“Awesome, eh?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.
“We found twelve boxes, all smashed, the remains tossed aside.”
“Remains?”
“Bones.”
Jake dropped one knee and raised the other. His movement sent shadows dancing the walls.
“But that’s not the best of it. Golan’s James ossuary has elaborate detailing, and the motif’s a dead ringer for the boxes we found here. What’s more-”
Jake’s head shot up.
“What?”
His fingers wrapped my arm.
“What?” I hissed.
Jake clicked off the light and touched a finger to my lips.
Ice flooded my veins.
I remembered the man on the valley rim. Had we been followed?
How easy it would be to block the entrance! How easy it would be to shoot down the tunnel!
Beside me I felt Jake go totally still. I did the same.
Heart hammering, I strained for the faintest sound.
Nothing.
“False alarm,” Jake whispered when an eon had passed. “But we left the bones topside. I’m going to grab them.”
“Can’t we just move on to the IAA?”
“When I tell you what else we found here, you’ll want the full tour. And you’ll want to see what’s at my lab. It’s amazing.” Jake handed me the flashlight. “Back in a sec.”
“Look around while you’re up there,” I whispered. “Make sure there’s no papal vigilante crouched by the entrance.” The joke sounded lame.
“Will do.”
I watched Jake muscle up the tunnel, hoping I had the arm strength to do the same. When his boots disappeared, I crawled along the wall I was facing and directed the light inside the first of the loculi.
Empty, but the dirt-covered floor was gouged and scuffed. Jake’s students? The looters?
I moved down the wall, then rounded the corner.
Same story in each loculus.
Duckwalking to the base of the tunnel, I looked up and listened. Not the faintest sound drifted down from above.
The air felt damp and cold. Inside my jacket, my sweat-soaked shirt adhered to my back. I began to shiver.
Where the hell was Jake?
“Jake?” I called up.
No answer.
“Probably securing the perimeter,” I murmured to break the silence.
I was moving along the southern wall when the beam dimmed, strengthened, dimmed, and died.
Inky black.
I shook the flashlight. Not a flicker. I shook it again. Nothing.
I heard a sound behind me.
Had I imagined it?
I held my breath. One. Two. Thr-
I heard it again. The rub of something soft scraping stone.
Dear God! I wasn’t alone!
I froze.
Moments later, I sensed, more than heard, another whisper of movement.
The tiny hairs rose on my nape and arms.
I held absolutely motionless. A second. A year.
Another sound. Different. More terrifying.
My skin went taut from scalp to sternum.
21
GROWL? PURR? GROAN?
Before I could pigeonhole it, the sound stopped.
My brain groped for a familiar image to explain what I’d heard.
It came up empty.
I thumbed the flashlight switch. Nothing. I thumbed it in the opposite direction. More nothing.
Eyes wide, I searched my surroundings.
Blackness.
I was trapped underground, surrounded by stone and hillside a thousand feet thick. It was dark. And damp.
And I wasn’t alone!
Something’s in here! a voice screamed in my head.
My chest felt tight. I drew air through my nose.
The stench of urine seemed stronger now. And there was something else. Fecal matter? Rotting flesh?
I tried breathing through my mouth.
My mind flew in a million directions.
Turn around? Scream? Break for the tunnel?
I was frozen in place. Afraid to move. Afraid to stay still.
Then, I heard it again. Half growl, half rumble.
My fingers death-gripped the flashlight. It might at least serve as a club.
Something scratched stone.
Claws?
Cold fear sparked my nerves.
I shook the flashlight. The batteries rattled but offered nothing.
I shook harder.
A weak yellow cone wormed into the darkness. Still squatting, I pivoted slowly and lit the corner behind me.
And caught a shadow of movement in the last loculus!
Get out! screamed the voice in my head.
I was backing toward the tunnel when the growl started again. The message was low and feral.
I froze again. Hand shaking, I refocused on the loculus.
Eyes gleamed from low in the recess, pupils round and red as neon cranberries. Below them, the outline of a scarred snout.
Wild dog? Fox? Hyena?
Jackal!
The jackal stood with neck angled down, shoulder blades shooting to bony peaks behind its ears. Its fur was mangy and matted.
I took a cautious step backward.
The jackal bared teeth that were brown and glistening. It’s forelimbs flexed and its head shot up.
Every muscle in me went rigid.
The jackal swung its snout from side to side, nostrils working the air. The movement sent shadows rippling
