Veil of Justice, Shadows of Justice Book 3 (21 page)

Nathan felt all the undercurrents she was
trying to suppress and when she glanced over her shoulder on her
way out, he lifted his coffee mug in salute.

If her glare was any indicator, she didn't
appreciate the gesture.

* * *

Nin sat inside Miriam's tomb, willing the
god-forsaken box to open. She'd blasted it, poured holy water and
blood sacrifices on it and still that ridiculous lock held fast.
The headless body of her latest attempt – a virgin no less – was
slumped in the corner.

She considered the tools at her disposal and
summoned her favorite priest. "Explain this failure to me."

The priest bowed his withered head, hands
tucked into his robe. Those closest to her knew she disapproved of
decay. She supposed she'd have to share the virgin with him, or his
face would soon be beyond repair. Since he knew as much as she did,
having aided her second rise to power, she owed him that much.

"This is the map box, majesty?"

"You know it is."

"There were two copies made. One rested in
this very place for centuries."

She let her power glow from her eyes. She
knew that of course, even knew – intimately – the explorers who'd
stolen it. Heeding her warning, the priest abandoned the history
lesson.

"Yes, Magnificence." He cleared his throat,
making a sound like dry tinder. "If you cannot open it, then it
must be the original."

"Agreed," she said with a great deal more
patience than she felt. "What will open it?"

"Only the blood of a chalice."

Fury exploded. "You lie. I've tried that."
She jerked her chin toward the headless virgin. "Will you join her,
or give me the truth?"

"My queen!" The priest panicked, holding up
his skeletal hands in supplication. Nin swore when she saw the
bones glowing white in the torchlight. His hands fell to the rose
red floor and the priest dropped to his knees. "Truth, my queen. I
swear to you, only the chalice can unlock it."

Nin sliced her hand through the air and the
priest's head split from his neck, rolling to a stop at the
virgin's feet.

"What good does it do to have a box that can
only be opened by the chalice it hides?"

With a thought she and the box moved to
Kristoff's side and she repeated her question.

When he recovered sufficiently from her
abrupt arrival to bow and scrape, he answered her. "But the map box
isn't only about the Holy Grail."

He said it as if she did not know that much
already. She growled at him and considered an alternate form for
him. A donkey seemed appropriate. Or an ant.

"Wisdom would follow patience here." He paced
away from her to the window, and looked out over the city.

No one ever turned away from her, but this
creature intrigued her – was in fact her last hope. She followed
him to the windows, becoming mesmerized by the view and momentarily
forgetting his disrespect. There was a feast resting in ignorance
on the other side of the glass. It was a great challenge to hold
herself back.

"Open that box, Kristoff, or lose
everything." She sensed his desire to challenge her, sensed him opt
for common sense. She had come to the right place, this man knew
something useful.

"I've already lost everything. If I get that
box open, you will restore my reputation."

She knew he was hiding something. "Done." He
was nothing, his reputation insignificant and his future
unimportant. When she had the maps that led to every relic hidden
by Abraham's God, she would have the power to turn the minds of
humanity against their creator. She'd have the power to reveal the
skeleton's lurking in God's own closet. She would shake free of
obscurity and be worshipped according to her birthright.

"Take your best guard to Monument Valley,"
Kristoff said. "I'll bring you the box and the key."

She considered. "The valley where the false
box was found?"

"The same."

She waited, but he did not add any of her
titles. The poor creature had no idea how much worse she could make
his life – and his death. "Why must we go there?"

"I believe the key is there."

Again, there was more he left unsaid. Oh, to
have her loyal generals of ages past. No one understood the burden
of her limited choices. What had been and what could be rippled
through her. "I will go, but the map box stays with me. You have
two days to bring the key to Monument Valley."

"Two days?"

She glared, letting him see a small measure
of her real power.

He choked. "Fine. We'll meet in two days. But
I need the box in order to draw out the key."

