Jack turned in the direction of the temple.
Wouldshebe safe?
He wasn’t so sure.
Suppose the partygoers made to leave, not knowing what awaited them. Crossing the sand to reach the villa, they could be caught in the storm. In that case, would Seton protect Onora?
Jack couldn’t risk it. He’d have to go in there and warn them, making sure they either stayed put or returned to the villa this instant.
Grabbing his lantern, he set off at a sprint.
Throwingopen the doors of the sanctuary, Jack stood upon the threshold, too shocked to take in what was before him. Nothing in his imagination had prepared him for this—a torchlit orgy no less, in which the participants—some of advanced age—wereindulging with startling fervor.
So engrossed were they in their activities that none paid him heed.
Where was Onora?
Surely not…
Jack felt bile rise in his throat. He refused to believe she was part of this—at least in any willing capacity.
And then he spotted them.
Seton was as naked as the rest of his cavorting guests and leaning over the sarcophagus of the high priestess. A young woman was prone beneath him, almost entirely bared, the flimsy gown rumpled about her waist.
Onora?
As if in answer, the woman turned her head, and he knew at once it was she, her features rigid and her eyes glazed with fear.
Dropping the lantern, Jack reached for his gun. In the enclosed space, the blast was deafening. There were screams, a chaos of commotion, and Seton groaned, clasping his shoulder.
Two of the women flew to Seton’s sideand, in horror, Jack cast away the gun. He’d intended only to startle his fiendish uncle, to make him fall back. But recrimination could wait. Jack covered the space in a handful of strides and lifted Onora into his arms.
They were out of the room before anyone had a chance to intervene. Jack kicked the doors closed behind him, resting his back there, but he had to act fast. Seton was injured. Nevertheless, the others would surely make pursuit, and who knew what they were capable of.
The door barred from the other side, but Seton had taken to using a lock and chain on this outer portion. Jack scanned about and saw them, discarded upon the floor.
He had no choice but to lay Onora down, so that he might grasp the means to secure the handles. It was done with not a moment to spare, for the doors shook with forceful banging. Obscenities were shouted from within.
Onora lifted her head, looking dazed, but therewas no time to offer reassurance. No time, even, to make her decent. Quickly he raised her up again and, scooping beneath her behind, set off with her over his shoulder.
As soon as he made it to the courtyard, he could see they were in trouble. Flurries of sand were spilling over the edge of the pit. He considered retreating to thehypostyle, but he was loath to remain in any proximity to the madness they’d escaped.
Hurrying across the open space and through the great entrance, he made it up the ramp and out onto the flat, where a gust hit them with such force, Jack staggered, almost losing his footing.
Onora whimpered as he set her down. The hideous hairpiece had been whisked away, leaving her looking far more herself. As best he could, he arranged her costume to cover her modesty, then transferred his neckerchief, raising it to cover her nose and mouth.
Whatever moonlight there had been was now obscured and, squinting through thewhirling sand, he was barely able to make out the palms near the riverbank, let alone the villa. Swearing, he twisted about. The sheer cliff face was visible to his right, and a far closer refuge.
Could he carry her all the way?
The decision was made as Onora crumpled against him and he was obliged to hoist her up once more. He doubted she was comfortable, but she was in no fit state to push through the fierceness assailing them.
Making her secure over his shoulder, he lowered his head and plunged forward. With his feet sinking in the shifting grains, it was no easy task.
One step at a time. Just keep going!
He tried not to think about what he’d done—barging into Seton’s debauched gathering and letting loose with his gun. He doubted the wound was serious. Nonetheless, it would be a miracle if his uncle didn’t press charges.
