Gryphons Quest (6 page)

"Are you insane, woman?" came a deep, resonant brogue from behind her. "What are you doing here by yourself?"

Heather turned to see him standing in the dim light. "I knew you'd show up tonight. You've heard about the woman who was killed in the park, haven't you?" she asked as Gryph moved out of the shadows toward her.

"Yes. More will die if I don't take back those damnable stones!"

"Were you planning on breaking into the museum?"

"If I had to, yes. But I'm glad you haven't left for the day. I wanted to ask you once more to take me to the artifacts and give me a chance to prove what I'm saying is true."

"I'm not leaving for the day. The truth is, I just got here and was waiting for you. Like I said, I knew you'd show up."

Gryph tilted his head quizzically. "You just got here?"

"Yes." Heather paused. "Today, a police detective who trusts me told me some things. He said he suspects Ned was killed by someone he may have known, possibly someone who works at the museum.

I didn't want to believe it, but some of the things you'd said started to make some sense. You've believed all along that Ned's death was connected to the Celtic artifacts. You tried to tell me, but I guess I wasn't ready to listen. Now it seems the police believe we have a murderer employed at the museum, though they know nothing about a possible connection to McPherson's shipments from Ireland. You and the police are working from opposite ends toward the same conclusion. And I've found something I wasn't meant to."

"What have you found?" He could hear the excitement in his own voice. The prospect of good news rallied him.

"After I spoke with the detective, I came in to work early. I tore into every box, crate and container I could get my hands on and didn't find anything. I was ready to give up and then, by accident, I found that one of the crates had a false bottom installed. Your rune stones are there. Professor McPherson or someone on his team took special pains to hide them. I don't know who's lying, but Ned was killed near the room where the crates are now located. From everything you and the Detective have told me, and because I've found the stones so deviously hidden, I think Ned was killed because he knew too much or saw something he shouldn't have. I don't understand why the woman in the park was killed, but the police are connecting her death to Ned's."

"Heather, what I'm about to tell you is the absolute truth. You won't want to believe it any more than anything else I've told you, but you must listen. Those stones are the source of an unspeakable magic. It's said that if they're correctly deciphered, they can give great power to whoever possesses them. While I believe McPherson took the stones, I'm not sure if he's the one abusing their gifts. Whoever killed the woman in the park and your friend did so with the help of the stones”

"You're speaking of the Rune Stones of the Tuatha De Danann."

Gryph stared at her in absolute shock. "You know of them?"

"I know about the legend. Celtic studies are my specialty. But those stones are a myth. They don't really exist I can't believe all of this is over a folktale!"

"Did you touch the stones?"

"Yes," she said, remembering their cool, grey-green surfaces.

"Then you believe that what you physically held in your hands was a myth."

"Mr. O'Connor, I quit believing in things that go bump in the night a long time ago. These were rune stones like hundreds of others that have been found in that part of the world, albeit a bit larger."

Gryph slowly shook his head. "Someone believes in them enough to have stolen them and to have killed innocent people by acquiring the stones' power."

"Well, I guess we'll find out about them soon enough." Heather sighed as she pulled out a set of keys from her coat pocket. "I'll take you to the room where the artifacts are kept. The guards are making their rounds. The outer doors are locked, but a keyed access won't alert them to anything. Should be easy enough for an employee to get past them right now. There aren't enough of them on duty anyway."

Whether the guards posed a problem or not, he had to get in. But her inaction in alerting the local authorities was puzzling. "Why didn't you call the police when you found the stones? Thievery is a motive for murder, after all," Gryph told her.

"I've thought about that all afternoon. That's why I didn't come to work today. I don't really know what to think, or what to do anymore. That's why I left the damned things there .The only thing I'm certain of is that you haven't lied to me yet."

Gryph followed her as she walked around a side entrance, avoiding the security guards and the museum's security cameras. He believed she was confused, hurt and afraid. But she had enough strength of character to want to get to the truth, even at considerable risk to her own safety.

"You should leave. You're getting yourself far too involved in all of this."

"No, I'm not leaving. Ned was my friend. I want to know why he was killed and who did it. And would you please tell me how the hell you know my name and where I live? That's really been bugging me."

Gryph smiled. "I overheard you and the blond man talking in the parking lot. He called you by name.

When you left, I followed you to your apartment."

"Crafty," Heather murmured.

"Survival," Gryph responded.

"You see what you did as surviving!" she asked in surprise.

Gryph didn't answer. If she knew who and more importantly what he was, she would never question why he maintained a low profile. She would run in horror.

