“Get the chair,” Yarwood said to Verity. “Go on, get it. Hurry.”
Verity made a production out of dragging the heaviest chair in the room across the floor. That was all the distraction Jonas needed. He reached down and rattled a few bones in the darkness. “Sorry, Digby, old pal,” he muttered. “You never did get much respect from the academic community, did you?” He palmed the stiletto and slipped it up under his sleeve.
Reality started to shimmer in a familiar way. Jonas fought the transition and quickly slid the lethally thin stiletto into his jacket pocket. Reality returned to normal as soon as he was no longer touching the stiletto. He would have to be careful not to touch it again until he was ready to use it. He didn’t need the added distraction of watching Hazelhurst’s murder over and over during the trek to the hidden room.
“Okay, looks like this is as good as it’s going to get.”
Jonas stood up and kicked one of Hazelhurst’s loafers out of the way.
“You finished?” Yarwood called, peering into the gloom. “Best I can do. If you’ve got a weak stomach, don’t look to the left as you come through the door.”
“Let me worry about my stomach,” Yarwood snapped. He prodded Verity through the entrance. The blackness of the corridor loomed ahead of him. It was then that Yarwood realized that the one who held the flashlight in this situation was as powerful as the one who held the gun. ‘‘Give Verity the light, Quarrel.”
Jonas swallowed an oath and put the flashlight in Verity’s hand. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. He saw far too much understanding in her gaze. She would try something reckless if he didn’t squelch the idea immediately. He knew it as surely as he knew that she had red hair.
But she wouldn’t be able to pull it off without getting hurt. Jonas was equally sure of that. Silently he shook his head, the movement barely perceptible. But he knew she got the message, because he saw the disappointment flare in her eyes. Jonas turned and started into the darkness.
“Not so fast, Quarrel.” Yarwood urged Verity ahead of him as he started down the corridor. “Stay within the light beam. I want to be able to see you at all times.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got no particular desire to fall down the stairs.”
“What stairs?”
The ones up ahead. This corridor goes straight down to the bottom of the villa. It ends up on the same level as the torture chamber. Relax, Yarwood. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”
Verity griped the flashlight tightly and wondered frantically what Jonas was planning. She’d felt him retrieve the stiletto, and she knew he was up to something. She could sense it.
But he made no move, gave no signal as the three of them trooped down the narrow staircase and into the bottom level of the corridor. She finally realized that he was actually going to lead Yarwood to the room. Well, why not? There was nothing there to find.
But the warmth of her earrings against her skin and the chill of the green crystal in her pocket whispered another message. The closer they got to the hidden room, the stronger that message became. Verity was constantly aware of the gun pointed at her neck, but she was beginning to worry about other matters. The secrets in the vision were every bit as dangerous as the bullets in Yarwood’s gun. Verity had a feeling that Jonas had decided to try something risky in the hidden room.
They reached the end of the corridor. Jonas came to a halt in front of the stone wall that concealed the entrance to the hidden room.
“This is it, Yarwood.”
“Where? Show me, dammit. All I see is a blank wall.”
“Watch.” Jonas went to work on the mechanism. Yarwood stared in fascination as the wall began to creak and move. He was breathing heavily. Verity could feel the tension in him.
“Fucking hell,” Yarwood said in a tone of burning excitement.
The door swung open slowly, revealing the small, cold room behind it. Jonas walked through the entrance. Yarwood pushed Verity inside. Instinctively, Verity pointed the flashlight beam at the heavy black chest.
“I’ll be damned,” Yarwood said. “What’s inside?”
“I told you, Yarwood. There’s nothing inside.”
“There’s got to be something inside. It’s a chest. A treasure chest.”
“Take a look for yourself.” Jonas walked over to where the rusted sword hilt lay on the stone floor. He picked it up.
Verity sucked in her breath, realizing too late what Jonas had just done. He was going to access the vision. But why now?
The room was already twisting around her. Verity struggled to hang on to her awareness of what was happening in real time even as she was pulled into the psychic corridor.
The vision leaped into focus, sharper, stronger, and glowing more malevolently than it ever had before. The crystal in her pocket was radiating a fierce chill, and her earrings burned.
“Jonas?” she whispered, searching for him in the time tunnel. She knew where he was in real time. He was standing quietly, gazing at the chest. But in the psychic corridor she could speak to him and Yarwood wouldn’t hear a thing.
“The crystal may be the key,” Jonas said aloud to Yarwood. “But we haven’t figured out how to use it.”
Inside the psychic corridor he moved up behind Verity. “We need to be able to talk. If I had used the stiletto to get into the corridor, Yarwood would have noticed. He’s not paying any attention to this old scrap of metal.”
“Look at the way the image is starting to pulse. Jonas, I don’t like this.”
“You think I do? It’s our one chance. Yarwood isn’t going to let either of us walk out of here alive.”
Verity reached into her pocket and closed her hand around the crystal. Cold shot through her. The crystal sitting on the desk in the vision suddenly flared a brilliant, pulsating green. “Jonas, something’s going to happen.”
