Abdullah grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to his face. “Oh yes,” he said in a low voice, almost a whisper. “I’m terribly afraid. They’re real. They’ll find you. They’ll kill you. And it won’t be pleasant.”
“How do you know?” Leila scoffed.
“I am Medjay.”
She stared, her jaw feeling as if it were made of lead. Was this some kind of joke? The fire in his eyes told her it was anything but.
He pushed her back toward the ladder. “Now climb.”
CHAPTER 39
Something was wrong. The monks were in a panic. Xander’s pulse thrummed in his ears as a robed man led him to the library. Books all over the floor. A cart on its side. Papers scattered carelessly about. Though he’d asked for Leila, no one could give him a direct answer.
Ten minutes. That’s all he’d needed to make it from the police station to the monastery. And still, Leila managed to find more trouble. She’d sounded calm on the phone. Emotional, exhausted, but calm. There was nothing to indicate she was in any danger at that moment.
A team of policemen arrived shortly after he did, along with an ambulance. While the paramedics tended to a wounded monk, Xander stood in the library, the last place Leila had been seen. The other monks had heard shouting, screaming, a loud crash.
But by the time they had arrived, Leila was gone and the old monk unconscious. The only logical explanation was she had a fight with the monk and ran, but that seemed unlikely.
They wouldn’t know more until the man woke up. Xander prayed she was only hiding somewhere.
Ten minutes. She couldn’t even avoid trouble for ten minutes, could she? He raked his fingers through his hair. What now?
Someone tapped his shoulder. A policeman stood behind him. “We’re searching the basement, if you want to come,” the officer suggested.
Grateful the police were being so accommodating this time, he followed them down the stairs. Someone found the light switch and the naked bulbs flickered on overhead. Footprints traversed the dust on the floor. All varying sizes, all going in different directions.
Another tunnel offered no more clues. Xander was ready to head back upstairs when a dark streak on the stone wall caught his eye. A closer inspection confirmed his suspicion. Blood. Relatively fresh, judging by the bright color. Someone had been down here.
The tunnel curved left and right, more drops of blood splattered on the floor. Then it came to an end. A few small drops had dripped in front of the wall. Staring at the blank stone, Xander screamed her name.
It went unanswered. He kicked the wall, pounded it with his fists until they bled. She’d slipped right through his fingers. Was this some sort of cruel joke?
He leaned against the wall and slid down until he sat on the floor, staring at the ceiling. How was it possible for her to vanish? There must be another passage somewhere. If the blood stopped here, there had to be a way out. A secret doorway. Something.
Hurried footsteps thumped from the other end of the tunnel. Xander raised his head as one of the black-uniformed police officers ran into sight. The officer stopped and placed a hand on the wall, leaning forward as he caught his breath.
“The monk is awake,” he said. “He asked for you.”
Xander was led into the dormitory, then down plain, white hallways lined with dark wooden doors. The police officer brought him outside one of the rooms, its door slightly ajar. Voices drifted into the hall and the officer knocked before opening the door.
The room was as spartan as the hallways, with only a heavy-looking wooden desk and wardrobe on one side. The bed where the monk, Father Marcus as he’d been told, lay stood under the wavy glass window. A paramedic held an ice pack to the man’s head. His arm hung in front of his chest in a sling, his hand dangling limply from the opening. Red and purple bruises swelled on his face, one eyebrow so puffed up, the monk could only look out of a slit. Father Marcus took the ice pack, nodding to the paramedic. The doctor began to repack his bag, and the monk’s pained gaze settled on Xander.
“Just a bump,” he grunted with a weak smile.
“You asked to see me?” Xander asked, stepping aside to make room for the paramedic to leave.
“Give us a moment, please,” Father Marcus said to the other police officers still lingering in the room. With reluctant looks, they filed out and closed the door.
Once everything was quiet, Xander focused on the monk. “Do you remember what happened?” He was unable to take his eyes off the man’s injuries. Those definitely weren’t Leila’s handiwork. His stomach did a flip.
The monk nodded. “I remember.”
Xander closed his eyes in relief. For once he would get some answers.
“You see, I couldn’t help but overhear a part of Miss Sterling’s phone conversation. You are her betrothed?”
Xander swallowed, then nodded. “Yes.” Well, something like that.
“Then I will explain.” The monk lowered the ice pack. “But you must promise not to tell anyone else.”
Xander knitted his eyebrows together at the strange request. “You have my word.”
“I know where they have gone.”
“They?” This couldn’t be good.
Another nod. “It is a bit difficult to explain, but if you retrieve the map from my desk, I can show you.”
Xander turned around and looked over the desk. It was neat, with a variety of pencils and pens gathered in a cup and a stack of papers on one side.
“In the drawer,” Father Marcus offered.
Xander pulled out the heavy drawer that spanned the width of the desk, the wood groaning loudly. A road atlas lay on top of the assortment of papers, rulers, pens and rubber bands. He forced the drawer shut and handed the map to Father Marcus. The monk opened it and turned the book from side to side.
Xander clenched his jaw, the man’s words still bothering him. “Did I understand correctly that Leila isn’t alone?”
“Yes. The man is armed and dangerous. We’ve had problems with him before.”
