Shadow Cave (Shadows #1)

by Angie West

Shadow Cave

  Book one of the Shadows Trilogy

  By Angie West

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Cover by Olivia, OliviaProDesigns.

  Copyright© 2014 Angie West

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission.

  The Shadows Trilogy

  Shadow Cave

  Return to the Shadows

  Shadow Borne

  Also by Angie West

  Spirit of the Wolf

  Incubus

  The Fifth Hour

  Jaxson’s Song

  The Game

  “A flame to light the path. Gateway to all things past. A door from which there is no going back. Born in truth; forged in lies. Never betray the secret…forever shielded from human eyes.”

  Chapter One

  Access Denied

  “Access denied.”

  Damn, and all those other phrases a lady was not supposed to say in polite company. Not that I was in polite company, or any company for that matter. Shielding my eyes from the rain that was pouring down in heavy gray sheets, I scanned the mostly deserted parking lot. Not a soul in sight. Damn. Damn. Shit. Hey, nobody ever said I couldn’t think cuss words. Right then, I was thinking every foul, vulgar phrase I had ever known.

  “Hey wait!” Thank God—a live person…one of the desk clerks, maybe. I could see him through the frosted glass of the wide double doors, pretending he didn’t notice me. I tried again anyway, for good measure.

  “Hey, open the door! You don’t understand! I work here. My name is Claire Roberts, and I’m a scientist!” If anything, the man tried even harder to ignore my presence…not that I blamed him exactly. To him I was just a screaming nut job. Brushing my hair might have helped. Not that I hadn’t, but the wind and the rain had…well, never mind. Not important. The point was the man was definitely not going to let me in the building. He didn’t even glance my way again. Man, was he good. Normally, the tight security would have been reassuring—had I been warm and dry on the other side of that door.

  I pulled my coat tighter around my body and tried not to shiver. I could try calling John. Checking the time again I shook my head in disgust, dropping the cell phone back into my bag. It was too late. The meeting would be well underway by now. Besides, I had already left the man two messages over the past…I peeked at my watch…twenty-five minutes. ‘I’m stuck outside the building, John. I forgot my badge key, John. Why the hell am I here this early anyway, John?’

  Why the hell indeed, I mused as I got back into my car. It was disconcerting enough that I was summoned to this meeting at five in the morning—even more so that the summons had come in the form of a tense midnight phone call just a few short hours ago. I hadn’t slept or even had coffee yet. It was no wonder I had left my official badge key at home. And it was just like him to not answer his phone, too. John was the arrogant, pompous type all the way. He probably couldn’t believe that any of his staff would dare to not come running when he called. Although, I had to admit, calling me his staff was pushing it. Thank God. I was more at home in the field than I would probably ever be in the office…which was a great cause of concern for most of the people in my life.

  I shook my head and vigorously rubbed my hands together, frowning as I tried to warm them. I wasn’t anti-social—far from it. I had lots of friends, and a lot of my time was spent, if not in an office, in a laboratory at least. But sometimes a person just needed…peace. Quiet and solace.

  A sharp crack on the window beside my head had me pivoting in my seat. I’m getting way too jumpy these days… I peered through the thick glass and sighed in relief. It was just one of John’s cronies. I’d seen him around before but didn’t know what to call him. ‘Jackass in a suit’ came to mind, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment. I smiled sweetly as he glared at me, feeling grateful and maybe a bit smug that my thoughts were private.

  “Mr. Hanlen sent me to get you.”

  “Great, you almost missed me.” Literally, I would have been home free and quite possibly in a hot tub in another few minutes. Warm, with coffee…and maybe even scented candles. I sighed. “Well, let’s get this over with,” I muttered, more to myself than my soggy companion.

  He sniffed but said nothing as we made our way into the building and down several winding halls that connected to a large dome-shaped conference room. I was having visions of Star Trek as he paused at the door to slide his badge through yet another scanner.

  “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  “Mr. Arlenn.”

  “Do you have a first name, Mr. Arlenn?”

  “Richard.” He swung the heavy steel door open and swiftly ushered me into the room.

  I barely stopped a laugh from escaping. ‘Dick in a suit.’ Hey, I was close. The laughter died as I looked around the room. Wow. What was worse than a dick in a suit? How about an entire room full of them? From the looks of it, that was exactly what I had just walked into. I was sixteen all over again for a moment, asking my older sister Megan what a ‘sausage fest’ was—a super classy phrase that I’d heard some of my classmates use. I remembered how she had jerked her thumb toward a table of rambunctious teenage boys across the diner and replied, “That’s a sausage fest.”

  “Claire?”

  “Oh…yes, sorry. What?” I blinked at John, feeling a little guilty. I wasn’t normally so waspish. And maybe he didn’t really deserve it…much.

  He frowned with what looked like concern, but I knew better; more likely, it was annoyance. I was almost an hour late, Richard was damp, I was dripping all over the floor, and his meeting was being held up.

  “John. What a pleasure.”

  “Yes…would you like some coffee, or perhaps a towel?”

