The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,52

would not be helpful.

She made her way down an aisle framed by animal-headed gods and goddesses to the stone platform that held the two sarcophagi. The candle flickered on the small quartz box. In the dancing shadows she could make out the image of a cat and a hunting scene. It was oddly touching to know that someone had valued a pet cat so highly.

The lid of the cat sarcophagus had been partially shoved aside. She started to drop the envelope inside. Her hand stilled in midair. The scent of blood was stronger now. So was the incense.

She turned away from the cat sarcophagus and raised the candle higher. In the flickering light she saw a massive granite altar. The figures and symbols carved into the stone were not as compelling as those on the sarcophagus. The craftsman who had created the images had not possessed the kind of talent that could be sensed over the centuries. But there were other currents emanating from the stone, layers upon layers of dark, disturbing forces swirled in the atmosphere.

It was not the ancient energy that sent slivers of horror through her. It was the sight of the waterfall of fresh blood dripping over the edge of the altar that tightened her throat so that she could not breathe.

She stumbled back a step and raised the candle higher. That was when she saw the motionless form on top of the altar. The man was sprawled on his back, his head turned slightly to the side so that she could not see his face.

Her first panicky thought was that the dead man was Joshua.

“No,” she managed.

She moved closer and forced herself to look at the face of the victim. Death had crafted a rictus mask but a thunderbolt of relief snapped through her when she saw that it was not Joshua who lay stretched out on the altar.

The shock of the realization left her feeling weak and light-headed. Not Joshua. That was the important thing. The blackmailer, perhaps. It was certainly not beyond the realm of possibility that the extortionist had been murdered by one of his victims.

Joshua would not be pleased. She knew that he wanted to question the blackmailer.

One thing was evident. She had to get out of the chamber immediately. She could not afford to be found at the scene of a murder. She was a paid companion. Everyone would assume the worst—that she had murdered a lover or, heaven forbid, conspired with a partner in crime to steal some of the valuable artifacts. The police would likely leap to the obvious conclusion—that there had been a falling-out among thieves.

She tried to think but it was not easy. She was shivering violently now and the dazed sensation was growing worse. She could not believe that she was on the verge of fainting. Flint & Marsh agents never fainted.

But a strange fog was starting to rise around her. Within the depths of the mist she could see the gods and demons stirring.

“It’s a dream,” she whispered. Desperately she tried to collect her senses. “It’s not real. None of this is real.”

And then she saw the seething footsteps on the floor near the altar.

“Did you think you could escape me again, little whore? I never fail.”

The heavy Russian accent came out of the darkness to her left. She tried to turn toward the sound but another wave of dizziness nearly overwhelmed her. Terrified that she might drop the candle and start a fire, she set the candlestick on the altar with a trembling hand.

Her senses were flaring but the incense was affecting her other sight, causing her to see things that her mind told her could not exist. The eyes of a falcon-headed statue glittered. A jeweled cobra hissed and swayed. An image of the goddess Nut stretched out vast wings. The gods of the Egyptian underworld—said to have skins of pure gold and hair like lapis lazuli—were coming to life around her.

The scented smoke was growing heavier. She fumbled with her skirts, trying to find the stocking gun but it was hopeless. She knew that she was losing consciousness.

The weak candle flared on a figure coming toward her. She recognized the jackal-headed god.

“Anubis,” she said. “This cannot be happening. I am dreaming.”

“I never fail.”

A lantern blazed in the distance. It drew closer rapidly. She heard the thud of a cane on the floor.

“Joshua,” she breathed. Hope and fear gave her strength. She pulled hard on her talent and raised her voice. “There