by Melissa Frey
And this was for a guy with a high school education.
He rounded the corner, and his view of the entire room opened up. Amid the seemingly endless parade of miscellaneous artifacts, one piece always stood out. It caught his eye whenever he entered the room. There it is.
Standing in its own display case, visible from nearly every corner of the L-shaped room, stood the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. And that was saying something, given that he spent his nights surrounded by the curious and interesting.
It was a sphere, probably less than a foot in diameter, made up of what looked like solid rock. He wasn’t really sure what made the object so fascinating, but he found himself drawn to it.
He came up to the display case, eyes fixed on the globe. As he did, his eyes widened. “What the—”
The sphere had started glowing.
That was the last thing he remembered.
Twelve Hours Earlier, Central Florida Museum of Natural History
The olive-skinned, dark-haired woman stepped into the lobby, tossing her long hair to the side as she pulled her handbag to her shoulder. Simon Cortez, the museum’s curator, adjusted his thin, knit tie and smoothed his starched collar as he scurried through the glass door with the single word “Offices” painted across it in a muted yellow. He indulged himself a look back through the clouded glass, catching a glimpse of the thin, petite outline of his fiancée. The same thin, petite outline he’d just become intimately reacquainted with in the janitor’s closet. For the fifth time this week.
The attractive woman’s eyes searched the cavernous room, and Simon pulled at his light gray, perfectly tailored suit jacket as he hurried toward her. He didn’t know why, but this woman just screamed VIP.
And he was nothing if he wasn’t accommodating.
Her eyes found his and he stumbled slightly as he approached. How is she doing tha—the thought died in his brain and suddenly he forgot how to speak. The woman’s eyes held his with power of a thousand chains and he tried to swallow without being too obvious. “H-Hello, Miss, may I help you?” Simon clasped his hands in front of him to remind them to be still.
Her voice was as sultry as the summer nights he spent as a child on the Riviera Maya. “Yes, thank you. I am here to view the Mayan exhibit.”
Simon exhaled as she broke their gaze and his mind was suddenly clear once again. He blinked once, then directed her toward the Mayan room with a flourish of his right arm. “Of course! Right this way.” His quick, staccato steps echoed in the marble room as he led her to the hall immediately to her left.
Simon walked quickly through the Incan and Aztec exhibits as soon as he noticed she was staring straight ahead. Once they passed through the large rectangular opening and into the long, L-shaped room that made up the Mayan exhibit hall, Simon launched into curator mode. Force of habit.
“To your left is a photographic display of the people from Lamanai, an archaeological dig in northern Belize, and the artifacts they found and cataloged. It was said that this particular dig was only open a short time before they found a large number of items with significant value. And next to these photographs”—Simon continued down the wall—“are reproductions of some of the hieroglyphs they found underground at the same site.”
The woman was staring intently at the first display. “Are these reproductions a full representation of all the hieroglyphs they found?”
Astute observation, Simon thought. Beautiful and smart. “These reproductions simply give us a taste of what they found. The full text is still being analyzed and transcribed. We hope it will be available in the coming months.”
The woman was frowning, so Simon quickly changed the subject, pivoting ninety degrees to show the next collection. “And these items are actual artifacts unearthed at the dig.” He motioned to the large glass display case behind her. “They found a burial chamber with several pieces of pottery and other items used in the burial process.” The case was inhabited by all manner of clay pieces, most only part of their former selves.
Simon turned, moving further into the room toward another display case on their right—this time one with some textiles in it. “The articles seen here are reproductions of period tapestries and garments worn by the native Mayans during the eighth and ninth centuries, just before their civilization realized a drastic decrease in their native peoples. The cause of the Mayan demise has never been determined and is a heavily debated topic among academics.”
He glanced at the woman again, whose gaze was fixed on the beige wall on the far side of the room. The plain, empty wall.
He moved on. As they neared the center of the room, Simon sensed that this would be a short tour today. “Along this other wall”—he indicated the other part of the “L” in the room, to their left—“are some rare stones they discovered as well as other pictures of the modern dig, showing the archaeologists who made this discovery and who also donated all the artifacts you see here.” He swept his arm in a wide arc, but then noticed the woman was frowning again. Definitely time to wrap it up.
They had reached the center of the room, and now he stopped. “And this, our final stop, is the crème de la crème.” He moved to stand beside a smaller display standing proudly in the middle of the room. “This is a globe they found underground at Lamanai. It’s said to contain a light source from within, though that is simply conjecture at this point—I’ve never actually seen it light up.” Simon offered the requisite smile then fell quiet. Though the other cases dwarfed its size, there was something otherworldly about this piece that gave it the most presence in the room. Simon loved to bring patrons in for a tour and watch their reactions.
