occupancy for the opening week.
But her mind wasn’t there. It was back at the hacienda where she’d left Jack. He’d tumbled into the shower then fallen onto her bed and nearly passed out. She’d called Dr. de Canizales to come check on him, then treated what she could of his cuts, bruises, and bites before the doctor arrived.
The doctor had assured her Jack would be fine. The snakes had not been poisonous, and Jack was a fast healer.
It had been hard kissing him good-bye as he slept.
Jack didn’t just dislike snakes; he was genuinely terrified of them. And God only knew, after her firsthand experience, she didn’t blame him one bit.
She’d asked both Carmelita and Pia to check on him every hour or so while she was gone, and to make absolutely, positively sure that Harry didn’t manage to get into her room.
“Penny for your thoughts, beautiful?”
Sara smiled at William. “They’re worth at least a dollar. I was just deciding how to handle this situation with Aarón.”
“I could—”
“Thanks. But I need to deal with him. You just sit there as my moral support.”
“I feel very decorative,” he teased, and Sara smiled, then took a sip of her water.
This project had gone surprisingly smoothly. It was the hotel in Chile that was causing them all sorts of headaches. Hence the meeting with the project architect, Aarón Guerrero. He didn’t take suggestions well, but since Sara had worked with Grant and William for twelve years, she knew what they liked and what they didn’t.
She was also confident in her own abilities as a designer. Unfortunately for Aarón, the buck stopped with her. The partners each had their own divisions and responsibilities with the company. The architecture and design of the hotels, inside and out, was her baby.
Aarón didn’t like working for a woman, and his chauvinism showed. He balked at requests, flat-out refused to compromise once he’d decided on something, and was an aesthetic pain in Sara’s butt. He was also brilliant and worth every penny of his exorbitant paycheck, and the only architect she wanted for their hotels.
Stalemate.
“You think treating him to a nice lunch is going to convince Guerrero to place your spa on the roof?” William asked.
The rooftop spa was a pet project of Sara’s. The architect insisted that the lavish spa be placed discreetly at the rear of the hotel with a view of the sumptuous gardens and waterfalls. Sara wanted it to take up the entire rooftop, and envisioned lush tropical foliage, outdoor massage tables, and a small, exclusive restaurant—all of which would serve as a nightclub after hours.
“I think telling him that checks don’t write themselves and that I’m not feeling inclined to write one if he’s not inclined to put my spa on the roof might work better,” Sara said dryly, taking a sip of her water. Sometimes she found being diplomatic exhausting. “Of course, given how he feels about having to work with a mujer, he likely won’t take the threat seriously unless it comes from one of you.”
William looked at his Patek Philippe with annoyance. “He’s unconscionably late.”
Sara had known William almost as long as she’d known Grant, but not as well. He was younger than Grant by about a decade.
Grant had tried to play matchmaker between them on numerous occasions, and while William was pleasant in a stiff, British sort of way, he wasn’t Jack. Jack had a healthy glow from being out of doors, whereas William’s pale skin had a tendency to turn very pink when he was annoyed, which he was now.
“If he isn’t here in five minutes, let’s order,” Sara told him. She was starving, and equally annoyed that the architect had already kept them waiting for forty-five minutes.
“Perhaps he rang,” William offered in his mild British-accented voice. “You should check again.”
Sara glanced at her phone, which she’d left on the table the last time she checked. “No message.”
“Bugger it.” He hailed the waiter, and they placed their orders.
“Will you have time to do a walk-through this afternoon?” William asked, tearing a roll into pieces on his side plate. “The bathroom fittings have all been installed, and the spa is being plumbed this week. You were spot-on about that
bronze wallpaper in the lobby bar, by the way. Worth every bloody penny, now that I see it installed.”
Sara smiled. “Can I have that in writing for the next time you threaten to have a heart attack when I show you an invoice?”
“Show me results like that, and I assure you, you won’t have another battle next time you exceed your budget by forty-six percent.” William’s lips stretched into a sly smile. When he reached out and covered Sara’s hand with his, she wasn’t surprised. Grant must have been encouraging him to pursue her again. “You’ve become a remarkable asset to us, Sara. I hope you’re happy and content in your work.”
She tried to extricate her hand, but although he wasn’t gripping her fingers, he wasn’t letting go either. He was nothing if not persistent. “I love what I do, you know that.” She pointedly glanced at his hand on hers. His skin was smooth, his nails well-manicured. His blunt fingers began swirling a pattern on her wrist.
“I love the bread here. How are the rolls today?” And could you let go of my hand so I can—Sara looked into William’s face and saw not the unusual topaz eyes staring back at her, but yellow eyes with elliptical pupils focused so intently on her she knew he was reading her soul.
Hot and cold prickles flooded her body, and she let out a low gasp of distress, shoving her chair back.
Chapter Fifteen
Sara? What’s the matter? Are you all right, my dear?”
She blinked, and William’s concerned topaz eyes looked back at her. God. She’d had a flashback to Sarulu. Sara rubbed her temples with shaking fingers.
“Sorry. I’m fine, really. I just thought of something I need to take care of before I leave today. I wish Aarón would either call to cancel or show up.”
“Well, at least we’re making very good progress here,” William said smoothly, unaware that he’d freaked her out on several levels. “I wish I could say the same for the Punta Arenas property,” he told Sara with a deep frown as he buttered his roll. “The labor strike there has already delayed the pouring of the concrete three weeks and put us behind on the entire project by a good month.”