Read Into the Shadow for Free Online Page B

the wisps of pale brown hair that still clung to her head, a hole cleanly pierced the child’s skull.
    ‘‘Ah.’’ Karen’s eyes filled with tears. ‘‘You poor thing.’’ She knew she shouldn’t touch it— when the archeologists arrived, they would scold her mightily. But something about the girl called to her. Something about that long-ago murder broke her heart.
    Reaching out a trembling hand, she laid it gently on the child’s head—and the child opened her eyes.
    They were aquamarine, like Karen’s— like Karen’s —and the girl looked at her. Karen clearly saw the wealth of sorrow that filled those eyes before they closed again—and the body crumbled to dust beneath her touch.
    Karen knelt, frozen, disbelieving, knowing what she’d seen and knowing it was impossible.
    She glanced wildly around her, wanting someone close, another living human, but there was only Phil, sitting in the seat of the excavator, cursing the engine as it sputtered and moaned.
    She looked again at the shrunken clothes, the gold glistening in the dust of the body.
    And in the place where the head had rested, where the bones of the child’s head had held it, was a square white tile a few inches across. Carefully Karen lifted it from among the remains. With a gentle hand she brushed it clean, and gazed at it.
    It was an icon, a stylized painting of the Virgin Mary of the type that had hung in Russian homes for over a thousand years. Her cherry red robe and glittering halo made the icon a precious work, yet it was Mary’s large, dark, sad eyes, looking at right at Karen, and the single silver tear that traced her cheek that brought answering tears to Karen’s eyes. This was the Mary of sacrifice, the mother who had given her son to save the world.
    Karen’s gaze shifted to the dust of the child slaughtered in obedience to the devil’s command.
    Had her mother cried as they drove the pick through her skull?
    The village had sacrificed their heart . . .
    High above her, the mountain groaned, and again Karen would have sworn someone—or perhaps some thing —watched her.
    She looked up Anaya.
    The peak lifted itself toward the sky, and it seemed to have grown, swelling from the inside, the fires of the underworld pressing it upward.
    She looked around—and saw him.
    A strange man, dressed all in black, poised on the cliff’s edge overlooking the building site. He stood perfectly still, a living statue betrayed only by the wind that blew his long black hair and beard.
    He stared.
    She stared.
    Neither moved.
    Who was this man who watched her with such ferocity?
    Then Phil’s voice, directly behind her, made her jump. ‘‘Hey, what’s that?’’
    His hand reached over her shoulder.
    She jerked the icon back to her bosom.
    But he plucked the gold necklace out of the dust of an ancient tragedy. ‘‘Son of a bitch, what do you think this is worth?’’
    ‘‘Don’t!’’ She wrapped her hand around his wrist.
    ‘‘Why not?’’
    ‘‘The archeologists will be furious that you touched—’’
    ‘‘It’s not like you were waiting.’’ His fat finger flicked the icon she held.
    ‘‘It wasn’t like that!’’
    ‘‘Yeah, right.’’ He grinned into her face, all white teeth in a round, pink face. ‘‘You grabbed what you wanted fast enough.’’
    He was completely, utterly obnoxious, a greedy worm of a man . . . the kind of guy the evil mountain drew to itself.
    Maybe he was at home here, but she was not. She’d seen that child’s eyes open. She knew now that the old legends were true. And for all that she had trained herself to be tough and strong, she knew better than to challenge the devil. ‘‘I’m getting out of here,’’ she whispered.
    The earth trembled, rattling like old, cold bones beneath her knees and feet.
    Slowly she rose.
    Earthquake?
    No, but high above them she heard the mountain give a deep-throated rumble.
    ‘‘Phil, did you hear that?’’
    ‘‘Yeah. So? It does that all the