Ghost Phoenix (19 page)

She leaned against the doorframe, focusing all her attention on Daz. “I'd be team too?”

“After a while, yeah.”

She would belong to a different family, one that used her abilities to help others, not for money. It wasn't her dream of archeology, but it was good, honest work.

She leaned over and kissed Daz on the cheek. “You're a sweetheart, you know that?”

“A sweetheart who's sleeping alone tonight.”

“You said you didn't need to sleep, remember? And, Daz, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

She turned away and walked to her room and the very big bed that awaited.

The room's sloped ceilings made her feel trapped. Richard ducked his head as he came out of the bathroom to avoid a rafter. “What did Daz want?”

“He's standing guard duty. He wanted to let us know.” That was a lie, dammit. “And he wanted to make sure I was okay sharing the room with you.”

“I assumed you would want to share with me.” Richard sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her. “Do you not?”

“I want it more than anything in the world.” Oh, no, she'd said that out loud.

He reached his hand to her. “Angel,” he whispered.

That night, she managed not to scream. Only just barely.

Chapter Sixteen

The alabaster stone church of Idar-Oberstein loomed above them on the massive cliff face. The view as they drove up the winding road from valley to the hills was spectacular.

All her traveling in Europe and yet she had never been to the gem capital. She dealt mostly in historical objects, art and statutes and other items. Rarely did she deal in gems. The family line was that precious gems attracted too many crazy people, so Doyle Antiquities steered clear. She wished playing “stalking goat” as Daz put it, hadn't brought her here for the first time. She'd have liked to view it on its own merits.

Her eyes widened as they drove closer to the mountain and the scope of the Church of the Rock became apparent. It appeared the cliff itself had given birth to a pale child, one still attached by a cord of stone.

It must have taken local craftsmen years, no, decades, to construct it. She guessed there were all sorts of handmade touches inside the Church. So often, medieval craftsmen left something personal behind, to sign their work. She wondered if Richard's court contained immortal stonemasons and metalsmiths. She would love to talk to one.

“Hey, I've been here on vacation,” Daz said from the backseat. “Forgot that.”

“When?” Richard asked.

“Yes, when?” Marian echoed.

As striking as a medieval Church built into the side of a cliff was, it was not a well-known tourist destination, at least among regular American tourists. She knew about the city because of the gemstone trade. Precious gems from years gone by often could be tracked to Idar-Oberstein as the source. Once, her grandfather had falsified documents, claiming the unusual gems bought on the black market for a client's collection had come from Idar-Oberstein's mines originally. It was a plausible explanation. The client and the customs agents bought it.

But Grandfather had been spooked by the scrutiny, and they'd never done it again. And he called
her
a coward.

After that, she finally started to think about exactly what she was doing. No one ever gets hurt, her grandfather told her over and over. But that seemed too simplistic. She was a looter, a grave robber, a tomb raider.

“I've definitely been here,” Daz repeated.

“You seem more the type to go camping or to the beach for a vacation rather than visit a quaint German town,” she said.

“I visited with a girlfriend who was stationed at Ramstein Air Force base. She loved everything about this place. When she was a military brat growing up in Germany, her family had visited and she wanted to go back. It's popular among U.S. military families. My girlfriend used a German name for that church. Felsenkid, Felsenkind, no, wait,
Felsenkirche.
”

Marian nodded. “That's German for Church in the Rock. Or, the Rock Church, to use an easier English translation.”

“It sounds more impressive in German,” Daz said.

“I know.”

“I wonder if there are tunnels into the cliff from the church?” Richard asked.

He had been mostly silent this morning. No more singing. She had half expected him to demand to drive on the autobahn, yet he'd seemed content.

“You have to enter through a tunnel to even get into the Church, so there's at least one. If I remember right, it's quite a climb,” Daz said. “I imagine you could tunnel to other places in that cliff. It's damn thick rock, though. Any modern tunneling techniques would make a lot of noise.”

“Those who tunneled a church into a mountain in the fifteenth century could easily create an extensive tunnel system,” Richard said.

Marian nodded. “Like your people did at the abbey?”

“Exactly like that.”

“You think Rasputin could be hidden in there with his monks?” Marian asked. It seemed a very public place to hide a monastery, even one run by Rasputin.

