12:02 p.m.
Forty minutes later, Sharyn stood in what appeared to be a small chapel buried at the heart of the limestone hill. The air was dank, smelling of salt. They had passed many such rooms. Some larger, others smaller, a few mere cubbies.
This cavern appeared to be a microcosm of the church’s main sanctuary. Raw stone framed one half. On the other, rock that had been chiseled and sculpted. Seven shallow alcoves had been carved into the wall, lined up in a row, like a bank of windows. Below them, low kneeling benches invited one to prayer.
Sharyn imagined holy relics or votive candles resting in those spaces. Only, they were empty now.
Except for one.
Naomi lowered her wand. “Getting crazy strong readings from there.”
They edged closer, falling silent. The only sound was the water trickling down the back of the niche. It ran along the rock face and filled a basin cut into the bottom of the alcove. The water’s surface shimmered like a black mirror. The overflow spilled down a channel cut in the front, then drained into a crack in the floor.
“Looks like a baptismal font,” Duncan said.
“Or a drinking fountain for Calypso,” Tag said. “The nymph’s springs were said to be healing.”
Naomi repacked her magnetometer, clearly believing they had reached the end of their search. “With all this wetness, thismustbe the door to a Temple of Water.”
The three turned to Sharyn, knowing the next task was hers alone. They had already debated how to open this door. It posed a challenge as they no longer had Saint-Germain’s book as its key.
Sharyn stepped forward and searched the alcove for a clue. Months ago, she had already guessed what she might need if she ever reached this spot.
Praying she was not wrong, she reached her hand into the basin and ran her palm along the curve of stone below the water’s black mirror. The rock was smooth, nearly polished. Then her fingers found a hole at the center, like a drain. The opening was small, no larger than the tip of her pinkie.
“I think this is it.” She turned to the others. “Help me splash the water out.”
Duncan and Archie flanked her. Together, they scooped out handfuls, quickly emptying the basin, while soaking the front of their clothes.
“It’s like we’re being christened,” Duncan mumbled. “Blessed before entering.”
Archie frowned at him. “If this is holy water, I’m going straight to confession after this.”
Once the basin had been mostly cleared, Sharyn pulled a scarf from her pack and dried the rest. She then pointed to the hole at the basin’s center. “Looks about the right size. What do you think?”
“Try it,” Duncan urged her.
She bit her lip and unzipped a pants pocket. She reached inside and removed a pear-shaped chunk of crystal, what had once been the orb gracing the cover of Saint-Germain’s book.
She had stolen it from the gold chamber, sensing its importance even back then. Laurent had inquired about it later, after realizing it had vanished. She had lied and told him she had left it in the chamber. She suggested maybe it got bumped into the mercury pool.
Still, she could live with this deception. The crystal was too important to leave behind. Back at the bunker, it had gleamed like a beacon amidst the coppery ruins of the book, as if begging to be taken. And for good reason. The original orb had been the key to unlocking Saint-Germain’s textandthese secret doors.
She hoped it still remained a key.
Only one way to find out.
She lowered the crystal to the bottom of the basin. She inserted its pointy end into the hole, like planting a diamond into a precious setting.
Once done, she stepped back to the others. She tightened her fists, hoping there was some bit of alchemy left in the crystal, enough to stir the magnetic field of the surrounding rock.
After a full minute, Archie turned to her. “Nothing’s happening.”
“Maybe we need those magnetic rods,” Duncan offered. “To zap it somehow.”
Sharyn worried he might be right, but somewhere deep inside she sensed this wasn’t necessary.
We’re beyond that now.
