Chapter 79
Forty minutes later, Sharyn stood in what appeared to be a small chapel buried at the heart of the limestone hill. The air was dank, smelling of salt. They had passed many such rooms. Some larger, others smaller, a few mere cubbies.
This cavern appeared to be a microcosm of the church’s main sanctuary.
Raw stone framed one half. On the other, rock that had been chiseled and sculpted.
Seven shallow alcoves had been carved into the wall, lined up in a row, like a bank of windows.
Below them, low kneeling benches invited one to prayer.
Sharyn imagined holy relics or votive candles resting in those spaces. Only, they were empty now.
Except for one.
Naomi lowered her wand. “Getting crazy strong readings from there.”
They edged closer, falling silent. The only sound was the water trickling down the back of the niche.
It ran along the rock face and filled a basin cut into the bottom of the alcove.
The water’s surface shimmered like a black mirror.
The overflow spilled down a channel cut in the front, then drained into a crack in the floor.
“Looks like a baptismal font,” Duncan said.
“Or a drinking fountain for Calypso,” Tag said. “The nymph’s springs were said to be healing.”
Naomi repacked her magnetometer, clearly believing they had reached the end of their search. “With all this wetness, this must be the door to a Temple of Water.”
The three turned to Sharyn, knowing the next task was hers alone. They had already debated how to open this door. It posed a challenge as they no longer had Saint-Germain’s book as its key.
Sharyn stepped forward and searched the alcove for a clue. Months ago, she had already guessed what she might need if she ever reached this spot.
Praying she was not wrong, she reached her hand into the basin and ran her palm along the curve of stone below the water’s black mirror. The rock was smooth, nearly polished. Then her fingers found a hole at the center, like a drain. The opening was small, no larger than the tip of her pinkie.
“I think this is it.” She turned to the others. “Help me splash the water out.”
Duncan and Archie flanked her. Together, they scooped out handfuls, quickly emptying the basin, while soaking the front of their clothes.
“It’s like we’re being christened,” Duncan mumbled. “Blessed before entering.”
Archie frowned at him. “If this is holy water, I’m going straight to confession after this.”
Once the basin had been mostly cleared, Sharyn pulled a scarf from her pack and dried the rest. She then pointed to the hole at the basin’s center. “Looks about the right size. What do you think?”
“Try it,” Duncan urged her.
She bit her lip and unzipped a pants pocket. She reached inside and removed a pear-shaped chunk of crystal, what had once been the orb gracing the cover of Saint-Germain’s book.
She had stolen it from the gold chamber, sensing its importance even back then. Laurent had inquired about it later, after realizing it had vanished. She had lied and told him she had left it in the chamber. She suggested maybe it got bumped into the mercury pool.
Still, she could live with this deception.
The crystal was too important to leave behind.
Back at the bunker, it had gleamed like a beacon amidst the coppery ruins of the book, as if begging to be taken.
And for good reason. The original orb had been the key to unlocking Saint-Germain’s text and these secret doors.
She hoped it still remained a key.
Only one way to find out.
She lowered the crystal to the bottom of the basin. She inserted its pointy end into the hole, like planting a diamond into a precious setting.
Once done, she stepped back to the others. She tightened her fists, hoping there was some bit of alchemy left in the crystal, enough to stir the magnetic field of the surrounding rock.
After a full minute, Archie turned to her. “Nothing’s happening.”
“Maybe we need those magnetic rods,” Duncan offered. “To zap it somehow.”
Sharyn worried he might be right, but somewhere deep inside she sensed this wasn’t necessary.
We’re beyond that now.
Then a wet trickle seeped down the wall, ran across the basin, and touched the crystal. Upon contact with the water, the stone shimmered—at first softly, then brightening quickly.
“Something’s happening,” Tag said, his voice awed.
Sharyn remembered Duncan’s words from a moment ago. “It’s like the water christened it.”
The crystal flared brilliantly—then lifted from its stone cradle. It slowly spun in place. Its radiant facets cast an iridescent shine across the inside of the alcove.
Duncan named the science behind this magic. “Magnetic levitation. Like what lifts some bullet trains off their tracks.”
Sharyn slowly nodded, remembering Moira Kelly’s scoffing at the more fanciful claims about Saint-Germain, one of which included the man’s supposed ability to levitate.
Maybe something like this was the basis for such tales.
Before she could consider it further, a familiar ringing chime sounded, followed by a heavy grinding. They all backed up another step. As lines formed in the stone around the watery alcove, the entire slab sank into the floor.
This time, Sharyn didn’t need Archie to warn her. She hurried forward and grabbed the floating crystal from the niche. Its glow faded, but it remained warm in her palm, like a cooling coal from a fire.
She watched the door fully sink away.
They all drew closer.
Tag blew out his breath. “At least there aren’t any stairs.”
Past the door, a straight tunnel cut deeper into the hill.
Sharyn got them moving along it. She also passed on a warning, remembering the mistake Laurent had made. “Watch your step.”
They dared not trip any boobytraps. She hoped—like with the magnetic rods—that they were finished with all that, too.
But when it came to Saint-Germain, one thing was certain:
More than his secrets, he loves his surprises.