by Sharon Wray
They’d parked along a river facing an old farmhouse. Swampy woods hid them from the rest of the world. It was dark, but in the choppy moonlight, he could see the house with broken shutters, holes in the roof, and a sagging porch covered in kudzu. Even with his windows closed, Alex smelled the stench of rot and decay.
It reeked of Remiel.
Sixteen warriors surrounded the house, and one group of four entered the front. The warriors moved without light, without sound, and in perfect coordination, as if each were simply part of a whole. Muffled shots cut through the air and flashes lit up the windows from the inside. A few minutes later, warriors reconvened near the SUVs.
One warrior carried a woman in his arms. Another warrior escorted a woman out. Marcellus came back, opened Alex’s door, and a woman in a pink Nicholas Trott T-shirt slid in.
Emilie?
Emilie gave Alex a tired smile and then held out her arms for the other woman, who appeared unresponsive.
Tarragon.
Once the women were settled, with Tarragon lying on Emilie’s lap, Marcellus got in and drove away.
Alex had a million questions, but instead he wrapped an arm around Emilie’s shoulders and let her rest against him. She closed her eyes and her breathing evened out.
Yeah. Dealing with Remiel’s bullshit would exhaust even the strongest soldier.
* * *
Isabel was running out of time and patience.
“What do you mean,” she said to the guard in front of her, “you can’t find the grave?”
“There’s nothing—”
“Ma’am!” The second guard ran over. “You gotta see this.”
With her flashlight and tote bag, Isabel followed the guard through the winding path. Her other man carried a digging stick, shovel, and sledgehammer. A few minutes later, she stood in front of a ten-by-ten mausoleum carved with broken daisies and skulls along the top. Two weeping angels, each with a broken daisy on its lap, guarded the iron door. The doorknob was etched with the JL logo.
She pointed to the guards. “Break it open. And remember, fifolets are buried on top of the treasure.”
A guard wiped his brow with his arm. “You mean we have to desecrate the grave?”
“It’s a treasure worth millions. Did you think it would be buried a few feet underground? For all we know it’s in a coffin beneath a body.” His eyes widened and she pointed to the door. “Hurry.”
It took another few minutes before they pried the door open. With the flashlight guiding her way, she entered the crypt first. A horrific smell assaulted her, and she gagged on the stench of decay. From all four corners, weeping stone angels faced the center. There were two stone coffins, both with carvings on top. She traced each one with a finger, sending clouds of dust into the air. One had a broken daisy; the other had the initials JL. “This must be it.”
A guard came in with a sledgehammer; the other carried the digging stick.
“Open these tombs.” She blew more dirt away on one coffin and saw the initials MC below the broken daisy. “This one first.”
One of the guards used his flashlight to expose carvings above their heads. Dozens of daisy wheels had been cut into the ceiling. “These are witch’s marks. If we do this, we’ll be cursed.”
Isabel took out her gun and aimed it at the guard’s chest. “If you don’t, you’ll be dead.”
Both guards got to work, and Isabel smiled. She’d done it. She’d found Henry Avery’s treasure, and Remiel would be pleased.
The other benefit? She didn’t need Allison anymore. Now Isabel could kill her.
* * *
Fenwick cut the ties on Allison’s ankles and forced her up the back steps of the church. He’d taken off the planks that had covered the doors and hustled her through the sacristy, into the main church.
The building was stifling due to the scents of orange oil and freshly cut plywood in the stale, hot air. Bricks and construction debris lay everywhere.
He placed the flashlight on the stone altar and forced her to sit next to a pile of bricks. He took out his weapon and yanked back the slide. Then he removed her gag.
She tried to lick her dry lips. She’d do anything for some water.
“Regardless if Isabel finds that treasure or not, she will kill you.” Fenwick paced the shadows in front of the altar, moving in and out of the dim light. “If she succeeds, she returns as Remiel’s second-in-command. If she fails, she’ll have to disappear. Either way, leaving you alive would mean you’d won. She could never live with that.”
“Won?” Allison tried to move her numb arms enough to get the blood flowing again. “This isn’t a game.”
Fenwick smirked. “You haven’t been paying attention.”
“If Isabel fails, won’t Remiel kill you too?”
“No. Remiel and I have a separate arrangement.” Fenwick crossed his arms. “I’ll become Remiel’s second, return to Raven’s Retreat, and manage the absinthe business.”
Allison snorted. “Rue embezzled the money out of the business and hid it.”
“What are you talking about?” His words sounded low and deadly.
Allison swallowed, but her mouth was still too dry. “Stuart helped Rue move money from Raven’s Retreat to an offshore account. They did it behind your back with the Prince’s help. Rue was planning on leaving you alone and bankrupt.”
“Rue would never do such a thing.”
“Maybe she realized you killed her husband and her son, stole the witch’s examination, and had an affair with her acolyte.” Allison wiggled, desperate to regain feeling in her arms. “I heard what Isabel said in the car. Is it all true?”