“Damn right. Just as soon as I get an opening. We need another distraction. In a few more seconds Yarwood is going to start to wonder why we’re all just standing around here staring at an empty treasure chest.”
“The two crystals are tuning to each other,” Verity said, as realization dawned. “I can feel it. Oh my God, Jonas, this isn’t what we want. It won’t do us any good. Everything’s going to come apart. This is dangerous.”
“Just hang on a second.”
Verity set her teeth against the cold. She could feel the vibrations of the two green crystals adjusting to each other, tuning in to each other through the peculiar form of time and space that existed in the psychic corridor.
In real time Yarwood stepped closer to the treasure chest, dragging Verity with him.
The vision glowed.
“I’ll be damned,” Jonas exclaimed softly, his attention caught by the green glow of the pulsing vision. “We’re going to unlock this sucker.” His voice was laced with sudden excitement. “We’re finally going to unlock it and find out what the hell is going on in this place.”
Inside the corridor, Verity stared at him furiously. “Jonas. Have you forgotten about Yarwood and his gun? I’d appreciate it if you would pay attention to our main problem here.”
“Under control, boss,” Jonas assured her a little too nonchalantly. In real time he said to Yarwood, “Go ahead, Yarwood, take a good look. See? Nothing in there, although the chest itself is valuable. You’d have to figure out a way to get it out of here before Warwick gets back, though. He might not take too kindly to arriving home to see the family furniture being carted off by a fake psychic.”
“I’m not a fake, you bastard.” Yarwood stepped forward impatiently. “Hold the lid open, Verity. Give me the flashlight.” Inside the psychic corridor, where they could communicate unheard, Verity looked at Jonas. “Should I give it to him?”
“Hand it over slowly. He’s mesmerized now. He’s not thinking about you or me. His mind’s on treasure, and fame and fo
rtune as a proven psychic. He’s all mine.”
In real time Verity started to hand the flashlight to Yarwood, who made a grab for it. She let it go, aware that the gun was no longer centered on her neck. Yarwood was leaning over the chest, playing the beam of light around the interior.
Jonas moved in real time, gliding toward Yarwood with the swiftness of an uncoiling whip. Verity could not see exactly what happened because the only light in the room was aimed down into the chest. But she sensed a second image appearing briefly in the psychic corridor. This was the familiar one of poor Digby Hazelhurst being stabbed in the back. The scene vanished instantly as Jonas released the stiletto.
The next sound she heard was a strangled scream from Yarwood as he crumpled forward into the chest. The flashlight dropped to the floor, as did the gun Yarwood had been holding.
It was difficult even under ideal circumstances to keep track of two parallel realities simultaneously. Before Verity could fully register the fact that Jonas had driven the stiletto into Yarwood, the green crystal in the corridor vision suddenly blazed violently. The two crystals had completed the tuning process—the vision had been unlocked.
“Jonas, the man in the image. He’s alive!”
In real time, Jonas froze just as he was about to pick up the gun and the flashlight. “He can’t be alive. Nobody survives four hundred years in this corridor. It’s a trick, part of the trap that was set to protect the treasure.”
“The man in the vision is moving. He’s never moved before,” Verity said hoarsely. It was true. The man behind the desk was rising to his feet. He lifted a large sheet of paper off his desk and held it up as if inviting his guests to read what he had written. The page was filled with an ancient scrawl that looked clear and fresh.
As if drawn by an invisible chain, Jonas stepped forward to stare at the page. A sudden snarl of rage crossed the apparition’s features. He dropped the paper and seized the hilt of his sword.
“Jonas, what’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Jonas muttered. “But this is getting too damned real.”
“Get back,” Verity shouted. “Let go of the sword hilt.”
“I can’t,” Jonas said grimly. “My fingers are frozen around it.”
“Oh my God. Now what?”
“I don’t know. Stay out of my way.”
“Jonas, something terrible is going to happen. I can feel it.
“I know,” Jonas said softly. “I can feel it too.”
Verity clutched the green crystal and wondered what his words meant. She was terribly afraid she would soon learn the truth. Then she saw the poisonous green, squirming ribbons of emotion that were unfurling from the heart of the image. “There they are, Jonas. We always wondered why there were no tendrils of emotion in this image, but there they are. They’ve been locked inside the vision all along.”
“They’ll head for you,” Jonas said as he moved closer to the image. “Chain them, Verity. You have to chain them or we’re both dead.”
“I don’t know if I can hold them,” Verity whispered as the dark green ribbons struggled in vain to curl themselves around Jonas, then headed reluctantly toward her. The cold radiating from the green crystal grew painful in her hand. The only warmth she could feel came from her earrings.
She needed fire, not the cold green vibrations of the old crystal.
Verity acted on impulse. In real time she reached up and quickly removed her fire-colored crystal earrings. They nestled in her palm, emitting a reassuring heat that seemed to counter the cold in her other hand.
Then she saw that the man in the vision had his sword clear of its scabbard. He held it aloft, preparing for a powerful swing. His eyes seemed to focus directly on Jonas.
