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Authors: Lynda Haviland
Tags: Fantasy
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is this Lilith?”
“Apparently, she’s one of your Anunnaki friends.” His words dripped with malice. “Maybe you should go back and help her command that little demon army of hers.”
“Lilith is not my friend .” She completely understood why someone could hate Lilith. She wondered if he hated all of her kind this way. She never cared what others thought of her before…human or otherwise. With Lilith nearby, she desperately cared about finding the child and her missing knife. “She is my enemy.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her close. “Good. I left my grandfather behind because of you. You’d better be worth it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Wind whipped across the Charles River, finally carrying the first fall crispness with it. Heavy gray clouds spewed inland, driven by a nor’easter supposedly brewing over the Grand Banks. Darius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the briny air, drawing strength from it.
He trusted his grandfather. But the lady of the flaming ego better live up to her reputation, because he wasn’t going to endure her kind of aggravation for nothing. Thankfully, Marcus had agreed to stay and keep an eye on Shaila, while Darius responded in person to Lilith’s invitation for a little chat.
Turning away from the river, he faced the front entrance of the Troy Estate. Fear and rage swirled inside him like a great ocean storm. Sneaking in was easy. Entering the massive estate invited felt like a monumental task. His heart pounded with each knock on the door.
A young blond man with unusually gray skin opened the door and pointed Darius toward the gallery. For the second time today, he stepped into Lilith Troy’s private gallery.
Taking a more detailed observation of the antique collection, Darius found one room dedicated to Mark Antony. His likeness was everywhere: in portraits, on busts. A life-sized statue of the Roman general stood defiantly in the center of the room. Even on a short platform, the alabaster figure only came up to about Darius’ eyes. He studied the features carved thousands of years ago. Something about the chin didn’t instill a feeling of power. Opportunist, possibly. Politician, definitely.
Darius moved silently through the next room, an eerie feeling shivering down his spine. Ancient weapons hung everywhere: long spatha swords, pila, thrusting spears, and even a few items that looked like instruments of torture. Another display showcased a stunning Roman gladius. The dagger looked wickedly authentic, its hilt encrusted with gold and bone.
A plain sword hung on the wall above the dagger. It looked out of place in this room full of gilded and bejeweled weapons. The steel blade had long ago oxidized to a silver blue haze. The hilt might have been made of a precious metal, but he couldn’t tell which one. It was wrapped tightly with brown leather straps which looked fairly new.
The security camera silently tracked him. He shouldn’t touch anything, but he reached out anyway, feeling the cold timeworn edges. The ancient weapon felt warm and strong. A smile curved his lips. The blade was still amazingly sharp, leaving a tiny cut on the tip of his forefinger. He put pressure on the nick for a few moments until the small blood droplets stopped oozing.
Focusing again on the hilt, Darius wondered if the shape of it resembled the outline of a winged disk. A ruby could lie underneath the leather wrapping. It looked a lot like the sword in the photo Mr. Artie had given them. It seemed too modest to be a sword of power, but even Indiana Jones recognized that the power of the Grail was not in precious metals or jewels.
“Farvadin.” Darius whispered the word into the quiet room. Well, what the hell did he expect? Did he think it would glow or rise up in the air or something? Was it really that crazy? His grandfather had searched his whole life for a statue that ended up only a few miles away. That was crazy.
Darius hesitated to enter the next room.
“Apparently, she’s one of your Anunnaki friends.” His words dripped with malice. “Maybe you should go back and help her command that little demon army of hers.”
“Lilith is not my friend .” She completely understood why someone could hate Lilith. She wondered if he hated all of her kind this way. She never cared what others thought of her before…human or otherwise. With Lilith nearby, she desperately cared about finding the child and her missing knife. “She is my enemy.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her close. “Good. I left my grandfather behind because of you. You’d better be worth it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Wind whipped across the Charles River, finally carrying the first fall crispness with it. Heavy gray clouds spewed inland, driven by a nor’easter supposedly brewing over the Grand Banks. Darius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the briny air, drawing strength from it.
He trusted his grandfather. But the lady of the flaming ego better live up to her reputation, because he wasn’t going to endure her kind of aggravation for nothing. Thankfully, Marcus had agreed to stay and keep an eye on Shaila, while Darius responded in person to Lilith’s invitation for a little chat.
Turning away from the river, he faced the front entrance of the Troy Estate. Fear and rage swirled inside him like a great ocean storm. Sneaking in was easy. Entering the massive estate invited felt like a monumental task. His heart pounded with each knock on the door.
A young blond man with unusually gray skin opened the door and pointed Darius toward the gallery. For the second time today, he stepped into Lilith Troy’s private gallery.
Taking a more detailed observation of the antique collection, Darius found one room dedicated to Mark Antony. His likeness was everywhere: in portraits, on busts. A life-sized statue of the Roman general stood defiantly in the center of the room. Even on a short platform, the alabaster figure only came up to about Darius’ eyes. He studied the features carved thousands of years ago. Something about the chin didn’t instill a feeling of power. Opportunist, possibly. Politician, definitely.
Darius moved silently through the next room, an eerie feeling shivering down his spine. Ancient weapons hung everywhere: long spatha swords, pila, thrusting spears, and even a few items that looked like instruments of torture. Another display showcased a stunning Roman gladius. The dagger looked wickedly authentic, its hilt encrusted with gold and bone.
A plain sword hung on the wall above the dagger. It looked out of place in this room full of gilded and bejeweled weapons. The steel blade had long ago oxidized to a silver blue haze. The hilt might have been made of a precious metal, but he couldn’t tell which one. It was wrapped tightly with brown leather straps which looked fairly new.
The security camera silently tracked him. He shouldn’t touch anything, but he reached out anyway, feeling the cold timeworn edges. The ancient weapon felt warm and strong. A smile curved his lips. The blade was still amazingly sharp, leaving a tiny cut on the tip of his forefinger. He put pressure on the nick for a few moments until the small blood droplets stopped oozing.
Focusing again on the hilt, Darius wondered if the shape of it resembled the outline of a winged disk. A ruby could lie underneath the leather wrapping. It looked a lot like the sword in the photo Mr. Artie had given them. It seemed too modest to be a sword of power, but even Indiana Jones recognized that the power of the Grail was not in precious metals or jewels.
“Farvadin.” Darius whispered the word into the quiet room. Well, what the hell did he expect? Did he think it would glow or rise up in the air or something? Was it really that crazy? His grandfather had searched his whole life for a statue that ended up only a few miles away. That was crazy.
Darius hesitated to enter the next room.
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