Shadowed Legacy

Late that morning, Chantel strode briskly through the doors of her office suite. She was running late, and more than irritated with herself for the reason why. She had obeyed a dream. She was still shaking her head over that one even as her tender cunt smarted from the waxing it had been subjected to.

Her secretary was already there, waiting patiently in the outer office that had been assigned to Chantel.

“Morning, Mary.” Chantel hoped the other woman missed the dark shadows that lurked beneath the makeup she wore.

“Morning, Miss Ducaine.” The secretary’s soft voice was an indication that she hadn’t. “Another rough night?”

There was compassion and a hint of worry in Mary’s voice as Chantel poured her coffee, then added the required sugar and cream.

Chantel glanced over at her, seeing the worry that lined the middle-aged woman’s face.

“A rough week.” Chantel shrugged then. “Anything I need to know before I begin my report on the Axelrod assignment?”

“Nothing so far,” Mary assured her. “Everything’s covered for the moment, but you know how it is…”

Mary’s voice trailed off. They were all very well aware of how quickly trouble could flare, and how imperative it would be to get there fast. Blackthorne didn’t work on a schedule. If it did, perhaps it would be easier to stop.

“Has Father arrived yet?” Chantel asked as she stirred her coffee absently. “He left a message last night that he had something for me.”

“His secretary hasn’t called.” Mary shrugged as Chantel turned to her once again. “If he had anything, she would have brought it in. I’ve been here since seven myself, and I’ve not seen her.”

Chantel nodded, remembering the message left on her answering machine. Her father had sounded different, more detached than usual, as though relaying the message had been something he preferred not to do.

“I thought there was another assignment going out. Perhaps someone else caught it instead?” Chantel wondered why her father would leave a message at home, yet neglect to have the information ready for her when she came in. It wasn’t like him. Michael Ducaine was nothing if not efficient and exacting in his job.

“I haven’t heard of another assignment, Miss Ducaine.” Mary frowned. “Nothing has come in since early this week. Unusual, I admit, but I’m enjoying the quiet for a change.”

“Maybe he meant something else.” Chantel shook her head briefly, wishing she could shake away the foreboding filling her. She picked up her cup and returned to her job for the day. “Give me about half an hour, then get in touch with his secretary and see when I can get in to talk to him.” She dreaded it, but knew his anger if she didn’t find out why he had called.

“I’ll do that,” Mary promised. “Maybe his secretary was just waiting until you came in to give you the message,” she suggested.

Chantel nodded as she opened her door and went into her office. The call hadn’t been in code she knew, but he sounded distinctly odd. Another game, she thought to herself. He was good at playing them against her.

For as long as she could remember, her father’s resentment of her had marked her life. From her teenage nightmares, to her adult years and her work with the TCA, he had stood there, watching her, his resentment and calculated derision often weakening her resolve. She should have quit years ago, she knew, but something made her hold firm, made her continue within the company when she knew she would never measure up in strength and loyalty in her father’s eyes.

Chantel had never understood his anger at her, and she had never been given reason for it. You will know in time, her mother had once whispered sadly. You have a great destiny ahead of you, Chantel. Hold onto that, and know that when the time comes, you will have the answers you need.

She shook her head at the puzzles that made up her life, then set her coffee on her desk and shrugged out of the navy blue silk jacket that matched her skirt, laying it carefully over the back of the chair across from her desk.

She straightened the white silk blouse she wore, frowning as she realized it had worked its way loose from the waistband of her skirt. She hated skirts.

Then she slipped her shoes with their uncomfortable heels off her feet, and let the thick cushion of the carpet soothe her arches. She would prefer wearing jeans in to work, but her father forbade it. As the daughter of the director of the TCA, he insisted she would dress accordingly.

That done, she sat behind her desk, and reached for the steaming coffee as she flipped open the cover of a file laying in the middle of the highly polished oak.