They went up the back stairwell to the upper floors where the archives and new collections were kept.

Gryph made very sure they weren't discovered by any of the security guards. She unlocked the last door and turned the dead bolt behind them.

"Even the security people aren't allowed in here," she explained. "The artifacts are too valuable and fragile for anyone but the professor, Niall and some of our staff to be around."

"Niall?" Gryph asked, looking around the room at the large boxes scattered about.

"He was the blond man you saw me talking to in the parking lot. I'm surprised you didn't remember his name, too. You've remembered everything else," Heather said sarcastically.

"He's of no concern to me," Gryph remarked, shrugging his shoulders with disdain.

Heather led the way to a large shipping crate at the center of the room. She knelt down to the floor, pulled off the wooden slat that had come loose earlier and reached inside the space. She reached even farther inside until she touched wood. "They're not here!"

"That doesn't surprise me. Whoever has them will probably hide them separately from now on.

Especially if that person thinks the law is too close. They may have been taken from the crate so they can be used again tonight. According to legend, their power can be addicting."

"What do you mean by used?" Heather spoke as she stood up and looked at Gryph.

"I thought you knew about the Rune Stones of the Tuatha De Danann." Gryphon's gaze moved up and down her jean-clad figure. Inappropriately, he imagined her wearing a soft gown of Fairy gauze, then tried to pull his mind back to the business at hand.

"I know they're a legend, and that's all."

Gryph looked at her for several more moments, wondering how much more he should say. Finally, he explained. "The stones have the power to give their possessor the ability to shape shift. Deciphering the symbols on all three stones and chanting their meaning out loud is all that's necessary for the magic to work. After the initial enchantment takes place, the stones are no longer required. That person may change at will."

"That's the myth, right?"

"If it makes you feel better to believe that, then think what you must." He turned to look at some of the artifacts that had been placed on a nearby table. He picked up the small figure of the man Heather had been studying earlier. "This was taken from somewhere near Galway," Gryph declared.

"Professor McPherson has it listed as coming from Cork," she responded and wondered how he knew so much. It occurred to her that Gryphon O'Connor might be an antiquities expert as well. He certainly spoke about the subject matter with authority. It further piqued her curiosity about the man.

"These aren't from Cork. McPherson's a liar. In fact, none of these items should have left Ireland. The man has no business with them." He paused, then turned to her. "How many places has this professor been sent to obtain pieces for the museum?"

Heather was still stunned over hearing what she had been suspecting was the truth Angus McPherson was stealing ancient artifacts. "He goes all over the world. He's been to Peru, Central America, Africa,"

she listed the countries, then stopped when his meaning became clear. "He may have done this in other countries. Is that what you're implying?"

"If he's done it once and has the cunning to alter his paperwork to fool the authorities, what do you think?"

Heather shook her head, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. "The man has been my mentor for five years. I had just graduated from college when I got this job, and considered myself unbelievably fortunate to have been chosen to work here." Now, his reasons in hiring her became crystal clear. "I guess a novice like me didn't pose much of a threat to what he was doing. I've never been allowed on a trip with him and always assumed the inventories and manifests he gave me to work with were accurate.

God, I may have even helped him get away with it."

Gryph placed a hand on her shoulder. "It isn't your fault. You trusted him. This is his responsibility, not yours."

"I'm afraid that doesn't make me feel much better. Despite your earlier opinion of me, I'm not in this line of work for the monetary value of the artifacts. I happen to love Celtic history and what the objects represent. Especially the things from Ireland."

"I believe that now, lass. I apologize for what I said." He moved the hand he had placed on her shoulder to her face and gently cradled it. The expression in her silver eyes showed the truth of her words. A door opening in the hallway made them suddenly look up.

"No one but Niall, the Professor or me can come through that door at these hours. It's got a specially coded lock," Heather whispered, alarmed by the disturbance.

Gryph quickly dragged her to the far side of the room where the crates were stacked on top of one another. There was enough room between the boxes and the wall for him to step out of sight, pulling her with him. Instinctively, he shoved her into the space ahead of him to protect her. They heard someone maneuvering one of the wooden boxes. Silence followed. Gryph felt Heather's heart pounding. He held her close, telling himself he was protecting her. She looked up into his face, and he could see the fear in her lovely eyes. To calm her, he caressed her back and shoulders. She responded and leaned into his chest. He could smell her crisp, clean scent. It was like the cool air outside, inviting and haunting. It seemed an unbelievably long time before whoever was in the room went back down the hall. Gryph didn't move. He waited, holding her a little longer only to be sure no one would come back. Eventually, he ventured far enough to see around the boxes.