  “Yes to both, thanks,” I mumbled, starting to feel a twinge of embarrassment. All eyes were on me, and I was sure I looked a mess. Worse yet, the mascara I had chosen was not of the waterproof variety—not the smartest choice in the rain. But who knew I would be standing in it for the better part of half an hour? And besides, I hated waterproof mascara. Why didn’t I just wear a duct tape bra while I was at it? Or—

  “Thank you.” I graciously accepted the towel from another unnamed crony and took a seat near the door.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” I tried.

  “Not to worry. Not to worry…”

  “What is this about?” Did I mention John was married to my sister Megan? ‘Was’ being the operative word. He divorced her five years ago for greener pastures. That’s a more polite way of saying ‘bimbo in a tight sweater.’ They—Megan and John—never had any children, and Megan had moved on a long time ago. But I still had a strict rule to call him by his first name at all times. I had wanted to take a bat to his Mercedes, but Megan—

  “Not sure, but—”

  “Sorry. What did you say?”

  John’s green eyes narrowed in irritation. “Please try and stay with us.” He sniffed.

  “Absolutely. I’m all yours. Now what’s so important that I had to come here?”

  “Now Claire, you’re a respected scientist,” he began to protest, all charm and grace. Too bad it was all fake.

  I waved my hand and shook my head, attempting to cut through his B.S. “Right. I’m a botanist, John.”

  He cleared his throat. “A good one.”

  I raised one eyebrow and set the towel aside, saying nothing.

  “It’
s about your brother,” he began gently.

  “I haven’t seen him,” I said quickly, jumping forward in my seat. Probably not a good idea…I was giving too much away. So much for my poker face; that was definitely not good. Although it wasn’t a lie—I hadn’t seen him, not in five months, anyway. The last time had been a cool, crisp night, and I had been sworn to secrecy.

  Oh Mike, I thought, of all people to swear to secrecy—why me? Not that he had told me much of anything…not anything that made sense, at least. But of all people…I shook my head. Everyone knew that if you needed a cover, you didn’t use Claire. Rule number one. I may be good at a lot of things, but lying wasn’t one of them.

  I forced myself to breathe normally. John—and the rest of the room—regarded me with open speculation. I forced a nervous laugh.

  “What has Mike gotten into now? He owes you money?” Mike never owed anyone money—that I knew of. But it sounded good. Normal, I thought. Or at least it would have if my left eye hadn’t been twitching. I told you I’m a horrible liar. Secrets are just not my forte. But more than that, my last meeting with my brother still didn’t set right with me. I had a vague but nagging sense of unease after Mike had left that I had been pushing to the side for the last few months. Now that unease was steadily creeping back, full force.

  John didn’t laugh. He just shuffled some papers and cleared his throat.

  “He really owes you money?” I was surprised. I never figured Mike for a man who would be in debt—he didn’t live extravagantly. Didn’t gamble, or drink, or use drugs.

  “No, nothing like that.”

  Oh. “So, just spit it out, John. What’s this about?”

  “Do you know anything about the work your brother had been doing for us?”

  “No.” My senses were running on high alert now. Mike had been working for these people? No way. For that matter, why was I? I guess the answer to that question was simple enough. I was there first. And I didn’t exactly work for John. I worked in the basement in labs and pharmaceuticals. John and the rest of his Armani-clad associates were in charge of the day-to-day operations at LanTech Corporation. The pay was decent, people generally left me alone, and I didn’t have to be chained to the place twenty-four hours a day. And like I said, I was there first. No way was I going to be run off by my sister’s ex-husband, no matter how much I was beginning to rethink that decision.

  Actually, I had been mulling over a change of scenery for a while now. A career change might be nice. Maybe I could be a waitress, or a show girl…they still had showgirls, right?

  I shook my head and pressed my lips together, eyeing John in silence. The discomfort was ever present, and I wasn’t about to volunteer any information.

  He seemed momentarily deflated, but pressed on after a moment. “Your brother is an archaeologist.”

  “Yes.”

  “How to say this…” His fingers drummed lightly on the lacquered tabletop. He appeared to be deep in thought for a moment. “Seven months ago, Michael contacted me—he was looking for financial backing for a dig, of sorts.”

  “‘Dig of sorts’?” Now he had my full attention. “What do you mean, a ‘dig of sorts’?”

  “I’m getting to that. It’s—well, it’s a very interesting story, I assure you.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I said dryly. “But why would he come to LanTech for backing?” He hates you. “Why didn’t his organization fund the dig?” He really hates you. “Or the museum affiliates? Or any of the other number of foundations he could have approached for the funding?” Did I mention that he really hates you?

  “Your brother came to me several months ago with documents and literature that were…unique. He unearthed them in central Africa on an expedition several years ago.”

  I frowned. “Africa. That was five years ago. But why?”

  “He had his own reasons for holding onto the documents. Your brother is a business man at heart, Claire.”

  It took everything I had to refrain from giving Dear John a coffee bath. My brother was a businessman? He would have sooner tarred and feathered himself. But I didn’t bother telling John this. It wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, and I was starting to think that now was a great time to play the strong silent part.

