I waded through the ferns to where an alien emerald-green glow beamed into the night. The moment I picked up the phone, it started talking in a computer-generated version of Evan’s voice: “GPS activated. Proceed to left. Follow route outlined on the screen.”
“Where am I going?” I asked.
“Return to house,” it said.
“I’m not returning to the house without that child,” I said.
“Return to house,” it repeated.
Damn.
Stepping forward, I brushed through the undergrowth following the red directional arrows on the screen until I realized that there was a path there all along, overgrown, perhaps, but there. After climbing up a set of stone steps, I was back on the lawn, delirious with relief.
A light beaming far ahead sent me running. A black shape loomed against a starry sky as my light picked up gleaming scales—the dragon fountain. Draggy!
In seconds, I was dashing around the base, beaming my phone on the marble foundation. An entrance to the tunnels lay below this fountain so maybe they—surely that dark shadow thing was part of a they—had taken her that way, deep underground where her father had died months before.
And then I saw it: an opening under the fountain, just a dark rectangular door with a light glowing deep inside the tunnel’s throat. Someone was definitely in there. I scrambled down the narrow steps and froze. It was could be a trap. And if I did encounter the kidnappers, what was I going to fight them with—my bare hands, feet, what? Here I was barefoot, wearing nothing but a ragged sleep shirt. Even with martial arts, I needed help.
I pressed the speed dial again but the phone kept pulsing red with the mechanical Evan repeating, “Return to the house, return to house.”
I held it up. “Shut up,” I whispered.
The phone shut up.
“Engage taser app,” I ordered.
“Taser app engaged.”
“Keep flashlight on.”
“Flashlight on.”
“Send message to Evan that I am under the dragon fountain.”
“Message sent.”
Now we’re talking. I took a step down, looking around for another weapon that didn’t require me getting too close to the monsters. I didn’t have time to scan the app menu.
A bare earthen floor and a pile of loose rocks on one side offered the only options. I picked up a stone, holding it high in my other hand. There was some kind of stationary light straight ahead, a lantern, maybe. That’s what I’d follow, not that there was any place to hide, not that they wouldn’t see me coming, but a child could be trapped down there.
Several yards farther and the ground dipped. The corridor widened and there was a bright yellow reflective barrier to my right, broken as if by an ax. There’d be a fissure behind that. I didn’t need to see it to feel it yawning. Electric lanterns lit the way as far as I could see.
And then it was if a hunk of clotted shadow detached from the wall and came toward me in a football tackle. I brought the rock smashing down onto his back while my other hand tried to zap him with the taser but missed. He knocked my phone from my hand and spun away long enough for me to see a black-robed man in a black ski mask and hood coming back at me.
I kicked out, catching him in the gut and moving in for a second hit, when something caught me from behind. It was as if I’d been snarled in a huge net that covered my head to my shoulders and pinned my arms to my sides. Swinging around, I tried to kick out but the man at my back only laughed while the other stepped up and punched me in the stomach. I bent over gasping while the other began pushing me down a sloping tunnel, my feet scrabbling to break my pace.
The ground declined sharply. I was stumbling so quickly I couldn’t brake and, with the man pushing me along, I was in a helpless trajectory. Then I saw the crevasse ahead. Or at least I assumed that’s what it was—a dark cold drop to somewhere—and at that instant I feared that this might be the end game.
I fell to my knees trying to stop my fall, but with my arms useless it was easy for the men to kick me over as if I were a Russian doll. I tried to kick out again but one took me by the shoulders and dragged me to the fissure.
“Adeus,” one snarled as he kicked me down into the depths. Bizarrely, I thought he murmured something else in Latin before a shower of small stones rained down on my head and the lights extinguished.
Meanwhile, my legs shot out to slow my descent and, after several scraping seconds, the netting over my head snagged on a piece of rock and held. There I dangled literally by a thread supported by my aching legs hanging in the dark. I barely dared to breathe. I wondered if this was how I was going to die—alone in the dark.
