Pleasure of a Dark Prince (37 page)

“I hated the consequences of what we’d done—or at least what I’d thought they were. I took out all my anger and fear on you. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, bluidy hell, lass.” Never would he have thought an apology from her would be as sweet to hear as her laughter. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry to have lost the cuff. I bollixed that up.”

She stroked his hair from his forehead. “Things are going to be different, MacRieve. With me. If you want them to be. Once we save the world, that is.”

He could tell things were
already
different. Garreth had claimed her, yet she could still shoot—and she looked more at peace than he’d ever seen her. “What happened to you while I was out?”

“I have no more ties to Skathi.
None.
Any talent I possess is my own.”

“Will you finally confide in me, then?”

“I… can’t. Not yet. I’m asking you for time.” At his scowl, she said, “Look, I wasn’t ready for two things: sex and sharing secrets. Now, we both know how the first of those turned out. Can’t you accept one out of two for now?”

He scowled deeper. “Sex or secrets?”

Lucia jutted her chin. “If that’s how you want to look at it.”

She’d played the sex card—as in the promise of
more of it
. More of what they’d shared the night before. And o’ course, he’d do just about anything for that. “You keep your secrets
for now
. As for the other, I
have
been getting my way with you. Tis true. And I’ll be getting it again as soon as I’m able.”

FORTY-TWO

“So we’re no’ to wake a big evil,” MacRieve said as they gradually made their way back to the necropolis. Though she could tell he was still in a great deal of pain, he’d insisted that they gear up and set out by noon.

On the way down, she’d filled him in on everything Nïx had said and they’d speculated on everything she
hadn’t
said. For instance, though the soothsayer had never actually
confirmed
the panteón was the tomb in question, they’d still grown convinced that the dieumort was there. It had to be in the tomb Damiãno had been talking about—the one that had hieroglyphs of gold.

“Who do you think Damiãno worked for?” Lucia asked. “If he was the guardian of this place, then who hired him?”

“Doona know. Maybe he’s a descendant of the people who lived here.”

“Do you really think he hacked up those passengers?” She kept recalling the look on his face when MacRieve had accused him. Had there been a brief flicker of surprise?

“If no’ him, then who? He wanted to prevent anyone from getting close to this place, and the
Barão
was right behind us.”

“That’s true,” she said, seeing MacRieve’s reasoning. So why was she unconvinced…?

Just as they reached the central expanse and started on the cobblestone walk, a new text message arrived.

RegRad: BTW, that “darkness” Skathi went on about w/ U = UR being a Valkyrie, DUMBASS!

“Regin is
texting
you?” MacRieve shook his head. “Now?”

“She doesn’t know this is a… momentous time.”

He sputtered, “Aye, but why’re you texting her back?”

“Have to. This has been a long time coming.” Lucia replied:
I’m about 2 go play Tomb Raider… but it’s REAL. Bet U wish U were here. HOOKER!

She finished with a satisfied grin—that lasted until Regin responded.
RegRad: Why’re U being so mean? I wanna play TR, too.

Lucia sighed, deciding then to make all this up to her sister. When she returned to New Orleans, she’d buy Regin something nice. Maybe a gaming chair, or a new sword.

MacRieve said, “My brother told me that to win you, I’d have to… deal with Regin.”

Win me?
Lucia had thought it impossible for so long that she was taken aback now. He
could
win her. But Lachlain was right—Regin was a part of her life and always would be. “Well, she and I had planned to live out our immortality in adjacent mansions on some seashore. Since we were kids. But I’m sure anyone would think she’s a fine neighbor.”

“Neighbor, then?” He
almost
stifled his grimace.

Yes, there was bad blood between him and her sister. But Lucia now knew that MacRieve could be remarkably forgiving….

Once they reached the tomb, he hacked at the cloaking vines with his claws, tearing them away until they found what appeared to be an entranceway—a slab of unbroken stone, probably eight feet square.

