Unhidden (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 1) (11 page)

“Well?” I asked after several peaceful minutes had gone by. As much as I enjoyed her not talking, I did need answers.

“Huh? Oh! Yes,” she blurted as if she had completely forgotten I was standing there. “Um, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t. It’s Emma.”

“Nice to meet you, Emma. You mentioned that a friend referred you to me. Who is your friend? I like to thank those that give me referral business.”

“I’ll let my friend know you’re appreciative. So, what do you know about the amulet?”

“It’s a pretty special piece. How did your grandmother come to own it?”

“She won it in a poker game on the Titanic.”

Lilly’s eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”

“No,” I said, taking some perverse pleasure at teasing her, but it served her right for prying. I wasn’t about to give her the real story behind the amulet. “Lilly, if you know something, I would appreciate you sharing it with me. If you don’t, I will find someone more knowledgeable.”

“No! Don’t do that. I mean, there’s no need. I do know something I can tell you. But first, would you like a cup of tea?”

“Lilly,” I said in warning.

“Okay, okay. But I have to warn you, this is going to sound strange.”

“I have a high believability threshold. Hit me.”

“I’ve only ever heard about it in stories, if it is what I think it is. But it matches those descriptions exactly. It’s called the god-stone. It appears in an ancient myth my people have about the creation of the world.”

“Your people?” I asked, growing wary. She could be referring to her ethnicity or religion, but I doubted it.

With hesitation, Lilly brought her hand up to hover near her temple. She appeared nervous and uncharacteristically shy. Then, with resolve flashing in her green eyes, she brushed her flaming hair behind her ears —her very
pointy
ears.

“Everyone who sees them thinks they are prosthetics or some sort of costume or role playing prop,” Lilly said. “They’re not. Go ahead, you can touch them.”

I didn’t really want to. It seemed too … intimate. Regardless, I reached up and tugged on one of the tips. She gritted her teeth with a look of determination on her face. I hadn’t pulled hard, but she appeared uncomfortable at the contact.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I said.

“No, it’s not that. They’re just … sensitive.”

“What are you?”

“Well, technically, I’m an elf, but I prefer the term ‘fae.’ It sounds much more bad-ass, don’t you think?”

“I think you should be true to who you are.”

“Wow, now you sound like my dad. So, you’re not surprised, or you still don’t believe me?”

“I believe you. I’ve been confronted by more inhuman creatures this week than you can shake a stick at. You, my friend, are actually a breath of fresh air in comparison to those things.”

“It’s true, then? The Monere are coming into this world?”

“The who?”

“It’s the name given to the class of monstrous creatures in Urusilim.”

“I take it the elves are from Urusilim, as well?” She nodded. “You can tell me all about the place another time. Right now, I need to know more about the amulet.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry for yet another tangent. So, as the story goes, there was once one world ruled by a number of gods. They were all different; some were benevolent and peaceful, others jealous and treacherous. Since they couldn’t agree on what creature should inhabit their one world, they decided to each create one living thing in their image, which became the humans, fae, ghouls, goblins, trolls, elves, demons, angels, and the like. And, for a time, all of these creations lived side-by-side in peace.

“Then, as time went by, the inhabitants of this world began to war with each other for control. For many of them, it was not within their nature to be peaceful. There were great wars beyond what has ever been seen since. Millions were slaughtered or enslaved, and the land was all but destroyed.

“The gods, not wanting to see the annihilation of their greatest creations, realized it wasn’t possible for these creatures to live together, so they created the god-stone to separate the worlds. Each of the gods poured a little bit of their blood into the stone to imbue it with the tremendous power it needed to tear the world apart. The stone was a focus point for the collective energy and power of the gods. They used it to separate the world into multiple realms with impenetrable barriers between them to prevent those walls from ever being torn down.

“Over the millennia, many of the inhabitants of those realms have forgotten they used to be one. Sure, there were still wars within each world, but without the collective might of so many different beings, those wars were destructive within acceptable limits.

“As for the god-stone, no one knows what happened to it, but the stories say it was given into the protection of one of the more peaceful and reasonable gods, where it was locked away so it could never be used again.”

Lilly ended her tale, and I stood there transfixed. Was it possible? Could this really be the same stone as in the myth? I wasn’t really one to believe in legends and fairy tales, especially those that involved religion and deities. However, stories came from somewhere, and usually, a nugget of truth was buried deep within them. The trick was trying to figure out where that truth lay. At this point, after everything I had seen and experienced over the past week, I found I was becoming much more open-minded.

“How did your grandmother get it?” Lilly breathed.

I shook myself from my reverie and responded with the first thing that popped into my mind. “I think she had a friend of a friend who was an archeologist and found it during a dig in the Sahara desert in the 1920s,” I lied, thinking of the opening scenes of
Stargate
. I watched too many movies. “Can you read the writing?” I asked quickly, before she could further question my explanation.

“No. I can tell it’s an ancient language by the type of alphabet used, but I can’t read it. Hey, my grandmother is sort of a specialist in ancient writings. Would it be okay if I had her look at it?”

I tensed, preparing for the inevitable fight when she tried to get me to leave it with her or simply tried to take it from me with force.

She must have noticed my sudden shift in body language because she immediately sounded apologetic. “I mean, I can take a picture of it with my phone to show her and get your number so I can call you with any additional information.”