Her hand halted within reach of the handle of the coffee cup, her eyes widened, shock rippled throughout her body. Her lips opened as she fought to draw in air, to control the emotions rippling through her body. Shock. Fear. Finally, it had been found.

Her fingers shook as she lifted the photograph from the top of the papers in the file. Remembered nightmares assaulted her. The mists of unformed knowledge gathered around her consciousness.

Lying on a bed of blue velvet, the crystal whispered to her, even from within the glossy paper. The perfect, round emerald was inset in the very middle, surrounded by an amethyst starburst, sapphire half-moon, and a ruby lightning bolt, set within a crystal so pure it appeared to be a diamond. Her neck ached to feel its weight, her heart thudded with remembrance.

The crystal was perhaps three inches across, roughly rounded, with the outer edge encased in silver. A rough length of decayed leather was woven through the silver casing.

Chantel fingered the thick silver chain she wore about her own neck. Her mother had given it to her a month before the car wreck that had taken her life. A month before Chantel’s life had changed forever. It would hold it perfectly. As though somehow her mother had known, had seen the need she would have for it.

The chain itself was old, an antique passed down from mother to daughter through the generations. The links were a heavy, comforting weight around her neck, and strong enough to hold the crystal that stared out at her from glossy paper.

She drew in a shaky breath, scanning the papers beneath the photograph. The first, titled The Legend of the Earth Crystal, made her heart nearly stop with excitement.

This was it, she thought. Here was the answer to the dreams, the nightmare images, and the crystal, which followed her through them all. In it, lay her destiny, and the power to save her from the evil that haunted her throughout the night.

Reading the ancient translated legend was like walking into one of the dark dreams that had followed her through the night. The remembered visions of a strange light, death, and an amazing crystal necklace stolen from her as she slept, and holding the secrets of life itself, haunted her.

Was this part of the assignment her father had spoken of?

“Mary!” Chantel didn’t bother with the intercom, but rushed to the door and threw it open. Mary rose quickly to her feet in surprise as Chantel faced her.

“Miss Ducaine? What’s wrong?”

Chantel fought to tamp down the exhilaration rushing through her body.

“There’s a file on my desk.” Chantel was breathing roughly, excitement and a small vestige of fear pumping through her veins. “Where did it come from?”

She knew she must look like a madwoman, but she couldn’t stop the desperation clawing through her bloodstream now. She had to have that crystal. It was hers, and the answers to the nightmares were tied to it.

“A file?” Mary shook her head, confusion filling her eyes. “There was no file there when I left the office last night, and I told you, I unlocked your door myself this morning.”

“There’s a file on my desk, Mary,” Chantel informed her, her tone abrupt. “I need to know how it got there.”

“Miss Ducaine, I don’t know.” Mary’s brown eyes were wide, her brows drawn together in a frown as her lips pursed tightly in annoyance. “Perhaps your father was here earlier and locked the door after he left. That’s the only explanation I have.”

Chantel tried to think quickly. Mary could be right. It would have been easy enough for her father to do that.

“Of course,” Chantel nodded, feeling dazed by the certainty that she had finally found the destiny she had been searching so long for. “That must have been the reason for the message.”

Chantel turned and slammed the door shut, then rushed back to her desk. She shoved the photograph aside, riffling through the papers until she came to the archaeologist’s report.

The first page was a description of the crystal, where it had been found, and his conclusion on its origins. Pure bull, she thought as she read his report. That legend was not just another lost legend without substance.

“The writings which were found with the crystal indicate it was fashioned by a great sorcerer who knew the ancient secrets of the earth. Though this particular sorcerer’s name is unknown to my colleagues and me, I cannot ascertain the validity of the sorcerer in question. It was given as a gift to the Lady of the Shadow Warrior, though we have no clue who they were. The crystal was made to protect her and the Shadow Warrior from great evil. The legend of the Shadow Warrior and the crystal make little sense though when compared to other legends of this time…” the archaeologist wrote.

