wall,” she said roughly.
Jericho sighed, a sad sound, and dropped his hand.
• • •
Oh, this woman was tying him into knots. Even now, watching the self-loathing cross her face every few minutes, Jericho was caught between passionate hate for her and passionate … passion. The small taste of her he’d gotten in the kitchen had deeply affected him. He didn’t know up from down. And damned if he hated seeing her in this lab. His instinct fought with him, making him long to protect her from this horrible place.
He cast his eyes around the walls, seeing no indication of what she’d just said. “In the wall?” he repeated.
She nodded and then walked over to the wall. “Hidden right in here,” she said as she laid her hand against the rough cement wall.
The wall beneath her hand suddenly began to flicker with light. An unease settled into Jericho’s stomach, and he sprinted over to her and snatched her hand from the wall.
The flickering continued. They both stared at the wall.
“It’s never done … that … before,” she whispered uneasily.
Their eyes met and held for a few seconds. “Stand back,” Jericho whispered. She moved back several feet and shined her flashlight on the wall. Jericho located an axe — the use of an axe in Eli’s imprisonment caused momentary unease — and he approached the wall with purpose.
Jericho heaved the axe over his shoulder and put all of his strength into the first swing. The wall completely crumbled under the axe. Jericho stumbled back from the exertion he hadn’t needed. “Fast-drying cement,” he said to himself.
A gaping hole hovered in the wall about chest-height. The flickering they’d seen against the back of the cement was now full color and filling the lab with light.
Dahlia edged closer to the wall and tried to look into the hole, but Jericho snatched her back.
She glared at him, and Jericho half-smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Let me look first, okay?”
Dahlia rolled her eyes, but she nodded and let him lean in to look.
After several seconds of silence, she finally snapped, “Well, what is it?”
“Um … ” he tore his eyes away to look back at her briefly before gazing through the hole again. “It’s … a sword.”
Jericho gawked at it in a trance. Green and gold flames traveled up and down the blade of the sword, casting wavering light around the inside of the hole. With the utmost caution, he snaked a hand through the jagged concrete and gripped the handle. Jericho knew everything there was to know about guns, but not swords. However, even he could tell that this weapon was old. Way older than either of them; way older than anything he’d ever seen.
Holy fuck. What had Major Taylor been up to?
“What is it?” Dahlia asked.
“I think it’s a broadsword.” Jericho’s said.
Okay, so Major Taylor had hidden a flaming broadsword in the basement of his evil lair. That did not bode well.
Jericho leaned forward and squinted his eyes. “There’s writing on the blade,” he said. He ran his fingertips along the broad edge of the blade. “I can’t read it. The writing’s in a different language.” And then he snatched his hand back with a hiss as pain flared.
Dahlia shone her beam on Jericho’s hand and gasped as she took two stumbling steps toward him. He halted her with a quick, “Stay back!”
She stopped.
“It’s just a little knick,” he said, trying to assure her with a smile. “It’s sharp, and I was careless, that’s all.”
She obviously didn’t believe him. Jericho leaned over at the waist and placed the sword gently on the ground, and then he backed away from it. “We’re going to leave this right here, okay? I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
He grabbed her hand, the Knowledge that she was good quickly flaring, and tugged her toward the staircase where she finally tore her eyes away from the sword to watch where she was going.
“We can’t just leave it here,” she protested.
“Absolutely
Jericho sighed, a sad sound, and dropped his hand.
• • •
Oh, this woman was tying him into knots. Even now, watching the self-loathing cross her face every few minutes, Jericho was caught between passionate hate for her and passionate … passion. The small taste of her he’d gotten in the kitchen had deeply affected him. He didn’t know up from down. And damned if he hated seeing her in this lab. His instinct fought with him, making him long to protect her from this horrible place.
He cast his eyes around the walls, seeing no indication of what she’d just said. “In the wall?” he repeated.
She nodded and then walked over to the wall. “Hidden right in here,” she said as she laid her hand against the rough cement wall.
The wall beneath her hand suddenly began to flicker with light. An unease settled into Jericho’s stomach, and he sprinted over to her and snatched her hand from the wall.
The flickering continued. They both stared at the wall.
“It’s never done … that … before,” she whispered uneasily.
Their eyes met and held for a few seconds. “Stand back,” Jericho whispered. She moved back several feet and shined her flashlight on the wall. Jericho located an axe — the use of an axe in Eli’s imprisonment caused momentary unease — and he approached the wall with purpose.
Jericho heaved the axe over his shoulder and put all of his strength into the first swing. The wall completely crumbled under the axe. Jericho stumbled back from the exertion he hadn’t needed. “Fast-drying cement,” he said to himself.
A gaping hole hovered in the wall about chest-height. The flickering they’d seen against the back of the cement was now full color and filling the lab with light.
Dahlia edged closer to the wall and tried to look into the hole, but Jericho snatched her back.
She glared at him, and Jericho half-smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Let me look first, okay?”
Dahlia rolled her eyes, but she nodded and let him lean in to look.
After several seconds of silence, she finally snapped, “Well, what is it?”
“Um … ” he tore his eyes away to look back at her briefly before gazing through the hole again. “It’s … a sword.”
Jericho gawked at it in a trance. Green and gold flames traveled up and down the blade of the sword, casting wavering light around the inside of the hole. With the utmost caution, he snaked a hand through the jagged concrete and gripped the handle. Jericho knew everything there was to know about guns, but not swords. However, even he could tell that this weapon was old. Way older than either of them; way older than anything he’d ever seen.
Holy fuck. What had Major Taylor been up to?
“What is it?” Dahlia asked.
“I think it’s a broadsword.” Jericho’s said.
Okay, so Major Taylor had hidden a flaming broadsword in the basement of his evil lair. That did not bode well.
Jericho leaned forward and squinted his eyes. “There’s writing on the blade,” he said. He ran his fingertips along the broad edge of the blade. “I can’t read it. The writing’s in a different language.” And then he snatched his hand back with a hiss as pain flared.
Dahlia shone her beam on Jericho’s hand and gasped as she took two stumbling steps toward him. He halted her with a quick, “Stay back!”
She stopped.
“It’s just a little knick,” he said, trying to assure her with a smile. “It’s sharp, and I was careless, that’s all.”
She obviously didn’t believe him. Jericho leaned over at the waist and placed the sword gently on the ground, and then he backed away from it. “We’re going to leave this right here, okay? I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
He grabbed her hand, the Knowledge that she was good quickly flaring, and tugged her toward the staircase where she finally tore her eyes away from the sword to watch where she was going.
“We can’t just leave it here,” she protested.
“Absolutely
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