But I couldn’t have fallen more than six feet. Should I risk trying to climb back up? One sliding inch convinced me of the wisdom of holding still, excruciatingly still. Even the slightest movement threatened to send me skidding down. After minutes—seconds?—of wondering how long I could hang on like this, I remembered my phone. If they’d left it where it had fallen, I had a chance.
“Phone,” I cried. “Start alarm!”
I waited, wondering if the thing could even hear me this far down. Seconds later, the Evan robot voice said, “Alarm set.”
“Add pulsing lights!”
“Pulsing lights added.”
The noise was deafening but I was too relieved to care. Minutes later a posse of men plus Phoebe and Evan were calling down to me overhead. “Hang on!”
“Trying not to go anywhere,” I called.
Peaches called. “We’re coming to get you.”
As the aching minutes passed, I could hear men shouting somewhere, heard footsteps, felt my legs splitting in two and my feet scraped raw. Someone was lowered down in a sling to fasten a harness around my waist—Peaches.
“Good timing, Peach,” I whispered. “Don’t know how long this butterfly net would last.”
“Some butterfly net. Nylon fishing net, more like it. Hold on while I get this thing between your legs.”
Once I was securely harnessed, the men above lifted me to the surface with Evan waiting to take me into his arms.
For a shocked moment, I stood trembling as his arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. Gazing straight into his eyes, my face only inches away, I managed to say, “Thank you, thank you to everyone, and your new phone is… great…”
“You’re welcome,” he whispered, holding me like he had no intention of ever letting me go. “I’ll take you back to the house now.”
I stiffened. “No!” I pushed him gently away. “I haven’t found Ana Marie yet. No child goes missing on my watch.”
He pushed a lock of hair from his eyes with a muddy hand. “She’s home safe, Phoebe. She arrived back under an hour ago.”
I sat in the library with my feet bathing in a basin of warm water and floating flora. Every inch of me ached, stung, or burned, my stomach and feet especially, but Ana Marie was safe and that was all that mattered.
Those dark monks had terrified the child so badly that she had bolted back home like a frightened rabbit, her knowledge of the secret routes probably all that had saved her. As much as I wanted to talk to her then, she was cloistered with the family, so that would have to wait.
“Those bastards tried to kidnap her,” I said again to no one in particular. I sat wrapped in a blanket across from Rupert, who had fixed me a soothing pot of tea and added one of his own special digestive biscuits to the saucer. Peaches was crouching at my feet, fussing with my cuts while applying Band-Aids where necessary. The Carvalho family remained upstairs and Evan and Markus were with the security team combing the grounds.
“It can only be those unholy thugs attempting to use that poor child for their devious purposes,” Rupert said. “That any group could be so disconnected from their callous hearts to use a child for such a purpose is unforgivable. They must have been plotting a blackmail scheme.”
“They’re fanatical,” I said. My voice was slowly improving thanks to Rupert’s medicinal tea.
“They killed Jose and Ana Marie’s father, too, remember?”
“Do you really think they’d sink so low as to harm a child?” Peaches asked, looking up from dabbing my knee. “Wait—forget I said that. Of course they would. Anything to further their depraved agenda, right? The monsters. I swear I’ll throttle them to within an inch of their lives for this.”
“Only if I don’t get there first,” I said. “They must have been trying to lure Ana Marie outside all along. She thought her daddy had been signaling her and I saw the lights myself. Imagine luring a grieving child that way? Those were the same dark monks who attacked me. They were after Ana Marie all along.”
Rupert leaned forward. “At least we know them to be vaguely human. Had you said that you’d been accosted by something supernatural it wouldn’t have surprised me considering this extraordinary location.”
I shook my head. “They were definitely part of the material world—men in a black-hooded robes. Monks in ski masks who blend into the shadows.”
