Читать книгу Nocturnal Whispers - Caridad Pineiro - Страница 6

Dr. Kate Morton eased on a lightweight lab jacket to protect her from the chill down in the museum’s storage area, and picked up the clipboard from her desk. Glancing at her list, she gave a satisfied smile at the progress she had made. She already had a number of artifacts she might drag out of the bins and shelving to freshen up a few exhibits, including the Egyptian area.

Key card securely fastened at her waist, she headed out of her cubicle-size office and down to the lower levels. With a grin at the security guard manning the entry, she swiped her card and the security system disengaged the lock on the door. Besides the rare artifacts, quite a number of priceless paintings, sculptures and works of art were safeguarded in another section of this area, necessitating the tight security.

Kate returned to where she had left off the night before, picking through the shelves and bins to check the items against the inventory list the head curator had provided. The records indicated the last time each item had been on public display, and quite a number of relics had been stored away for quite a while. As Kate reconciled the items with the inventory, she also used her cell phone to snap photos of those she wished to use to assemble a few new displays.

Hours passed as she worked in the row filled with a plethora of Egyptian pieces. Although her stomach grumbled as lunch hour came and went, Kate was determined to reach the end of the row before returning to her desk, where she’d commence work on a fresh exhibit. Her mind was already whirling with ideas, and she was eager to show her new bosses that they had made the right choice in hiring her.

With a final check of the last item on the list for that area, she was about to return to her office when she noticed yet another box. It was tucked behind a large crate containing a chunk of an obelisk rescued from the area flooded by the Aswan Dam project. The weight of the stone inside made the crate impossible for one person to move, which was likely why someone had not bothered to reach the other box. But Kate refused to be as lazy.

Dragging out the items next to the obelisk, she half climbed onto the lower shelf and grabbed the cardboard box. Shimmying it from behind the heavier crate, she crawled out into the aisle and pulled the box into the light.

A fine layer of dust covered it, a testament to how long it had been since anyone had touched the carton. The yellowed cardboard was another sign of age for the roughly two-and-a-half-foot-long package. Kneeling before it, Kate peered at the handwritten note on top.

“Do not open.”

There was no signature or date on the warning, and the writing was rather erratic, as if the words had been scratched in haste, or by someone not in full possession of his faculties.

Kate didn’t need a knife to cut the tape sealing the top; it was so old it had long ago lost its ability to stick.

She hesitated as she grabbed hold of the box flaps, a combination of nervous excitement and trepidation gripping her. A chill erupted at her core from that mix of emotions, but she pushed aside her fear and opened the box.

Inside was a small but carefully preserved sarcophagus. The human features painted on it were not quite realistic, as if the artist had been struggling to capture the youth of whoever lay within. Judging from the size, it had to be a rather young child, possibly even a toddler. Despite the age of the inhabitant, green eye makeup enhanced the face depicted on the coffin. Kate recalled that several historical texts and hieroglyphics showed Egyptian children wearing such makeup. It hinted at the fact that ancient Egyptians had thought certain colors possessed sacred energy.

Kate sat back on her haunches, examining other details on the sarcophagus. Gilding covered a good portion of the burial piece, and at its center, a series of small green amulet stones had been set into the surface.

It was in such pristine shape and so unusual due to its size that for a moment Kate wondered if this wasn’t some miniature replica created for display purposes.

Reaching out, she laid her hand on the sarcophagus in the hopes of determining if it was of modern origin. But as she did so a shock snaked up her arm and traveled to her center.

Longing arose, so sharp and powerful that Kate cried out and fell back, breathing heavily. Physical need had her wet and aching, but that response was twisted together with a yearning so deep it made her want to weep.

This is no replica, she thought, sucking in deep, measured breaths to control the emotions that had seized control of her at the first touch.

Because it was an antiquity, she knew she couldn’t open the sarcophagus and attempt to either x-ray or scan whatever was inside without being in one of the museum’s clean rooms, to safeguard the relic.

How about protecting yourself? a little voice in her head warned, and Kate couldn’t deny that a major dose of fear lurked within her.

If just a touch could create such sensations, what would happen if she opened the container? Would she be like Pandora, opening the proverbial box and unleashing untold horrors?

Totally illogical, she scolded herself. The relic was just another piece of the past. But even as she said that, she couldn’t deny that she had experienced some kind of power when she’d touched the sarcophagus.

She rose shakily to her feet and snapped a few photos of the antiquity. Then, careful not to make contact with the item, she slipped the box back into its hiding space on the shelf and replaced the other items around it.

Kate didn’t want any of her colleagues at risk handling the relic until she’d had a chance to explore its provenance and better understand the power she had sensed hidden within it.

But even as she walked away, the emotions that single touch had unleashed remained within her, threatening to swamp her with their physical demands.

Clenching her teeth against the need that had her insides quivering and wanting release, she rushed away, determined to satisfy both her curiosity and her desire.