Adkins, Kimberly - Through Ancient Eyes (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Kimberly Adkins

  She had a library! And it was about time she did a little relaxing in her new house, too. Surely it would take Professor Majers plenty of time to pack and make arrangements for their trip. After all, how easily could one just hop a plane to Peru?

  * * * *

  If there was any sound in the world worse than an alarm clock, it had to be her phone in the kitchen. It wasn’t just the ring that did her in, though the sound was abrasive enough on its own, It was the thought she’d be hunched over the counter for an indeterminable amount of time, while practicing every yoga move she ever learned to get more comfortable.

  At about the moment she realized she wasn’t dreaming about the phone, she jumped up and found herself grabbing for the two books that had slid off her lap in the process. The heavy one went straight for the toes on her right foot, and that’s where it landed, too. She caught the paperback, but had to wonder where her priorities were at that point.

  Everything was coming back to her as she scooped up the text book, the ring from the kitchen shooting through every nerve in her body. She went to the main door and did everything she could to squeeze through the opening. It was no use, and she soon discovered there was no moving the displaced book case either. It was hard enough to swing the one with the hinges at the other end of the room.

  Fortunately, the annoying sound had ceased in the kitchen, and the daylight was able to penetrate the open space behind the false wall far enough that she could see to go down.

  It was still shaky, the stairs were sharp and she had two books to carry now, but she made it with the confidence of a person who had been there before and knew there were no surprises ahead.

  The flashlight still lay at the bottom, and the beam held true even after its night-long vigilance at the base of the steps. She picked it up and turned it off, setting it next to the breaker box again.

  Just as everything began to seem right with the world, the jangling ring came again from her tether, and she pounded up the basement stairs, fumbling with the dual latch on the door of the cubby.

  She was going to make it this time. Just keep ringing!

  “I’m getting an answering machine,” she said breathlessly in the coat closet. “As soon as I get back from South America, I swear. First thing on my list.”

  She thought it had stopped as she burst through the swinging door, but her hand reached for the mouthpiece anyway.

  “Hello?” she breathed half-heartedly into the handset, ready to put it down on the cradle before there could be an answer.

  “Miss Taylor,” a prim voice said over the line. “A car will arrive for you in three hours. Professor Majers will expect you to be fully prepared and ready to leave.”

  “Leave…for Peru?” she nearly stuttered on the line, hardly believing the distant voice on the other end.

  “That’s what he tells me.” His assistant’s tone was coldly disapproving, and she didn’t bother to say good bye before she cut off the connection.

  Chapter Seven

  “Buenos dias and welcome to the lovely city of Lima! We are beginning our approach now.” The flight attendant’s thick accent carried in spotty English over the intercom system throughout the airplane. It was actually the first time Danielle had heard the staff speak anything other than a heated and argumentative version of Spanish she wasn’t able to make out since they’d boarded the plane.

  Judging from the muffled, constant noise coming from below the cabin during their trip, there was clearly a goat tethered nearby, and she was thankful that at some point it had not ended up as the main course during the strange and seemingly endless flight.

  They were obviously ticketed in first class, but she could only tell because they were in the front of the plane, and her brief glimpse past their assigned seats revealed a sardine factory of a layout behind them, which the flight staff was quick to curtain when they noticed her interest.

  Though Britton’s seat was situated next to hers, he got up often throughout their journey and walked up and down the length of the plane. His initial attempts to exit the rear of the cabin past the divider were met by a rather burly gentleman who didn’t appear to care much for his wanderings. After a few terse words, Danielle saw him reach into his front jacket pocket and flash a piece of paper at the attendant. The large man frowned, but begrudgingly let him pass.

  If she had to estimate, her traveling companion spent more time behind the mysterious barrier than seated next to her, but it was something she had quickly gotten used to, and it hardly seemed to matter now as they were touching down in South America.

  She had insisted on keeping the case with her at all times during the flight, thinking anything they checked would have a fifty/fifty chance of making it to their destination. Her concern was unwarranted, however, because Britton had no intention of releasing the artifact and had the paperwork faxed from the museum ahead of time. They were permitted to carry the item on board with a minimal amount of hassle.

  The same treatment applied when they disembarked, and she was ushered through customs with surprising ease. Thankfully, the machine gun toting soldiers posted at every corner gave her nothing more than appreciative looks as Britton guided her through the massive crowd. He wore a pair of sunglasses so dark she couldn’t see his eyes at all, though his jaw was clenched and the cords along his neck were tensely pronounced.

  She had imagined the airport in Lima would be full of rustic natives and squealing pigs on the loose, but she was forced to accept the disappointing reality of the fact it was filled up with what appeared to be mostly tourist types, desperately looking through books of Spanish translations so they could ask where some wily taxi driver might take them for double their fare as they tried to convert the currency.

  It turned out she didn’t need her heavy book of high school geography so much, though she kept it in her carry on in the event of a totally mundane and unanticipated food-ordering emergency.