“It would explain why Romanoff's source called from the museum, which is supposed to be right next to the church entrance,” Richard said. “If the monks are devout, they may wish a proper church in which to worship and a proper resting place for their saint. After all, it's where his body supposedly was hidden.”

“And if they're led by Rasputin and not just some crazy heir worshipping his relics?” she said.

“They may still need a place to worship. Rasputin was not conventional, but he was devout.”

“That'd be nice if we could just go through the tunnel to the Church and run across them,” Daz said.

“Just so.” Richard grinned.

“I hate to break it to you two but it's not a proper Russian Orthodox Church, not here in Germany. It's probably a Lutheran Church.”

“It is consecrated to God. That may be enough for the monks or for Rasputin.”

“Doesn't impress me,” muttered Daz.

“Afraid of tunnels, Daz?” Richard asked.

“Nah, I already climbed the tunnel, remember? I'm just afraid of churches. My girlfriend dragged me in there as a hint. A big hint.”

“Which is why she is no longer your girlfriend?” Richard asked.

“Yep. I pretended to be clueless about what she wanted. I heard she married a fellow army lieutenant a year or so later. Good for her, good for me.”

That made Marian smile. “According to my research, the Museum Idar-Oberstein is the place to visit here. Given it could be staffed of local guides full of knowledge of the town, including stories not in the history books, I would recommend that as our first stop even if we didn't know Romanoff's source called from there. If nothing happens, then we climb to the church.”

“After we visit the Fenstermacher house,” Richard said.

She nodded. “Of course.” They'd agreed to check this place before going to confront anyone who might be waiting for them at the museum.

She drove two miles past meadows and only a few farmhouses. Rocks crunched under the wheels as the road became dirt.

“Are you sure we're going to the right address?” Daz asked.

“Yes, this is the exact address Romanoff gave to Richard,” she said.

As soon as the word left her mouth, a farmhouse came into view.

The home was set the middle of a meadow waiting for planting. Spring was just here, so the grasses were still brown and wet.

“It's a brick triangle,” Daz said.

“Accurate enough,” Richard said.

She parked the car. Daz had been right, it resembled a big red-brick triangle, albeit one with a thick bottom. It was a classic German farmhouse. From the windows, she guessed it was three stories inside and maybe an attic in that peaked roof.

She got out of the car and shaded her eyes from the sun. It was bright today, even with sunglasses. No cars were parked in the dirt driveway, there was no mailbox and no lights were on inside the home.

No sign of life.

“I'll knock.” Richard strode up to the door and rapped on the wood.

They waited. He knocked again. Nothing. Daz moved to the side to look in the windows.

“No furniture,” Daz said.

She peered inside. Empty and barren of furniture. A simple farmhouse, kitchen on one side of the home, the fireplace in the middle to warm the entire structure, and open rooms that could be a living room and dining room. Wooden stairs led up to the second floor.

“It's clean inside,” she said.

“So it's not completely abandoned,” Richard said.

“I'll slip inside and look around.”

Richard curled his hand around her wrist. “No. I don't like the idea of you going inside without us.”

“So we break in?” Daz asked.

Richard shook his head. “This information came from Romanoff, who steered us wrong once. Now that I see this place, I'm more wary. It's far more isolated than expected.”

“Another trap,” Daz said.

“There could also be a trap at the museum on top of the mountain,” Marian said. “What's so different about this one?”

“There, at least, it's public and our disappearance or attacks on us will be noted,” Richard said.

“So we just leave?” Marian said.

Richard nodded. “We have only preliminary information on this place. We leave this alone until we know what we're walking into.”

“I don't like it,” Daz said. “We leave without checking, any evidence in there could be lost.”

“We walk in there without a plan and not knowing exactly what to expect and we could be lost,” Richard said. “And I don't like any of this, but I like being set on in an isolated area even less than being set upon in a public museum.”

“Can't argue with that,” Daz said.

Marian stared at the farmhouse, as if it could divulge secrets by just existing.

“Waiting might be a good thing. Alec said he might come out to Germany, even though I urged him not to,” Daz said. “If he's with us, we'll have all the weapons we need.”

Richard grabbed Daz's forearm. “Why didn't you tell me this earlier?”

