Why? she wanted to ask her brother. Why are you trying to pull me back in? But she didn’t, partly because she didn’t want to run the risk of falling any farther back into the past, and partly because she already knew the answer: because he needed her. The world was about four years from ending and it was up to him and Red-Boar to fix things, with good old Jox holding their coats.
Anna sighed as she dropped into the driver’s seat of her car, a powder gray Lexus with more than fifty thousand on the odometer. Dick had wanted to trade the car in last year, but she’d refused, partly because she didn’t see the point in more payments, and partly because there had been something disturbingly symbolic about the argument.
‘‘And here I am,’’ she said aloud over the engine’s purr, ‘‘trying to decide between a husband who might or might not want to trade me in when I hit fifty thousand miles and a brother who wants me to—’’ She broke off. Hell, she didn’t know what Strike wanted at this point. He hadn’t tried to contact her directly. He hadn’t even brought the codex fragment in person the first time. He’d sent Red-Boar, one of the few people in the universe she actively disliked.
Telling herself that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, Anna slapped the transmission into drive and hit the gas far harder than she’d intended. She gasped as the Lexus launched itself out of the parking spot, then shrieked when another car suddenly materialized in front of her. She went for the brake, but missed, stomping down in shock when she recognized Dick’s beloved Explorer right in front of her.
The Lexus was accelerating when it hit.
The impact jolted her against her seat belt as a crunching, rending noise surrounded her on all sides. She screamed again, mostly out of surprise and dismay, and then just sat there for a second, staring at the Lexus’s popped-up hood, the Explorer’s caved-in quarter panel, and the shocked expression on her husband’s face.
Oh, shit. She’d T-boned Dick’s Explorer.
She hadn’t been going fast enough to hurt herself— not even fast enough to detonate the air bags—but she’d sure as hell been going fast enough to do some damage. Hands shaking, she fumbled for her seat belt and shoved open the door. Her legs trembled as she stood and tried to think of something—anything—she could say to undo what she’d just done.
‘‘Are you okay?’’ He appeared around the back of the Explorer, almost running, his eyes wide and his hands outstretched to her. ‘‘Anna, are you hurt?’’
She shook her head, feeling the tremors drain away, leaving the beginning of tears in their place. ‘‘No, I’m okay. But, Dick, the cars . . .’’
‘‘Hush. It’s fine.’’ He caught her hands and squeezed; then, as if that weren’t enough, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’
‘‘What are you sorry for? I’m the one who didn’t look.’’ Her words were muffled against his shirtfront.
‘‘Fuck the cars; I’m talking about us. I was a jerk to you just now, and I’m sorry.’’
‘‘Oh.’’ She relaxed against him as sneaking warmth unfurled within her chest. She settled against him, feeling safe for a second. Feeling loved. ‘‘Me, too.’’
This was what it was all about, she thought. Forgiveness. Normalcy.
‘‘Where were you going in such a hurry, anyway?’’
‘‘I was coming after you,’’ she said without thinking, without having even realized that was what she’d been doing. ‘‘I wanted to say I was sorry for being a bitch.’’
‘‘By wrecking my car.’’ But there was a thread of amusement in his voice, and faint laughter rumbled in his chest beneath her ear.
She grinned up at him. ‘‘Got your attention, didn’t it?’’
‘‘Next time try an e-mail. Or flowers or something.’’ But his arms tightened around her, and he dropped a quick kiss on her lips and lowered his voice. ‘‘What do you say we see if these heaps still run, and go find ourselves a little wine and candlelight, and a table set for two?’’
‘‘You’re on,’’ she said, smiling up at him and consciously letting go of the petty resentments and the nagging sense that she should be working on the codex.
This was the life she’d chosen, the life she wanted. It was up to her to make it work.
It took Lucius twenty minutes and one duck, here comes the security guy before he struck gold, or rather parchment.
He found the packet wedged between two fat dictionaries of the modern Quiche Mayan language. He worked the packet free and held it carefully by its edges as he carried it to Anna’s desk and set it down.
Then, very slowly, he opened the brown paper wrapping and the conservatory paper beneath, feeling the textures change as he worked his way through several layers of oilcloth. When he’d pulled the last one aside, he stared at what he’d uncovered.
Dear God, it was beautiful. And horrible. Terrifying and wonderful. He saw the skull in vivid whites and blacks, the date, the jaguar . . . the blood soaking the burning earth. It was all there, and more. It was . . .
It was everything he’d been looking for, everything he was trying to make the others believe with his theories and papers, the final proof for a dissertation that had started losing momentum months ago.
It was perfect. And she’d been keeping it from him.
Anger coiled in his chest, red-black and foreign-feeling, and when his face felt strange and stretched tight, he realized he’d bared his teeth.
This should’ve been my discovery, he thought. Mine, not hers.
He reached out, wanting to touch the colors, wanting to inhale them, bring them into his body and breathe them out again as shapes and sounds. The room spun, contracting his attention into a grayish cone that began and ended with the piece of painted bark.
He’d originally intended—to the extent that he’d had a plan at all—to do a rough translation of the fragment right then, without removing it from her office. He’d planned to use it to springboard additional research, then use his findings to convince her to give him access to the full text. Or so he’d told himself. Now, as he reached out and carefully refolded the packet layer by layer, he knew that he’d never meant to do that at all.
He’d come to steal it.
Mind numb, fingers moving automatically, he slipped the packet beneath his shirt and tucked the tails of the garment into his waistband to hold the bundle in place against his skin. He cinched his belt an extra notch to secure everything, and took a long look around to make sure he’d left no sign of his presence. Then he slipped out the way he’d come in, a thief in the night, prompted by a half-heard whisper in the back of his head, the feeling of stars coming into alignment, and the dark, sensual power humming just beyond his fingertips, whispering to him. Calling to him.
Speaking words only he could understand.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As Leah and the trainees filed into the sacred chamber for the Venus conjunction ceremony, her blue robes swished around her ankles and her stomach clenched with nerves. She didn’t think she was the only one fighting to stay calm, either. Sven was a funny gray-green color, his lips almost bloodless and pressed together in a thin line. Jade was sweating lightly, even though the AC was up and she’d be sitting outside the circle while the others underwent the ritual. Michael was his usual inscrutable self, with thick shields hidden behind a sexy smile, but she’d noticed him popping a Pepto tab when he thought nobody was looking. Brandt and Patience were hanging on to each other for dear life. Rabbit had lost some of his normal swagger, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in the copan smoke liberally scenting the air, and Alexis and Nate were clinging together in the corner, trying to look like they were fine. Yep, definite barf potential, all of them.