And he wasn’t disappointed. The dark-haired woman leaned in toward the piece, her eyes widening. Simon even thought he saw them sparkle.
“Incredible,” the woman breathed and Simon followed her gaze, staring at the artifact next to him. Atop a marble pedestal, at just about chest height and behind four walls—and a ceiling—of glass, a curious globe sat. Simon had always wondered what made this piece so special; it honestly looked like a spherical piece of tan-colored rock.
But as he watched the globe, he noticed something start to happen. As the woman stared into its center, Simon could’ve sworn the globe was lighting up—reacting to her.
No, that would be ridiculous. Simon straightened his back and adjusted his suit jacket again, then cleared his throat. “Would you like to stay here a little longer?”
The woman never took her eyes off the subtly glowing sphere. “Yes, I would like that very much.”
Simon nodded once. “Very good.” Then he turned on his heels and had to remind himself not to run through the gallery. He suddenly didn’t want to be in the same room with that woman and that globe another minute.
CHAPTER 1
The Globe
Anthropology Department, University of Central Florida, Orlando
“Okay, so what’s the first step in excavating an archaeological site?”
Dr. Kayla Harrington gazed around at her freshman class, the only class of bright-eyed newbies she had this year. They sat in black wheeled office chairs behind long, off-white tables on four wide, tiered, burgundy-carpeted rows. This was her largest class, but the classroom was cramped; she’d taken to leaving her warmer clothes at home on Tuesdays and Thursdays for this very reason. She made a mental note again to talk to Dean Stewart about changing rooms before the next semester began.
Because the fall semester was almost over—the closer they got to Thanksgiving, then Christmas break, she could see the students’ attentiveness exponentially decrease—and she was grateful. She loved to teach, even freshmen, but their naivety sometimes frustrated her. She much rather enjoyed the Masters’ students. Not that she’d ever admit that aloud. Probably not even to Grady. Of course, he would know anyway . . .
A tiny, spectacled girl in the second row raised her hand. Kayla nodded at her. “Gretchen?”
The girl swallowed before answering. “We use
radar and/or land surveys to find where the artifacts are placed . . . ?” She let the statement hang, ending the sentence with a question.
Kayla nodded once. At least she was listening at some point this semester . . . “Very good. Next?” She glanced around the room.
A dark-haired boy named Tommy answered from the fourth row. “We map the site.”
Kayla nodded again. “And how do we do that?”
Tommy continued. “We place stakes and twine in a grid pattern, noting the location of every stake.”
Kayla smiled. “Very thorough. Someone else want to take the next step?”
Blonde Holly in the back spoke up. “We start excavation. Tools and methods will vary depending on the type of soil, weather conditions, and condition of the artifacts.”
Kayla clasped her hands in front of her, nodding once again. “Good.” She glanced at the clock on the wall to her left facing the row of windows to her right. “Looks like that’s all the time we have for today. The final is two weeks from today. And remember your semester paper is due Tuesday.” She always thought it was cruel to have a paper due after Thanksgiving, so she liked to collect them the class before the students left for the break.
“I will finish up my lectures in the next class, then we’ll have a few of you present your papers the following week. We’re in the home stretch.” She smiled, and most of the students grinned back. She walked back to her lectern. “See you Tuesday.”
Kayla collected her things as her students did the same, but not so quietly. She smiled to herself. These young kids sure do have a lot of life in them.
Her phone buzzed on the desk next to her. She glanced over, her smile widening as she read the text that just came through. Grady, wanting to meet for lunch. As always.
She packed her things more quickly.
“Hey, beautiful.” Grady stood to pull out the wrought-iron bistro chair for Kayla as she approached. He’d picked this place specifically for her; he knew it was her favorite restaurant on campus.
“You’re crazy,” she shot back with a smile on her face as she scooted in toward the table.
Grady sat down and reached for her hand, smiling. “Crazy about you.” He knew it was cheesy, but he couldn’t help himself. Kayla made him feel alive, almost like he hadn’t been really living before her. And besides, Grady knew she didn’t mind.
Since this past summer, when their relationship had started, things had been moving quickly. And given all that had happened this summer—finding the Codex and receiving its Power, namely—their swift romance made sense.
I love you, Grady McGready. Always will.