A smoothed knob of rock jutted out beside it. “Check that out,” she said. “It looks like a dial.” Carved all around it were more hieroglyphs, expanding out in a circular pattern.

“So which way do we turn it?” MacRieve asked. “Seems to me this could go really bad. Go the wrong way…”

“I saw a movie once where someone’s hand got trapped around a knob, then sliced off. How attached are you to your paws?”

He gave her ass a quick squeeze. “No’ as much as you were last night.”

“Werewolf! Wait, I’ve got an idea.” She took out her phone, scrolling through her address book.

“Who are you calling?”

“Language specialist.”

He stepped back, gazing at the scene. “Doona think this is Mayan or Incan.”

“I know someone who’s omnilingual.”

“Omni?”

“She knows every language in the world and adjoining planes.”

He raised his brows as if he were impressed, until she added, “A female called Tera the Fey.” When he glowered, she said, “What is it?”

“Nothing. How do you know her?”

“We were competitors in the immortal tournaments of old.”

Lucia’s half sister Atalanta would compete in the foot races, Kaderin the Coldhearted at swords, and Lucia at the bow. They’d dominated.

And Lucia had smack-talked Tera unmercifully.

Still, with nothing to lose, she rang the number.

“Valkyrie,” Tera said in a cool greeting.

“Tera, I need a favor. I need you to translate something.”

“Indeed. And why should I help you?”

Lucia said, “To stop an apocalypse.” Then she explained where she and MacRieve were and the highlights of the threat.

Once she’d finished, Tera sighed. “Can you take a picture of the symbols and e-mail them?”

“What’s your e-mail addy?” Lucia asked.

“Hmm. Thegreatestarcherever at gmail dot com.”

“Surely the greatest archer ever had already taken that one?”

Tera said tightly, “Terafey at thenoblefey dot com.”

“Pics are on their way.” After she’d hung up, Lucia used her phone to snap photographs of the hieroglyphs, then e-mailed them.

Tera wrote back directly.
I’ll call shortly. P.S.: Tell werewolf I want my quiver back.

Lucia faced MacRieve with raised brows. “Tera says she wants her quiver back.”

He cast her an innocent expression. “Huh? What? Bluidy daft fey…”

The phone rang within five minutes. Lucia turned on the speaker feature.

“Congratulations. You’ve discovered a previously unidentified language,” Tera said. “It’s logosyllabic, combining about three hundred syllabograms, which represent syllables, and eight hundred logograms— whole words.”

“Right, whatever. What does it
say
?”

“There are three warnings. First, you’re not to get any kind of moisture upon the watchers’… husks. Second, do not disturb the Gilded One’s rest. And third, no gold leaves the confines of the tomb. Basically, be dry, don’t take any gold, and hands-off the important dead person inside.”

The Gilded One
was
within!

“Or what?” MacReive asked. “How are these enforced?”

“Or tragedy awaits,” Tera said. “We’re likely talking ancient loss-prevention technology—booby traps. So essentially, the fate of the world rests in the hands of a sticky-fingered Lykae and an avaricious Valkyrie about to enter a tomb of off-limits gold. I believe I’ll be going out tonight—”

“Just tell us how to get in,” he interrupted.

“Turn the dial to the right, then immediately left, then back to the right.”

“How sure are you?” he asked.

“As certain as I am that Lucia’s wearing my quiver strapped to her leg right now.”

With raised brows, MacRieve followed her instructions. At once, the stone slab rumbled, inching to the side, revealing a downward-sloping tunnel. Air released, as though the ruins had gasped.

He narrowed his eyes. “This place was airtight.”

“They meant what they said about moisture,” Lucia observed. Then she told Tera, “Hey, we’re in. Thanks for your help—”

“What about my quiver?”

Lucia gazed at MacRieve who’d raised his stubborn chin, as if to say
stolen fair and square
. To Tera, she said, “I guarantee
nothing
.”