“I'm telling you now.”

“This isn't your operation. I have no idea how Alec's presence will affect what I need for my court.”

Marian stepped between them. “You two really want to argue here?”

They broke apart and got back in the car, this time with Richard behind the wheel. “You should have told me,” he repeated.

“I wasn't sure whether to trust you,” Daz said.

“You are now?”

“Reasonably. I told you now, didn't I? I could have just let Alec show up without warning.”

“And you wonder why I'm unsure whether to trust you,” Richard said.

Richard drove up the mountain directly to the Church of the Rock. Conversation seemed out. Richard and Daz were seething. No relaxed surfer dude today, Marian thought. Instead of blathering and saying something stupid, Marian tried to enjoy the scenery and think on what to do next.

Idar-Oberstein was a beautiful German village out of the distant past, complete with narrow cobblestone streets, dating it to the time before automobiles. Even the three-story homes seemed like skyscrapers as the road shrank to little more than the size of the car. If she were claustrophobic, she'd have felt trapped.

At her recommendation, they picked a local hotel at the top of the cliff, directly across from the Idar-Oberstein Museum and right next to the entrance to the tunnel that led to the Church. It would provide a base of operations. There was no telling how long they'd be there.

As they walked inside the hotel lobby, a bell tingled overhead, signaling their arrival. She glanced around. It seemed a typical tourist hotel, even with a corner set aside for pamphlets of all the local attractions. Narrow stairs were to the right, presumably to the rooms on the next floor. The entrance into the hotel's restaurant and beer garden were to the left.

No sign of crazed monks.

The front-desk clerk, an older, balding man, came to immediate attention and helped them.

“One room, please.” Daz spoke before she could.

The clerk glanced over, pleading silently. She cleared her throat. “Yes, one room, and please enable the wireless,” she said in German, which she hoped Daz didn't understand. Let him wonder if she'd agreed with him or not. She was feeling that petty. He could have mentioned wanting to share a room in the car. She knew he must have good reason, but leaving her out of the decision made her feel like baggage.

She checked them in and asked the clerk if the restaurant was open yet. It was, though the beer garden was closed.

They brought their luggage upstairs to their room.

“Want to tell me why just one room, Daz?” she asked as they set the suitcases down.

“Protection. We're too close to the heart of it to be separated,” he said.

Richard nodded.

“You might have mentioned this before jumping in front of me with the clerk.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Daz said.

She gave them each their pass cards to the room. “Fine, but I get a bed and you two can share.”

Richard said nothing but took her hand as they descended the steps back to the lobby.

The restaurant was typically Bavarian, and the tables were sturdy hardwood. Daz picked the seat at the table that put his back against the wall and gave him a full view of the entrance, including the connecting door to the beer garden and hotel.

Daz was doing his job. She let go the resentment over not being consulted.

Richard chatted with the waiter in German, asking about the weather and if he grew up here and if he had ever been to the museum and where else would he recommend they visit.

All basic tourist questions. All seemingly innocent. If this was a trap, Marian decided they'd already been spotted.

“Is the Church of the Rock still an operating church?” she asked the waiter when Richard finally stopped talking.

“Of course,” the waiter snapped.

Odd for his mood to change from solicitous with Richard to snappy with her. Maybe he considered her an American and beneath him while Richard appeared to be German. Richard's German was as flawless as his French.

“I am not used to anyone snapping at my companions,” Richard said. “See that you treat us with respect.” He added something harsh-sounding in German. Ah, that was an insult she hadn't heard before.

The waiter cleared his throat. He nodded. “Apologies, Fraulein.”

“No offense taken,” she said.

“Your bread will be out very soon.” He backed away from the table, eyes always on Richard.

“Just what did you say to him?” Daz asked.

“I called him on his rudeness to Marian,” Richard said. “Odd that he changed his friendly tone so fast.”

“He thought you were a German native and I was a dumb American,” Marian said.

“Did he now? Interesting. Still, a waiter in a restaurant so close to the museum and church should be more accepting of tourists.”

“I found that a lot of people who lived near overseas American military bases held grudges against Americans,” Daz said. “And, like I said, this is a popular stop in American military circles. Maybe he's been burned by cranky Americans.”