Serpent Mound: a Nia Rivers Adventure (Nia Rivers Adventures Book 4) Page 2

  Just last year, I wouldn’t have thought that an air crash could’ve killed me. I had thought that Immortals were impervious to death. I’d been proven wrong, not once, but three times.

  I’d learned what we all suspected: that the allergy shared between the twelve of us when we remained in one another’s presence for too long could, in fact, kill us. Vau and Epsilon, two older Immortals who had been deeply in love, had met their end that way hundreds of years ago, though I’d only remembered it earlier this year.

  Just a week ago, I’d learned that certain magical objects could also end our lives. Yod, an Immortal who liked to interfere in the religious affairs of humans and wreak havoc for his own warped sense of righteousness, had taken a spear to the heart and perished. I had been the one to throw the spear that ended his life. Though he’d asked for it by holding a knife to my bestie’s throat, I took no pleasure in his death.

  I hadn’t known the Spear of Destiny would kill him. I’d only intended to maim him so that he would release Loren. But when the spear struck his heart, it stopped his life. Now the spear was out in the world with a crazed wizard. But I couldn’t focus on Merlin. I had to leave that to his brother, Arthur, and the rest of the Knights of Camelot. I could only handle one apocalyptic danger at a time.

  With three of the twelve of us Immortals gone, I’d learned that two more were fated to perish before our past and our purpose here on earth would be revealed to us.

  The elderly witch Igraine had seen a vision when I was back at Camelot. The Immortals would be returning to the garden from whence we’d come. I’d seen the garden in a vision, or perhaps it was a memory. There had been lush flowers and deep green pastures. I’d seen all twelve of us together, getting along. Mostly. But Igraine said that only seven of the twelve of us would make it.

  Three Immortals were dead, leaving nine walking the earth. There were two Immortals in this plane. I had no intention of being one of the two to go. I had no intention of allowing any more of my kind to meet their end if I could help it. And I had a plan.

  My attention was on figuring out what this garden was and where it might be. Perhaps if we could get to it soon, if we could somehow manage to enter it alive and kicking, that would mean that no one else would have to lose their life before we were due back. To figure out the mystery of the garden, I needed to get to the biggest and oldest library of creation myths and biblical works and religious references on the planet. That place was my very own bookshelf on my secret island.

  “Is that it?” Tres asked, pointing out the window.

  “Yup, that’s me.”

  It was just a short flight from Florida, where we’d taken off, to the Caribbean, where we were about to land. Up ahead the cloud cover broke and my island came into view. There were a number of nondescript islands in the crystal-blue waters of the Caribbean Sea. But my own private island had one distinction. It spelled my name.

  “And you used to call me a branding whore,” said Tres.

  Tresor Mohandis had his name on everything. His private plane. His massive yacht. All of his buildings and holdings. Other than signing my name to documents and artifacts throughout history, this was the only other item in the world that bore my name.

  Each of the twelve Immortals had been branded with a symbol on their back. My symbol looked like the Hebrew or Aramaic number nine. My island was shaped like a U. A sandy beach formed the bottom half of the symbol. A small mountain range extended from the top, slicing diagonally into a forest. I’d named the little slice of paradise Noohra, which was a Galilean word that meant “light.”

  I pulled back on the throttle and the plane leveled on the horizon. As I pulled on the yoke, we descended and came to a smooth landing in the water.

  I’d found this place in the early 1500s. I’d been sailing from the New World and headed back to Spain when pirates attacked the ship I was on. The marauders took one look at my brown skin and decided to enslave me. Unfortunately for them, I was superhuman. I managed to get away by going overboard and drifted at sea for a few days. I wound up here on my little island of light.

  This was my Fortress of Solitude. The place where I kept all of my treasures and secrets. I’d never brought anyone here. Though somehow, Zane knew about this place. Maybe I’d brought him in the past? I couldn’t remember.

