Mission: Irresistible (12 page)
He laughed. Really loud and long. “That’s the definition of a commitment-phobe. Be honest with yourself. You like the thrill of romance but a real, honest-to-God, mature relationship based on mutual respect scares the pants off you.”
Cassie felt as if he’d just driven a push pin through the center of her forehead. Ouch. He’s got you bagged, tagged, and labeled, babe.
“Oh, like you’re one to talk. When was the last time you even had a date, Harry? Much less a serious relationship?”
“I’ve been too busy for a relationship.”
“You’ve been too busy? Doing what? It’s been two years since you dug up Kiya.” Cassie polished off her last french fry and took a long sip of her Coke. “What’s been shaking since?”
“I’ve been looking for Solen.”
“Unsuccessfully.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding just a tad bitter. “Unsuccessfully. Thanks for reminding me. But I have also been working on the djed. I’m trying to figure out how it works and what the Egyptians used it for.”
“You mean the dildo?”
“It’s not a dildo!”
“It looks like it could be one.”
“Well, it isn’t,” he snapped. “It’s some kind of electromagnetic transformer.”
“Hey, a dildo could transform me.”
“You’re impossible,” he said.
“That’s what they tell me.”
He gathered up their empty food containers and stepped out of the car to deposit them in a nearby trash can. He got back inside, started the engine, and then motored toward the freeway entrance ramp without speaking.
Okeydokey. Apparently she’d made him mad by belittling his djed thingy.
“I apologize for the dildo comment,” she said. “I was just teasing.”
“Unlike some people, I’m serious about my work,” Harrison grumbled.
“So what’s this papyrus thing all about?” Cassie jerked a thumb at the backseat.
“I don’t know. I recognized that seal, but is it a real artifact or something Adam’s concocted? I didn’t get to examine the writing on the scroll closely, but it looked like Minoan hieroglyphics, and no one has ever been able to translate them.”
“Adam did.”
He jerked his head around to stare at her. “What?”
“Yep. It was supposed to be a surprise. Adam was going to reveal his achievement at the reunification ceremony.”
“But that’s impossible. The Minoan hieroglyphics are untranslatable.”
“Not according to your brother. He was very excited. Your name came up several times in our conversation, but he never let on that you were his brother.”
“You’re certain that he said he’d translated the Minoan hieroglyphics?”
“Positive.”
“This changes everything. What else did he tell you?”
“All Adam would say is that the translation could alter the face of history. But you know your brother better than I do. I gather he leans toward the dramatic.”
“That he does, but this time he might be right. It all depends on that scroll.”
A car was following close on their bumper. The headlights reflected off the rearview mirror. The base of her skull warmed again, and she reached up a hand to massage away the tingling. Maybe it was just stress. Being around Harry was certainly stressful. Hopefully there was nothing ominous in the offing.
“I’m beginning to think this isn’t a publicity stunt,” Harrison said quietly. “I’m afraid Adam’s gotten himself in serious trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Curiosity prompted her question, but it was more than casual interest that had her waiting for Harry’s answer with indrawn breath. Maybe the smoldering premonition at the top of her spine wasn’t for herself or Harry but for Adam.
“You saw the seal on the cord binding the sheepskin?”
Cassie nodded. “It was two circles with some Greek letters and a Minotaur on top.”
“Not Greek letters. Minoan hieroglyphics.”
“And?”
“The Minotaur over the double circles is the sacred crest of a three-thousand-year-old secret brotherhood sect that supposedly had perfected both the art of alchemy and the ability to control the weather. Adam’s dad, Tom Grayfield, is something of an academic expert on the ancient order. I believe he even did his doctoral thesis on them.”
“What were they called?”
“The closest we’ve come to correctly pronouncing their Minoan name is by using a Cretan intonation.” Then he said something that sounded an awful lot like, “Wannamakemecomealot.”
“Excuse me?” It wasn’t that she hadn’t heard him the first time. Cassie just couldn’t imagine that she was hearing the same phrase twice in one night.
Harrison repeated himself.
“Omigosh, Harry.” She splayed a hand over her mouth, then whispered, “That’s exactly what the mummy said to me before he collapsed.”
