Gift of Fire by Jayne Ann Krentz

since become ineffective, but the edge is still quite sharp. I was only saved when I first discovered the crystal because the mechanism that triggered the trap was rusted. The design of the trap is quite fascinating. I have since oiled it, of course. Pity not to restore it as far as possible.

    "Thanks, Digby, old pal. Why in hell did you have to oil the sucker?"

                Jonas hunkered down in front of the designated part of the wall and studied the stonework intently. Digby did not say which stone concealed the booby trap. The hidden blade could snap out from the wall or the floor—or from the ceiling. Jonas glanced up and dismissed that possibility. It was too unlikely.

                He tried to envision the kind of trap he might have set had he been hiding a crystal four hundred years ago.

                A man attempting to open a secret hiding place in the floor would be crouching as Jonas was. Jonas trailed his fingertips cautiously along the stone.

                Something shimmered in his mind and reality started to bend and stretch into an endless tunnel. Jonas jerked his fingers away from the stone that had caused the sudden reaction.

                He didn't dare step into the psychic corridor without Verity nearby—she was his anchor. But just the intimation of ancient violence was enough to warn him that the trap had been sprung once before—by someone who had not been as lucky as Digby Hazelhurst. A long time ago some benighted soul had died in this room while searching for the crystal.

    Died clutching his balls in agony.

    Jonas sucked in his breath and stood up quickly. He moved back, away from the part of the floor that

    was sending out the dangerous vibrations. He'd learned enough. The thought of the deadly blade springing from the floor and stabbing him between the legs was enough to make him even more careful. He got to his feet and prowled the room, looking for something he could use to trigger the trap. He then went back out into the hall and opened a few other doors in the corridor.

                When Jonas stepped into the third room down he hit pay dirt. At some point during the past few years Maggie Frampton had obviously tried to keep this wing clean. A long-handled broom stood forlornly in one corner as evidence.

                Jonas picked it up and returned to the room that had contained the crystal. He stretched the handle of the broom out in front of him cautiously, applying pressure to the stone indicated in the diary.

                With an almost silent hiss a sinister blade shot from between two floor stones. If he had been crouching where he'd been earlier, he would now have been a candidate for a boys' chorus, Jonas realized. He wiped sweat from his forehead.

                He waited a moment and then stepped cautiously around the quivering blade to examine the hollow stone behind it. The surface of the stone had slid back, revealing an empty interior. Jonas leaned down to probe the inside.

    He knew instantly that the move was a mistake—a bad one.

                A violent wave of emotion roared through him and the walls of the psychic corridor began to take shape. Jonas fought to keep himself from being sucked into the time tunnel. An overwhelming sense of foreboding nearly drowned him as he struggled to fight the inexorable pull of violence long past.

                Death awaited him. Death awaited anyone who dared to use the crystal. "Verity. Verity!"

                Jonas did not know if he screamed the words aloud or silently in his mind. Sweat was pouring from him as he gathered every ounce of his willpower and yanked his hand back out of the hollow stone.

    "Jonas?"

                He felt her there with him. It wasn't possible, he told himself, dazed. She was downstairs in another part of the villa. She wasn't close enough to help