“Nice to hear since it’s been so long.”Sophie shouldered her bag.“Talk soon.”
Once they’d cleaned up and were outside, Feirn shook his head as they walked to the car.“That was ...a surprise.Remind me never to do anything to make you angry.”
Sophie smiled; the last of the tension drained away.“I have a history you know nothing about.Never underestimate an opponent.”
The drive to FBI headquarters was quiet as Sophie’s mind shifted back to the case.The physical release of sparring had cleared her head and sharpened her focus.She was ready for whatever came next.
16
CONNOR
The ancient strongholdof the Yam Khûmk?n clung to the earth, its weathered, lichen-covered walls blending seamlessly with the jungle that had tried to reclaim it for centuries.Connor stood on the highest balcony, watching mist rise from the canopy below.Humid air pressed against him like a living thing, heavy with the fecund scents of life—and decay.Insects droned their endless chorus while fruit bats shrieked, their leathery wings flitting through the velvet night.
The stone beneath Connor’s bare feet still radiated the day’s heat, but a cool mountain breeze raised goosebumps along his arms.He could taste a coming storm on that wind; metallic and electric, it promised violence.Lightning flickered in the distance, harshly illuminating the landscape for milliseconds before plunging it back into darkness.
It had only been a few years since he’d killed the previous Master, a man with purple eyes whose real name Connor never learned.A man he’d respected, but one who’d been under the poisonous influence of Sophie’s mother, Pim Wat.
The memory of their final confrontation still haunted him; he’d been the Master’s choice of successor, but he’d never wanted to be.Hadn’t imagined or aspired to be the Yam Khûmk?n’s leader.In defending himself and killing his mentor, he’d become trapped here.
His attempt to escape to another life with Sophie and her children had only brought them trouble and danger.
Behind him, the stronghold seemed to squeak and groan, ancient timbers and stones adjusting to the barometric pressure changes of the oncoming storm as he gazed out into the falling, flickering darkness; a night filled with the sounds of jungle life—and death.
“You sent for me, Master?”
Connor turned.The Healer stood in the doorway, his stocky frame filling the space.His sandaled feet had made no sound on the worn stones.Despite his sixty-odd years and graying beard, the man moved with a warrior’s grace.His hands, thick-fingered and strong from massaging tired muscles, hung loose at his sides.
Of all the elders, he had never shown resentment at Connor’s accidental ascension, and he’d saved Connor’s life more than once.
The old man’s eyes caught the lamplight, reflecting it as Connor observed him—and his royal blue energy field.There was something unsettling in that gaze—a depth of knowledge that came from his decades of spiritual practice.
“Welcome, Healer,” Connor said.“Thank you for coming.”
The Healer joined him on the open terrace, bringing with him the scent of medicinal herbs and woodsmoke as his robes whispered over the stone floor.“You look troubled, Master.”
“I am.I’ve asked you here because I trust you.”
“I’m honored, Master.”The Healer bowed slightly; the oil lamp’s light gleamed over his shaved scalp.
“I need information from someone who won’t talk about what I’m asking for.Can I count on you?”
“Of course.”
“Sunan’s group, the Brotherhood of Ancient Ways, is gathering ancient Hawaiian artifacts for some purpose.”Connor tugged at the sash of his whitegiin agitation.“They’ve stolen twenty-three pieces so far.What could they want with them?”
The Healer moved closer; the old man’s weathered face was grave, and the deep lines on it seemed to grow darker.“You know what day approaches?”
Another flash.Thunder rumbled closer, vibrating through the stone beneath their feet.Connor’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath skin stretched taut with tension.“The anniversary.Three years since I became Master.”
“The day Sunan has chosen for his challenge of you.”The older man moved to the parapet; his thick fingers curled around the balustrade and whitened as he gripped it.“They prepare for the Ceremony of Claiming.”
The lamp flames on either side of the door guttered suddenly, as if responding to the name.Shadows leaped and danced on the wall, and for a moment Connor saw shapes in them—warriors in battle.
He gusted out a breath, mastering fear.“I do not know of this ritual.”
“An ancient one.The Brotherhood believes that by gathering artifacts of power and focusing their combined will upon them, they can channel that energy.”The Healer looked up at him, dark eyes serious.“They seek to give Sunan every advantage when he faces you in the courtyard.”
Connor felt cold settle in his chest, spreading outward like ice crystals forming in his blood.“A week from now.”
