The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) (8 page)

She looked down,
expecting to find the photo of the armband, but it was gone. In its place was a
small, thin piece of homemade paper containing a rough charcoal drawing of an
upside down triangle with a half circle dropping from the top line.

The roof’s
graveled surface bit into Dani’s skin through the tough leather pants she’d
chosen for that night’s recon. She shifted and wished for the dozenth time that
she’d chosen a better surveillance position.

Of course, then
she wouldn’t have been able to observe the muscled spectacle in front of her.
Correction, the
shirtless
muscled spectacle. Definitely a two hubba
sight, maybe even three. She pondered it for a minute and decided to split the
difference, placing Shirtless Wonder at a solid two point five on the Hubba
Meter.

She’d seen a
three point fiver once, but she didn’t like to think about him. He’d gotten her
all hot and bothered, and then, bad boy that he was, she’d had to give him the
smack down, totally ruining it for her. A grown man pleading for mercy was not
a turn on, especially when she hadn’t even shown him her A game.

“Oh, yeah,
baby,” she murmured. “Lift that box. Mmm. Make ‘em ripple for me.”

She set the binoculars
down and reviewed her notes as Shirtless Wonder hefted a box to Muscled Nitwit,
who, yup, dropped the box. Again.

Geez. Didn’t
Nitwit know he was handling precious cargo?

Tonight was her
first night staking out this warehouse. It showed real promise as one of the
last resting places of the artifacts she was tracking. After saying goodbye to
Dr. Lindberg, she’d scouted the area around the dig, checking rooms for rent, restaurants,
shops, anywhere a visitor to the island would’ve been.

When it became
clear that the looter had zeroed in on artifacts from the Daughter’s burial
site, Dani had known they were dealing with a stranger and not a local. She
wasn’t sure why or how, she just
knew
. Knowing that had tailored her
plan of action. The island of Öland had been relatively easy to case. She’d
done a thorough job there, even though her gut screamed that the looter had
already left the island.

She’d hit
Stockholm next, visiting dives that would’ve given anybody the heebies, she
assured herself. Then London, and ditto, because where else would a gal find
out what was going on in an area except in the lowest of the low? And finally
here, back in the States in a warehouse near the docks in New York City. The
looter was long gone. Dani hadn’t been able to turn up a single, solid
description, but at least she’d been able to figure out that the artifacts were
in the Big Apple. She intended to find them before they went any farther.

Dani picked the
binoculars back up, fitted them to her eyes, and blew out a soft whistle.
“Well, hello there, big boy.”

A new player had
arrived. Six two, maybe six three, two hundred twenty-five pounds of solid
muscle encased in a plain black t-shirt and faded jeans. His face was obscured
by a battered Chicago Cubs baseball cap.

“Ouch,” she
murmured. “No taste, dude.”

New Guy was
obviously a member of this team. Shirtless and Nitwit both stopped unloading
boxes from the truck trailer they’d been emptying to talk to him. Body language
said it was a serious convo. New Guy pulled his cap off, ran a hand over his
hair. She got the impression of strong features before he yanked the cap back
on. He turned and stalked off, and as he did, Dani’s stomach jumped and urgency
grabbed hold of her.
This one
, her gut said. She stuffed her gear into
her backpack and did exactly what instinct demanded.

* * *

A week passed
quickly as Maya settled back into her normal routine. As promised, she’d had
her report on the director’s desk the Tuesday after she’d arrived, then
presented the report in person to the Council of Seven. She’d tried to convey
the amazing promise the artifacts presented, particularly the texts, without
giving undue hope. As it usually did, meeting with the Council had drained her.