"Whoever it was is gone, but they may come back. We should leave," he murmured.

Heather swallowed hard and followed him as he walked carefully back to where they had been standing. Gryph stopped by the crate with the false bottom, stooped and placed his hand inside the space. Then he smiled. When he stood, he had one of the stones in his hand.

"Whoever was here left this. But the Luck o' the Irish is with us, and they didn't know we were here."

He shoved the stone inside the leather jacket he was wearing.

"Why would someone put one back in the same place?"

"It's as good a hiding place as any. And if I were the thief, I wouldn't hide them together. But this means the others are close by." He grinned.

Heather was still shaking, but not so much she didn't notice what she thought was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen on a man. As they'd hidden, she remembered responding to the warmth of his embrace, and his muscular legs and torso enveloping her. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be held again. To not feel so alone.

Gryph grabbed her hand. "Come on. We'd better not push our luck. Whoever that was might come back for this stone. Because of where we were, I couldn't get a look at the bastard." He pulled Heather with him. It was all she could do to keep up with his long legs, even though she was wearing comfortable jeans and hiking boots.

They had almost made it outside to the first floor when Gryph suddenly stopped and turned. "Go, Heather! Take the stone and run!" He shoved the stone at her and looked up.

"What's wrong, why are you..." Heather stopped in mid-sentence when she saw a strange green light heading down the stairwell toward them. She couldn't see what was causing it, just the light itself.

"I said go!" Gryph shouted.

SIX

Heather moved faster than she had ever moved in her entire life. She reached the parking lot, undetected by the guards. She turned, looking for Gryphon, but he wasn't there. Something had alerted him to trouble. It may have been the same thing that obviously had lured the guards away. Having heard Gryph shout, they should have been all over the place, watching every entrance and exit, and calling the police. Either the new guards weren't as adept as they appeared, or someone else might know their routine, and that there were too few of them. Maybe the same someone Gryph stayed behind to confront.

Only God knew what Gryphon had seen. What was the green light? She looked at the stone he had given her, but didn't know what to do with it. Where was he! Panting, she scanned the darkness for his huge frame, but saw nothing. Time passed. It seemed like hours, but she knew it was probably only a very few minutes. Something was wrong. It had to be, or he would have followed. The stone meant too much to him to just shove it at her and leave.

Slowly, Heather made her way back to the door. She couldn't hear anything coming from inside the stairwell. Pulling the door slightly open, she paused to listen. "Gryphon?" she whispered.

Taking a deep breath, she moved back up the stairs. There was no sign of the strange green light or Gryphon O'Connor. She rounded the corner to the upper level stairwell, and saw Gryphon kneeling, holding on to the rail. Heather ran forward.

"What happened?” she gasped. Gryph stood to his full height. She could see blood oozing from a wound in his left side. The left thigh of his jeans had been shredded. She could only imagine the damage done to his leg. "My God, we have to get you to a hospital!"

"You have to leave here. It isn't safe to stay. Hurry, Heather!" If the guards didn't show up and catch them, what had been in the stairwell just might.

Gryph began to descend the stairs with surprising strength for a man who had just been attacked.

Heather followed. They quickly made it to the parking lot. She grabbed Gryphon's arm.

"We can get security to call an ambulance and the police. You can tell me what happened while we wait for them."

"No! No hospital, and no police either. Don't worry about me. You 're the one who's in danger. You must leave. Now!"

"Are you mental! I'm not letting you stay here like this." She pointed toward his injuries. "Those wounds are bad, and what in hell do you mean about me being in danger? Tell me what happened."

He glanced back toward the building, then grabbed her by the arm. "Woman, by all that's sacred, leave.”

"No! I'm not going anywhere without you." She looked into his dark eyes and could see a faint glimmer of admiration there even as Gryph dropped to his knees. The loss of blood kept him from being able to stand. She knelt beside him. "Why won't you let me call the paramedics, or at least let me take you to an emergency room?"

"Because, I'm not in your country legally," he replied.

Heather looked at him as though he were crazy. "Why doesn't that surprise me? But it doesn't make any difference. You have to have medical attention. How far do you think you'll get like this?"

"You're a damn stubborn woman." Gryph paused. "All right, if you won't leave because of me, then I'll let you take me somewhere safe. The address is 1301 Embercross Road."