  “The literature was a very interesting story indeed. There was a tale of an ancient civilization. The documents made up a series of clues—a map, if you will—to a location in Africa. The potential monetary value of the expedition was significant.”

  I scowled now. “You mean to tell me that my brother would have…would have…scalped the findings to the highest bidder to make a quick buck? Are you kidding me? You, I would believe that of, but Mike?” I picked up my bag. “I’m done. Do you understand me? I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but I can’t help you find Mike and I don’t want to hear any more. Have a nice day, John, and you better pray that I don’t turn you in for something like this.” With that, I turned to go.

  “Now, Claire, you wouldn’t want your brother implicated in something so…unethical. Not with his whereabouts and safety in question at the moment.”

  That stopped me. He knew it would, damn him.

  “Where are the documents? And where is my brother? If you did anything to him, I will make you sorrier than you already are, you worm.” I turned back, palms flat on the table, all pretense of civility gone now.

  He flushed bright red now, his temper having sustained all the blows it would from me, I supposed. Well, too bad, I thought. I was nowhere near done if anything had happened to Mike.

  “The documents are gone, and so is your brother. I agreed to fund the expedition, as I’ve said already. We did some checking. He never made it to Zaire. He hasn’t contacted us since he took the money. But he left some clues behind.”

  John held out a box for me to take. I hesitated a moment before I reluctantly took a step away from the door and took the package from his outstretched hand.

  The box was full of notebooks. I sat down, then, and carefully picked up a book, impatiently thumbing through the worn pages. It was full, bordering on overfull, of Mike’s less than neat handwriting. This was odd in itself. Mike actually had very good penmanship. I kept that to myself as I dug through the box, locating several folders and rough sketches before I dropped the items back into the box. I looked up and waited.

  “Mike’s notes. Some of them are in English, the rest are written in some sort of code. But from what we were able to figure from those notes and the drawings, along with a small bit of literature he apparently printed out, we think he found a…realm. Some sort of—”

  “Alternate universe? You’ve got to be kidding me.” I started to laugh. “Oh, this is great, just great. You expect me to believe…Lord. Okay, you got me. April fools.” Except it wasn’t April. Still, I was certainly feeling the fool.

  John cleared his throat and lifted his chin another notch, indignant now. “Yes, well, it’s there in the notes. I realize how this sounds; we all realize how this sounds. But, the fact is, your brother took a considerable amount of money from me and from this organization. He vanished without a trace, and now we’ve found—”

  “Yeah, by the way, where did you ‘find’ this?”

  “The documents were at his residence.”

  “Nice.” Asshole.

  “It’s all there in black and white, Claire. Science has speculated the phenomena of separate plains of existence for centuries. To actually be part of a discovery like this—well, that would be something spectacular. Surely you can see that, being the scientist that you are.”

  “Botanist,” I murmured absently as I leafed through the box again. My head snapped up then. “What are you…oh no, John, no you don’t. I’m not getting involved in this, whatever ‘this’ even is. Have you taken up drinking?”

  “How very amusing, Claire. I wouldn’t have involved you in this if I didn’t have to. Your brother mentions you specifically in his notes. We think you might be
of some assistance to us—and to him.”

  “Me?” I gestured to the box. “Where is it? Show me.”

  “Look in the last notebook. The inside of the back cover.”

  I flipped the book over and read the words near the bottom. “To Baby Bear and Indian summers,” I read aloud. Shocked, I lifted my eyes to John.

  “Baby Bear?”

  “What my family used to call me. Yes.”

  “And Indian summers?”

  “They only meant long summers. We, ah, had a lot of fun, together on summer break, me and Mike did. Megan was older and…well, never mind.” I didn’t tell John about the summer Mike turned ten. I was twelve. We set out for the woods near the end of the summer, in August. It was burning hot, but Mike insisted that we were on an adventure. I closed my eyes, trying to remember the details of that long ago camping trip.

  “Does it mean anything else to you?”

  I shook my head, mute.

  “What about the code he used?”

  “Code? Oh.” I noticed now—and wondered briefly how I could have missed it before—the words that filled Mike’s notebooks were a jumbled mess. I looked a little harder, concentrating, and tried not to smile. The words and many of the actual letters were backward. Some of the letters were even upside down, like most of his ‘A’s and ‘C’s. Throughout the book, I noticed that he had even simply scrambled many of the words. It was a pain in the butt to read, but easy enough to figure out if you took the time to do it.

  I coughed and sipped coffee that was somehow still warm. “You and your gang of reputed business men couldn’t crack the code, huh?” I couldn’t help but notice that several of the men didn’t appreciate the remark.

  “Do you recognize it?” John was impatient now.

  “Yes, I do. Mike developed a secret code recently.” No point in telling him it was something we had been doing since childhood.

  “And you are familiar with it, I am assuming.”

  “You assume correctly.” I leaned back and folded my arms across my still damp chest. “I’m not giving it to you.”

  “Of course you aren’t,” he muttered. “But lucky for you I’m not asking for the key to the code.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  “I want you to find your brother.”