  The Director of Antiquities led her expertly past the piles of luggage stacked up in the middle of the baggage claim floor, and though he spoke only to the driver assisting with their arrival, she could distinctly tell he was agitated.

  This wasn’t exactly the sexy James Bond mystery adventure tour she had imagined, but intrigue abounded even if it was the annoying kind. She could see the tinted glass of the exit doors just ahead and felt a small amount of pleasure as she imagined the hot, steamy air of the tropics that would wash over her as she exited the hectic airport.

  The darkened doors slid open in a silent homage to her arrival, and she stepped onto the cement sidewalk of the South American paradise.

  It was early evening, but a low layer of fog clung closely to the ground, and the air held a distinct chill that she didn’t think should be lingering so close to the equator.

  Ancient taxis belched unregulated emissions which couldn’t have done much for the environment, and the limousine Britton propelled her toward with clipped politeness stood out like a sore thumb at the crumbling curb.

  Without ceremony, he sat her inside the modern black vehicle, even as she was straining past him to see more of the amazing country she had entered for the first time. It was a lot like landing in New Jersey, and she was inwardly disappointed.

  “I’ll just see to the rest of the luggage, shall I?” he asked her in a tone that was obviously non-negotiable and slammed the car door shut before she could reply with any proper etiquette.

  “This just keeps getting better and better.” Danielle fumbled through her carry on for a bag of crackers or a communicator so Scotty could beam her up. The heavy school book was blocking all of her attempts, and in frustration she grabbed it roughly and tossed it onto the seat beside her. It flew open to Holland, of course, and the old binding crackled with the strain.

  Dried glue flaked onto the dark leather interior, and she brushed it off hastily. With the book open the way it was, there was a large gap between the pages and the decaying arc, and she thought she saw something inside.


  With a swift look through the tinted window next to the curb to make sure no one was near, she sent two slender fingers into the space and pulled out a yellowed piece of parchment, folded like an accordion and secreted in the hiding place.

  Danielle tried to nonchalantly slip the discovery like a bookmark between the pages of Holland and slowly unfolded it as if she were diligently reading the childish atlas. She tried not to hold her breath as a hand drawn map appeared within the creases she smoothed away, with mountains and valleys detailed to the best of this artist’s ability.

  What struck her the most was a hauntingly familiar sketch, and her mind went back to the night Britton visited her little farmhouse, desperately trying to remember what he had said. In the drawings, atop two prominent mountains on either side of a valley, stood a meticulously hand drawn pyramid.

  It wasn’t the style that drew her attention, but the words which were painstakingly printed next to each one.

  “Dawnfire, Temple of the Sun…

  Emberdusk, Temple of the Moon.”

  The moment she mouthed those words the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she suddenly felt very, very vulnerable with this strange, hidden parchment in her possession.

  Carefully removing the fragile vellum, Danielle quickly flipped through a few of the text book pages until she came to Peru, and held the hand drawn map next to the contours of the animated drawing in the book.

  She couldn’t be sure, but it appeared to be situated in the northern region of the country by comparison. The shading was faded badly in some places, but it looked like the pyramids were located on opposite sides of a river in a mist enshrouded valley. She bent her head for a closer look at the symbols that marked the area, when the car was suddenly jarred, rocking back and forth before it settled again. The driver had flung open the trunk in haste and was tossing their luggage inside with little care for the state of their belongings.

  She slammed the book closed out of instinct, cringing when she realized the map was carelessly wedged between the pages.

  She could see their suitcases through the back window in the small space left by the trunk opening. Just as she was about to get out of the car and make sure everything was okay back there, she saw a familiar figure bent over the side of a nearby taxi. The passenger door was currently obscuring any view of his head, but she had a pretty good idea it was Britton Majers crouched next to the vehicle.

  It was difficult to watch what was going on through the small slit left by the trunk, but she got a fast and full view as the driver closed it up, giving her a curious look as he glanced nervously over his shoulder at the taxi a few car lengths behind them. He seemed ready to turn and approach Britton when the Englishman forced the door of the cab closed and nodded to their driver, who went around to the side to open the door of the town car.

  When Danielle realized he was nearly there, she shoved the large book, map and all, inside her carry-on and leaned her head against the leather seatback as if she were exhausted. It was practically true, after all. She was growing weary of all this cloak and dagger play and ready to get to the hotel where she could spend a little more time studying the secreted piece of paper.

  “I must apologize for my dreadful company during our flight,” Professor Majers spoke suddenly, sounding sincere as the car pulled away from the curb without making a sound.

  “I have never completely been comfortable with flying, a phobia I have been trying my entire life to overcome. I hope you might be willing to understand my situation. I can assure you, this irrational condition frustrates me quite a lot more than my deplorable behavior can affect you, I hope.”

  She didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but now that the car was moving along and their feet were on the ground, so to speak, he did seem to be a little more Jekyll and a lot less Hyde. She gave him a penetrating look and though the pallor of his skin was still alarming, he appeared to be very relieved about something, at any rate.

