Fallen (13 page)

The way Maddie had had to figure out what the paintings meant up in the Long Gallery.

There was something going on with this piece all right. The circles were all slightly off, not perfectly symmetrical. Since the design was so carefully crafted, Maddie didn’t think that asymmetry was a mistake.

She pushed out her chair and stood up, walking slowly around the table, studying the exquisite golden replica from every angle. She didn’t bother to ask Izzy questions about date or location or method of manufacture. All that was irrelevant. All that was what people
thought
it should mean.

Maddie dealt with the raw fact of what it did mean.

“What does it—”

Lyon made a low warning sound and cut off Izzy’s question. He probably could feel Maddie’s force of concentration. They were definitely linked somehow. Even the slightest emotion would race between them instantly, Maddie realized.

She kept walking around the table slowly.

And then she saw it.

Right there.

Right in the center.

Or where the center
should
have been but wasn’t.

“What’s that symbol?” Maddie looked at Izzy. “The one that looks like two small X’s on top of each other.”

“It’s an Anglo-Saxon sign. These are called runes.” Izzy started to say more, but Maddie held up a hand and shook her head. She didn’t want details. She needed to work cold and observe the data objectively.

That symbol—or rune—appeared in six spots on the artifact. They were equally arranged around the piece, but off center.

She was betting there was a meaning in that placement. Also in the frequency of the runes. She studied the placement of the symbols as if it was a code, looking for repetition or meaning and a pattern to the frequency of occurrences.

The double X symbol occurred in the sixth position in every sequence of symbols.

It could be some kind of an ending marker. Maddie focused on the other symbols.

“I need a pencil and paper.” She kept walking around the design and barely noticed when Izzy held out a notepad. She felt Lyon’s hands curve around hers as he slid a pencil against her palm. She smiled at him, feeling his encouragement. When his fingers curved, sliding over hers.

No words were needed.

Maddie shook away all distractions and sat down. Writing quickly, she noted every symbol except the double X in the order of their occurrence. Then she made a quick calculation of how many times they occurred.

Two symbols were used most.

One of them looked like a B. The other one looked like a vertical line with a little triangle on the top, like a flag.

Each of these occurred six times, always together.

It wasn’t a simple substitution cipher.

Possibilities came to Maddie in a rush.

It wasn’t a Caesar cipher or shift cipher, in which each letter of a message was replaced with another letter that shifted by a fixed number of spots in the relevant alphabet. She had read that Julius Caesar used this cipher to protect the security of his private letters. Maddie had been fascinated by that fact and had scoured everything on the subject she could find.

But maybe…this was a polyalphabetic cipher. The technique had first been described by an Italian called Giovan Bellaso in the sixteenth century, using shifts of letters or symbols as indicated by a keyword. She had found the technique fascinating; for a few months she had even played with her own variations.

Was that the pattern here? Maddie looked at the row of marks she had written down. She didn’t know what the letters meant, but she didn’t have to know.

Izzy could hand that part. All she had to do was to pick up the pattern.

In a piece of this age, the creator would not have access to advanced forms of technology or computers to generate complicated number sequences. Maddie was pretty sure that no cipher discs had existed before the fifteenth century either. All of that limited the possibilities greatly. But she wasn’t going to rule out anything yet. Instead she let the symbols drift and slide through her mind. If there was a pattern here, she would find it.

An hour later, Maddie had half-a-dozen sheets of crumpled paper were scattered over the table in front of Maddie. She sensed that something was still missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Tell me about this symbol—the one with two X’s on top of each other. It might be some kind of marker, or it may simply indicate a shift.” She tapped on her paper. “If you noticed, these other symbols always come together.” She drew a line around what looked like an N with two lines through the center and another symbol that looked like a capital R.

“There has to be significance to that repetition.” She rolled her shoulders, feeling a headache begin.

“Izzy, do you have my computer?” Maddie ignored the squeezing pressure at her forehead. “I want to run some numbers. While you’re at it, any chance of getting me some super strength Advil?”

But nothing worked.

Maddie played some hunches and crunched some numbers. She tried turning the symbol upside down to see if a pattern would be revealed on simple rotation. Again, no luck. Just as before, she had the sense that something was missing. What was she overlooking?

Maddie sat up straighter. She jammed a hand through her spiky hair.

Obvious
.

“This artifact—is it incomplete? Was there ever a smaller piece that fit in the center?”

Izzy frowned at her. “I don’t have a clue. I’ll check ASAP.”

“While you’re at it, ask your source at the museum if there are any marks on the back of the original. This replica only has marks on one side. I need an exact photograph of corresponding markings on the back of the original piece.”

Izzy drummed his fingers quietly on the table. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? If you still don’t trust me, Izzy—”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I can’t do it because our source is dead.”

“Dead?” Maddie repeated the word slowly. “How?”

“He was found in his apartment four days ago. There was a suicide note, but our people turned up details that indicated a struggle had taken place.”

“Cause of death?”

“Compression of the carotid artery. And…other things.”

“What other things?”

“You don’t need to know,” Izzy said grimly.

Maddie took a deep breath, pretty sure he wouldn’t give her any other details. “Are there any more photographs of this object—better yet, can you look at the object yourself?”

