Page 15 of Owen
Leaning forward, she dropped her voice to little more than a whisper. “Remember when I told you my interest in archeology came from artifacts my father owned?”
The new light in her eyes hardly eased my apprehension. “Yes. I remember.”
“God, this sounds so dumb. I bet you’re going to think I’m a wacko.”
“Try me.”
“Well…” She grimaced, like she knew I would reject what she was about to say but now had no choice but to move forward. “They’re supposed to be artifacts from centuries ago. Maybe even a thousand years or more. He kept them sealed up, away from air and moisture, and tried more than once to sell them to museums. Only nobody really cared about them, so they never left the family.”
A thousand years or more. My mouth went dry. “What’s so odd about that?”
“They’re supposedly…” She rolled her eyes. “From witches. Witches owned them all this time ago, and when they were discovered—the witches, I mean, practicing their craft or whatever—the witch hunters killed them. Some of the treasures they guarded were taken as souvenirs by the hunters. I mean, you have to remember, this was forever ago. It was hardly settled, nowhere near what it is now, but what settlements there were—they were hardly understanding and accepting of newcomers.”
“Sure.”
“So maybe they weren’t witches at all,” she shrugged. “Maybe they were just a bunch of women trying to do their thing, trying to live their lives without men, and the men in the settlements they passed through didn’t take well to it. I can see that happening. Can’t you?”
“Sure,” I said again. What else was there to say? I barely heard myself speak over the roaring in my ears.
“Life was pretty dark back then,” she explained, sounding sage and learned and very much as if she thought she was teaching me a lesson. As if I hadn’t lived through those very times myself. I might have been clear on the other side of the world, but some things hadn’t changed with geography.
“I’m sure it was.”
“Anyway, I guess my great-great-however many times great-grandfather was one of the witch hunters. I shudder to think. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. But I think it was far enough in the past that I don’t have to be ashamed of my ancestry. Right?”
I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice just then.
“He passed the so-called treasures down, and they’ve been in the family all this time. Along with a legend. And this is where it gets really weird.”
I could hardly wait.
She went on, unaware of the turmoil she’d caused me. “Legend has it, there’s a whole lot more buried somewhere under this very mountain. That the witches hid their treasure here, where no mortal could claim it, and put a spell over the mountain to confuse anyone who tried to find their way on it. No human can reach the top, or so the legend has it. And—this is where it gets really ridiculous, so bear with me.”
“Will do.”
She chuckled. “There were supposed to be dragons guarding the treasure. That’s pretty dumb, but I’m not the one who made it up. So my entire purpose for being up here was to see if I could make it to the top, and if I could find anything. Trails, ruins, something to point to the presence of others up here at some point. I’ve never made it much higher than we are right now, but you’re here, and you came from further up, and there are people living up there, so I know it’s possible.”
I swallowed, my mouth drier than ever. “I believe I could use some water now,” I said, reaching for her pack.
“There’s a full bottle in there,” she offered. “It should be down at the bottom, I think. Just be careful.”
“Why?”
“There’s something in there—maybe I should’ve been the one—”
But it was too late. My fingers had already brushed against something hard. Metal. Something which burned my skin as if it were on fire.
The world went black.
6
“Owen?” I gasped as his eyes rolled back in his head. “Oh, my God, Owen!”
He fell backward, limp as a rag doll, and struck his head on the wall before sliding down until he was wedged against it. Just like that.
One second he was fine, the next he was dead to the world.
I knelt in front of him, not thinking about my ankle anymore, and took his face in my hands. “Owen. Owen! Wake up!”
