Maddie looked at the row of symbols she had written down. She didn’t know what the letters meant, but she didn’t have to know.
Izzy could find that out. All she had to do was to pick up the pattern.
In a piece of this age, the creator would not have access to advance forms of technology that would help conceal the message through complicated number sequences or computer-generated keys. She doubted they had cipher discs before the fifteenth century either. All of that limited the scope of possibilities greatly. But she wasn’t going to rule out anything yet. Instead she let the symbols drift and slide through her mind. If there was an order, she would find it.
An hour later, Maddie had half-a-dozen sheets of crumpled paper were scattered over the table in front of Maddie. She had sensed that something was missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Tell me about this symbol, Izzy. The one with two Xs on top of each other. It might be some kind of marker, or it may simply indicate a shift.” She tapped on her paper. “If you noticed, these other symbols always come together.” She drew a line around what looked like an N with two lines through the center and another symbol that looked like a capital R.
“There has to be significance to that repetition.” She rolled her shoulders, feeling a headache begin.
“Izzy, do you have my computer?” Maddie ignored the squeezing pressure at her forehead. “I want to run some numbers. While you’re at it, any chance of getting some super strength Advil somewhere?”
But nothing worked.
Maddie played some hunches and crunched some numbers. She tried turning the symbol upside down to see if a pattern would be revealed on simple rotation. Again, no luck. Just as before, she had the sense that something was missing. What was she overlooking?
Maddie sat up straighter. She jammed a hand through her spiky hair.
Obvious.
“This artifact—is it incomplete? Was there ever a smaller piece that fit in the center?”
Izzy frowned at her. “I don’t have a clue. I’ll check into that ASAP.”
“While you’re at it, ask your source at the museum if there are any marks on the back of the original. This replica only has marks on one side. I need an exact photograph of corresponding markings on the back of the original piece.”
Izzy drummed his fingers quietly on the table. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? If you still don’t trust me, Izzy—”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I can’t do it because our source is dead.”
“Dead?” Maddie repeated the word slowly. “How?”
“He was found in his apartment four days ago. There was a suicide note, but our people turned up details that indicated a struggle had taken place.”
“Cause of death?”
“Compression of the carotid artery. And…other things.”
“What other things?”
“You don’t need to know,” Izzy said grimly.
Maddie took a deep breath. “Are there any other photographs of this object—better yet, can you look at the object yourself?”
“I’m afraid not. The original vanished a week ago, probably stolen from the museum by my contact. He also stole every museum record and description of the piece. It was a new discovery, and it had never been fully cataloged. Even the accession notes from the field team have vanished.”
“Nice.” Maddie blew out a slow breath, thinking hard. “Can you find any similar pieces? The museum must have others like this. I need an idea of any markings that might have been used on the back. Something from the same place and time will give me an idea of symbol sequences.”
“I’m on it.”
Maddie rubbed a knot in her shoulders. She wasn’t surprised to feel Lyon move behind her, not saying a word. He could feel how tired she was, how frustrated. Maddie could feel his own impatience and frustration. She remembered that this mission was not his mission. He had a deeper duty—and another enemy waiting somewhere in the darkness.
But there was no point in thinking about those things she had seen in the cemetery. No point at all.
“She has done enough for now.” Lyon looked at Izzy. “While you gather the information she needs, I am taking her upstairs to rest.”
Maddie looked up, frowning at him.
“Do not even try to argue with me. You are exhausted. You need a break from this work.” The hard determination in Lyon’s eyes told her that he would not be dissuaded.
Maddie closed her eyes as the tension in her forehead turned into a sledgehammer force headache. If she didn’t rest, she wouldn’t be able to think.
Lyon had no doubt sensed that also.
But Maddie felt angry and inpatient, her thoughts chaotic. She looked down at her hand, fisted on the table, and was shocked to see it was trembling.
This was far more than exhaustion.
She frowned at Izzy. “I have to rest. I’ve got the mother of all headaches. Give me an hour. I’ll start again with whatever new information you find out.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a genius at this stuff, Maddie. What’s wrong?”
“This isn’t magic, Teague. I need data to work with. So get me those pictures and a description of the original object. Get me photos of any related pieces. Do it fast. Then I’ll give you all the magic you want.” She rubbed her eyes, tired and frustrated and struck with growing uneasiness. Something was wrong.
For a person who specialized in reading patterns, she was less and less able to read her own suddenly.
Runic symbols and hammered gold patterns chased and spun in mocking circles before her eyes as Maddie climbed the stairs to the gatehouse. Her skills had always worked before, so why had they deserted her now?
Lyon hated what Izzy was doing to her. He hated feeling her weariness and frustration, but there was no way to escape it. Maddie had made a promise and he had to let her complete the work she had agreed to perform for this stern American. But there were many things that Izzy Teague did not know.
And there were things that Maddie did not know either.
One was the unmistakable fact that her change had speeded up. If they didn’t find a way to balance their energy soon…
Lyon closed his eyes, forcing away fear and darkness. That was the way to madness. There were hard choices to make. He had hoped there would be more time, but it was not to be given them.
