The Thieves of Darkness (53 page)

“Your man will drop her off and start back while I still have a visual on her,” Michael said.

“Suit yourself.” Venue turned to the guard and nodded.

The large guard grabbed KC with a viselike grip about her left arm, leading her toward the stairs.

KC ripped away from the guard. “Get your hands off me.”

But he wasn’t in the mood for listening. He pinned her arm behind her back and lifted her in the air, heading down the stairs. Everyone followed as KC’s screams reverberated throughout the temple. They emerged into the sanctuary and headed for the door.

KC kicked and screamed with all her might as the guard carried her out of the temple. “No, Michael, please…”

The door slammed shut. Two guards lifted a long, barrel-shaped piece of wood and laid it in the iron door sleeves, securing it tightly.

Michael stepped to the side of the door and watched through the small slotted window as KC continued fighting the man the entire 150-yard walk. A smile creased his lips as he saw her haul off and hit the man square in the nose.

Iblis stepped up and stood beside Michael as he looked out the window at his man rubbing his jaw.

“Get away from me,” Michael said without turning to Iblis.

“Relax, I’m not going to try to drown you again.”

Twilight was upon the mountain; long, heavy shadows fell across the valley. Nighttime would come much more quickly with the sheer rock walls surrounding the temple.

“Were you really going to slice her neck?” Michael asked, his eyes still fixed on KC as she approached the cave.

There was a long pause as Iblis’s focus also remained out the window on KC. “Were you really going to blow her up?”

Michael and Iblis stood side by side as they watched KC reluctantly climb the incline and disappear into the mouth of the cave. The guard turned and began walking back.

KC walked into the cave and found Busch lying prone, clutching a sniper rifle. She turned and watched as the guard slowly walked back toward the temple. Night had arrived quickly in the mountains of Kanchenjunga, but as KC looked down on the mysterious valley, as she stared at the temple that held who knew what secrets, she felt as if she were in another world far away from the mountain.

“You okay?” Busch asked, his eye pressed tight to the gun sight. A small fire glowed behind him.

“No, I’m not okay.” KC’s face was tired and tear-streaked. The walk from the temple had been the longest she had ever taken. She was walking away from the man she loved. He had come to save her; no one had ever come to save her in her life. It was something a woman dreamed of, a handsome man whose only thought was for her safety swooping in and snatching her from harm. But this was no fairy tale; there was no happy ending. Michael had traded his life for hers, and she thought it a far from equal bargain, the worst of trades.

Her father, her sister, her teacher, each selfish in his or her own way, had turned their backs on her. And Venue … her father, the paterfamilias, who like the Roman head of a household bore the power of
vitae necisque potestas
—the power of life and death over his children—had no trouble electing death. A man so obsessed with himself, he would do
anything to save his crumbling empire, anything to bring havoc to the masses, who had no compunction about letting people die to achieve his ends, up to and including his flesh and blood.

KC never meant to fall for Michael; she never meant to involve him, yet she had. Whether unconsciously or knowingly she had condemned him by her actions; if anyone was to die, it should be her. This was not his price to pay. She had chosen her life, committing crimes, ignoring the laws of the civilized world. This was her karma, and, especially in this part of the world,
she
should fulfill her karma, not Michael.

There was no doubt that they would kill him; Iblis had said if he ever had the chance again, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

And the tears returned. She turned her back to Busch, not wishing him to see her weakness. She closed her eyes and held tight to the memory of Michael. They had had such a short time, much of it under pressure and confrontational, but throughout it all she could always see his heart. He had put her first in so many ways and helped her in the most dangerous of situations without question. Until six weeks ago, KC had lived a life denied, always wanting, always hoping to find someone who would complete her. She had gotten her wish only to see it destroyed.

“How’s Michael?” Busch asked.

KC couldn’t speak, afraid the voicing of his impending death would cripple her.

Phut!!
The crack of the rifle echoed in the cave with a deadly sound, tearing at KC’s eardrums, causing her to jump out of her skin.

“What did you do?” she snapped.

Busch looked up at her. “What? What do you think I did?” Busch held up the rifle.

