The Eye of the Wolf (42 page)

Harrison set the note aside and
tore open the envelope. He dumped the papers on his desk and began sorting
through the information, his eyes widening with surprise and then resignation
as the facts of his case came to light.

The doors swung closed.
Brilliant sunlight streamed through black clouds, casting an eerie, heavenly
glow to the island. Mikayla threw back her head and laughed, a lusty laugh that
had been hidden deep inside her for weeks. It was a laugh that needed to escape
her lungs and dance in the breezes as freedom filled her.

Freedom.

She was an American, born into
freedom, but never had it seemed so precious than it did right then. She was
free.

Will jumped down the steps and
scooped her into his arms. He twirled around in the circle. His laughter, deep
and rich, mixing with hers. He stopped twirling only when she complained of
feeling sick, as if she had ridden the Tilt-a-Whirl on a full stomach. He
crushed her to him, bruising her lips in the ferocity of his kiss, the heat
driving them both mad. Her arms slithered around him, gripping his shoulders,
holding on for dear life. She poured herself into the kiss, feeling for the
first time in a long time, full of life, able to give all of herself to him.

He clung to her, breathless
from the sudden response, the sudden movement of her hands over his body.
Gripping his head and pulling him in deeper. He felt lost only then to be found
when she delved deeper into the kiss. Amazed, he pulled her away and stupidly
grinned down at her.

Mikayla danced away from him,
pulling him along with her, as she moved down the sun-washed street to the
Jeep, its top down, ready for an afternoon excursion, anywhere. “Will, take me
somewhere. Celebrate with me!”

He hopped into the Jeep and
buckled himself in as she stretched her arms and twirled once, alone. “If I had
known getting you off the legal hook would make you feel this alive, I would
have taken care of that a long time ago.”

“Ha, ha!” Mikayla climbed in
beside him and buckled herself in. She couldn’t help but flash him a brilliant
grin stopping his heart. “I can’t believe Kankaredes killed your grandfather
and Dejeune simply because their plan for him to be king was back-firing.”

Will frowned as he twisted the
ignition and the Jeep roared to life. He said nothing, merely backed from the
parking spot and moved slowly down the street. As the business district
disappeared behind them and trees bursting in full color shadowed the road, he
navigated around the bicyclists and walkers exploring the island. He was
silent; his eyes on the road, but his mind was elsewhere. He mulled over the
information provided by Inspector Harrison: the surprising arrival of evidence
that pointed all fingers to Kankaredes and the coincidental suicide of that
same person. It was too neat, too orderly. It didn’t set well in his mind, but
he knew what had happened was beyond his control. The only thing within his
control was finding the sapphire. He had to find the sapphire.

Mikayla was oblivious to his
silence. She chattered on excitedly about the change in the case. The case was
now closed. She was free. Antonio Kankaredes had killed both King James and
Rene Dejeune, plus assaulted her all as part of a plan to stage a coup against
the current royal government. She was free. Someone had granted her her freedom
by providing evidence that pointed away from her and towards the real
perpetrator. She was free, and it was a beautiful day.

Will navigated over the rough
roads that climbed the mountain at the center of Amor. Potholes jostled the
Jeep as he gunned up the hill. He heard her words, but he didn’t believe them.
He didn’t believe that Kankaredes had killed both Dejeune and his grandfather
and then committed suicide. In his mind, it didn’t add up, regardless of the
evidence. He glanced at Mikayla, her hair tumbling free in the wind. Her smile
was infectious and soon he felt himself relaxing, laughing even as they pulled
into the clearing near the stones. He had to stop thinking about the deaths and
the mystery. He had to stop obsessing about that stupid stone. He had to enjoy
the gift that was his for that moment because he didn’t know how long it would
last, how long she would remain at his side.

