Yearning, page 14
Not to mention humble. Samantha forced herself not to
smirk. “Do you remember Camilla Wells—her last name is
Tennen now? She used to live at Brynden 4.” Samantha
studied the quick surprise that flickered over Philber’s stark
features.
“I do. Has she returned?” Sounding noncommittal, almost
too much so, Philber washed his hands and wiped them on a
terry-cloth towel that hung over the backrest of a kitchen
chair. As if the chair in front of him reminded him of his lack
of manners, he pulled it out for Samantha. “Take a load off.”
Not very cordial wording on his part, but Samantha sat
down. “Thank you. And yes, she has,” she said, answering
his question. “She is back with her assistant and her
granddaughter, Darian, and all three are part of this group.
The others are Carl Hoskins, a local student, and Chief
Walker.”
Sitting down across from her, Philber appeared to have
lost most of his disdain and cynicism. “Camilla. She was a
bit older than Geoff Walker and me, but everyone adored
her. I thought she might be among the few who never got
the yearning.”
“Oh, she did. And so did her granddaughter, even though
she’s never set foot here.”
“What about her children?” Philber folded his large hands
on the table.
“Her son and daughter-in-law were killed in a car
accident when Darian was very young.” Samantha
wondered what amazing power Camilla still had over these
men who used to know her. Then again, as she was getting
to know the charismatic woman, Samantha acknowledged
that she had already joined the ranks of admirers.
“Who is Carl Hoskins? Does he belong to the Hoskins in
the townhouses?” Philber made a face when he asked the
question, but Samantha guessed it had more to do with the
less-than-fantastic architecture of said townhouses than the
Hoskins family.
“Yes, that’s him. He’s a senior in high school. Brilliant
boy.”
“And Camilla’s granddaughter. What does she do?”
“She’s on a leave of absence. Detective at the LAPD.”
Philber looked surprised. “An investigative mind. Can be
useful.”
“And Brandon, who is Camilla’s assistant, is certainly no
fool either.” Samantha leaned forward, placing her arms on
the table. “Philber, we found an old journal in Camilla’s
private library. It dates back to the late 1700s and contains
symbols we have only begun trying to decipher.”
It was educational, to say the least, to watch the
transformation of Philber’s expression as it changed from
cynicism to mild interest, and now, as if being lit from
within, utter surprise.
“A private journal found at Brynden 4?” He clenched his
hands.
“Yes. I know you’ve worked your way through a lot of
documents and objects kept in the archives, but this is
something that has sat on that shelf for God knows how
long. I found it by chance when I was skimming the spines
of the books, as Camilla wanted me to catalogue them.”
Samantha spoke of how they had read through a few pages
that first evening. “At the same time, we found an, well, an
anomaly, in the basement. A smooth piece of rock that looks
as if made by modern-day machines. And it emanates heat.
Geoff has the same in his basement…what?”
“Does it glow?” Philber asked quietly.
Samantha stared. “Yes,” she whispered. “A warm, yellow-
tinted glow. We haven’t freed all of it at Camilla’s because
we keep finding new things, and it’s hard to know which to
focus on first. Are you saying you’ve seen it before?”
“Yes. In my own basement. We can go down later, and I’ll
show you, if you like.” Philber wiped his forehead. “You said
there’s more?”
“Maps showing a tunnel stretching from the lake toward
Town Hall. At least we think it’s a tunnel. And…in the oldest,
locked part of the archive, very high-tech-looking artifacts
that you have to see in action to believe.”
Philber coughed. “Excuse me? In action?”
“Yes.” Samantha smiled, starting to feel how tired she
was. “Do you want to be part of—”
“Yes, yes. Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do. With the
exception of you, I doubt any of the others know how to
catalogue information in a way that scientific deductions
can be made in a safe and methodical way.”
“Thank you. I’ll call you when we’re getting together. We
had an idea about how to divide the assignments among us,
but we’re open to suggestions.” Samantha stood. “Can we
take a look at your basement, and then I’ll be on my way.
It’s been a long day.”
“Yes, you do look tired,” Philber said, sounding matter-of-
fact. “This way.” He showed her to the stairs leading down
to the basement, and when Samantha stepped up to the old
furnace, which looked identical to Camilla’s and Walker’s,
she saw the smooth, nearly glass-like surface. “May I?” She
motioned to the wall.
“By all means.”
Samantha pressed both hands against it. Smooth and
warm. Check. Humming faintly. Check.
“Notice the faint vibrations?” Philber asked from behind
her.
“I do.” She looked back at him. “What’s on the other
side?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Philber, eager now, waved
for her to join him.