“I don’t understand.” KC looked out toward the temple and saw the guard lying dead on the path. “You just killed that guy.”

“Yeah …?” Busch said, perplexed at her pointing out the obvious.

Busch finally saw KC’s grieving face, stood up, and walked over to her. He looked down at her, smiling gently, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his giant thumb.

“You don’t think we’re leaving him there, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“KC, how much of the interior of that temple did you see?”

“A … fair amount,” KC said slowly in confusion.

“And do you know where they’ve taken Michael?”

KC nodded.

“KC, Michael knew you wouldn’t come out willingly. He was counting on you to learn the lay of the land so we could go in and pluck his ass out. Half the reason he sent you out was so you could come tell me where we have to go once we get back inside.

“I know he loves you and all, and don’t get me wrong, he would give his life for you. But sure as shit, he’s not going to be giving it today.”

Two guards flanked Michael as they walked along the stone hallway, heading deeper into the temple, finally emerging into the mandala room with its offshoot corridors. They turned and took the one route Michael had not ventured along, the route with the descending stairs. Michael was sure they were within the mountain as they traveled down the long circular flight of steps.

As they stepped off the final stair, Michael saw the door. It was more shocking than he had imagined. He wondered what would possess someone to carve such a thing, and how one could hold on to one’s sanity as one completed the task.

Venue handed Michael the tube. “If you would be so kind.”

Michael took it and flipped back the lid, but suddenly paused. The door filled him with a fear such as he had never known. He closed the tube back up.

“Now, Michael.” Venue stepped into Michael’s space, uncomfortably close, and whispered in his ear. “No time for second thoughts.”

Michael turned his head until the two men came eye to eye, inches apart.

“Would you like KC’s sister’s death on your conscience?”

“You’d kill the daughter who actually likes you?” Michael said in shock.

“And I will make sure KC knows you let it happen.”

Michael stood there. “I don’t believe you.”

“That’s too bad.” Venue looked at Iblis, the unspoken command issued.

Iblis pulled out his knife, walked over, and grabbed Cindy.

“Hey, get off me,” she exploded, trying to pull away.

But Iblis said nothing as he violently dragged her over to a small wooden table.

“Make him stop.” Cindy looked at her father in desperation, in disbelief, her face pale, her thin arms no match for Iblis’s strength. “What are you doing?” Her cries were like those of a child.

Cindy looked at Michael, her eyes pleading. Michael could see the utter fear in her face; he watched as the hope left her eyes. And as he looked at Cindy, no matter how disloyal she was to KC, no matter how cruelly she had treated her, Michael could never live with her death. “Enough, stop.”

Iblis ignored Michael, taking Cindy by the arm and yanking her hand down on the table. He pinned it, palm down, and looked her in the eye.

“I said, enough,” Michael shouted.

Without hesitation, Iblis brought the blade down, severing Cindy’s right pinkie.

The scream was like nothing Michael had ever heard before, bloodcurdling, like that of a wounded animal.

“Disarm it now,” Venue shouted, in a violent voice that erased any notion of the man’s humanity. “Or you will watch as Iblis dismembers her slowly, and that finger will be the biggest of all the pieces.”

Michael tried to catch his breath. Cindy’s desperate eyes begged him to help.

And his hesitation cost her. Iblis severed her ring finger with one blow. Cindy’s head fell back in a faint, her fingers pouring blood like small hoses in a garden.

“Stop!” Michael yelled, unable to bear the torture.

He ripped off the top and pulled out the rod. He punched in a small
sequence on the tiny numbered keypad and quickly removed the Primacord from the snakes’ bodies. He stuffed it into the tube along with the detonator and handed the rod to Venue.

Michael looked at Cindy upon the floor; she was slowly regaining consciousness, moaning, clutching her mutilated hand.

“If you want her to live,” Venue said, “you’re going to open that door. I’m sure you can do it, a thief like you. You’re going to open that door and then you’re walking through it.”

Michael placed the rod into the recess at the center of the black door and affixed the clasps; it was a perfect fit, seamlessly blending with the structure. It was an extension, a continuation of the horrific designs upon the barrier. He had never seen such renderings, so lifelike, as if they had leaped upon the door and been frozen in place. The mythic beasts with bared fangs and claws tormented the people who populated the lower reaches of the door, the men unable to protect their women and children from the hell around them.