  Before our five-hundred-year dating stint, we’d been together seven other times. My memories of those times had been nonexistent two months ago. But now, little by little, things were coming back to me.

  I gave myself another shake. Now was not the time to be thinking about Zane and what we once shared. I was here with Tres. I had chosen Tres.

  I turned to Tres as we debarked from the plane. He took the place in. As his dark gaze swept across my private beach, I realized I was anxious to know what he thought of my home.

  He said nothing as we waded through the water to get to dry land. Intelligent eyes took in the surroundings. The beach was pristine with white sands. The forest kept its distance and hid the interior with a curtain of green.

  “This place is completely untouched,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “How far are we from the mainland?”

  “A couple hundred miles or so?” I looked at him again, noting that intelligence had turned to calculation. I shoved his chest. “If you even think of bringing one of your bulldozers anywhere near—”

  “Hey, hey.” He caught my hand in his grip and smiled. “Occupational hazard. You look at a pile of dirt and want to dig it up. I look at a pile of dirt and want to build a fort. It’s our nature.”

  His tone was soothing, but he’d already awakened the beast in me. He swooped in with his other hand and wrapped it around my waist, bringing me flush with his body. The heat of him made me melt. Just a bit.

  We had been at odds for hundreds of years, and it kept coming back to this. How in the world were we supposed to make a relationship work when our very ideals stood apart?

  “I know that your bringing me here is a big deal, and I honor that,” he said. “I would never violate that trust.”

  He brought his body closer to mine. That same heat flared. The water that had seeped into my clothing evaporated.

  “It was a slip of the tongue,” he said, his voice in a low register. “My tongue does that from time to time. It’s not always a bad thing.”

  His head was over mine. His lips angled in a way that all I needed to do was tilt my head and taste. I inhaled deeply, and the sweet, woody smell of frankincense lapped against the tip of my tongue. The smell rolled off of Tres like waves in the ocean. The moisture in my mouth increased and I swallowed, taking down more of the spicy scent that made me warm from the inside out.

  The incense was traditionally used in religious and burial ceremonies. It was most noted for being one of the gifts of the Three Wise Men at the birth of Christ. But it was also used as a burnt offering to a god.

  I had nearly made up my mind to tilt my chin up and take in his offering when he stepped back.

  “Now,” he said. “Where’s this house of yours?”

  My voice was too shaky to use so I raised my arm and pointed.

  Tres's gaze followed my trajectory. “Through the dense swamp and into the forest? Of course.”

  I’d forgotten. Tresor Mohandis wasn’t one for the outdoors. Mr. Broody Billionaire liked the creature comforts of the modern era. There were tons of creatures here, and he’d have to contend with them all before we got to the comfort of my home.

  “I don’t suppose you stashed a car on this island?” he asked. “Or a golf cart? Maybe a mule?”

  “Nope, we’re hoofing it.” I found my footing and headed through the sand.

  Behind me, I heard Tres sigh, but he caught up.

  “I don’t understand your distaste for roughing it,” I said as we trudged into the foliage. “We’ve been alive since before indoor plumbing.”

  “Why do you think I’m so obsessed with building and renovations? I believe in luxury.”

  “Not interested in being one with nature?”

  “Why?” His nose crinkled in disgust. It was kind of adorable.

  “To reconnect.”

  “Without Wi-Fi?” His dark brows dipped in distaste.

  “I love being outside,” I said. “Sleeping under the stars. Hearing the sounds of nature.”

  “I’ve also known you to like a good spa.”

  “True,” I acknowledged. “I guess I like both. The best of both worlds.”

  I came to a dead halt. I inhaled, my eyes widening as I took in my surroundings. My attention was diverted by a flash of movement in the green.

  “What?” Tres asked, stopping beside me, his large body alert. “What is it?”

  “Dinner.”

  “Really?” groaned Tres. “We’re eating rodents?”

  I took off after the white blur. The opossum couldn’t outrun me, but it was smaller and could get through the brush quicker than I could.

