Devil’s Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page A

Whit.
    At one end of the chamber, on a crude seat carved from solid rock, sat a man—or at least his skeletal remains, remarkably preserved given that they had been buried in this chamber for what had to be over a thousand years if the age of the ruins above was any indication. Whit and the others pressed closer to stare at this new discovery.
    “He’s wearing the uniform of a Roman centurion,” John whispered. “His helmet has the horsehair crest, he has medals upon his chest, and—this is astounding—his wooden Bacillum Viteum stick has not decayed.” Sure enough, a knotty stick rested in the crook of the centurion’s arm.
    “I’m more interested in that ,” said Whit. He pointed to what the long-dead soldier held in his bony hands. A bronze box, the size of a writing chest, with images of twining snakes worked all over its surface. The centurion gripped the box tightly, holding it snug against his breastplate. Whatever was inside the box must have been extremely valuable, valuable enough to consign a Roman officer to death.
    Bram stared at the box, then at the faces of his friends clustered around. He grinned fiendishly as he placed his hand upon the box. “Let’s have ourselves a look.”
    Whit stared as Bram forcibly pried the box from the skeleton’s grip. The bones cracked as the box was wrenched free, yet Whit did not wince at the sound. All he wanted was the box, to learn what it contained, and he gazed avidly as Bram began to open it.
    Be careful , Zora had warned him. Yet he shoved her warning aside. The answers to everything were inside the box.
    As the lid opened, the flames from the torches were suddenly sucked inside the box. The chamber plunged into darkness.

Chapter 2
     
    Without warning, Zora’s horse surged up, recoiling. She fought to keep the gelding under control, but panic gripped it. The horse reared and whinnied in fear. The animal tossed its head, tearing the reins from Zora’s hands, then reared again. She lost her hold and flew from the horse.
    She landed hard upon her back, breath forced from her lungs. The night sky stared down, black and empty, as she heard her horse gallop away. For a moment, she lay on the ground, struggling to breathe, cursing the animal. She could not waste any time, so she staggered to her feet.
    To go back to the encampment to get another horse would take too long. No help for it but to proceed on foot. After ensuring that her spinning head had settled down to a reasonable degree, Zora began to run. She hoped she would not be too late to save the handsome gorgio from himself.
     
     
    “What the devil?” growled Whit.
    “Well, yes,” said a voice in the darkness, a voice Whit did not recognize. It sounded cultured, elegant, but held notes of the deepest shadows, impossibly deep, and with a sharp edge like a duelist’s rapier. “In a manner of speaking.”
    Light flared. Not from the torches. From lamps that suddenly appeared along the walls. Whit was certain no lamps had been there when first he and his friends had surveyed the chamber. They gave off a sulfurous light, and shadows shuddered over the walls. It took a moment for Whit’s vision to adjust from light to darkness to light again. When, at last, his eyesight adjusted, he thought at first that his senses played havoc with his reason.
    He stumbled back, as did his friends. Bram dropped the box with a clatter. A paper scroll tumbled out, and from the scroll emerged a tiny flicker of light, smaller than a firefly, that darted about the chamber. But Whit didn’t pay any heed to the flitting light.
    A man stood before them. Dressed in debonair black satin, from his waistcoat to his frock coat to his breeches. Rich silver and green embroidery covered his cuffs, the edges of his coat, and the surface of his waistcoat, and the lace frothing at his wrists and neck was gleaming white. His stockings, too, were pristine, and dazzling jeweled buckles adorned his shoes. He wore a nobleman’s sword,