“You’re certain?”
Cassie inhaled sharply. “Do you think he was telling me that members of this cult were the ones who stabbed him? He said, ‘Beware Wannamakemecomealot.’ That was before I knew he’d been stabbed, and I just thought he was trying to be flirtatious.”
“It seems a huge stretch, Cassie.”
“Harry, the mummy was really weak. Barely breathing. I was so scared he was dying.”
In the light from the headlamps of the car following close behind them, Cassie could see Harrison’s jaw tighten. “Let’s just hope you’re wrong.”
“Tell me more about this Wannamakemecomealot bunch,” she said, quickly changing the subject. She didn’t want Harrison dwelling on the fact that his brother might be dead. Best not freak out until there was something to freak out about. That was her motto. If you put off worrying long enough, maybe it would never happen.
“Many people in the archaeological community believe Solen was a member of this cult. Most scholars now refer to it as the Minoan Order. Causes fewer giggles in the classroom than ‘Wannamakemecomealot.’”
“I can imagine.” She snickered.
She wished that stupid car would pass or drop back. Wasn’t the headlight glare bothering Harry? But he seemed totally wrapped up in his story, oblivious to what was going on around him. He had the most intense powers of concentration she had ever seen. It made her want to squirm.
Settle down. This is important.
Fighting her natural ADD tendencies, Cassie rested her elbow against her knee, propped her chin in her palm, and forced herself to really hear what he was saying.
“Go on, sorry for laughing.”
“When the Minoan Order was initially formed, they only used their metaphysical powers for good. ‘Do no harm’ was the foundation of their creed. Anyone discovered using their arcane knowledge for evil purposes was immediately stripped of their magic and exiled from Crete.”
“Was that what happened to Solen? Is that how he ended up in Egypt? He did something bad and got banished?”
“No. At least not according to the hieroglyphics we found in Ramses’s tomb, although we do know Solen was one of Ramses’s scribes. He could have written his own version of history.”
“So fill me in. What’s the entire scoop?”
“Supposedly, here’s what happened,” Harrison said. “The village where Solen lived was threatened by a rampaging Minotaur, and even the strongest, most talented warriors could not defeat the beast. Solen was young. He was only fourteen, but he’d been studying metaphysics under a grand master. With the power he derived from his magic amulet and the purity of his soul, Solen was able to slay the Minotaur.”
“What happened then?”
“The grateful villagers lauded him with praise and riches. But several young warriors in the Minoan Order were jealous of his triumph. They ambushed him one night, beating him until he was almost dead, but he refused to use his powers against them in anger. He would not violate the code, even to avenge himself. The men put him on a sailing ship to Egypt, where he was sold into slavery.”
“Sort of like Joseph and his coat of many colors.”
“Similar story, yes.”
“From there Solen ended up in Ramses’s household, where he fell in love with Kiya.”
“And that was his downfall,” Harrison said. “There was only one thing that would cause Solen to break the Minoan Order’s code and commit an evil act.”
“His love for Kiya,” Cassie whispered and got goose bumps on top of her hot spot.
“Solen attacked Nebamun when he discovered the vizier had poisoned Kiya. They battled and Nebamun stabbed him with a dagger dipped in asp venom. With his dying breath, Solen cursed the vizier’s descendants into eternity, just as Nebamun tore the magic amulet from his hands.”
“Thereby preventing the curse from taking place.” She sighed deeply and rubbed her palms together. “I love this star-crossed lovers stuff. It’s so tragically romantic.”
“You only like the legend because their romance ended passionately and luridly and before Kiya ever started to resent Solen for leaving his socks on the floor,” Harrison teased.
“Oh, you.” Cassie reached across the car to playfully swat him, but the minute her hand made contact with his solid shoulder she realized that touching him had been a major mistake.
He’d stopped at a traffic signal and as her fingers grazed his shirt, he turned to look at her. The reflection of the red traffic light illuminated him in a vermilion hue. He looked alien and unlikely and incredibly potent.
They stared at each other. All levity vanished in the heat of tension stretching between them.