“Fenwick Hall was my birthright, and Danny was a pain in my ass.” Fenwick hit his chest with his fist. “Rue was always supposed to be mine. I met her first, but once she learned my brother inherited Fenwick Hall, she married him instead. And my affair with Tarragon wasn’t my fault. She started it. I fucked her. Nothing more. Then, before I could dump her, she stole the witch’s examination and gave it to Stuart.”
“The witch’s examination disappeared during my father’s funeral. Rue blamed me.”
“I stole it during the funeral. I took it with me as I traveled the country, learning how to distill absinthe, and showed it to various experts. I’d hoped someone could decipher the appendix that would lead to the treasure. Unfortunately, that attracted unwanted attention from the Prince. And then Remiel.”
“How did Tarragon know about the witch’s examination?”
Fenwick laughed. “Tarragon is no innocent girl. She’s Remiel’s niece. He planted her in my home to seduce me. Once she did, Isabel appeared. If I didn’t want Rue to know about the affair, I had to do whatever Isabel asked.”
Allison stared at the man she’d never called stepfather. “Isabel’s requests dragged you deeper into Remiel’s world?”
“No. Once I met Remiel, I begged to join his organization.” Fenwick knelt in front of her and pulled out a knife. “Remiel has such plans. If you only knew, you’d slit your own throat.”
She tried to spit at him but couldn’t.
“No one expected Tarragon and Stuart to betray Remiel. I have to give them credit. That took serious balls.” Fenwick rested his knife along the neckline of her white blouse, just above the swell of her breasts. “Now, you’re going to tell me where the treasure is, or I will kill you.”
“It’s buried with Mercy Chastain. Haven’t you heard? She was Henry Avery’s fifolet.”
He pressed the knife against her skin, and she winced. “Thomas Toban spent ten thousand pounds hiding that treasure. There’s no way it’s buried in some old tomb.”
Allison had no idea where the treasure was, but that answer would only anger him more. “I’m sure you can come up with more positive reinforcement. Isabel offered me information.”
�
��What are you talking about?”
“Isabel told me if I helped her find the treasure, she’d give me information that would save Zack’s men.”
Even in the dim beam of the flashlight, she saw Fenwick’s face turn red. “She would never do that. Remiel would kill her first.”
Allison shrugged, except the movement made her arms cramp. She breathed deeply until the muscles relaxed. “Why don’t you ask Isabel? The offer sounded sincere.”
Isabel appeared from the small room behind the altar. “What’s going on?”
“Fenwick is trying to find the treasure on his own,” Allison said, “so he can become Remiel’s second.”
Fenwick slapped Allison and she fell sideways onto the bricks. Her head spun and she tasted blood from her split lip.
Isabel came closer, holding her gun against her thigh. Her combat boots echoed on the stone floor. “Is this true?”
Fenwick scoffed. “Of course not.”
Isabel stared at Fenwick for a long moment before saying, “Secure her and the church. I need you at the tomb. We’re close to finding that treasure. I want to take it and get out of here before dawn.”
Fenwick took a plastic zip tie from his back pocket and bound Allison’s ankles together. Then he blindfolded and gagged her again.
Once they left, she chose a sketchy plan with little chance of success.
It took a lot of time and scooting around in the construction debris to find something metallic and sharp. Slowly, she cut through the plastic ties that held her hands behind her back.
Once free, she struggled to take off her gag and blindfold with numb hands. Then she curled into a ball because pins and needles tingled in her arms as the blood flow returned. While she lay there, she waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Fenwick had taken the flashlight with him.
Once she could sit, it took more minutes to cut through the ties around her ankles. She stood carefully, waiting for the feeling to come back to all of her extremities. Then she stumbled down the aisle toward the front door that was bolted shut from the outside.
She turned toward the altar and saw three enormous arched stained-glass windows set into the side walls. It was still too dark to see outside, but there were a few rays of moonlight. Inside, she could just make out the shadows of pews covered in canvas, paint cans stacked in the corners…and a hammer at her feet.
She picked it up and went to the first arched window. She pounded, but there was no way to open or shatter the heavy-duty glass that protected the stained glass. All of the other windows were also covered.
Disappointment made her hands shake, but she forced herself to keep going.
Feeling her way through the shadows, she made it to the wall behind the altar. That led her to the sacristy, but the back door was barricaded from the outside as well.
She returned to the sanctuary and fell to her knees behind the altar.
What was she going to do?
She was alone in a church on some isolated sea island where no one could find her.
The worst part? Zack believed she was going to leave him. Believed she was going to take some stupid job at a stupid school without him. Believed she didn’t care for him.
She hadn’t trusted him. She’d withheld herself from him. And he’d not said don’t go. He’d kissed her and walked away. Still, she wasn’t going to wait around for Isabel to come back and kill her.
She moved and, beneath her knee, felt an engraving in the stone floor. She used her hands to trace it and found a curvy line that led from the altar to the wall behind her. The moonlight shone a bit brighter, and she could make out the carvings attached to the line. They almost seemed like…leaves?
She brushed away the dust and stood. The line looked like a flower stem that started beneath the altar and led to the wall. She rubbed the dust off on her jeans and studied the church again. From the back to the front, there was the narthex, the nave, then the sanctuary. Three large arched windows made up the two side walls. Above the narthex door, there was a rose window.