The next day,
bad news arrived from Dr. Lindberg via Lars. Someone had hacked into their
computer system and systematically destroyed the digital images taken of the
stolen artifacts. E-mails that had pictures attached were gone on both ends and
the cloud storage where the pictures were being held had also come under
attack. Some of the images had previously been printed, but not all. Between
the missing inventories, the damage to the on-site computer and hard drive, and
the electronic attacks, Dr. Lindberg feared that some artifacts from the
Daughter’s burial were bound to be overlooked and would thus never be found. A
computer expert had been called in to try to beef up their electronic security,
but it was probably too little too late. Indigo had called separately and told
Maya that they were compiling a handwritten list of the artifacts based on
everyone’s memories of the burial, and Maya promised to contribute as well.

She talked to
James only once, and that not long after her talk with Indigo. He didn’t
mention whether or not he’d made a decision on working at the IECS, and she
didn’t push him. She did make sure Director Upton had mailed a personal letter
to him.

Maya tried very
hard not to linger on thoughts of Dr. James Terhune. Her lab needed a good
cleaning before the artifacts arrived, so she settled her mind there instead of
on him. Sometimes it was easy, others not so much. If anything, the avoidance
made her uncomfortable. It felt like a lie, hiding from her interest in him.
That was what she was doing, she admitted to herself, hiding like a child who’d
broken a rule and couldn’t face the punishment.

She was knee
deep in boxes and packing materials when she realized that. The courier had
come with the first shipment of artifacts, a delivery she’d personally
overseen, and now she’d taken on the task of making sure that everything
shipped had also arrived.

Sitting in the
middle of near chaos, with the possibility of finding answers, of uncovering
enough of the People’s past to make a difference to their future, and she was
avoiding thinking about the possibility of a relationship holding that same
potential, simply on an individual scale. Maya threw down the pen she’d been
using to check off artifacts against inventories and pushed her hands through her
hair. Honesty. It was something she’d always promised herself, so now she’d be brutally
honest.

She blew out a
breath and leaned back in her chair. The bright lights of her lab illuminated
every corner, from the gleaming countertops to the high-backed barstools she
preferred to all of her equipment. This was as much home as her house was. She
felt comfortable there surrounded by history, in a way she’d never been
comfortable inside her own head, particularly in matters of the heart.

But history was
also the problem here. She’d lost her parents so young, then more recently
Dierdre’s father, and in between was a long line of people who’d hurt or
betrayed her, whether intentionally or not. Trust was always an issue for Daughters.
It was part of their nature. For her, the inability to trust had been built over
a long, long time. She rubbed grubby fingers over tired eyes. Yes, she’d lost
the ability to trust, so gradually she seldom thought about it anymore.

She had people
she trusted, at least to an extent. Her daughters, the director, a handful of
other Daughters she called friends, but trusting a man and particularly with
her heart? Her mind immediately recoiled from the idea, so swiftly she realized
another emotion must be at play here. It took her a moment to recognize fear,
something she so seldom acknowledged. The thought of actually opening herself
up to a man as something other than a friend or colleague shriveled her insides,
and that made her a little angry. Fear was the first thing a Daughter learned
how to conquer, yet it had been driving her for weeks now. That couldn’t be
allowed, not for any reason.

No, she
wouldn’t
allow it. She was a Daughter, a proud warrior of the People, respected in her
own right for the gifts and abilities she’d cultivated through years of hard
work and sacrifice. She’d be damned if a mere man caused her to act like a
child cowering from the dark. Maybe she’d never be able to trust a man again,
but she certainly
could
control her fear.

* * *

June turned to
July without James making a decision. The pictures of the documents found in
the Sandby borg grave languished on his desk, neglected while he vacillated
between going to the IECS or not.

It wasn’t work
holding him back. He’d already spoken with his department chair and knew he’d
be able to take an indefinite leave, given where he’d be going. Though he tried
to quell the rumors, word spread rapidly through the department that he’d be
taking an assignment at the IECS. The number of requests he’d already received
from colleagues to pull records in the IECS Archives was astounding. He’d
promised nothing, but that hadn’t stopped anybody from slipping notes under his
door containing scrawled pleas for access.