His dark eyes glistened enigmatically behind his scholarly spectacles. For the first time, she noticed a small scar just below and to the left of his right cheekbone. The unexpected defect was intriguing and mysterious and darkly masculine.
Who was he?
She didn’t know him. Not really. She was vulnerable. At his mercy.
She suppressed a shiver.
The nerd image was all a ruse, Cassie realized. A defense mechanism he hid behind. He cloaked his real self with thick glasses and bad clothing and disheveled hair. The real Harrison disappeared inside scientific method and mental analysis and complicated ideas. But there was so much more to him than his intellect.
Here, in the close confines of the car, she could feel the emotional surging of this heavier, earthier, more complex personality. She wondered if he even understood the dynamics of his secretive behavior.
She felt herself sucked in by the enticing vortex of unknown territory. They stared into each other, and her world spun.
The car behind them honked and they both jumped, brought back to their physical surroundings. The light had changed. Harrison put his foot on the accelerator, and the Volvo chugged through the intersection.
That furtive moment, the deeper connection, vanished like a whiff of smoke and everything was back like it had been. Neither one of them spoke of what passed between them, but Cassie could not tolerate the awkward silence.
“So this Minoan Order.” She nervously licked her lips and then swallowed hard. “Whatever happened to them?”
“Not to get all
Star Wars
on you or anything, but the dark side won. When the elder members of the Minoan Order found out what the young warriors had done to Solen, they stripped them of their powers and banished them from their homeland. But in exile, the warriors banded together. They sought revenge against the original sect for kicking them out. They murdered every member of the old order in their beds to steal their magic. But the new Minoan Order was now tainted with evil. They still had the ability to transmute base metal into gold and to control the weather, but every time they used these skills they grew weaker and weaker.”
“Chilling story.”
“Many scholars of ancient history feel that Solen held the key to the group’s alchemical talents. Some think the power was in his amulet.”
“Do any practitioners of the Minoan Order exist today?” Cassie asked.
“The general consensus is they were wiped out by the Greeks,” Harrison said.
“But were they?”
“Rumors of their existence persist. One theory postulates that Hitler was a member of the New Minoan Order. But no one has ever proved that. If they are still around, they’ve kept their presence very clandestine.” He shook his head. “But if Adam has translated their hieroglyphics, the papyrus scroll in the backseat could hold the answer to all the speculation.”
“It’s a seductive thought.”
“Very seductive for an archaeologist.” Harrison exited the freeway. The high-glare-headlight car that had been on their bumper since they’d left Jack in the Box took the same exit.
“So do you personally believe there could still be a Minoan Order?”
“Anything’s possible.”
“You don’t believe in true love, but you believe there could be mumbo-jumbo weirdos running around trying to turn base metal into gold and brew up tornadoes?”
“I’m a cynic.” He grinned and shrugged. “But I’m not totally closed-minded.”
“Good to know you believe in something.”
The light changed and he turned the corner. Maybe now they could escape the obnoxious driver who seemed determined to give her a migraine with those unforgiving headlights.
No such luck. The car also turned right at the light.
They were back in Fort Worth and drawing nearer to the Kimbell.
“Just drop me off at my car,” she said.
“No way. I’m not about to let you go driving around on empty at one o’clock in the morning. I’ll take you to your apartment and come back to pick you up tomorrow.”
She started to argue with him but stopped herself. What the hell? If he wanted to cart her around Fort Worth, no skin off her nose. He made a left turn and darn if that blinded-by-the-light car didn’t stay right on their tail.
“Harry.” Squinting, Cassie glanced in the side-view mirror.
“Yes?”
“I hate to alarm you, but I think we’re being followed.”
H
arrison had come to the same conclusion about the Ford Focus in his rearview mirror long before Cassie expressed her suspicions. But before he made a move, he had to be certain.
“My head is burning again,” Cassie said. “Hate to sound all woo-woo, but this isn’t a good sign.”
On that point they agreed. Harrison circled the block.
The Focus followed.
This was unbelievable. The driver couldn’t be more obvious if he had a neon flasher light proclaiming, “I’m following you,” perched atop his hood.