Page 69 of Eternal Surrender

I continued eastward. “Thought you might like to see where they once entertained unwanted guests.” Lifting the lamp, I swung it around us. “See, no bodies.”

He scratched the back of his head. “You share a crazy sense of humor with your brother.”

“That’s not all we share.”

“What’s that?” He followed me into the dim chamber and took in the antique sconces, their candles burned to the wick, rusty chains hanging here and there, and that time-tested torture table artfully rounding out the sinister decor.

“Well, what do you think?” I watched him.

“Is that what I think it is?” His wide-eyed stare was locked on the torture table, rusty shackles hanging from its sides.

“It’s no longer in use.”

“Why the hell keep it then?” Sebastian shot me a wary look. “Just a suggestion, perhaps next time you should start off your tour in the garden?”

“A gentler introduction?”

He emphasized his point, raising his eyebrows.

“Pity, this being my favorite.” I suppressed a smile.

Chapter Fourteen

The front door opened and the man standing just inside the Knightsbridge flat oozed privilege. He regarded me with annoyance.

“James Lemont,” he introduced himself and slipped his hand into mine, his grip matching his icy-stare. He glanced at the gift I’d tucked under my arm.

Though he wouldn’t recognize me now, I’d first met James when Ingrid had invited me here to his London flat. He was hosting a party for his well-connected friends, and I remembered thinking then that Ingrid’s bohemianism seemed contrary to the upper-class crowd.

“Who is it?” Ingrid froze with a brightness in her eyes. “William?” Her casual T-shirt and yoga pants accentuated her curves.

James moved aside allowing me to enter.

“What a nice surprise.” Her eyes widened and she glanced over at James. “This is William.”

James didn’t notice her reaction. “That a present?” He took the wooden box. “To what pleasure do we owe this visit?”

“We were just about to eat,” Ingrid said.

“Like to join us?” James’s insincerity was glaring.

An annoying ringtone broke the uncomfortable silence, and James shoved the box back into my hands and reached into his pocket. “Have to get this.” With his phone pressed to his ear, he ambled into the living room.

Ingrid came closer, her gaze narrowing when she saw the box. “What is it?”

I handed it to her carefully, passing it to her slow and close, the weight of it in my hands, proving the box was dense

“How did you know I’m staying here?” she asked.

“You must have mentioned it.”

She frowned. “No I didn’t.”

“Perhaps Blake did.” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, feigning trying to recall. “Anyway, consider this a peace offering.” I glanced at the box she’d just taken from me.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“You asked me to find out where Orpheus is buried.”