I didn’t want more people than necessary to see the amulet, especially now that Lilly had confirmed its value, even if I still didn’t know the truth of it or how to use it. Although, perhaps the writing could give me a deeper insight into the object. Maybe it was some sort of ancient instruction manual, like the cover stone in
Stargate
. I smiled internally at the connection and nodded in agreement.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed in her excited girly voice. She pulled out her iPhone and took a photo, and then we exchanged numbers. “My grandma is going to be so excited. I think she can really help you out. She is sort of the matriarch of our clan. She is very knowledgeable and remembers all of the old stories. If she can’t give you answers, I don’t think anyone can …”

“Thanks, Lilly,” I shouted over my shoulder as I practically ran to the exit. “Talk to you soon.” I stepped into the humid New York City air and gladly plunged into the sea of humanity.

I
decided to walk home via 5th Avenue, taking the opportunity to browse the storefronts. It was rare that I ever had a need to dress up—hell, even business casual was usually unnecessary—but I still appreciated nice things. I did get tired of wearing camouflage and black military armor all the time.

As the day wore on, the heat increased. With the deep freeze of winter only a few weeks behind us and still fresh in my mind, the warmth felt like a loving blanket wrapped around my body. I reveled in the feeling of the sun on my shoulders and took my time as I made my way downtown.

I peered in the windows of Armani, Gucci, and Cartier. I admired the glittering Harry Winston diamonds, the amazing Prada stilettos, and the supple leather Louis Vuitton bags. If I really wanted to treat myself to one special item, I could take my pick, but I never did. There didn’t seem to be any point in buying myself something so stunning when I would never have the opportunity to use it. I didn’t get out much.

I was gazing in the Versace window, appreciating a sheer lilac dress that was only strategically opaque, when I felt that familiar tingling sensation on the back of my neck. Someone was watching me. I used the reflection in the glass to search for my tail. With the throngs of people going about their business, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly who might be following me, but I was able to narrow down the list to a handful of potential suspects loitering across the street. I wouldn’t be able to know for sure until I started moving, though.

I took my time perusing from store to store until I reached Saks Fifth Avenue. Once again, I stopped at the department store window, making a show of admiring the display of elegant, beaded silk gowns. Instead, I inspected the reflection until I identified my shadow.
I got you
, I thought with satisfaction.

Across the street stood a man wearing dark blue slacks and a matching sports jacket with a white button down shirt. He wore no tie, and his top button was undone in a casual look. He held a cell phone to his ear, as if he were engrossed in a fascinating conversation, although every few seconds, he would glance in my direction just to be sure I hadn’t started walking again.

He looked nondescript with dull brown hair, neatly trimmed. He was of average height and average weight, with the facial features of an every-man. He wasn’t the type of person who would draw any attention at all. In fact, he looked quite bland, which is what made him the perfect spy.

He was one of the suspects I had taken note of at the Versace window where he had been pretending to be looking at something on his phone’s display. It was time to turn the tables and make the hunter the hunted. I needed to get him someplace that gave me leverage and privacy yet wasn’t too far away. I wanted to get this guy before he realized I was on to him and made an escape. The spot I had in mind held its risks since a lot of people would be around, but it also had some deep, dark places that would work quite nicely.

Keeping my unhurried pace, I continued a few short blocks and cut left onto East 42nd Street. Ahead of me was my destination—the iconic Beaux Arts building that was the home of Grand Central Station.

I stepped between the enormous Corinthian columns with the statues of Mercury, Hercules, and Minerva looking down on me and into the breathtaking space of the main concourse. Thankfully, it was a Sunday, which meant the train station wasn’t filled with hundreds of thousands of weekday commuters. Instead, there were probably only tens of thousands of tourists.

I made my way down the marble staircase, picking up the pace as I hurried under the vaulted ceiling with its giant painting of the zodiac. I couldn’t look behind me to see if he was still following for fear of giving myself away, so I forced myself to keep my eyes forward.

Increasing my speed, I dove into a crowd that was making its way out of the nearest train tunnel. As they swallowed me, I turned sharply to the left, ducking behind a marble column, and waited.

My tail passed the column, his head swinging back and forth, eyes darting around the space, desperately trying to find me. I slipped in behind him and pulled my gun, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing myself against his back. I slipped the gun between our bodies where it couldn’t be seen, placing the muzzle to his spine. To the casual observer, it would look like a tender moment between lovers.

He wasn’t much taller than I was; as a result, I was able to easily whisper into his ear, “Don’t turn around, and don’t try to make any sudden moves. Just keep walking in the direction I steer you. If you don’t do exactly what I say, I’m going to sever your spine with a bullet. Understand?”

“Yeah, I understand,” he responded in a working class British accent that reminded me of Burt from
Mary Poppins
. I would give the guy credit; he was pretty calm about the whole thing. His voice was steady, and his body remained relaxed, which put me on high alert. However, he did as I said.

I walked him through the vaulted archways of the terminal until we reached an unmarked steel door I knew was an employee access tunnel with a keypad lock. I looked around to be sure we were alone before releasing his waist. Keeping the gun to his back, I used my free hand to quickly enter the pass code and was relieved to find the old code still worked.

I had been assigned to Grand Central briefly in a military guard unit when someone had called in a credible terrorist threat a few years back. I had learned a lot about the secret rooms and tunnels beneath the terminal since I had to secure each of them. This particular doorway led down a sterile white corridor to a little used service elevator.

I pressed the button, and the elevator doors squealed open in protest.