“I’m afraid not. The original vanished a week ago, probably stolen from the museum by my contact. He also removed every museum record and description of the piece. It was a new discovery, one that had never been fully cataloged. But even the accession notes from the field team have vanished.”

Maddie blew out a slow breath, thinking hard. “Can you find any similar pieces? The museum must have others like this. I need an idea of any markings that might have been used on the back. Something from the same place and time will give me an idea of symbol sequences.”

“I’m on it.”

Maddie rubbed a knot in her shoulders. She wasn’t surprised to feel Lyon move behind her, not saying a word. He could feel how tired she was, how frustrated. Maddie could feel his own impatience and frustration. She remembered that this mission was not his mission. He had a deeper duty—and another enemy waiting somewhere in the darkness.

But there was no point in thinking about those things she had seen in the cemetery. No point at all.

“She has done enough for now.” Lyon looked at Izzy. “While you gather the information she needs, I am taking her upstairs to rest.”

Maddie looked up, frowning at him.

“Do not even try to argue with me. You are exhausted. You need a break from this work.” The hard determination in Lyon’s eyes told her that he would not be dissuaded.

Maddie closed her eyes as the tension in her forehead turned into a sledgehammer force headache. If she didn’t rest, she wouldn’t be able to think.

Lyon had no doubt sensed that also.

But Maddie felt angry and impatient, her thoughts chaotic. She looked down at her hand, fisted on the table, and was shocked to see it was trembling.

This was far more than exhaustion.

She frowned at Izzy. “I have to rest. I’ve got the mother of all headaches. Give me an hour. I’ll start again with whatever new information you find.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius at this stuff, Maddie. What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t magic, Teague. I need data to work with or I can’t find a pattern. So get me those pictures and a description of the original object. Get me photos of any related pieces. Do it fast. Then I’ll give you all the magic you want.” She rubbed her eyes, tired and frustrated and struck with growing uneasiness.

Something was wrong. For a person who specialized in reading patterns, she was suddenly unable to read her own.

Runic symbols and hammered gold patterns chased and spun in mocking circles before her eyes as Maddie climbed the stairs to the gatehouse. Her skills had always worked before, so why had they deserted her now?

Lyon hated what Izzy was doing to her. He hated feeling her weariness and frustration, but there was no way to escape it. Maddie had made a promise and he had to let her complete the work she had agreed to perform for this stern American. But there were many things that Izzy Teague did not know.

And there were things that Maddie did not know either.

One was the unmistakable fact that her change had speeded up. If they didn’t find a way to balance their energy soon…

Lyon closed his eyes, forcing away fear and darkness. That was the way to madness. There were hard choices to make. He had hoped there would be more time, but it was not to be given them.

“Hey. Why the dark look?” Maddie slid her fingers over his arm and smiled up at him. “Something wrong? Something you haven’t told me?”

As ever, she was quick to pick up his mood. But she needed to rest, so Lyon did not share his worries yet. Instead he forced a smile. “It is fascinating to see this skill of yours for patterns. Have you always had it?” He prayed she would not realize he had changed the subject.

“You’re changing the subject, Lyon.”

So much for his hopes.

“But I’ll go along with it. I’m too tired to dig for deeper meanings. Frankly, all I want to do is fall into bed and sleep for about a thousand years.” She blew out a little breath. “Not literally, of course. Don’t get any ideas. I still don’t know all that you’re capable of, but I don’t want to find out by waking up a few centuries in the future or the past.”

“I have not that skill.” At least it was not managed as easily as she described. “You need not worry.”

“Oh, I am worried. Very worried. This job of Izzy’s is getting nasty and complicated. I didn’t tell him this, but you and I both know I’m not up to par. I don’t ever get sick, I have the constitution of a horse, and yet…right now I feel flattened.” She frowned at the heavy wooden door to the gatehouse as Lyon pushed it open for her. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with what you warned me about?”

He wouldn’t lie to her. But he wouldn’t complicate her worry by giving her unnerving details. “It is happening as I expected. Rest now. Finish your work for Izzy Teague. We will find a way to deal with what must come.” Lyon expected her to argue and demand answers. It was a sign of her exhaustion that she did neither.

She simply sank down on the deep white coverlet and sighed in relief as Lyon pulled the curtains closed. “Don’t let me sleep too long. Half an hour. Okay, make that an hour.” She studied him with sleepy her eyes. “Promise me?”

“I promise.”

Lyon had no intention of keeping that promise, of course. He would let her sleep as long as she could, right up to the moment that Izzy returned with new information for her to analyze.

“Good. This is important to him. It’s probably important to a whole lot of people. I’m not going to wimp out just because I don’t feel good.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her head. “I never did get that Advil.”

“You will not need it,” Lyon said softly. She was half asleep when he knelt beside her and ran one hand over her neck, massaging the sensitive muscles behind her ears and along her forehead. He felt the hammer of her pulse and the drum of her blood as if it was his own, so closely linked they were now. He could sense every knot of stress and the weight of her pain. All were as clear and sharp as if they were his own. Using that awareness, Lyon he touched her slowly, freeing the muscles along her head and neck, letting her slide down into exhausted relaxation because he knew she was too stubborn and honorable to give up easily.