  I leaped up into the air, over thicket and brush, and landed on the opposite side of the marsupial. It zigged around and headed back the other way.

  I saw it surface on the other side. I jumped up vertically, catching a tree branch. Swinging like Tarzan, I landed right in front of our meal and pulled my blade from my hip. Before I could extend my weapon, a dagger struck the animal dead between its eyes. I looked up and watched Tres swagger toward his kill.

  “I said I liked luxury, but I haven’t forgotten my roots.” He picked up the slain animal with a frown, then faced me, resignation on his face. “You’re the only woman I’d go native for.”

  3

  I reached the hidden structure at the edge of the mountain that was the only place I could ever remember calling home. The log cabin blended into t
he scenery so that, in the unlikely event of a passerby, it would look like it was a part of the landscape, just as I had designed.

  If someone came upon this island by chance, they would look at the dense forest and marshy land and likely think twice about venturing inland. If they did manage to brave the elements, they would have to look real hard to see my home. But like I said, it was highly unlikely that anyone would even get this far inland if they stumbled across the island.

  “You built that?”

  I turned to look over my shoulder at Tres. He had the dead opossum slung over his shoulder along with his designer satchel that he’d brought along for the ride. I hadn’t brought anything with me. I never did. I was quite happy to go native while at home. And by native, I meant naked and living off the land.

  I’d told Tres that we’d be gone for a day or two. So, he’d packed. Of course, he’d brought work with him. He cocked his head as he looked at my home, likely realizing that there was no electricity to be found. And worse, no Wi-Fi connection.

  He tilted his head from side to side. Watching his scrutiny, I felt instantly territorial. Having Tres look at my Fortress of Solitude was like having him look at me naked.

  Yes, I know he’d seen me naked. I just couldn’t remember it. Entirely. Every once in a while I caught flashes of our time together. I was dressed in a peplos, a flowing gown worn in the time of ancient Greece. Or nothing at all.

  In those memories, Tres had his arms around me, embracing me with care and tenderness. Or he had his arms out in front of me, flailing in irritation and frustration. The looks on our faces was always intense, either filled with passion and desire or fire and anger.

  Had there ever been any middle ground between us? Any time when we’d relaxed in each other’s presence with no agendas, no battles?

  I heard the echo of the answer yes from somewhere deep inside. But I couldn’t bring forth a shred of proof in my mind. Why would I lock those memories away?

  Likely for the same reason I had locked away any memory of Zane from before the 15th century. Victims of trauma often cordoned off parts of their brains to protect the psyche. I’d pushed away the memories of China where Epsilon and Vau had died. I’d pushed away memories of Demeter and her siblings after I learned how they’d come into this world. What was so terrible that I’d decided it was best to forget about Tres other than these few polarizing moments?

  His gaze met mine in the middle of the forest. The clarity in his dark eyes told me that he knew the answers. He remembered the good times as well as the bad ones.

  I parted my lips to ask. His throat worked as he swallowed past his Adam’s apple. His gaze moved from the question in my eyes to the silence of my tongue, and then back again. The only sound that slipped past my bottom lip was a shaky sigh.

  I cleared the punctuation mark from my eyes, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions. They’d hold. I closed my mouth and reached for his hand.

  “Come on,” I said as I guided him down the path that led to my most sacred place.

  We came to the threshold of my door. As was my habit, I relinquished all weapons and placed them on the doorstep. This was my sanctuary. No weapons inside. No shoes either.

  Watching Tres pull off his boots was incredibly intimate. In my memories, I had at least tucked away a detailed mapping of every part of his body. But watching him place his boots next to mine and then stand barefoot and ready to enter my abode made my heart soften.

  My fingers shook as I reached out to touch the metal door latch. The breeze coming off the waters was light, but it made me shiver. My stomach rumbled, and my head filled with fog.

