Read Online Undeniable (The Druids Book 1) by S. A. Archer, S. Ravynheart - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S. A. Archer, S. Ravynheart
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catch his breath. Then he squirmed the rest of the way onto the slick, dirt-covered landing. He was well dusted in the debris by the time he crawled his way to the doorway to the fourth floor.
The fire door was bent in half and busted off the hinges. Peyton stepped over it onto the floor beyond. It was pitched at a sharp angle, so he was actually walking along the wall, instead of the floor, as he made his way to Reginald’s office.
That door, too, was missing. It appeared busted in after the building fell, possibly by rescuers in search of survivors. He could see the footprints in the dust that certainly were only left recently. Standing on the wall beside the open door, the floor here pitched at maybe a thirty degree angle, he crouched and peered inside.
The hidden access panel to the vault was busted off the internal guide track and fallen into the now open vault. Peyton shined his flashlight into the black void. No need to climb down there. He could tell from here that it was empty.
Truthfully, he wasn’t surprised. He’d hoped, but hadn’t counted on getting that lucky.
Peyton sat back against the wall, and pulled the small knife from his waist pouch. Taking a pinch of the dust around him, he rubbed it over the surface until the dust filled the crevices convincingly. Then he stuck it back into his pouch and followed the footprints leading away from the office.
As he’d hoped, it led to a ladder down to the scaffolding in the restricted area. Not making any attempt at stealth now, he climbed down right into the thick of the government spooks and their forensic blokes.
“Hey,” he called out to them, waving for their attention. “Take a look at this!”
One of the guys in a white, forensic jumpsuit collected the knife from Peyton, and held it carefully in his gloved hands to inspect it. “Where did you find this?”
Peyton didn’t get the chance to answer as one of the suits in sunglasses stepped between them. “What were you doing in this part of the building?”
“I got lost inside that maze, and this was just where I came out. But look at this! Pretty fancy, huh? Do you think it’s worth something? Like a collector’s item? Do you suppose there’s a reward for it?” Peyton rocked the working class, British accent like a native. Not even one of his family back in Cork would have believed it was him.
“A reward? Is that what you were thinking when you went traipsing through the wreckage? Looking for a reward, were you?” Suit-and-tie guy, who was probably MI-6 rather than Interpol, given the attitude, snatched Peyton by the back of his dusty shirt collar and marched him over to the edge of their taped off section of the crash site. “You’re lucky I don’t get your ass fired. Get the hell out of my crime scene!”
Suit-and-tie guy at least lifted the safety tape before shoving Peyton, who intentionally stumbled a few steps before recovering his footing. “Hey, I was only trying to help. I brought it to you, didn’t I?”
Suit-and-tie guy didn’t answer, already storming back toward the huddle of white coveralls marveling over the dagger. He couldn’t blame them. It was fairy-made and a very nice piece.
Of course, he had six more just like it at home, but the first time he’d taken one he’d been impressed, too. That knife might not have been the most spectacular fey-made treasure in his footlocker, but it had a special feature.
If you knew how, you could open the handle of the blade to the small storage space within. Fairies might keep a small vial of a potion in there, or some memento of a loved one, like a lock of hair.
That was the reason he’d picked it. The knife that he’d handed over to the forensic team contained a small tracking device. With any luck, by the end of the shift, it would be sitting within shouting distance of that cauldron.
Chapter Fourteen
Something about spending time with her patron always renewed her, more than just the refreshment of the Touch that
The fire door was bent in half and busted off the hinges. Peyton stepped over it onto the floor beyond. It was pitched at a sharp angle, so he was actually walking along the wall, instead of the floor, as he made his way to Reginald’s office.
That door, too, was missing. It appeared busted in after the building fell, possibly by rescuers in search of survivors. He could see the footprints in the dust that certainly were only left recently. Standing on the wall beside the open door, the floor here pitched at maybe a thirty degree angle, he crouched and peered inside.
The hidden access panel to the vault was busted off the internal guide track and fallen into the now open vault. Peyton shined his flashlight into the black void. No need to climb down there. He could tell from here that it was empty.
Truthfully, he wasn’t surprised. He’d hoped, but hadn’t counted on getting that lucky.
Peyton sat back against the wall, and pulled the small knife from his waist pouch. Taking a pinch of the dust around him, he rubbed it over the surface until the dust filled the crevices convincingly. Then he stuck it back into his pouch and followed the footprints leading away from the office.
As he’d hoped, it led to a ladder down to the scaffolding in the restricted area. Not making any attempt at stealth now, he climbed down right into the thick of the government spooks and their forensic blokes.
“Hey,” he called out to them, waving for their attention. “Take a look at this!”
One of the guys in a white, forensic jumpsuit collected the knife from Peyton, and held it carefully in his gloved hands to inspect it. “Where did you find this?”
Peyton didn’t get the chance to answer as one of the suits in sunglasses stepped between them. “What were you doing in this part of the building?”
“I got lost inside that maze, and this was just where I came out. But look at this! Pretty fancy, huh? Do you think it’s worth something? Like a collector’s item? Do you suppose there’s a reward for it?” Peyton rocked the working class, British accent like a native. Not even one of his family back in Cork would have believed it was him.
“A reward? Is that what you were thinking when you went traipsing through the wreckage? Looking for a reward, were you?” Suit-and-tie guy, who was probably MI-6 rather than Interpol, given the attitude, snatched Peyton by the back of his dusty shirt collar and marched him over to the edge of their taped off section of the crash site. “You’re lucky I don’t get your ass fired. Get the hell out of my crime scene!”
Suit-and-tie guy at least lifted the safety tape before shoving Peyton, who intentionally stumbled a few steps before recovering his footing. “Hey, I was only trying to help. I brought it to you, didn’t I?”
Suit-and-tie guy didn’t answer, already storming back toward the huddle of white coveralls marveling over the dagger. He couldn’t blame them. It was fairy-made and a very nice piece.
Of course, he had six more just like it at home, but the first time he’d taken one he’d been impressed, too. That knife might not have been the most spectacular fey-made treasure in his footlocker, but it had a special feature.
If you knew how, you could open the handle of the blade to the small storage space within. Fairies might keep a small vial of a potion in there, or some memento of a loved one, like a lock of hair.
That was the reason he’d picked it. The knife that he’d handed over to the forensic team contained a small tracking device. With any luck, by the end of the shift, it would be sitting within shouting distance of that cauldron.
Chapter Fourteen
Something about spending time with her patron always renewed her, more than just the refreshment of the Touch that
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