Grady grinned at Kayla’s thoughts in his head. They’d been able to hear each others’ thoughts for several months now, and he honestly loved it. But as his mind started down a path he knew she wasn’t ready for yet, he had the realization that sometimes it could be a little problematic . . .
He quickly spoke, pushing the thoughts from his mind. The last five or so months had given him a little practice in being able to surprise Kayla—not a small feat when the woman could hear his thoughts. “So what sounds good today?”
Kayla gave a perfunctory glance at the menu. They came here almost every day, and every day the same song and dance. She’d peruse the menu, pretend to want to try something new, then always settle on one of the three dishes she ordered here. Fish sandwich, soup of the day, or . . .
“Probably the barbecue bacon burger.”
Grady grinned. Yep, that was the third one.
“How about you?” Kayla took a sip of her ice water, her eyes smiling at his thoughts in her head.
Grady scanned the menu. He did his best to try new things whenever he had the chance, but sometimes it was exhausting. That’s when he decided today was going to be a boring day. “Chicken tenders basket.”
Kayla scrunched her nose, smiling, and Grady knew why. Fried food didn’t agree with her. Neither did dairy, and she didn’t like mushrooms. Or kale. She hated kale.
He loved that he knew nearly everything about her.
Their favorite waiter stepped up to their small jet-black, wrought-iron table in his signature gray high-top sneakers. “Grady, Kayla, hi! How are you both this fine Florida day?”
They smiled up at the skinny, bespectacled young man dressed all in black from his neck to his ankles, his shoes the one aberration management allowed. That and the multiple arm tattoos exposed by the rolled sleeves of his button-up shirt. “Glen, hi! How are your classes going?” Grady knew from their previous conversations that he was a junior economics major, with a minor in statistics. The guy loved business and numbers. Grady’s polar opposite.
Glen rested his forearm against his notepad, pen in hand. “Oh, they’re going well. Next semester’s gonna be crazy, but I’ll figure it out.” He turned to Kayla. “How are you?”
Kayla smiled up at him. “I’ll be glad when this semester’s over.” She grinned. “And also hungry.”
Glen chuckled. “What can I get for you?”
“Barbecue bacon burger, how it comes. With a side salad instead of fries. Olive oil and lemon for the dressing.” She handed Glen her menu, who took it and turned to Grady.
“Chicken tenders basket for me, with sweet potato fries. And honey mustard.”
Glen nodded, taking Grady’s offered menu. He turned to walk away, then quickly flipped back around. “Hey . . . you both were the ones who donated all those artifacts to the Museum of Natural History in Gainesville, right?”
Grady and Kayla nodded in unison.
“It’s on the news.” He nodded toward the ceiling-mounted flat-screen just inside the open-air restaurant. “Mysterious disappearance, I think.”
The three of them stared at the screen, trying to piece together the story from the subtitles on the silent news piece.
After about a minute, Grady asked, “Do you know what happened?”
Glen shrugged. “Not really. I just remembered the name of the museum from that news story last summer, where they interviewed the two of you about all that stuff you’d found in—where was it—Belize?” Kayla nodded and Glen shrugged. “Sorry, that’s all I know.” He offered a half-smile then walked away to put their order in.
Grady caught Kayla’s gaze and held it. I wonder . . .
Grady, that’s insane. How could anything possibly go wrong?
Kayla, you know better than I do the crazy things that globe did to you.
So you think it’s the globe?
I don’t know what else it could be. Grady sighed, combing his hair back with his fingers. Then he reached in his pocket for his phone. I know we promised to keep these away at meals, but . . .
Kayla nodded once. We need to find out what happened. This could be nothing—or it could be very bad.
Grady nodded back, unlocking his phone and quickly searching for and finding the story. He could hear Kayla in his head, trying to understand what he was reading, but apparently having little success. “Grady? What does it say?”
Grady cleared his throat. “Sorry. The story I found doesn’t say much, just that a night guard disappeared early this morning. His nightstick was on the ground . . . in the middle of the Mayan exhibit.”
Kayla gasped.
“They didn’t find any other evidence, and the museum was still locked when his relief got in this morning.”
Grady could feel Kayla freeze across from him, and he could sense why. He took a deep breath. “Look . . . our classes are out for the day. I can let the department admin know that we’ll be out the rest of the day if you’d like to drive to Gainesville.”
Kayla’s eyes flew to his. “Really?”
Grady attempted what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Of course. You won’t have peace of mind until we check it out.”
Kayla’s face relaxed as her shoulders released. She mouthed a quick “thank you” as he dialed the anthropology department.
Codex