She then turned to the next page and began the letter-styled legend, which had been found with the crystal. A legend of ancient Guardians and immortal Warriors trained to fight against an evil unnatural and destructive to the earth. A legend that came much too close to the dreams that had haunted her for years.

The last page was a letter dated two days before, which stated that the crystal had been stolen from the site before it could be secured. It was believed that the worker who had stolen it had been bribed, or in the service of Blackthorne.

The same man was seen entering the U.S. Embassy in that area, hiding among the refugees there who were awaiting transport out of the war-torn country.

Chantel allowed her lips to curve into a smile. So, Blackthorne was attempting to steal another ancient relic, she thought. She tapped her nails against her desk. Jonar, the leader of the organization, had been accumulating relics recently, his fascination with objects, supposedly of power, was rumored to be nearing an obsession.

Chantel knew arrangements were in the works to get the refugees out of the country by tomorrow evening. That gave her a very small window to work within. She had to get there and get into the Embassy herself, retrieve the crystal and be ready to run when the refugees were evacuated.

Her success rate against Blackthorne was unusually high, given the precise manner in which they worked. As a courier, she had never had any trouble retrieving the information she was sent after. It was as though the agents avoided her, or never really noticed her to begin with. It was confusing to her, and to the other agents, but whatever the problem, it had worked well for her. She was certain she could pull it off again.

This one may be a bit more complicated, she thought. Jonar, the head of the organization, would personally see to the retrieval of this relic. She wasn’t certain how she knew this, but the knowledge was there.

Chantel picked up her phone, and quickly dialed the number to one of her own contacts who kept a close watch on the comings and goings of the main Blackthorne estate.

“Versailles drop.” The suspicious female voice that answered the phone was one Chantel knew well.

“Kate, I need an arrival zone,” she said softly. “I may have a viper heading out. Do you have dates or times?”

“We have a confirmed preparation,” the voice replied. “Estimated arrival zone will be twelve hours. Highest level along with concerned parties.”

Which meant Jonar and his best men, Chantel realized.

“Confirmed.” She quickly disconnected the line and stared down at the papers before her.

Chantel thought hard. She could get there in eight hours, but it would leave little time to steal the gem back. She breathed in deeply, it could be done, and that was all that mattered.

Her finger pressed the intercom button.

“Yes, Miss Ducaine?” Mary answered carefully.

“I need you in here.” She disconnected the button and rose to her feet.

Before Mary had time to get into the office, she was jerking jeans and a cotton blouse from the office closet. As she spoke, she undressed and began changing clothes quickly.

“Did you find Father?” The silk blouse landed in a puddle at her feet as she jerked the light, cotton blouse on and began to button it quickly.

“He’s not due in today at all,” Mary answered noncommittally. It was extremely rare of Michael Ducaine not to show up at the office.

“Leave his secretary a message that I am headed for Montrovia on a retrieval. Father will know what it means.” Her skirt fell to the chair seat and then slithered slowly to the floor as Chantel jerked her jeans up her legs, tucked the blouse in and snapped the jeans quickly. “Then call Tad and tell him to have the plane ready. I have eight hours to get there and get in, and there’s no time to waste here.”

“You’re going to Montrovia?” her secretary gasped in disapproval.

“Just do it,” Chantel ordered her quickly as she sat down and pulled her socks on, and then began jerking her sneakers onto her feet. “And get it done now. I have to hurry or I’ll be too late.”

“This does not sound like a good idea, Miss Ducaine,” Mary said fatalistically. “Maybe you should talk to your father…”

Chantel paused for an instant, and stared at her secretary with momentary anger.

“I haven’t had to ask Father’s permission to do anything in years, Mary.” She clipped a holster that held her pistol at her waist. “I’m headed to the airport now, no stops between. Tell Tad he better have that damned plane ready, too.”

She wanted that crystal, she thought urgently as she headed from the office at a fast walk. It had been calling her for too many years, too much of herself was a part of it. It was hers.