“Are you sure he can’t see you?” Verity asked desperately. The green ribbons whirled and spun around her feet.
“I think he designed the image to make it look as real as possible,” Jonas said. He was standing directly in front of the vision, the broken sword hilt still locked in his hand. “He found a way to lock this scene here in time. He did it deliberately. This is no accidental image caught in the time corridor.”
“It’s so real,” she said. “More real than anything we’ve ever seen in here.”
“Optical illusion. It’s got to be.”
“You’ve said that before. But this time you can’t convince me.” The green crystal suddenly vibrated violently in her hand. The green glow of the vision began to expand outward, making the image appear larger. The man in the vision raised the sword higher. His fierce eyes glittered with rage. The cloak fell back to reveal powerful shoulders.
The green light from the crystal was filling the entire room now. Verity opened her mouth to scream but it was too late.
“Jonas, this is real. We’re inside the vision itself.”
She was a part of it, she realized with horror. The fury of the man in the vision was palpable now. It was real. As if he had suddenly spotted her, he swung toward her and began to bring his sword down in an arc that would take off her head. He was going to kill her.
“Jonas.”
There was no response. Verity tried to drop the green crystal and discovered she couldn’t release it. She tried to move and found that she was rooted to the spot. She looked up in stunned terror as the sword began its lethal descent. She was going to die! She was caught in the vision, and she was going to be killed by a man who had waited four hundred years to do the job. Verity couldn’t even close her eyes.
“Touch her and you die!” Jonas suddenly shouted at the apparition. “She’s mine.” Without any warning, he was there beside Verity in the vision. He held a sword in his hand, a whole sword, not just a rusted hilt. Green ribbons were coiled around one of his arms. He leaped to put himself between Verity and the man who threatened her.
“Leave her alone, you son of a bitch,” Jonas rasped. “I’m the one you want, I’m the one who got through your damn lock.” Then he broke off and said something in Italian.
The old man didn’t seem interested in the language problem. He maintained an eerie silence as he refocused on Jonas and swung the sword.
Jonas ducked and slid to one side. The blade passed a scant few inches over his head. He came up from a fighter’s crouch and slashed at the figure in the vision.
The old man took a step backward, an expression of astonishment on his face. Viciously he swung once more. This time Jonas leaped recklessly forward, driving himself up under the arc of the swinging blade. His own blade led the way and buried itself in the man’s chest. The victim opened his mouth in a silent shout of agony and rage as he toppled backward.
The sword snapped in Jonas’s hand, leaving behind only the hilt.
Verity wanted to scream but she couldn’t find the breath to do so. The vision was wavering. The green ribbons around Jonas’s arm were leaping for his throat.
Verity sensed the rapacious hunger of the ribbons and knew what was happening. The raw emotional energy that had been trapped in the image four hundred years ago was now fighting to get free. Jonas was the conduit the ancient residual energy could use to get to the present.
The emotions that had governed this scene four hundred years ago could escape only through Jonas. He would be overwhelmed by them—driven insane, or turned into a killer. It was the risk he ran every time he stepped into the psychic corridor.
Only Verity could help him control the power, but she’d never tried to control energy ribbons that were this strong.
Verity tightened her grasp on the earrings. Concentrating on them, she managed to unclench her other hand. The green crystal fell to the floor. With an enormous sense of relief, she focused completely on the fiery crystals of her earrings.
She felt the fire in her hands and held them to her breast. A brilliant red glow seeped out between her fingers. The vibrations were strong and pure and powerf
ul.
Verity took two steps forward to where Jonas was on his knees, struggling with the living green tongues that were wrapping themselves around him. His face was a mask of anguish and rage and his eyes were stark as he looked up at her.
“Get out of here,” he said thickly. “Get out of here now.
Lock the door to this room behind you, and don’t ever try to open it again.”
“I can’t leave you here.”
“Do it, Verity. Do it for me, for the baby, for yourself. Do it now, damn you.”
“I love you, Jonas. I can’t leave you in here.”
“If you love me as much as I love you, you’ll do it. Hurry, Verity. For God’s sake, hurry. Seal this room behind you, don’t tell anyone about it. Go. Please, go. I can’t hold out much longer. Once these ribbons take control, I will try to kill anyone in this room. Do you understand?”
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you see? I will be the one who protects his damned treasure for him now. I’ll murder anyone who steps into this room, and that includes you.”
“You would never hurt me,” Verity said softly. She knelt in front of him.
“Verity.”
“Put your hand on mine, Jonas.” She held out her clasped fingers. The earrings pulsed warmly. “Do it, Jonas. Now.”
His golden eyes were grim as he lifted his ravaged face. With enormous effort he slowly raised the hand that was not clutching the broken sword hilt. He touched her glowing fingers.
“Yes,” she whispered as she felt the tuning process begin. “That’s it. Just hold on to me. The fire is stronger than anything that bastard left behind. The fire is fresh and new and never grows old. The ribbons are from the past. They must stay there.”
The earrings surged with heat. Verity felt Jonas’s fingers tighten violently around her clasped hands.