Labyrinth
A book dealer lies imprisoned in a Boston mansion, an IV tube dripping a lethal narcotic cocktail into his veins. In thirty-six hours, he'll be dead. His final request is to receive a visit from one woman….It wasn't the most hospitable invitation she'd ever received. Archaeologist Annja Creed is being rushed to Massachussetts, abducted by a famous environmental terrorist–a zealot willing to kill anyone who gets in his or the planet's way. He has taken the book dealer hostage in order to steal a rare and very valuable treatise called the Tome of Prossos. Annja is the key to retrieving the ancient manuscript hidden somewhere deep within the mansion. But the book is well-protected. In order to find it, she must survive the rigors of an elaborate maze. She has only twelve hours to decipher the labyrinth's sinister secret…a secret that could ensure she never emerges.
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Each step, each test, each twist and turn leads closer to death
A book dealer lies imprisoned in a Boston mansion, an IV tube dripping a lethal narcotic cocktail into his veins. In thirty-six hours, heâll be dead. His final request is to receive a visit from one woman....
It wasnât the most hospitable invitation sheâd ever received. Archaeologist Annja Creed is being rushed to Massachussetts, abducted by a famous environmental terroristâa zealot willing to kill anyone who gets in his or the planetâs way. He has taken the book dealer hostage in order to steal a rare and very valuable treatise called the Tome of Prossos. Annja is the key to retrieving the ancient manuscript hidden somewhere deep within the mansion. But the book is well-protected. In order to find it, she must survive the rigors of an elaborate maze. She has only twelve hours to decipher the labyrinthâs sinister secretâ¦a secret that could ensure she never emerges.
âThereâs no exit.â
In answer, Kesselâs eyes blazed. He was perfectly able to communicate his understanding, even without the benefit of having a tongue.
Annja studied the only thing in the room: a table with a book on it. âSomewhere here thereâs got to be a clue how weâre supposed to get out of this place. I mean, we could take the crawl space and go backward through the mazeââ
She heard a rumble and a cloud of dust poured into the room. The crawl space had caved in. Annja sighed. âAll right, the only way out of here is to figure out a way forward.â
There seemed nothing special about the table. And as far as she could tell, the book was a hardcover edition of the King James Bible. Overhead, a single light burned in the ceiling. It didnât appear as if some type of guillotine would drop on them if she picked the book up.
Before Annja could stop him, Kessel flipped open the cover. Nothing happened. But there was nothing written on the pages, either.
Annja tried to pick the book up, but it didnât budge. Flipping through it where it was, she found a small button at the back. Annja glanced at Kessel. âWhat do you think?â
He shook his head.
But Annjaâs finger was poised over it. âWhat have we got to lose?â
She pressed the button.
The lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. Annja heard a sudden movement and a grunt.
âKessel?â
And then there was nothing but silence.
The Legend
...The English commander took Joanâs sword and raised it high.
The broadsword, plain and unadorned, gleamed in the firelight. He put the tip against the ground and his foot at the center of the blade. The broadsword shattered, fragments falling into the mud. The crowd surged forward, peasant and soldier, and snatched the shards from the trampled mud. The commander tossed the hilt deep into the crowd. Smoke almost obscured Joan, but she continued praying till the end, until finally the flames climbed her body and she sagged against the restraints.
Joan of Arc died that fateful day in France, but her legend and sword are reborn....
Contents
Chapter 1
Thereâs something about the fall, Annja Creed thought as she sat on the stoop of her building, watching leaves skitter across the pavement of the basketball courts on the other side of the street. A brilliant crystal-blue sky illuminated the day, and she breathed in the crisp air, filling her lungs and letting go a sigh. It felt good to be back home after months on the go.
I donât do this nearly enough, she thought. Chasing relics across the globe, fighting off the rogues and neâer-do-wells that seemed to be reaching epidemic proportions⦠She nodded to herself after a sip of her mocha latte.
I need more downtime.
And that was the truth. As a breeze slinked its way under the T-shirt she wore with her jeans, Annja recognized that she actually hadnât stopped in a very long time.
The sword that only she could useâthat of Joan of Arcâhad opened her life to so much, she barely had time to appreciate any of it. The bad, the good and the bizarre.
But at the moment, all she wanted to do was watch the rest of the world go by, sip her latte and give thanks for such a gorgeous autumn day.
Maybe Iâll take a nap later. She smiled. A weekâs vacation and absolutely nothing scheduled.
There was that new exhibit at the MOMA she could take in. And after that, maybe some well-deserved bookstore browsing in the Village.
âAnnja Creed?â
She frowned and turned to study the man whoâd addressed her. He was well built, in his mid-thirties and had about two daysâ worth of growth on his face. But he didnât look all that bad, she decided.