After she hung up, Lucia and MacRieve prepared to head inside. She shrugged from her pack and took her bow in hand, while his dark claws flared in readiness.

“Let me go first.” He took her free hand. “I can scent traps—or enemies.”

As they began journeying down the dim tunnel, she could feel his excitement, sharing it in spades. Yet then he paused to say, “Probably should’ve addressed this before, but Valkyrie are notoriously…
acquisitive
, and I’m taking one directly to what might be El Dorado. Are you going to be able to handle this?”

“I’m not as bad as some of my sisters.”
And I want something far more precious than treasure.
“I can handle it.”

Slanting her an undecided look, he finally gave a halfhearted nod, then continued on, farther down the passageway. From the ceiling, spiderwebs dangled. A warm draft blew, whisking the dust on the floor and fluttering the webs.

Though the tunnel had to be subterranean by now, all the walls were dry, the temperature stifling.

“I can barely imagine what this arrow will be like,” she said in a hushed voice. Skathi’s had been a sight to behold, but this dieumort… “I bet it’s beautiful. And solid gold, only more perfectly weighted and aerodynamic than any I’ve ever seen.”

“Whatever it is, let’s be cautious about this.” When the webs grew increasingly thick, he used his claws to slice through them. “I doona relish facing
loss-prevention technology
.”

“Agreed.” Five minutes later: “MacRieve,” she murmured urgently. “Do you see something glimmering ahead?”

“Aye, we’re coming upon a chamber.”

When they entered it, Lucia breathed, “My gods, it’s El Dorado.”

The “chamber” was the size of a warehouse, and its floor, ceiling, and walls were each tiled with solid gold. All along the perimeter, treasures were stacked high— gold bricks, chalices, and jewelry.

“How are we doing, lass?”

“Wowed.” She released his hand to turn in a circle. “But not tempted.”
Yet.

As they neared the center of the chamber, she spied a mammoth gold sarcophagus atop a stone pediment. Exhilaration surging within her, she said, “MacRieve, look! The resting place of the Gilded One. It has to be.”

Desiccated bodies lay around it,
husks
of some kind of humanlike creature.
Must be the watchers.
There was something familiar about their long, withered faces. Just as she remembered what it was, MacRieve muttered, “Wendigos?”

Wendigos were flesh eaters like zombies, but
fast
. They had elongated faces and dripping fangs. “But I thought they’re only found in the northern forests.”

“I’d believed so as well. No’ anymore.”

The Wendigos were spread around the pediment like a pack of animals at their master’s feet, as if they’d fallen asleep like this and had never woken.

“How did they dry up like this?” Lucia asked.

“I doona know—” Suddenly, he lunged forward with his hand outstretched, palm up above one of the bodies. “Careful, woman!” He’d caught a bead of sweat that had dripped from her chin.

“Sorry,” she whispered, briefly turning away to wipe her face on her sleeve.

Cautiously stepping around the creatures, they made their way to the sarcophagus. The top was uncovered, as if for a wake viewing. After wiping her face again, she leaned forward, heart in her throat.

Under the cover of the finest gold netting lay
a mummy….
The body was decorated with elaborate jewels, a gold breastplate and crown, and rings on every finger.
Stunning.

♦ ♦ ♦

Lucia peered over the sarcophagus, her eyes widening with awe.

Though he was keen only on finding the dieumort, Garreth’s curiosity got the better of him, and he briefly glanced down at the jewel-covered mummy. “No’ tempted to swipe a gem or two?”

“I’m not staring at them. Look at the mummy.”

“It should no’ be so preserved,” he said absently, his attention back to locating the weapon.

“No kidding,” Lucia said.

“What does the paleopathologist in you think?” he asked, scanning the room.

“That something else isn’t right.”

He glanced down again. “Yeah, El Dorado has breasts.
Big
ones.”

Lucia cast him a glare. “Try to be serious.”