As they rounded the rock wall, she saw he had no
wooden shelves or covering on the other side. If something
had been there at one point, Philber had removed it.
Samantha walked past him and stepped closer to the wall.
“Oh, my God.” She couldn’t believe her eyes. There was
indeed a warm, yellow glow, but it was so much more than
that. The glow wasn’t as faint as in Camilla’s basement,
since it was in plain view here. The yellow-toned glow
originated from distinctive lines in intricate patterns, looking
like a huge circuit board.
“I doubt any deities are at work here, but when I found
this, five years and four months ago, I too wondered.”
Philber stepped closer to Samantha. “Especially when I
noticed these.” He ran his finger along the glowing lines.
Samantha followed it, entirely mesmerized when she saw
how the movement created different nuances of the yellow
on different parts of the wall.
“What can make it do that?” she whispered. “Are you
sure it’s safe to play with it like that?”
“I’ve done it a lot, and I’m still alive,” Philber said lightly.
“Do any of your artifacts match this?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Samantha nodded, feeling dazed.
Philber patted her gently on the back. “Relax and take a
deep breath. You can relax now. I’m definitely in.”
* * *
Darian was climbing into bed after spending time with
Camilla and Brandon in the kitchen, updating them on what
she and Samantha had been up to. Having placed the bag
with the five scroll boxes in one of the cabinets in Camilla’s
library that boasted a sturdy lock, she now placed the key
under her pillow. It felt like something out of a ridiculous
adventure novel and entirely astute at the same time.
After half an hour of tossing and turning, Darian realized
sleep was not going to happen yet. Too many images of
what she’d experienced in the old archive with Samantha
played out on the inside of her eyelids. The symbols, some
vividly clear, others still eluding her, had made her head
hurt. Would that get even worse if and when they tried the
damn things on their heads? Either way, Darian was relieved
that she was the custodian of the ovals since she could
picture Samantha putting them on while alone, for research
reasons.
Her cell phone buzzed on the nightstand, and Darian sat
up in the old four-poster bed and tapped the screen.
A text from Samantha made Darian’s heart pick up
speed.
Are you awake? Know it’s late.
Darian pushed the pillows up and tugged the duvet
closer.
Awake. Can’t sleep. Too much to think about.
I know. Same here. Can I call?
Darian wasn’t sure why her cheeks suddenly warmed,
but she simply dialed Samantha’s cell instead of typing
back.
“Well, that answers that,” Samantha said huskily. “Glad I
caught you before you did fall asleep. I promise I won’t keep
you very long.”
Ah. What a shame. “I’m glad too. That you texted. And
called. Or I called.” Oh, shut up, Darian told herself. Just stop
rambling.
“Are you all right? You sound exhausted.” Samantha must
have been speaking closer to the phone, as she sounded
louder.
Darian closed her eyes. “I am. I have a bit of a headache.
Think it can be the ovals?”
“I do too, so yes, perhaps. In my case, it could be from
inhaling a fair amount of flour.”
Darian snapped her eyes open. “Excuse me? Flour?”
“Philber was baking cinnamon rolls as if he were
disarming a nuclear device. Lots of flour.”
Chuckling, Darian pictured the elegant Samantha trying
to avoid getting flour all over her suit. “Is this guy on board
with what we’re doing?”
“I have to say, at first, he was his usual arrogant self,
clearly not thinking much of any of us. He’s sometimes quite
full of himself, but he can also be most generous and kind.
Don’t tell him I said so though. I have no doubt he’s taking
those cinnamon rolls to the nursing home where his wife
spent the last years of her life.” Samantha’s voice grew
throatier, and she cleared it gently. “Anyway, he got very
interested when I mentioned some of what we’ve found so
far. He’s agreed to join us tomorrow after I get off work. He,
like Walker, remembers Camilla fondly.”
“Of course, he does.” Snorting, Darian knew there were
few people who weren’t ready to walk on water for her
grandmother, not that Camilla would ever ask that of
anyone. “I’m going to work on exposing more of the rock in
the basement.”
“I was getting to that. Philber lives in a similar house to
yours. He knew about the rock, and his is exposed,”
Samantha said, sounding more energetic. “The glow is from
these lines, or whatever you want to call them, and they
change when you touch them. It was the oddest thing.
Actually, the lines looked like the inside of the lid of the
boxes. Like a strange sort of circuit board, remember?”
“Really?” Darian sat up straight. “If it wouldn’t wake up
Gran, I’d go down now and use a damn ax on those boards
covering ours. I want to see that.”
“You need your rest, Darian. I’m very psyched about all
this, but I know I have to rest, or I’ll run myself into the
ground. I tend to do that if I don’t watch myself.”