Nin sifted his mind for the treachery,
heedless of the pain she caused by her deep search. She had to know
if he merely believed his own lies, or if he had a valid reason. As
the pieces fell into place she contemplated, debating his continued
usefulness on this plane. Finally she relented.

Kristoff wasn't granted the courtesy of an
audible reply; the goddess was already gone and the map box was on
the floor at his feet. Relieved beyond any appropriate level, he
scooped up the box and carried it to his dining table.

He'd only recently put the glimpses he'd
gathered from Petra into any sensible order. Added with his new,
constant connection to Nathan's memories and plans, he'd learned
how valuable the guardians were – especially the blood of the only
daughter in two generations. Telepathic eavesdropping would be the
next big weapon, if only he could fully assimilate Nathan.

Fate clearly favored him since the girl had
not been at the family compound during the raid he'd orchestrated
for Nin. Kristoff was certain had the girl been lost, and the key
to the map box lost with her, he would be held responsible.

"Simon," he bellowed, impatient for his
favorite assassin to report to his private quarters.

Simon walked through the open door and
stopped precisely two paces inside. "Yes, sir?" he asked, eyes
locked on Kristoff.

"Where are your blades from the museum
job?"

Simon pulled the
Keris
from his
sleeve. He always stowed his beloved knife in a different place.
Kristoff held out his hand, expecting compliance.

He wasn't disappointed, Simon cooperated, but
as he examined the knife, he cursed the day he'd taught the boy to
clean his weapons properly. There was no visible speck of dried
blood on the blade or handle.

"Follow me," he snapped. With the map box in
one hand and the
Keris
in the other, Kristoff rushed down to
his lab. "Have you hunted since the museum job?"

"No sir."

That was something. Under the glare of a high
powered lab light and magnifier, Kristoff resisted the temptation
to study the map box. Instead, he focused on the
Keris
hilt,
holding his breath until he found the merest trace of a muddy red
stain. Blood. He hoped. Scraping the substance from the knife, he
tapped the flecks into the lock and waited.

The latch fell open.

His fingers tingled as he reached to lift the
lid, then he hesitated. He wanted a look, just one peek inside, but
if the contents were anything other than what Nin expected, he
would take the fall. And she would sift him and know whatever he'd
seen. Better, in this case, not to know. He snapped the lock back
into place and chuckled to himself when it wouldn't open again.

Here was the confirmation that the girl was
indeed the key – or rather her blood was the key. Now at last
things were moving in the right direction. He thought about the
options. Via Nathan, he knew where to find her right now, but if he
remained patient, a hand off in Monument Valley could be more
profitable.

He held the lethal blade out for his
assassin. "Gather your supplies, Simon. It's time to go."

Simon tucked the
Keris
away and with
an unusual display of his predatory smile, he obediently went to
pack.

* * *

"What's he to you, Aunt Cali?" Daniel asked
the moment the door closed behind them.

She wanted to snap that it wasn't his
business, but she settled for a glare – aimed at the dirt path
instead of her nephew. Her confidence was still bruised from her
failure and the courage of her convictions didn't hold up under
harsh family scrutiny after last night. Momentary bliss was one
thing, now Daniel was the least of her consequences and she
couldn't face him.

Pathetic.

Daniel was too much of what she'd had to
leave behind and everything she was supposed to be protecting. Her
stomach twisted and while she missed her dirk, right now, she'd
have to agree keeping her away from sharp objects was for the
best.

"Aunt Cali?"

From Daniel, even from Nathan, Cali seemed a
tolerable and a fair blend of Calisto and Kelly. It seemed she was
again at a crossroads, only this time it was internal. What she'd
wanted then, what she wanted now – was there any hope of a
compromise she could live with?

"I've been a little lost, Daniel."

"Since you ran away?"

She looked up at him, then to the full clouds
and soft blue of the early sky. "Is that what you think? That I ran
away from home?"