“Hey. Why the dark look?” Maddie slid her fingers over his arm and smiled up at him. “Something wrong? Something you haven’t told me?”
As ever, she was quick to pick up his mood. But she needed to rest, so Lyon did not share his worries yet. Instead he forced a smile. “It is fascinating to see this skill of yours for patterns. Have you always had it?” He prayed she would not realize he had changed the subject.
“You’re changing the subject, Lyon.”
So much for his hopes.
“But I’ll go along with it. I’m too tired to dig for deeper meanings. Frankly, all I want to do is fall into bed and sleep for about a thousand years.” She blew out a little breath. “Not literally, of course. Don’t get any ideas. I still don’t know all that you’re capable of, but I don’t want to find out by waking up a few centuries in the future or the past.”
“I have not that skill.” At least it was not managed as easily as she described. “You need not worry.”
“Oh, I am worried. Very worried. This job of Izzy’s is getting nasty and complicated. I didn’t tell him this, but you and I both know that I’m not up to par. I don’t ever get sick, I have the constitution of a horse, and yet…right now I feel flattened.” She frowned at the heavy wooden door to the gatehouse as Lyon pushed it open for her. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with what you warned me about?”
He wouldn’t lie to her. But he wouldn’t complicate her worry by giving her unnerving details. “It is happening as I expected. Rest now. Finish your work for Izzy Teague. We will find a way to deal with what must come.” Lyon
expected her to argue and demand answers. It was a sign of her exhaustion that she did neither.
She simply sank down on the deep white coverlet and sighed in relief as Lyon pulled the curtains closed. “Don’t let me sleep too long. Half an hour. Okay, make that an hour.” She studied him with sleepy her eyes. “Promise me?”
“I promise.”
Lyon had no intention of keeping that promise, of course. He would let her sleep as long as she could, right up to the moment that Izzy returned with new information for her to analyze.
“Good. This is important to him. It’s probably important to a whole lot of people. I’m not going to wimp out just because I don’t feel good.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her head. “I never did get that Advil.”
“You will not need it,” Lyon said softly. She was half asleep when he knelt beside her and ran one hand over her neck, massaging the sensitive muscles behind her ears and along her forehead. He felt the hammer of her pulse and the drum of her blood as if it was his own, so closely linked they were now. He could sense every knot of stress and the weight of her pain. All were as clear and sharp as if they were his own. Using that awareness, Lyon he touched her slowly, freeing the muscles along her head and neck, letting her slide down into exhausted relaxation because he knew she was too stubborn and honorable to give up easily.
It was only part of the reason that she fascinated him.
“Feels good. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep…” Her voice broke on a little sigh. “Don’t forget. Have to wake me up. I have to work—”
“Of course I will.” He did not find it easy to lie to her. And he did not excuse himself with the knowledge that it was for her own good. The truth was always more powerful. A lie stole a little part of you whenever it was spoken. Lyon did not only know this—he could see it happen and all the ways that a spirit was dampened and diminished beneath the force of a lie.
He could see many things that Maddie did not know about yet.
But he was not the hero she took him to be. He was not without much sin and blame. And he did not excuse or forget that blame.
One day she would see the darkness in him. He could not delay the moment much longer. And the thought of losing her respect left him shaken.
Lyon’s body hurt, but he did not complain. His need burned cruelly, like acid that ate down through every level of skin.
But his control held. He swore grimily that it would continue to hold. He would not claim her by violence, nor by misunderstanding.
Not…unless there was no other choice.
Yet as he walked down the stairs, his good intentions seemed to mock him from the darkness outside the abbey.
21
Something rose out of the darkness and slammed down on Maddie’s chest.
She clawed her way up through shadows, through smoke and anger and fear. She felt cold but the cold seem to come from somewhere outside her, where an etched gold disc spun through empty space while her head ached hard and she fought to breathe. There was something about the disc. It was close—something she should have seen.
The gold face turned slowly. Rune symbols slithered past her, mocking and quick, challenging her to follow. But she didn’t understand. No patterns took shape. No meaning or order of any sort emerged.
Maddie closed her eyes on a moan of pain, daggers sharp at her forehead, the migraine waves getting worse.
Silver circles gleamed through the darkness, spiraling out and then closing tight. The spirals felt somehow familiar, but also frightening. She closed her eyes, struck by a sudden, sickening sensation of falling. And she knew if she let go and fell in that place she would be lost—lost completely and forever. Her body and her soul would be torn apart, swallowed. Blasted to dust and erased as if she had never existed.
She searched desperately for something to grab onto, but there was only cold air and angry voices. Only the smell of fear and burning flesh.
Stop.
She heard her own raw, shuddering voice of protest. This was a dream. She kept telling herself that, how it had to be a dream. But there was blood all around her. Real blood lay cold and dark against her hands. On the sheets. On her bare arms, bare legs.
On her conscience.
Some of the blood was hers. Most of it was Lyon’s. And she had caused his horrible death.
