Phoenix kept pivoting the light, illuminating the floor, and she noticed they stood only a few feet from some steps that intersected at ninety-degree corners and diminished in length as they descended, kind of like an inverted pyramid.
“Can you see what’s at the bottom?” she asked when he crouched to aim the beam of light deeper. She could see nothing, but maybe he could.
“Just a floor.”
“Maybe there’s something on the walls.”
They walked the perimeter of the space, illuminating the stone, looking for carvings, anything. The recessed niches held nothing but dust and cobwebs.
The ruin had been cleared out, something they’d suspected, but still demoralizing.
“Guess we came for nothing.” She couldn’t help a pang of disappointment.
“Maybe. Before we leave, I want to check the floor at the bottom of the steps.”
As he descended, she followed, asking, “I thought you didn’t see anything.”
“I didn’t, but for some reason, the scent of those who’ve been exploring is strongest there.”
She had to wonder why the interest in the patch of floor at the bottom of the concentric steps. Interlocked stone, cleaner than the rest, the grooves around a section right in the middle more pronounced as if someone had cleaned out the dirt.
Once more, Phoenix crouched, his fingers tracing the distinct ridges. “I think this is a hatch of some kind.”
Nadirah dropped to her haunches to take a closer look. “How does it open? I don’t see any handholds.”
“Me neither, which leads me to think there must be some kind of mechanism we need to activate to open it.”
The comment piqued her interest. Who didn’t dream of being Indiana Jones, discovering ancient secrets and hidden rooms?
Phoenix began pacing around the steps, layer by layer, seeking something out of place. A protrusion. An indent. Since he had the keener gaze and sense of smell, she let him go and sat on the bottom step. The ruin didn’t have the same heat as the outdoors, the stone keeping the interior cool. Too cold for her liking. Nadirah dug into her knapsack and pulled out her sweater, the same one she’d been wearing the night of their museum visit. She shoved her hands into the pockets to warm her fingers and discovered the box she’d accidentally filched. She pulled it free and stroked the carvings, wondering how to open it and what hid inside.
“I can’t find anything.” Phoenix startled her, and she dropped the box. It hit the floor with a thunk, and she leaned over to grab it. As she dragged it with her fingertips to get it close enough to grab, a grinding sound made her pause.
“Did you hear that?”
“I did.” Phoenix dropped down beside her. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. Just grabbed the box I dropped.”
“The one from the museum?”
“Yeah. Do you think it came from here?” Khalid had implied that some of the recovered artifacts in that storage room had been stolen.
“I don’t know. Can I see it for a second?”
She handed it over and wondered what he intended. To her surprise, he placed it flat on the stone and dragged it. The noise reoccurred.
Her eyes widened. “What’s happening?”
“I think we might have lucked out and brought the key.”
“Doesn’t look like a key.”
He held up the box and shook it. “Not in the normal sense. If I had to guess, the object rattling inside is a magnet, one strong enough to trigger the mechanism that opens this hatch.”
“Except it’s still closed,” she pointed out.
“Probably because it has to be moved on the stone in a certain pattern,” he theorized. He began dragging it left then right, up and down, then in circles, each pass causing noise but nothing else.