"Isn't that what you did? You were there and
then you weren't. Mom didn't know what to say and Dad wouldn't say
anything."

Sworn to silence by their father, no doubt.
"However I left home, it has nothing to do with now. Now we have to
get you back to school."

"No." He shook his head. "I came to help
you."

Stubborn little cuss. "What? You can't want
the school to call and upset your mom and grandma. They'll
worry."

But he was charging on, ticking the points
off on his fingers. It was painfully reminiscent of his father, her
brother.

"I've thought this out. You need me. Mom
thinks I've headed back to school. The school thinks I'm still with
Mom. It's perfect, really." He had the audacity to beam at her. "I
can help you get the map box back."

"It's way beyond our reach now," she
muttered.

"It can't be. I've studied. I know…"

Cali wasn't listening. What could he know at
fifteen? What should he know? Girls, homework, and football with
his buddies. She railed at the injustices, not for her, for him.
For all the normal things they'd given up through the centuries,
for all the little details of living she'd let slip through her
grasp.

Failure seemed to whisper across the wind, a
special berating breeze, just for her.

"Aunt Cali, you're not listening."

She didn't need to listen. His litany was
merely another verse of the same song she'd been singing her whole
life. And she was no better than her own father if she summarily
rejected him.

"No, Daniel. I haven't been listening, but I
do know what you've said." She ignored the confusion and worry in
his wide eyes. "You can join us. If you can resign yourself to
taking orders. You'll be the one with the least experience. You
have to accept that. I'll let you stay only if you can admit you
have much to learn."

"I've got skills. And information."

She slung her arm up and over his shoulders.
When he responded in kind, she tickled his ribs until he doubled
over.

"Information is good. The skills need work,
I'd say." She dumped him on his back.

"That's not fair!"

"Of course not. You'll have to fight dirty,
if we let you fight at all." She had no intention of letting it
come to that.

"Aunt Cali, you need my help."

She pulled him to his feet, despite his
effort to drag her to the ground with him. "See, I do know a thing
or two. Now, I need you to live through whatever's in front of us,
or your mother will kill me."

"You're not making me go back?"

"You've just told me all the reasons I can't.
Besides, we're running out of time. Kristoff has the map box – at
least I think he does – and if we don't want the world to end, we
have to get it back."

"What's the plan?"

"The plan had been to hang out, get healthy
and wait for word." A good plan, since she'd felt much better as
recently as this morning. "Then you showed up."
Putting the
weight of the world on my shoulders
again
.

She looked to the sky, letting her gaze drift
down over the trees, to rest on her nephew. Realization came
slowly, but this daunting sort of task was why she'd spent her life
training. She was alone and grieving and both factored into her
mistakes. Except, looking at Daniel, she understood it – felt it to
her bones – she wasn't really alone. She was the last of her
generation, but Daniel was the future. He was proof their clan
would recover and move forward.

It was up to her to make sure they had enough
purpose to overcome the sadness and learn to thrive again. Cali
couldn't say she felt good about the looming fight ahead, but she
didn't feel that sticky, pervasive hopelessness anymore.

"I think you're good for me, kid."

He grinned at her and she tried to smother
the latent maternal instinct to protect him.

"So start over. What do you think you can
contribute?"

It pleased her to see him taking his time
with the answer. He had grown, and grown well through the tragedy
and struggle to steady the family in their new home.

"I've done the research about the family and
the history of the box. I've got a few theories that could help us
find it. Plus, I'm an excellent shot with any type of weapon.
Handguns, rifles, crossbows, I can hit any target every time. But
my hand to hand skills are a little weak."

She didn't believe him. No one in her family
would've let him slack off the close combat stuff. She was about to
attack that point when Nathan shouted across her mind.

"Trouble," she said, grabbing Daniel's elbow
to turn him toward the cabin. She sent a few questions back at
Nathan and after a moment, relaxed. "The message is trouble, but
the cabin's secure. Let's hurry anyway."