She helped him to his feet and to her car. It was no small task considering how large he was. Heather drove according to the directions Gryphon gave her and watched him closely the entire time. He was fighting to stay conscious, and losing more blood by the minute. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside a Victorian-style home in the suburbs. Heather opened her car door, but Gryph placed a strong hand on her arm to stop her.

"No. This is as far as you go. I can make it into the house by myself." He paused, bowed his head and tried to fight off the pain. "You mustn't go home, lass. It isn't safe for you there right now." When he saw her about to interrupt him with more questions, he quickly opened the car door and got out. He took several steps, then sank to the ground again.

Heather was at his side in an instant." Gryph, dammit! I'm calling an ambulance. We can worry about your legal status later."

"I said NO," Gryph shouted at her. He tried to stand and would have fallen again, but Heather stubbornly stayed by him, letting him rest some of his weight against her until they got inside the house.

He made it to the living room before collapsing onto a sofa and sinking into unconsciousness.

"Well, I can call the ambulance now, can't I, you big jerk." Heather spoke to herself. Looking around, she saw no sign of a telephone. "Is anyone home?" she called out. There was no response. Gryph was growing more pale by the moment. She had two choices. She could either search for a telephone, or stop the bleeding. She knew she had a first aid kit in the trunk of her car. Gryph's still form and pallor made her go for the first aid kit. It only took her a few minutes before she was back and kneeling beside him.

The shirt would have to go. Using the scissors in the kit, Heather slowly cut away enough of the shirt to reveal massive, clawlike gashes in his left side. They weren't very deep, but the bleeding was severe.

Gryph's handsome face was so still, his breathing uneven. She was so busy cleaning the wounds and trying to stem the flow of blood that she never heard the front door open and close.

"In the name of the Goddess, what's happened?"

Heather turned her head when she heard the deep voice. She saw an older, very handsome version of Gryphon hurry into the room. And she anxiously tried to explain what was happening. "He's badly hurt.

He gave me this address and..."

"Gryph.”

Heather halted her explanation when she saw a second person barge into the room. This woman's long dark hair fell over one shoulder, and her face paled when she saw the bleeding and unconscious figure on the sofa. The older man knelt beside Heather and continued what she had started.

"I'm his father, James O' Connor, and this is his mother, Gwyneth," he explained. "What happened?"

"He wouldn't tell me. He wouldn't let me call anyone or let me take him to an emergency room. If you'll show me where a telephone is, I'll dial 911."

"No!" Both of Gryph's parents spoke in unison.

Heather was shocked into speechlessness, but only for a moment. "Look, he told me he's an illegal alien. I don't give a damn about that. The man needs medical attention, and he needs it quickly."

"I thank you for what you've done, Miss..." James stopped when he realized he didn't know her name.

"Heather Green," she supplied.

"Miss Green. We'll take care of him now. And we thank you again. You've done the right thing."

Heather felt completely dismissed. Gryph's parents began to dress his wounds, but he didn't look any better. She didn't want to just leave. Aside from wanting to know if he'd be all right without medical help, she wanted to know how he had been so badly attacked. What had made the animal-like marks on his body? Gryph wasn't a small man by anyone's standards. He looked like he spent half his life in a gym.

What kind of creature could do this to him with such apparent ease? How had some animal found its way inside the museum? Was it the same thing that had attacked Ned and the woman in the park? There were so many questions to be answered.

"Easy, son! You're with us now and safe. We'll see to these wounds and get you upstairs."

"Father," he whispered, "is Heather still here?"

Gryph's father glanced back over his shoulder. "Yes."

"She can't go home, Da! She has one of the stones. The creature that attacked me will miss it and come after her. She can't go." Gryph's voice faded as he lost consciousness again.

Gryph's mother turned to her. "He's concerned about your safety, Miss Green. Perhaps, in light of what's happened, it might be best if you stayed."

"Gwyn, are you crazy?" James asked.

"James!" Gwyneth chastised. "This woman has brought our son to us and has done as he requested by not calling an ambulance. The least we can do is make sure she's safe. Gryph wants that."

"Well, of course. I didn't mean to imply that I didn't care about your being safe, Miss Green. It's just that this situation is a bit complicated" James remarked.

"Please, call me Heather. I understand. You don't even know who I am. I can explain what I know about Gryph's injuries later and how we met. Right now, I only want to make sure he's going to be all right. I'd like to stay at least long enough to help."

"Good, that's settled then. It will take all of us to get Gryph upstairs anyway," Gwyneth said as she gazed down at her son.