His face scratched, his body severed by angry claws. His long cry of pain echoed in the air.
Maddie screamed…and couldn’t seem to stop.
22
Lyon turned from the back of the gatehouse and ran up the stairs, his heart hammering.
The scream had come from Maddie’s bedroom.
She was at the door, swaying, her face white when Lyon found her. He lunged and caught her when she would have fallen. But she twisted in his arms, fighting him blindly.
“Nay, do not fight so, Maddie. You are safe, heartling.” Lyon felt a wave of relief that she was alone and unharmed—at least as far as he could see. “Do you understand that all is well?”
“No. I saw it—the blood.” A hoarse sound tore from her mouth. “All over my hands. And on you. Dear heaven, it was everywhere, Lyon. They had marked you, cut you terribly. It was because of me—because I was too weak to stop them—”
“Shhh.” Lyon gripped her shoulders tightly, fighting through her terror and her guilt to make her hear. “There is no blood here. Look at me. I am sound and unharmed, just as you are.”
Maddie blinked. “You’re sure?” She ran trembling fingers across Lyon’s face and neck. “You wouldn’t hide if something was wrong, would you?”
“I would not. ‘Twas but a dream, my heart.” But also it was a forewarning, Lyon sensed. He would alert Aeryx to a coming threat, not that his old friend would need reminding. The Fallen ones were his oldest enemies. They would find no welcome while Aeryx watched the abbey.
“But...I saw blood. I felt it...”
Lyon scowled at Maddie. “Only you seem to be hurt.” He turned over her palm and muttered angrily. “By Heaven, what have you done to yourself?”
Maddie touched the dark line on her palm where blood was drying. “I must have scratched myself while I was asleep. I don’t remember any of it. It was too awful— I was too worried about you.”
Lyon cupped her palm, unable to answer. She worried about him? This was the source of her panic?
Yet again she left him speechless. For centuries no others had wasted a thought to his safety or his hopes. Only she had done this.
Lyon’s heart raced. He sensed all her power and fierce light, captured in that line of blood and on the warmth of her skin where their bodies met. He had sworn to guard her, to teach her—but now, with no warning, need for her struck, stripping him bare.
The urge to bind her body and spirit to his left him blinded. His control shredded beneath primitive need. Lyon fought the hunger in angry silence—and felt his strength waver.
“What is it?” Her fingers brushed his face. “Something is wrong, Lyon.”
“Memories. It will...pass.” His voice was harsh. Lyon knew that what he felt for her would never pass.
“But Lyon—wait. I almost forgot. I saw the clue. It came to me while I was asleep—”
“What clue?” He tore his focus away from the heat of his taut muscles where their bodies touched. “I do not understand.”
“The runes—I know now. I saw the pattern.” Maddie’s voice was strained with excitement. “It was no word code at all. It was numbers, Lyon. The marks represent numbers.” She smiled in triumph. “Numbers.”
“How can you be sure of this?”
“Because I saw the pattern,” she said impatiently. “It’s what I do, remember? There were only 10 symbols on the disk. The flag-shaped rune was most frequent. I think it is a 1. The other repeated symbol could indicate a zero. But Izzy can crack the rest of the details. It’s all math and frequency algorithms now. That’s where he works his particular magic. He doesn’t need me for that.”
She fro
wned, wriggling free of Lyon’s grip. “I should go tell him now. It’s important for him to—”
“Tell me what?” Footsteps echoed as Izzy moved through the doorway. “What was all that noise up here?”
“I had a bad dream. But the pattern came to me in the dream, Izzy. Those rune marks represent numbers, probably a decimal set, given the repetitions.”
“We didn’t think of that. The Anglo-Saxons usually used Roman numerals. But for a code...”. He broke off, frowning. Thinking hard. “So where does that take us next? What do the numbers mean?”
Maddie stared through the window. “Did you find any photos with the back of that disc yet?”
“No luck.”
“When you do, my hunch is you’ll find more of those same marks. And those will be numbers too.”
“A number code?” Izzy looked unconvinced. “Not necessarily. It could be a geographical code. But there were no maps that old, at least no maps like the ones we know today. So these can’t be simple map coordinates.”
Maddie shoved a hand through the chaos of her hair. “They might represent cities or even houses by size or importance. Or maybe they mark a location, given by its distance from a key spot. It might be a reference to an important contemporary book.” She frowned at him. “Did the Anglo-Saxons have books?”
“Lots of them. Their illuminated versions of the Bible are considered to be—”
Maddie interrupted him impatiently. “You can deal with the details, Izzy. I’m no historian. I can’t tell you how to interpret the location or meaning of the numbers based on their historical importance. I can only give you the pattern, and this pattern is based on numbers. There is no statistical basis to doubt that. Give me my computer and I’ll prove it to you.”
“I believe you. Right now you look exhausted. Lyon was right about that. I’ll pass this information on to someone I trust and let her work the details. At least now we know what we’re looking for.”
“I could check on possible locations using population reconstructions. If you want me to try—”
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