Mikayla bounded from the Jeep
and skipped to the cliff’s edge. She threw her arms wide. She thought briefly
of imitating Leonardo DiCaprio in
Titanic
but felt that would be too
cliché. She sighed deeply when Will wrapped his arms around her from behind and
pressed a kiss to her temple. She entwined her fingers with his and swayed to
the music that played from the Jeep. It was a moment that paradise was made
for. It was a moment that would live forever in her memory, even after she was
gone.

“Mikayla,” Will sighed in her
ear, “will you attend the royal ball with me on Saturday?”

Mikayla smiled to herself and
whispered a reply. Pleasure coursed through her system. She felt, at that
moment, that she was the luckiest woman in the world. The man she loved had
stood by her side as she faced a murder investigation. He had never wavered,
simply stood tall in the face of the press that had caught wind of the scandal,
held her hand when it was necessary and fought for her when it wasn’t even
asked for. Now, the terror had passed, peace had returned, and he wanted her at
his side when the whole world would be watching. Her heart practically leaped
with joy, even though, deep inside, she knew the day after the ball, she would
be leaving and never returning. At least, she knew she could take the memory of
him and that last moment with her.

A horrible thought singed her
mind. She whirled around, her eyes wide but there was a mischievous sparkle.
“Will, what will I wear?”

He grinned and kissed her hard.
“Don’t worry, Luv, leave that to me. You would be amazed what a prince can do.”
He cupped her neck and drew her towards him until their bodies pressed. He
reveled at how her body seemed to fit so perfectly with his, how they meshed
together into one. He drew her closer, feeling her arms wrap around his neck,
her lips soft and supple beneath his. The soft sigh that escaped her lips slid
through him like molten lava, heating him from head to toe. He smiled as he
nibbled along her jaw line, enjoying the feel of her skin, the whip of her hair
caught in the wind. And he whimpered when she scampered away with an
exclamation of remembrance.

He turned slowly to find her
kneeling beside the stone with the engraving, her fingers slowly tracing the
letters. Her lips were working but he couldn’t hear her. The wind captured the
words and threw them away before he could catch them. With a heavy sigh, he
strolled over to where she knelt and stared down at her. “Mikayla,” his tone
expressed his exasperation, “what are you doing?” He gestured over to the spot
on the cliff where they had stood only moments before, locked in one of the
most passionate embraces he had ever experienced in his life. “I thought we had
something going on over there. A celebration or something.”

Mikayla waved him away with a
hand and a laugh. “Oh, that,…that can wait.”

Will rolled his eyes as she
continued to run her hands over the stone, caressing it in the way he had hoped
she would caress him just moments before, those long, tapered fingers… He
groaned. Those thoughts would obviously have to be put on hold. He collapsed
into the grass and reclined against another stone. “Okay, Luv, tell me, what
are you doing?”

Mikayla smiled. It was sly,
cunning and full of knowledge that she hadn’t shared. She still didn’t trust
him fully, but she needed his help. She needed his brain to help her understand
the clues. She leaned back against the stone. “Okay, remember how we decided
that Victoria took the diary the other day when she visited while you were at
the police station.” Will nodded and waited. “Well, I don’t think we need it
anymore. We have all the clues. We just have to put it together.”

Will screwed up his forehead.
“Mikayla, we don’t know what the engravings mean. We still need the diary.”

Mikayla shook her head and
reached into a pocket. She pulled the yellow Post-It-Note out and handed it
over. “I’ve had that for a few weeks, Will. A friend of mine in New York
translated the engravings for me.”

He stared hard at the words, no
comprehension of the phrase, simply that she hadn’t trusted him with it. She
had trusted him with everything else, including her life and freedom, but she
hadn’t trusted him with the final clue to the whereabouts of the Eye of the
Wolf. He refused to look at her. He didn’t want her to see the frustration and
hurt reflected in his eyes. He kept his voice cool. “Why are you trusting me
with this now, Mikayla?” He stood from his seat and walked back to the cliffs.
Wind whipped his shirt around his body. “I could very easily toss you over the
cliffs now, just as I could very easily have knocked you over the head,
strangled you in your sleep, or killed you through any other number of
monstrous ways. Why trust me now?” His voice was harsh filled with emotions
that he hadn’t known he would feel. He felt betrayed even when he knew deep
inside he had betrayed her too.