Darian grimaced. “Yeah, me too. My lieutenant has had
to send me home when I’ve been staying too long, too many
days in a row.”
“In other words, we’re both A-type personalities.”
Samantha sighed. “Can we make a pact to look out for each
other, so we don’t make ourselves ill? I don’t have a boss
per se to tell me to go home at the library.”
“All right. I’m game,” Darian said readily.
“Speaking of tired. How’s Camilla doing?”
“Gran’s been exploring the maps more today, which
means that Brandon and Carl are good to go. She also
worked some on the journal, going through it and finding
names, she said. She’s planning to brief us tomorrow.”
“That sounds exciting. I’m hoping it’ll shed some light on
some discrepancies I found when helping people look for
their family tree.”
“I know these things we’ve stumbled upon seem random,
but I have a strong feeling they’re connected. Even the lake
lights.” Darian moved her pillows until she could curl up on
her side and pull the duvet closer around her.
“Agreed. Not sure where the lake lights fit in, but perhaps
we’ll find some information about that when we decipher
the part of the journal that’s not in English.” Samantha
yawned. “I’m sorry. Long day.”
“Yes.” Hesitating, Darian wanted to say something to
Samantha that didn’t have to do with their curious finds. “I
like working on this with you, though.” Did that sound as
lame as it felt?
“I enjoy your company too.”
“Good. I know you must have considered me a pesky
brute for running right into you that first day.” Darian
sighed.
“I did nothing of the sort. Just an accident—and as it
turned out, one that led to all this. I haven’t felt this
engaged and alive in ages,” Samantha said quietly. “Getting
to know you. And Camilla and Brandon too, of course.” She
cleared her throat again. “I don’t mean to sound
presumptuous, but I honestly feel like you and I are at the
apex of all this. So, that run-in was a lucky one.”
Darian was tongue-tied long enough for Samantha to ask
if she was still there.
“I’m here.” Pressing her hand against her stomach,
Darian wasn’t sure what to say. “That means a lot. To hear
you say that. I feel the exact same way.”
It was Samantha’s turn to go quiet. Darian waited as
patiently as it was possible for her eager nature.
“Good. Excellent.” A new warmth permeated Samantha’s
voice. “With that, I think I can relax and try for some sleep.
I’ll see you after work then. I’ll call Carl and have him take
his bike over to your house at that time, if that’s all right.”
“It is. What about the doctor?”
“He’s next on my list.”
Darian wished it wasn’t up to just Samantha to bring
people together, but she was the one who knew everybody.
She thought fast. “Walker will be here too, remember, as he
and Gran are going out to dinner. They’ll be here a bit later
though, but we’ll fill them in.”
“Perfect.”
“Good night, then.” Darian stifled a yawn.
“Good night.”
Putting the cell back, this time remembering to charge it,
Darian pulled a pillow into her arms and let the soft
mattress engulf her. It had been special to listen to
Samantha’s voice as the last thing she did before nodding
off. Perhaps a little too exciting to be soothing, but oddly
calming just the same.
Closing her eyes, Darian could easily picture Samantha’s
green eyes, shadowed by long, mascara-enhanced lashes.
Her eyebrows formed perfect arches above those beautiful
eyes, and when Samantha raised them while questioning
something, Darian wanted to pull out her cell phone and
snap a picture. Framing Samantha’s oval face, that rich,
strawberry-blond hair offset her eyes even more. And her
lips…curvy and full…were to die for.
Reeling herself, and her heated thoughts, in, Darian told
herself that becoming friends was the best she could hope
for. Sure, at moments they got stuck in each other’s gaze,
for a second or two, but when it came to Samantha,
Darian’s gaydar seemed to malfunction. Meh. Who was she
kidding? Back in LA, once she grew tired of one-night
stands, partying, and short, combustible relationships, she
hadn’t used her gaydar at all. Now, when she needed it, she
was afraid to plug it back in.
It was kind of weak to think this way, but as long as she
didn’t know for sure what Samantha’s sexual orientation
was, she could harbor a tiny hope. Darian flinched. Hope for
what, exactly? Recoiling, she shoved the pillow away and
rolled onto her stomach. Sleep, that’s what she needed. Not
the slippery slope down the road of wishful thinking.
CHAPTER NINE
Doctor Raoul Viera looked mystified but gave Darian an
easygoing smile where he stood in Camilla’s hallway as part
of their newly formed team. A tall, gangly man in his late
twenties, he boasted short, dark-brown hair. Clean shaved,
his olive-tinted skin looked flawless, and Darian decided that
his long, black eyelashes would make a lot of women
jealous.
“Hi, I’m Darian,” she said and extended her hand. “So