No, the problem
here wasn’t work. It was Amelia. As much as he wanted to seize the opportunity,
he simply couldn’t abandon his daughter to her mother’s loving but occasionally
neglectful care. For only the second time in his life, he was torn between what
he wanted to do and what he needed to do. Both times had involved his beautiful
child.

The window of
opportunity for accepting Maya’s offer was closing, and quickly. He’d received
a letter from Director Rebecca Upton just two days before, restating the job
offer and personally extending an invitation to him to access the IECS Archives.
While Director Upton hadn’t said so outright, he’d inferred that access was
contingent upon his acceptance of that offer.

He sat in his
car outside his former residence, the house he and Linda had tried and failed
to turn into a home. Since the divorce, they’d continued to have family night
once a month, more often if their schedules allowed. At first, it had hurt
being there not as a husband and father, but as a guest. Now, he relied on
these evenings with his daughter in a normal setting where they could be a
family without the bickering and hatefulness he’d witnessed after some of his
friends had divorced.

Director Upton’s
letter burned a hole in his pants pocket where he’d stuck it on his way out of
his office. Tonight he’d have to make a decision, but first, he had to tell
Amelia and Linda.

He got out and
slammed the car door shut. Almost immediately, the front door burst open and
his daughter ran out, her elven face wreathed in smiles, her mahogany hair
glimmering in the late evening sun. James held out his arms and grabbed her as
she bounded down the sidewalk and into a hug. He held her close, breathing in
the perfume he’d gotten her for her thirteenth birthday. His heart expanded with
the joy of holding her, and ached, too. Soon, she wouldn’t be his little girl
anymore, and he dreaded the day she finally grew up on him.

Amelia drew away
and beamed at him. “You’re late. We’ve been waiting forever.”

James made a
show of checking his watch and nodded solemnly. “Yes, I see I’m all of three
minutes late. I’ll have to do better next time.”

“See that you
do,” Amelia replied, her chin tilted at a pert angle. She abandoned her
reprimand and tugged on his hand. “C’mon. Mom let me make supper.”

They walked hand
in hand to the door, Amelia chattering about school, James teasing her into
blushes. He followed her into the kitchen, where Linda was peering into a large
pot, slowly stirring the contents.

Linda looked up
when he and Amelia walked in and smiled, then offered her cheek for a
perfunctory kiss. Except for a strand or two of silver in her strawberry blonde
hair, the years had been very kind to his ex-wife. Maybe a laugh line or two
had been added since they’d met eighteen years before as freshmen at the
University of Connecticut, but otherwise she looked very much like the young
woman he’d fallen in love with.

Amelia sidled up
to Linda and the two bent their heads together, one dark, the other light,
identical smiles on their faces. They looked more like sisters than mother and
daughter. Every time he looked at Amelia, Linda’s gray-green eyes stared back,
and maybe that was a good thing. His heart lightened. Yeah, maybe it was better
Amelia resembled her beautiful mother instead of her scruffy old dad.

He leaned a hip
against the counter. “Smells good.”

“Oh, well, we’ve
been having a little fun,” Linda said, her voice light. “No promises on
edibility.”

James grinned.
“Isn’t that usually the case?”

Linda smacked
his arm and Amelia laughed.

“Go on then, you
two,” Linda said. “For that you can set the table.”

Not long after,
they ate at the small, square kitchen table. The meal was more than edible, a
simple red sauce over pasta accompanied by salad and bread. James listened as
Linda and Amelia chatted about school and work and everything in between, and
he settled in, comfortable and happy for the first time in days.

After they’d
cleaned the table and sat down again for healthy slices of his favorite cake
from a local bakery, James cleared his throat. “I have some news.”

Linda’s brow
furrowed. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

“No, nothing
bad. I’ve been offered a temporary job at the Institute for Early Cultural
Studies in Georgia. They want me to work with some of the documents found at
the Sandby borg site.”