Mikayla swallowed the lump that
had built in her throat. This wasn’t the reaction she had expected. She had
expected him to be happy, excited, thrilled, not furious. His anger incensed
her own and she stood from her seat, her spine straight, flames in her eyes. “I
don’t know, Will. Maybe because I feel as if you might have earned it. Maybe I
am testing you, seeing if you’re the killer. I don’t know, maybe my heart is
telling me that giving you your heritage, whether you kill me for it or not, is
the best idea. I don’t know!” She screamed the last, taking both of them
surprise.

The anger melted slowly from
his face leaving him pale and defeated. He hung his head and crossed the grass,
pulling her into his arms, bruising her in his apology. When he pulled away,
his face was still pale but the emotions were now the intense desire he felt
whenever he was with her and the wish to find his heritage. “I’m sorry. I had
no right to be angry with you. I’m sorry.”

Mikayla mumbled a reply, taken
aback by the sudden mood changes that flashed through this man. Sometimes she
could still see the light-hearted photographer who had volunteered to be her
research assistant, but now, most often, he was hidden inside a somber prince
who was desperate to perform the duty he had been born into. A modern day
Hamlet. She laid a hand gently against his cheek, a comforting gesture and then
pulled him down onto the grass with her. “I think I’ve figured out what the phrase
means.”

Will nodded. He trusted her to
tell him the truth. She wouldn’t lead him astray, and if she did, he would
forgive her and move on. It was the way this would work.

Mikayla gestured to the paper.
“It tells us to ‘Look to your mother’s hand.’” Will frowned, not following her
train of thought. Mikayla continued, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.
“The stone is a curse upon the royal family. Someone about the time of
Malachi’s ascension steals it and hides it away. That someone is probably Malachi
or someone very close to Malachi. It needs to be hidden somewhere where no one
will look. Where does someone hide a fist-sized sapphire so that it will remain
hidden for eight hundred years?”  Long fingers tapped against her lips as
eyes remained fixed on the stone carving.

“What’s the purpose of the
stone carvings, Professor?”

“It’s a way for the future
generations to find the stone. Follow the clues, if you figure them out, you’re
worthy of the stone?” Her shoulders rose and fell with a shrug. “Where did he
put the Eye of the Wolf?” she mused softly.

“The parapet.”

Mikayla shook her head, loose
strands of hair sliding into her eyes. “No, I don’t think so. What would it
mean ‘mother’s hand’?”

“Well, the Secluded City is
called ‘Mother’ by our secret service agents. It must be somewhere inside the
palace.”

Mikayla locked eyes with him
and tapped the tip of her nose with an index finger.

Will smirked, his old
boyishness returning with the idea of an adventure that required him to be
nothing other than who he was. He had to admit, he was impressed. He had
believed that together they could answer the question of where the sapphire had
gone to, but he had never thought she would accomplish the task completely on
her own. He pinched her cheek playfully. “All right, Knight, I see your logic.”
He resisted the tug on his hand as she tried to pull him to his feet. Instead,
he pulled her down on his lap. “So, what we have to do is start somewhere in
the palace that existed when Malachi was king and look for the Eye of the
Wolf.”

Mikayla nodded. She tried to
climb off of his lap, but he held her tight. “Let’s go, Will! We know where
we’re looking; let’s get to it.”

Will nodded as he pulled the
barrette from her hair that held some of it out of her eyes. He nuzzled at her
neck and smiled to himself with her sharp intake of breath. “We will, Mikayla,
we will, but it’s been there for over eight hundred years. Another hour or so
won’t make any difference, I promise you.”

He tipped her head back and drowned her in his own
desire that had simmered throughout the day. He laid her gently on the grass,
the world forgotten, wind swirling long grasses around them, sun streaming
through ancient stones that held deep secrets.