Heather saw all of the concern in the world in her expression. His mother was frightened beyond reason, but managed to maintain composure. She could see where Gryph's strength of character originated.

Half an hour later, Gryph was finally in a bed on the second floor. Some of the color had come back into his tanned face, but Heather still feared for the blood he had already lost and the possibility of infection. As his parents helped him, she was able to study them more closely. Gryph's father was a tall man with broad shoulders like his son. His hair was white, thick and shoulder length. His face was, despite his fifty-odd years, still uncannily handsome. Gryph's mother could only be described as beguiling. Her hair was long, black and braided. There was a wonderful streak of silver in it which ran from her forehead to the very end of the braid. She was tall, but very slender. Both of them spoke with the same odd accent as Gryph. It wasn't exactly Irish, but not Scottish either. Heather could see both of them in their devastatingly handsome son. He was lucky to have a family, especially when she could see how much they obviously loved him.

"Come, Heather." Gryph's father led her from the room. "Gwyneth is quite skilled at tending wounds.

She'll know what to do. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for bringing our son safely to us.

PIease...can you tell me how this happened?"

"I'm not sure I know where to begin." She paused for a moment to gather her composure. "I'm an assistant at the Manhattan Museum of Antiquities. My job is to help research, catalog, and display objects which are part of our permanent collections. My specialty is Celtic studies. Gryph, uh, introduced himself to me recently and had some questions about some acquisitions from Ireland. In particular, there were three Celtic rune stones that he wanted information about. Tonight, I was showing him something I'd found in the collection." Heather stopped not sure how to explain. Then she plunged ahead.

"We were leaving the museum together when something happened. I'm not really sure what. We were going down a back stairway when Gryph became frightened by something I couldn't see. He made me leave while he stayed behind. I got to the parking lot and waited, but he didn't come out. I got worried, went back into the museum to look for him and found him in the stairwell. It looked like he'd been attacked by some kind of wild animal. I really don't know how to explain all of this any better," Heather finished, pushing her hair away from her face.

James seemed to weigh her words and watch her closely. "Gryph told you that the stones as well as other objects have been stolen from Ireland, didn't he?"

"Yes." Heather nodded, with a sigh.

"Do you believe what he's told you is the truth?"

"At first I didn't," she admitted. "But now I do. The rune stones he seemed so interested in were meticulously hidden in one of the crates shipped from County Cork. Many of the objects shipped from Ireland have been mislabeled and tagged improperly to make them appear to have come from approved archeological digs. Gryph said the artifacts were actually taken from unapproved burial sites. Someone was grave robbing."

James nodded. "Exactly. But why are you helping my son?"

His gaze seemed to pierce right through her. It reminded her of that first night when Gryph had broken into her apartment. Their eyes were so alike. "To be quite honest, I don't know. Except he's the only person who's been telling me the truth lately. I don't even know why any of this is his concern. Is he some kind of cop or something? He told me he was here to retrieve what's been stolen. But, if he's working within the law, why won't he go to the local police for help, and why is he here illegally? There's so much I don't understand, so much he won't tell me." Heather glanced back toward the room where Gryph was lying.

"He's trying to protect you. For that same reason, we can't tell you any more than he can," Gwyneth said as she entered the hallway outside Gryph's room. "He's asking to see you."

Heather nodded and quietly entered the room. Gryph was awake, but any fool with eyes could see he was in a great deal of pain. Muscles in the side of his jaw seemed to clench, as did his hands. "Why are you so stubborn?" Heather asked.

"Why are you,” Gryph responded with a hint of a smile, trying to belie the pain he felt.

"Your mother said you wanted to see me." She pushed a stray lock of black hair off his forehead as she sat next to him.

"I want you to give the stone to my parents. I know you don't know much about any of us, Heather, but you have to trust someone. If you go to the local authorities, they'll take the stone, and it may never be returned to its rightful place. It could be locked away indefinitely." Gryph closed his eyes, fighting unconsciousness.

"It's evidence in a murder case, Gryph."

He needed to make her understand, without telling her too much, that the stones couldn't remain in the outside world. "The rune stones have to be where no one can get their hands on them. They've got to go back, Heather. Back to where they came from."

"That's all you've said you've ever wanted, isn't it? For the things that were taken to be returned?" She studied him.

"Yes. And I'll make a bargain with you. I'll let you do what you think is best about the other artifacts.

There are more than enough stolen objects to use as evidence in a murder. But I've got to retrieve the other two rune stones and take them back to Ireland. When I've done that, I promise, you'll not be troubled by me again."