Michael fought off the nausea, unsure if it came from the rod or the sight of the children’s desperate eyes that reflected nothing but terror.

And then a noise rose. It was deep, rumbling the floor, the very walls; it was as if the entire mountain were shaking, in an earthquake triggered by his actions. Michael could feel it in his stomach. It was frightening, as if all the dead, buried throughout the earth, were speaking, angered at being awoken.

Suddenly, Michael thought he saw movement upon the door. It was shimmering, subtle, hazy. He was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. The snakes that wrapped the rod began to writhe, to move of their own accord as if alive, burrowing into the carved structure, becoming one with it.

A great gasp leaped forth from the door’s seams, a death rattle, but
in reverse: a breath of life. Whatever lay behind the door was taking in the air it had been denied since before memory.

Iblis stepped to the door, reached out, grasped the rod, and tugged. The door easily gave way, gliding open. A blast of hot air poured forth. The guard shone his light into the inky blackness, revealing a flight of stone stairs. They were not stairs in the normal sense, evenly spaced, expertly carved. These were haphazard, a natural descent that had been augmented by man.

“Let us know what you find,” Iblis said.

Michael stared at the little man, wanting to snap him in two.

“If you’re scared, I’ll send Cindy down,” Venue taunted.

Michael looked at Cindy, her body racked with sobs as she clung to her mangled hand, wrapped in a bloody piece of her shirt. He saw her disillusionment, her hopelessness as she lay upon the floor wondering how long she had to live.

“Here.” Iblis took a torch from the wall and handed it to Michael. “It will add to the mood.”

“Don’t you want the pleasure of seeing it first, you skinny shit?” Michael whispered.

“Canary in a coal mine,” Iblis responded.

Michael heard the cocking of guns from the two guards who stood behind him.

“Silviu and Gianni will be right behind you, making sure you don’t try to be too clever as you head down into the depths.”

Michael glared at Iblis, ripped the torch from his hand, and stepped through the doorway.

Busch and KC raced down the green rolling hill, across the verdant garden, past trees and steaming pools. The sniper rifle was strapped against Busch’s back, and each carried a pistol. Their eyes remained fixed on the enormous temple.

They hit the stairs, taking three at time, and came to the large black door only to find it locked tight. Without a word, KC darted along the front porch and leaped back on the ground adjacent to the farthest corner of the structure. She spun about, looking upward. Like a gymnast she leaped upon the porch rail, jumped, and caught the overhang, pulling herself up, and like that she was on the porch roof just below the temple’s windows.

Busch followed suit, climbing up on the rail, thankful for his six-foot-four frame, as he merely need to reach up to catch the lip; he knew he wouldn’t have a prayer if he had to jump as high as KC had. He hauled his large body up, thankful that he worked out enough not to embarrass himself.

They ran across the porch roof to the first window and nudged it open. Its warped, bubbled glass hung on ancient hinges, creaking as it swung wide. It was a tight squeeze for KC and nearly impossible for Busch; his shoulders and hips were torn up as he forced his body through the small opening.

They landed in a small bedroom, a single cot on the floor, a desk against the far wall. The room smelled of incense and peace, reminding Busch of his childhood, when he would enter church and the chaos of the outside world seemed to disappear.

“Ten guards?” Busch asked.

“Yeah, not counting the one you took out already. They’re well armed,” KC said as she led the way out into the long second-floor hallway. She crept down the stairs, her gun held high and ready. Hitting the landing, they found no one there; all had retreated into the heart of the temple.

As they cut through the sanctuary Busch couldn’t help staring about at the simple columns, the muted earthen colors upon the walls, the cagelike urns of fire suspended from the ceiling, their flames painting the world in a serenity such as he had never known. He was amazed at the simplicity and spirituality of the place, though there were no icons, no statues, crosses, or idols of worship; he had never been in a place where he felt greater peace and tranquility. He was suddenly filled with rage at Venue and Iblis for disturbing such a place, committing such blasphemous acts within the confines of this house of worship.