“So, these Divinio chaps are running around in monks’ robes?” Rupert asked, widening his eyes above his bristled brows. I appreciated how he reduced these creatures with words like “chap” and “thugs,” as if refusing to grant them more power than they deserved. In fact, at that moment, I appreciated that so much that I beamed at him in gratitude.
My sudden blaze of warmth must have taken him aback. He stared at me for a moment before saying, “The tea is rather fortifying, isn’t it? It is the honey, I believe. Would you like a little top-up, Phoebe?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you. I’m just really thankful for my friends tonight—both of you, all of you,” I whispered. And let’s face it, tea and sugar can be very fortifying.
Rupert met my eyes and smiled. “As we are you, Phoebe.” He cleared his throat.
“Yeah,” Peaches added. “I don’t fall at the feet of just anyone.”
I smiled. “And stick just anyone’s feet into a basin of watery twigs.”
“Herbs,” she countered. “Comfrey, bay leaves, sage, plus a dash of oregano. If that doesn’t soothe your feet, at least we can make a pizza out of you.”
I glanced down at the muddy water in which I steeped. She and one of Ana Marie’s nannies had gone into the gardens to gather herbs under her instruction. Apparently, her Jamaican granny had taught her all there was to know about medicinal herbs.
Rupert emitted a little cough. “Meanwhile, it would appear that as Senhor Carvalho surmised, these thugs must be using those tunnels for their own foul purposes, possibly entering the tower chambers from multiple avenues.”
Peaches remarked without looking up: “We have to block those suckers off.”
“If we can determine their entry and exit points, we will have something to go on indeed,” Rupert agreed. “It is quite probable that they believe the crown is buried down there in the depths, which is as good a theory as any, I surmise. Apparently, the dragon entrance had not been used since before Ricardo’s death, to anyone’s knowledge.”
I nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. This time they used it to lure a child.”
Rupert paused to read his phone. “Evan informs me that they have found nothing further but have located the child’s phone. Currently they are securing the area for the evening.”
He leaned forward. “Phoebe, pardon the sudden change of topic, but I am alarmed to see the outfit in which you have chosen to wear in this establishment. Am I truly seeing correctly and you have donned a ragged shirt emblazoned with van Gogh’s unfortunate bandaged ear?”
“Fitting under the circumstances, don’t you think?” I pointed to my wounded knee before pulling back the blanket far enough to reveal the artist’s bandaged head, which actually was so plastered with mud it was hardly recognizable. I pulled the blanket tight. “Well, you get the picture.”
“To the detriment of my sensibilities, indeed I do. Surely you sleep in something more proper?”
Peaches raised her head. “Yeah, Rupe, you tell her. Phoebe does the comfort-over-style thing.”
He paused as if considering whether to protest the amputation of his name and, deciding against it, continued. “Indeed, one does not exclude the other,” he said, warming to the topic. “I always assure my well-being by packing five pairs of the finest silk pajamas so that my comfort does not preclude style for a single moment. One never knows where one might spend the night, such as in a majestic Portuguese family home owned by ancestral nobility, for example.”
Peaches glanced up. “I’m with you there. I bring a selection of slinky nightgowns just in case. You never know. ‘Be prepared’ is my motto.”
“Girl Guides?” I asked.
“Girl Scouts, badass division,” Peaches countered. “Guides do brownies and chocolate chip cookies. As I was saying, I always sleep with a pair of leggings on under my nightie for just such emergencies as these. You should try it sometime.”
I stared at her. “Seriously? Look, I usually take my nighttime excursions fully dressed but I didn’t want to lose sight of that child for a minute. Good thing, too.”
“Still, van Gogh T-shirts just don’t cut it in our business, Phoebe. What did I tell you?”
“If I recall, you suggested I wear something slinky and weren’t referring to danger management.”
Any fondness I felt for my friends bristled. I adored them but I wanted to throttle them sometimes, too. Thus is the contradiction of human relations. My sharp comment died on my lips when Evan strode into the room.
