“I didn’t think The Aegis was open about that.”
“They aren’t,” he said smoothly, “but I was slated for the Sigil, so I was privy to some classified information.” Actually, he had no idea if that was true for Josh, but it sounded good.
“Okay, then you know they can’t be killed, but they can take their own lives. Supposedly, one of these charmed humans sacrificed himself to be buried along with the slaughtered Christians. He thought he could help guide their souls to Heaven.”
“Why did he think that?”
“It’s said he was in possession of a coin imbued with special powers.”
“And you thought this coin was hidden behind a brick?”
“I’d hoped so.” She frowned. “If it’s here, I’ll find it. I always find what I’m looking for.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Kinda like how you always get what you want.”
“Remember that.” With a wink, he stood, offered her a hand, and helped her up. “So, let’s think this through. Anyone who was charmed by an angel and was in possession of a magical artifact wouldn’t do something as hasty as shove the thing behind a brick. He’d put it someplace special, maybe where it could be found by the right person. Did you reach into the hole?”
“Yes, but I was looking for an object…” Bending over, she squeezed her hand into the crevice again. Niiice. Her pants were molded to her ass like shrink-wrap, and his entire blood supply rushed to his groin. No panty lines. Not. One.
“I’ve found something… a slight indentation.” Her tongue slipped between her lips as she concentrated, and Wraith casually used his palm to adjust his aching erection.
“How are you doing?” His voice had gone husky, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m trying to turn it… maybe I should push it… darn. Nothing. Now might be a good time for your artifact.”
Wraith dug into his backpack and removed the bone carving he’d acquired from Josh.
She took the oval disk, a jeweled Roman pendant that hung from a leather thong. Carefully, she inserted the pendant into the hole. He heard a click, followed by another, louder click. Nothing happened. Disappointment put shadows in the hollows of Serena’s cheeks, and dammit, Wraith wanted to do something to make it better.
He didn’t have time to analyze the oddity of that particular feeling, because a rumble shook the floor, followed by a rain of pebbles and a poof of dust. A demon? No, the taint of evil hadn’t strengthened, but a crack had appeared in the far wall.
A doorway.
“Eureka,” she breathed. “I think we might have found it!” She darted to the fissure, but Wraith grabbed her before she could pry open the stone slab.
“Wait. Let me do it. It might be booby-trapped.”
“Really,” she said, “it’s safer for me.”
“Why is that? Are you one of those charmed people?”
Her eyes flared, but she recovered quickly, with a blinding smile. “Don’t be silly. It’s just that I’m smaller than you are. Less of a target.”
“Humor me.” Sure, she was charmed and all but invincible, but this kind of thing was what he lived for. Except… he was dying, so really, he had nothing to lose anyway.
“Josh—”
He shoved the stone aside before she could argue, grimacing at the sigh of stale air that escaped as though the Hall of Caracalla had been holding its breath. Wraith’s natural night vision allowed him to see perfectly, but Serena flicked on a flashlight. The rough-carved passage was dusty and full of cobwebs, slanting slightly downward on a floor of packed earth.
Here the walls were chipped and grooved, bare of artwork, evidence that the area had been closed off soon after construction.
It ended in a round, unfinished cavern no larger than one of UG’s exam rooms. It was empty except for a crude pillar in the center and a clay jar in one corner. Serena brushed past Wraith and sank down on her knees in front of the plain brown pot. Carefully, she reached inside and withdrew a fist-sized leather pouch.
Her sharp intake of breath accompanied a flash of gold as she drew a coin from the bag. Her thrill was a shock of energy that danced across his skin. Wraith knew exactly what she was feeling. He only felt alive when he was fucking, fighting, or hunting, and hunting relics could be as big a rush as hunting food.
“Is that it?” he asked, sinking down beside her.
“Yes. Oh, yes.” She turned the coin over and over, finally running her thumb over the back, on which words were etched. There she went with the rubbing again. His dermoire writhed as though it wanted the same attention. “Let that which is open, close. That which is closed, remain.”
“Man, I hate the cryptic shit.”