  He took her thoughtful silence as some type of acceptance for his apology and met her appraising gaze with his deep blue eyes for the first time since they had boarded the plane. With slow advancement he reached out and covered her right hand, which she realized had been clutching the top of her bag. For some reason she couldn’t explain, the last thing she wanted right now was for Britton to discover the map hidden just below her grasp, and she forced her fingers to relax.

  “Here you are, flying out of the country for the first time and surely you have concerns of your own about this journey. I have been a terrible companion, and humbly I admit it. Please, allow me to make it up to you this evening? The gardens of Miraflores are lovely at night, and I am certain you would enjoy a private tour.”

  As beautiful as he made his offer sound, it was difficult to envision as they traveled down the main highway. Both sides of the crowded road sported an odd kind of shanty town where people must have been living in the most desperate poverty she had ever witnessed. In the distance she could see rows of narrow houses haphazardly lined up along the edges of a dark cliffside. It was a mix and match sort of environment, with the sagging wood and rusting tin painted any imaginable color.

  “Try not to concern yourself with the unfortunate circumstances of their local habitat,” Britton announced dryly, noticing her distress as she regarded makeshift houses that edged right up to the roadside. “I will show you everything of importance you need to see while you are here.”

  His tone was extremely lofty, and it offended her, but she didn’t verbally let him know. Instead she pulled her fingers out from under his grasp and slipped them into her pants pocket. His callous remark probably meant nothing, and perhaps he was trying to ease her conscience, but in either case she didn’t want him to hold onto her hand.

  It must have only been a few short miles to their hotel, but the difference in affluence was astonishing and it was every bit as beautiful as Britton had promised. This part of the city felt alive with an ancient magic, and she marveled at the artists who hung their canvas works on the street corner posts for passerby to see. Exotic cafes spotted the old brick sidewalks, with their colorful umbrellas sheltering the people who stopped for a bottle of wine so they could listen to the musicians on the side streets.

  The stark, almost desert-like appearance of the terrain she witnessed when they arrived at the airport was gone. Immaculate green lawns rolled out their welcome to picnickers and offered a wide selection of blooming tropical flower beds for the early evening strollers to enjoy.

  The wonder in her eyes must have been evident as they pulled up in front of the impressive, antiquated hotel. It was surely a magnificent structure back in the day, and now it held a grand kind of old world decadence that a modern chain could never compete with.

  Britton waited until the driver came around the curb to open his door. Danielle could never imagine not being able to open a door for herself, but her eccentric host seemed determined to follow proper protocol, and as he exited the vehicle he turned to offer his hand in assistance.

  The sound of live music filled the air as Danielle stepped out of the town car. A kindly, older gentleman opened the double glass doors to the hotel as they approached, and she entered the grand foyer with a sense of wonder.

  “I arranged to have us checked in the moment we landed,” Britton spoke confidently before he slipped a twenty dollar bill into the hand of the valet without looking at him.

  “Our bags will be taken to our rooms immediately. I know you must be exhausted, but I would be honored if you might consider joining me for dinner this evening.”

  Danielle’s arms ached from switching the heavy case back and forth, and she cast a look of dismay over her wrinkled attire. Dinner sounded wonderful, but not half as much as a hot shower and change of clothes. Britton seemed to sense her hesitation and nodded before she could voice her excuse.

  “As soon as you are ready, of course. I’ll meet you in the lounge after you have prepared, where we might have a few drink
s while they make our table ready. It can take quite a while for service anywhere in the Miraflores area, so it is always wise to bring a lovely date for company.”

  Danielle wasn’t feeling very run-way beautiful right then, but she was aware of the admirable looks cast her way since she’d arrived in the district. Her skin was very pale, flawless, and her light colored hair was prized by the denizens of the city. If she had a chance to dress up a little and let her glossy curls down, she truly might fit the bill.

  It appeared that Britton was thinking along similar lines. The look in his eyes subtly changed from focused trip coordinator to a deeper shade of blue that reflected a guarded kind of desire she couldn’t quite define.

  When he took her by the elbow and steered her toward the grand staircase, she didn’t complain. The chandeliers sparkled off the polished marble as they came to the bottom, and she noticed with fascination the way an ornate golden bar lined the back of each step to hold the thick, oriental carpeting in place against the gently ascending spiral.

  Their rooms were on the second floor, and she sighed with relief when he stopped in front of hers first and handed her the key card.

  “I’m right next to you, should you need anything while you’re getting ready,” he suggested innocently enough.

  Danielle had mixed feelings about the Director of Antiquities, but had to admit his close proximity was somewhat comforting considering the fact he was the only person she knew in South America right now. Even so, she wasn’t inclined to invite him inside.

  Seeing her hesitation, he rested a familiar hand on her shoulder and gently massaged the tension strained muscles along her neck. It felt damn good, which was more than enough reason for her to excuse herself and thank him for his unnecessary offer.

  He gave her another guarded smile and casually walked to his door. With the ease of practice he swiftly let himself inside, and she didn’t completely relax until his door clicked behind him.