“It’s done,” he said, his voice heavy with fatigue. If possible, he looked worse than I did in the scratched and worn department. That made him no less attractive, by the way. “We searched every inch of the gardens, secured as much as we could, and the rest will have to wait until morning. The house is finally returning to bed.”
“I’m not surprised that you didn’t find anything. Those brutes have some hidden route where they can leave us all in the dust,” Peaches remarked while I quickly began wiping down my legs and feet with the towel she’d brought.
“How are you doing, Phoebe?” Evan asked softly.
“Much better, thanks.” Without looking at him, I was now attempting to squeeze my feet into my sandals, Peaches helping by holding them still. I imagined how bad I looked. “In fact, I’m ready for bed, so whoever wants to come with me. I mean, accompany me.” Just shut up, Phoebe.
“I’d be happy to accompany you to bed, Phoebe, but hopefully you don’t expect to just walk unassisted?” Evan said.
“Of course I—”
But he strode over to me and simply picked me up as if I were two years old and proceeded toward the door before I could protest. “You’re in no condition to be walking anywhere more tonight.”
“This is ridiculous,” I protested.
“Just stop talking, Phoebe. Your throat is sounding raw,” he said with the smallest of smiles.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” Peaches called behind us.
“And I will be along also,” Rupert added, “as soon as I gather my tea stocks.”
I was gazing at Evan. “As much as I appreciate your manly manner, please don’t think that helplessness is going on my résumé anytime soon.”
“I wouldn’t dare make such assumptions. I’m merely taking advantage of the situation while I can,” he said with a grin. “By the way, I’m leaving you with a pistol to keep with you at all times.”
He got no argument from me this time. And I didn’t half mind throwing my arm over his neck, either, if I was being honest, though that did dredge up memories of another man at another time.
As we passed through the door, I caught Queen Isabella’s eye in a moment of female understanding: the age-old conundrum of female sovereignty under the power of the male will.
12
I had a delayed start the next morning, sleeping late and rousing slowly, but after showering and attending to my scrapes, I managed to don a pair of jeans and a fresh long-sleeved shirt. My mangled van Gogh
sleepwear ended in a waste bin on my way down to breakfast, deposited with regret.
“Can you walk?” Peaches asked, meeting me in the hall.
“Of course I can walk—just not comfortably.”
Peaches nodded. “All righty, then.”
We had received a text from Adriana saying that breakfast would be served in the library, and by the time we arrived, Rupert, Evan, and Markus were already sitting at a circular table set up in the spacious tiled foyer. It’s as if the library was to be our communal sitting, dining, and convening room, removing us from the family, whether by accident or design I didn’t yet know.
Everybody appeared to be reviving themselves with copious amounts of coffee poured from a silver urn. The buffet table also held a selection of bread, cheese, and fruit. Once I answered the inevitable questions about my well-being, I loaded up a plate and sat down beside Markus, noting that he at least seemed unruffled after the night’s events. In fact, freshly showered with his hair combed straight back from his forehead, he looked relatively pulled together for once.
“Were you part of the scouting party last night?” I asked him.
Without looking up, he replied, “I was. I managed to find the child’s phone.”
Big win,” Peaches remarked. “Phoebe tackled rabid monks and was tossed down a hole.”
“Is this a competition?” Markus asked.
Evan looked up from his fruit and caught my eye while Rupert cleared his throat. “After last night’s events,” he said, “it appears that we will not be permitted to study the inverted well and the altar a second time. I took the liberty of requesting another opportunity to survey the site again today and was flatly refused.”
I looked up from buttering my roll. “By whom—Senhor Carvalho?”
“Not directly, no. It would seem that following the events of last night, Senhor Carvalho has retreated to his chambers and the chatelaine of the castle has taken over. She does not wish us to further our efforts,” Rupert said.
The Crown that Lost its Head: A Historical Mystery Thriller (An Agency of the Ancient Lost & Found Mystery Thriller Book 2) Page 15