Shadow Cave Read online

  “You assume correctly.” I leaned back and folded my arms across my still damp chest. “I’m not giving it to you.”

  “Of course you aren’t,” he muttered. “But lucky for you I’m not asking for the key to the code.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  “I want you to find your brother.”

  Chapter Two

  Decisions

  Three days passed before I looked at the box again. I guess I thought that if I ignored it, it would simply go away. Note to self: that never works. I had been trying to perfect that technique for years without success. Most of my reaction those first few days was shock... shock and a sickening numbness in the pit of my stomach, like when you just know that the worst is yet to come.

  Maybe I didn’t yet have anything concrete on which to base that feeling of dread, although to my way of thinking the proof was probably already there. The wonderful mix of having to deal with my sisters creep of an ex-husband (I swear I’ll never know what she saw in that man), an alternate universe (what a joke), and a brother who had apparently vanished into thin air was not an appealing combination. The way I saw it, dread was probably the best possible outcome.

  I could still hear John’s unspoken command from the impromptu meeting of the previous week—find your brother and bring him to me. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said ‘bring him to me.’ The implication was there. There was still the matter of an undisclosed amount of cash that my brother presumably owed. I sighed and rubbed my temples. I wasn’t sure if I could find Mike, but if I did I hoped to God he had a wad of cash on him.

  I had a hard time picturing John as a hit man, but I did know that he was a shrewd businessman who apparently felt he owed very little to ethics. The fact that I knew John would never get his hands dirty did not ease my mind one bit. Just because John Hanlen felt that such things as battery and murder were beneath him did not make him opposed to the idea altogether. Of that I was certain.

  It had also occurred to me that nine tenths of what John had told me was a complete lie. I didn’t know all of the details about the money that Mike had been given, only that it was cash and there had been a lot of it. There was an obvious connection between my brother, Lantech, and John. I was still very reluctant to believe that Mike had intended to rob some secret archaeological site using a map he found in central Africa five years ago. The very idea was not only convoluted but ridiculous. Bottom line, I couldn’t afford to believe a word that John said. And this, I thought with a bitter smile, was a truth that my entire family had known for quite some time.

  I crossed my legs and took a long drink from the bottle of beer that sat on the carpet next to me in the den. I frowned and sat the beer on the fireplace ledge in front of me. Even though it was just now early fall, Seattle wasn’t the warmest place in the world to live. Not that I was particularly cold; the fire was more for ambiance than any real need for warmth. The fire was also not the best thing to have next to a flammable box of even more flammable notebooks...especially when they were possibly one of the only remaining links to my brother.

  No. I wouldn’t go there. Mike was alright. He had to be. But burning his notes was still not a smart idea. I scooted back some and picked up the first book. At least I hoped it was the first book. A quick peek inside told me that, bless him, he had numbered the pages.

  My bare fingernails drummed on the thin paper. The first step would be to translate his notes, in English—I snickered—onto separate books. Not that I required any special keys to read the notes, but there was a lot of material there. I remembered what John had said about alternate realms, and prayed for that information to make sense.

  It took several hours to copy the pages onto a new notebook. I stood up and stretched my aching muscles, reaching far behind my back. The good thing was that it had been fairly easy work. The bad thing was that I was translating what appeared to be a children’s fairy tale gone wrong. And my hand was cramping. Come to think of it, so was my butt. To top it off, I was out of notebooks.

  I thought it might be a good idea to pick up some fresh pens, too. It was only seven in the evening, and although it was already dark outside, the weather was clear and cool; there was still plenty of time to get through another book that night. I glanced down at the pile by my bare feet and groaned. Only eight more books to go, which meant I was definitely going to the store.

  By midnight I was gritty eyed and wondering what was holding my hand onto my body. I never wanted to see another godforsaken notebook again. But finally, after book number three, the fairy tale was over. I hoped that the next book would give me a better idea of just what the hell Mike had been thinking. Plus, I still couldn’t figure out why he would have gotten himself involved with John in the first place. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to know. As far as John was concerned, I wanted nothing more than to give two weeks’ notice at Lantech and never deal with the slug again—perhaps forget that our little ‘meeting of sorts’ had ever taken place.