  I couldn’t understand why such a simple thing as letting a man into my home was having such an effect on me. But Tres was no ordinary man. And this wasn’t the first time we’d done this.

  I’d let him in before. I’d let him past my defenses and brought him close to me. I searched my instincts for a sign of whether I was making a mistake repeating this process.

  Tres’s hand landed on mine. His chest pressed against my shoulders. “Let me in?”

  Oh, the subtext of it all. I knew he wanted to be let inside more than my house. He wanted to be let inside my mind, inside my body, and probably inside my heart. It was a tall order. But now, with all those intimate places put in perspective, I could handle the housewarming.

  I opened the door. It was dark inside as the trees blocked out most of the sunlight. I flipped a switch just inside the door, and the solar generator cranked on.

  We waited just a step across the threshold as my home slowly became illuminated. My bare feet warmed the cold floor. I looked down to see that Tres’s heavy stance made the floorboards creak.

  With our eyes adjusted, I led my guest further into the room. There were only two rooms. Well, only two rooms that were visible. We were standing in the larger of the two. This was not only my sanctuary, it’s where I came to work.

  I’d spent my life uncovering the past, piecing together stories, digging up artifacts to fill the gaps of not only my memory but also that of human history. It was my obsession. It was my passion. It was the only thing I had to offer the world.

  It was all laid out in this large room. On the table were the last artifacts I’d been working on. There were three protective glass cases on my desk. Beneath each case was one of the Qumran Scrolls. They were why I’d come home.

  The Qumran Scrolls, better known as the Dead Sea Scrolls, were widely known across the world as the oldest records of biblical manuscripts. The documents were over two thousand years old. Many of the parchments were on display in museums around the world. But these three scrolls I had purposefully sequestered when the artifacts were found back in the 1940s. Why? Because these three pieces spoke of twelve immortal beings.

  I’d been trying to figure out who wrote the scrolls, since it hadn’t been me. They were written partly in Hebrew, partly in Aramaic, with a few symbols I didn’t quite understand thrown in the mix. Discovering the author of the scrolls no longer took precedence for me.

  Now I needed to see if the scrolls spoke of a garden or paradise. I needed to find out if they held any clues that would lead me to the place Igraine saw in her vision. I needed to know if they could help me save two more of my kind from meeting their end.

  “Are you going to show me around?”

  I jumped at the sound of Tres’s voice. I’d forgotten he was with me. I was so used to being here alone, to doing much of my work alone. Except for this last six months, when I’d been with Loren. And it was impossible to forget that she was around. She never shut up. But Tres didn’t appear to mind my silences. Likely because he could brood with the best of them.

  “This is pretty much it,” I said, and then promptly bit my tongue at the lie.

  There were two more parts to my home. I walked him to the room I felt most comfortable showing him: the entrance of my bedroom. I’d made the four-poster bed out of tree trunks from the forest and stuffed the mattress with dried leaves and animal hides. Looking at the bed, it hit me: I would be sleeping with Tresor Mohandis tonight. Maybe showing him this room wasn’t the safest bet.

  It shouldn’t be a big deal. I’d slept with him before. But I only seemed able to remember one time.

  I remembered the darkness of the sky pinpointed by starlight. I remembered him walking toward me, bare-chested. I remembered the look on his face. His brows had been arched high into his hairline, as though he couldn’t believe it was happening.

  I never seemed to see that scene in order. I saw him doing mundane things like biting at his lip or tugging at his earlobe or flexing his thick muscles or striding toward me with those powerful thighs.

  “Nia?”

  “Hmm?” I blinked.

  Tres grinned, likely certain he knew the trajectory of my thoughts. “Is it okay if I set my bag in here?”

  I looked at his expensive piece of luggage. It looked out of place in my frontier-woman home as he held it over my bed.

  “Sure.” I nodded.

  He dropped the bag with a soft thud, but the sound reverberated in my eardrum. I stared at the bag, wondering at its implications.