The altar was in front of her, and she turned to see the paneled wall behind her. Now why wouldn’t there be a window behind the altar? Or at least an altarpiece?
She stood between the altar and the wall and stared at the floor. The carved stem ended beneath the wall. Considering the church’s architecture, it was almost as if the wall were an add-on. Maybe covering a window, definitely covering the engraving.
While interesting, this wasn’t going to save her. She needed to find a way out or at least be prepared to fight. She tightened her hold on the hammer. Fenwick might have a gun, but she had surprise on her side.
And now she was armed.
Chapter 45
On the Isle of Grace, Zack stared at the church across the street knowing he needed a plan. ASAP.
Unfortunately, at that moment he had nothing close. He couldn’t even confirm that Allison or his sister were in Saint Mary of Sorrows or even on the isle.
He left his hiding place behind a shed and returned to where he’d parked on the back side of Mamie’s Café, across from the church. The roof of the café, a former Texaco gas station, gave them a perfect vantage point from which to gather intel. The cloudy night had that blessing/curse thing going on: it hid him well but randomly obscured the moonlight and everything else.
He had to admit that he was surprised by Vane’s decision to tag along and that he’d taken charge of the aerial recon on the café’s roof. Then again, just because he sucked up to Kells and could be extremely entitled and annoying, that didn’t make him useless. The truth? Vane was, and always had been, a powerful, professional soldier who could do the hard things and be counted on when things got hot.
Zack found Detective Garza resting his elbows on the top of his car and staring at his phone. “Do you have a connection?”
“Nah.” Garza slid his phone into his jacket pocket and opened his car’s trunk. “The cellular is spotty and I can’t believe this place doesn’t have Wi-Fi.”
“There’s not enough people in this town to make it worth the cost.” Town being a generous description, since it consisted of Mamie’s Café, a modular shed for hurricane evacuation supplies, the rectory/sheriff’s office, and the church.
Pete climbed off the café’s roof. “I don’t see any perimeter guards.”
Zack hadn’t either. And that just added to his stress. Were they not in the right place?
Garza dug into a duffel bag in his trunk and dragged out a rifle with a scope. “These clouds are going to keep it darker than normal when dawn hits.”
Zack took the shotgun. “There’s a parked SUV near the rectory, and I thought I saw brief flashes of light inside the church.”
But they’d disappeared in the space of a blink.
“Dudes!” Vane’s head popped over the edge of the roof. “You need to see this.”
One by one, they climbed the exterior metal fire escape ladder to the second story. Zack slung the shotgun onto his back and went last. Once on top, he crawled to the edge overlooking the church on the other side of the street. He lay between Vane and Pete while Garza crawled to the corner.
Pete took Vane’s binoculars. “What are we looking at?”
Vane pointed to dark woods behind the church. “Lights in the far side of the churchyard.”
Garza used his rifle’s scope to survey the area. “I don’t see anything.”
Pete held the binoculars up to his eyes. “Nope.”
Zack took the binoculars and looked for himself. Nothing.
Garza crawled closer to the men. “Now what?”
“Dudes!” Vane took back his binoculars. “There are lights deep in that cemetery.”
“We have to get a visual,” Zack said. “I’ll go first. You three stay up here and I’ll use my flashlight to signal. One light means dan
ger and I’m coming back. Two lights mean all is clear.”
“I’m coming too,” Pete said. “You always need backup.”
Vane swung his rifle off his shoulder. “I’ll cover you. Garza can cover Zack.”
At least they had a plan. He had no headspace right now to consider the fact that this was a waste of time.
* * *
Isabel stood inside Mercy’s crypt and held her breath while Clayborne and the guards struggled to move the two stone coffins. The guards had opened them, but they’d been empty. Not filled with bones or dust or remnants of clothing. Just…empty.
Now the men were moving the coffins so they could see what was beneath. The tomb’s floor was made of stone, but there had to be a way to dig.
The treasure had to be here.
While they worked, she used her flashlight to check out the angels. They were the only other things in the room, but they didn’t appear to be made out of anything other than marble.
“Isabel.”
“Keep looking.” She’d never trusted Clayborne. He was as evil a monster as Remiel. She’d just not expected him to challenge her outright. That meant she had to kill him. She coughed and covered her nose and mouth from the dust and mildew.
“Ugh.” One of the guards pushed hard and a coffin finally moved. And beneath it? The same stone floor she stood on.
“Use the sledgehammer and break up the floor.” She took a breath to steady her increasing heart rate.
“It’s not here, Isabel.” Fenwick wiped his brow with his arm and tossed the digging stick down. It hit the floor with a loud clang. “It’s time to leave.”
She glanced around the tomb again. They only had a few flashlights. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t seeing what was probably in front of her.
“Did you hear that?” One of the guards pointed outside.
She turned to Clayborne. “Allison—”
“Bound and locked in that church. We need to take care of that problem and leave. Cut our losses.”
“No.”
Clayborne waved his hand in disgust and left the tomb.