Claire Delacroix Read Online Free Page A

crescent carved in relief, almost like the curve of a sundial, points down, its interior writhing with Celtic knots.
    On closer inspection, the knots were made of fantastic animals, all twined around each other. The imagery reminded Baird of the illuminations in the Book of Kells.
    A bent arrow made a V across the crescent, its crook at the lower center of the crescent, its head pointing to the top right corner, its fleche to the top left.
    Below this was a backwards Z, about a foot high, which seemed to have flames erupting from either end. On either side of this character were two disks, again filled with knots made of entwined creatures. A snake writhed around the perimeter of these elements, its body an intricate braid, the end of its tail in its own mouth.
    The lower half of the stone was graced with the image of a woman in repose. Though her features were not clearly etched, it was obvious that she was a beauty. She looked to be sleeping, her hands folded across her chest and garments pooling about her slender form.
    “Whoa!” Julian breathed. “It would be good to move that somewhere more visible in the resort.”
    Baird bent and ran his fingertips over the row of crosshatched lines that ran up the right side. “It must be an inscription,” he mused, recognizing runic letters and wondering what they said.
    Julian showed no interest in such mysteries. He shivered and shrugged, throwing Baird a smile as he shoved his hands into his raincoat pockets. “Definitely worth a visit. Now, let’s get a brandy.”
    “Not until we see what’s behind it.” Baird pushed on the slab, but it did not give in the least.
    “Behind it? It’s just a frieze, Baird.”
    “No, it’s a door.”
    “A door? Come on, where could it go? It’s just a wall mural or something, maybe some kind of pagan altar.” He shuddered elaborately and looked around himself as though expecting hostile pagans to spring from the shadows. “Do you think they slaughtered things here?” he demanded in a horrified whisper.
    “It’s a door,” Baird repeated. He was oddly convinced of his conclusion, though he refused to think further about that. “Now, are you going to help?”
    Julian winced. “It doesn’t even look like a door to me. I mean, where’s the knob? How do you open it?”
    “It’s a door. Trust me. We’re just going to have to figure out how it opens.” Baird set his lips grimly, resolving that he would not leave before seeing what was behind this door. “Then, you can have your brandy.”
    Baird turned back to the carved stone, scanning its width and breadth. There had to be a lever or a hinge somewhere, likely hidden away if something precious was hidden behind the door.
    And Baird knew in his heart that there was.
    Julian cleared his throat, an annoying habit that usually indicated he was going to be particularly lawyer-like. “If it is a door - and I’m not in the least bit sure that it is, mind you - there is some question as to whether there might be historic artifacts within. As your legal counsel, I would strongly suggest we summon authorities of antiquities to be present - “
    “Forget it, Julian,” Baird interjected crisply. “We crossed every t and dotted every i acquiring this place. I’ve had it up to the eyeballs with paperwork.”
    Julian inhaled sharply, but Baird tossed his friend a wry grin. “Come on, what can it hurt to look? You know me better than to worry about the fate of anything we find here.”
    “You are painfully scrupulous, much to my ongoing disappointment,” Julian acknowledged with a rueful smile.
    “So, how can we open this? Any ideas?”
    But Julian was not prepared to abandon his argument so easily. “Baird, we could get someone down from PR, you know, and manage this opening as an event...”
    “No!” Baird was surprised by his own vehemence. “Forget PR!”
    “We never forget PR.”
    “This time we will.” Unable to explain his need to do this alone, Baird turned back to