Chapter 22

Amy looked at the tax records and the land sale notes, wishing Conner were here to help her out. She suppressed that thought. She did not want to risk asking Isabelle to send him to D.C. Instead, she paid cash for copies of the records and left the county courthouse with a copy of a bill of sale from a tax auction.

Devon McAlester, or one of his lawyers, had left a breadcrumb of a trail. Why they had used one of their onshore companies to buy the three houses around the district was a mystery to her. The fact that they had purchased three properties within easy driving distance of the capital was what had caught her attention.

One property was in Virginia, one was in Maryland, and one was in D.C. itself. All of them had been bought from estates or in foreclosures. All of them had been outstanding debts for McAlester’s bank. Each had been cash transactions at closing, with the bank getting them off their books and the holding company picking them up cheap.

She knew they would have used one of their real estate funds if they wanted to profit from the properties. Instead, they had been signed over to different individuals, without records of payment. Her search online indicated the cheapest property should have sold for millions of dollars. Why would a company give away such assets?

Amy whistled a simple tune as she walked to her rental car. She had a good feeling that she was on the track of something that would help her. One of the properties had been gifted to a Viktoria Eddelson, of Eddelson Special Sales and Acquisitions. The name was her clue. She intended to go there first.

The party stood on the edge of a cliff that formed a half-moon circle in the gray and brown granite of the mountain. Opposite them, across an azure blue lake filling the bottom of the canyon, sat the temple on a short series of terraced ledges cut into the face of the cliff.

“Petra meets the Acropolis,” Finn muttered.

The lowest terrace was walled to enclose a magnificent pool with a shimmering wall of water spilling down into the lake below. Higher up, another waterfall cascaded down from the temple itself. That edifice was defined by towering pillars of gleaming white marble. People mingled on the terrace before the main temple building and above the pool.

“Let’s go before the light fades,” Thorne said.

Finn shook his head. He could pull up a chair and watch the sunset from here, enjoying the shifting play of color from the red orb settling at the far end of the valley. The orange and yellow streams lighting the thin clouds gave way to the green treetops lining the valley and the cerulean blue of the river draining the lake. The world was enfolded in an organic rainbow of color. It was magnificent.

Elara took his hand. Whether to hold him back or lead him on, Finn was not sure. Reluctantly, he nodded and followed Thorne. The pathway was now paved with regular stones, graded to shed water to the sides, where he was certain it would flow down to the lake and the river below.

The forest lined the road, shimmering in the light breeze to give glimpses of the sky and the temple as they curved around the rim of the plateau before dropping lower, to the level of the temple.

“We’ll use the common entrance,” Elara said as they picked up their pace to arrive before nightfall. “The grand entrance is on the far side.”

“Who uses that side?” Finn asked.

“Anyone can,” Elara responded. “Both lead into the main portico before the temple, but there is a village on this side and up over the ridge, so it’s more common for priestesses and acolytes to use it for errands. The other side leads down to the main road which follows down the valley to the King’s City, so it’s become known as the Grand Entrance, since that is where the nobles arrive, as well as other supplicants.”

“Sounds a bit ostentatious,” Finn said. Nobility turned into pompous bureaucrats in Finn’s mind. Just as he was wary of any politician, he would be guarded should he meet any of this world’s nobility.

They lost sight of the lake, valley, and temple as the path curved further to the right. They passed the intersection of the road leading to the village Elara had mentioned. A signpost signaled the way. Finn could see writing but not discern what it said. He began to understand how strange Elara must have found his world.

The road straightened shortly thereafter. It also widened to more than three strides across. For the first time, they were able to walk side-by-side. Rather than move up next to Thorne, Elara tugged his hand, and they remained a few feet behind. It was as if she were hesitant to get home.

Abruptly, the forest fell away from the path except for a few well-tended trees offering shade to the road and its travelers. The road blended into a wide courtyard flanked by a small wall. The silver-gray flagstone sloped gently up to the white marble steps of the entrance. Finn looked at the tops of the columns supporting the roof of the entryway. They were not one of the Greek styles he had learned in school, rather appeared to be more ornate than the Corinthian style, with carefully carved vines and branches giving an almost organic feel to the sturdy structure.

His gaze lowered, not wanting to stumble or trip as they started climbing the shallow stairs leading up from the plaza.

“Twenty-eight steps,” Elara said softly. “One for each day in the cycle.”

She spoke as if remembering some catechism from her training as a novice. Finn gave her hand a squeeze, trying to convey that everything would be alright, even though he did not fully appreciate how that could be true. He was in a strange world, and she was compelled to lead him to her enemy. He shook his head and continued, upward.

A stunning woman with raven-black hair stepped from the shadow of a column as they approached the top step. Her artificial smile gave them pause. She glanced over Thorne and Finn, letting her gaze linger on Finn’s hand clutching Elara’s.

“I see,” she said in frosty tones, “that our most ambitious acolyte has returned from her trials.”

Elara dropped Finn’s hand, stepped up, and then bowed low to the woman.

“I have returned, sister,” she said formally.

Burning, cold, fear filling her stomach was almost a pleasant distraction as she bowed to Sister Eclipse. Yara, as Elara knew her years before, had been the acolyte Mother Nightbloom held up as an example of what Elara and other acolytes should strive to be like.

“Do I need to ask Yara to demonstrate for you once again?” Used to be the most embarrassing correction to hear in a lesson. She was older than Elara, having been an acolyte for fourteen years. The fact that Elara had been allowed to face her trials after only nine years as an acolyte had rankled the older woman.

Somehow, it felt fitting that this woman should be the first to greet Elara’s failure in her endeavor.

She held her bow longer than required, trying to find words she could speak that would ameliorate her sense of failure, but realized that would be pity for herself.

“I have failed in my trials, Sister Eclipse,” she said without rising, keeping her eyes on the painted toes of the other woman. “But I have news for our Mother that must not be delayed.”