  Mike would come back and we would have a good laugh over all of this. Only it wasn’t all that funny. It wasn’t a big joke that John had known too much, had even had my brother’s personal belongings stolen from his apartment. I didn’t give a shit about John, or money, or buried treasure. But I would find my brother. I cringed as I looked at the three notebooks I had finished translating. In order to do that it looked like I would have to make a trip to crazy town. As entertaining as the little story was turning out to be it was nothing short of bizarre. I sat back and glanced through it one more time, summarizing the material as best I could.

  “A peaceful utopia, blah, blah, blah. War torn history, a princess lies in wait.” I checked dates again. “And what a long wait. Let’s see, that would make Princess 500 years old. Nuts for you, lady. Okay, where was I? Ah, yes, war torn lands…blood, guts, revolts. The people of the land are under the cover of darkness, and in a constant and terrible danger. There are few safe havens left throughout the lands. It is a mystical land of ice and snow, rich jungles and seascapes. Strange and wonderful things are possible there. It is a land that knows no true passage of time. The darkness threatens to overtake all in its path. He cannot be stopped.”

  “Doing a little light reading, Claire?”

  If it were possible to actually jump out of one’s own skin, I think I would have done it. As it was, I jumped and whirled around, dropping my notes.

  “Megan! Yes, light reading.”

  “Uh-huh. Nice little story there. I thought you would be asleep by now.”

  “I should be. This is just so good I couldn’t put it down.”

  Megan nodded. “I know it’s late, but my new washer and dryer aren’t being delivered for another two days. I let myself in hoping I could do a load here?”

  “Of course you can. You need soap?”

  “Nope, got it, but thanks. How’s life, little sister?”

  I shrugged. Crazy, I thought. “It’s fine.” I said. “I’m thinking about becoming a cocktail waitress.”

  Megan laughed as she stuffed her clothes into the machine, measured out a capful of soap, and quickly set the dials.

  “Don’t laugh, I’m serious.” I regarded her as I leaned against the counter. “Are you hungry?”

  “I could go for a snack. Whatcha’ got?”

  I pulled open the refrigerator door and peered inside cautiously. “Nothing that’s any good by now.” I started rummaging through a deep kitchen drawer.

  “Chips?”

  I came up with a large bag of chips. “Chips.”

  Megan grinned and we commenced with the ripping open of the bag. “So, about this waitressing gig.”

  “Well, I’m still working out the details. How bad do you think Mom and Dad would hurt me?” I laughed.

  “Pretty bad.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled. It would almost be worth it to see the looks on their faces, I thought wistfully. As far as I was concerned, you were never too old to give your parents a hard
time. We had been too easy on them anyways. Well, most of the time. Megan definitely had been too easy on them. I couldn’t remember the last time Megan had gotten in trouble. Although, I mused, it’s probably too late now. Megan had turned thirty-two six months ago. I, however, was only twenty-nine. There was still plenty of time for me. Wasn’t there? I shook my head, smiling across the counter at Megan.

  “Why are we still in Seattle, Megs?”

  She looked at me like I had grown a second head. “We grew up here? I don’t know. What’s wrong with Seattle? You and Mike have jobs here; I have my design business; Mom and Dad live here.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” I sighed.

  “What’s wrong, Claire?” She set a chip down and eyed me as she drank her soda.

  “Just feeling restless, I guess. Bored? Ready for a change? I don’t even know. This too shall pass?” Like my life, I thought, in slow and regular intervals. Except for this week; it made me feel like a heel for even thinking of complaining over the ordinary.

  “I’m thinking about switching jobs. Different focus, maybe. Being in a basement all the time must be getting to me. The deprivation of natural light and all.” I smiled and scooted another chip towards my sister.

  “Huh. Must be. Well, go for it, Claire. I mean it. I’m behind you 100%, whatever you want to do. You could even come to work with me for a while, if you want.”

  I laughed now. “Not a chance. Get that out of your pretty head right now.”

  “So what’s your book about?”

  “My book?”

  “The happy little bit you were reading when I came in?”

  I tensed but forced myself to shrug and look nonchalant. “Nothing really, just some old ghost stories I found in the attic. Looks like that and someone’s old journals.” I actually was still cleaning out the attic space from the previous owners, an elderly couple who I hoped had found Tampa to their liking. Did I mention I procrastinate from time to time?

  Megan leaned forward. “Ooh, sounds good. Any torrid love affairs?”

  “Nope.”

  “Love triangles?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Weird fetishes?”

  I shuddered. “God, I hope not.”

  She sat back then, deflated. I didn’t know why I didn’t tell her the truth...I didn’t want to mention John’s part in all this, for one thing. I mean, I refrained from slugging him, but I wasn’t sure that she would be able to. Megan was one of those people who took care of her own. She could take quite a bit of insult and injury in her own life, but mess with her family and you were toast. I also took care of my own, and so far I was staring at a nightmarish fantasy world, embezzlement, and disappearances. Danger, I admitted. I didn’t want Megan involved—I didn’t even want her to worry. She’d had her share of worry for, oh, the next ten years, I figured.

  Besides, I wasn’t even sure I could explain the mess in which I presently found myself. I really needed to find Mike first. Until then I figured it was best I kept quiet. In order to find my brother, I would have to figure out where he had gone. That meant figuring out what he was working on before he disappeared. John said he would call in one week, after I’d had time to go through Mike’s notes. Now there was a call I was looking forward to. I entertained brief fantasies about flushing my telephone down the toilet.

  “What’s so funny, Claire?”

  “Um…nothing; I was just thinking. Listen, Meg, you remember that summer a while back, when I was twelve?”

  “Mikey had just turned ten. Yeah, talk about a while back.” She smiled and a dreamy look came into her eyes. “That was the summer I was—officially—allowed to date. I seem to remember a Cadillac and a brown-eyed boy. “

  “Adam Jones,” I supplied helpfully.

  “He was my first serious boyfriend.” She grinned like a fool. “You know, I wonder what he’s been up to.”

  I shook my head, smiling warmly at her. “We had a lot of good times, Megs.”

  “We did, didn’t we? As I recall, you and Mikey were almost grounded for life after that summer.” She winked at me.

  “Grounded? Oh yes—Mom wasn’t too happy about our little end of summer hurrah, was she?” I chuckled. “She always worried about us so much—snakes in the woods, poison ivy, and what was it? Wild bears? Runaway bears?”

  “Well, telling her you guys were going on a two day hiking-camping trip would have been a good start.”

  “Oh my God.” I choked on my drink. “That’s right, we didn’t tell her. How could I have forgotten that?” I murmured. My thoughts strayed to Mike’s notes again, to what he’d written at the end of the first book, about me and Indian summers. I remembered our hike through the woods that day, so long ago, yet so clear now that Megan and I were talking about it.

  “He was always looking for the next adventure. I guess I was too, at that age,” I mused. “I remember we walked for what seemed like forever that day. We ended up climbing this big, sturdy old tree. We shared a candy bar and a bottle of warm soda that we had smuggled into our backpacks the night before. Said we were on this great adventure; we were on our way to slay a horrible dragon.” I laughed. “We were going to a castle high on a hill to slay the dragon, of course. Only our dragon wasn’t green and he didn’t breathe fire. He was this were-dragon who spit poison. One hit and bam, you died. But the were-dragon could shape shift and look like anyone most of the time to trick his unsuspecting victims.”

  “God, you guys had imaginations.” Megan shook her head.

  “Yes. What imaginations,” I murmured.

  ***

  I spent the next three days poring over Mike’s notebooks. I have to say not much of it made sense. For the most part, I stood by my earlier assessment that Mike had apparently developed a fondness for fairy tales. The notebooks were a very detailed story about a…a what? A made up land? The land was under the rule of—what else—an evil force of some sort. Neither Mike’s research nor the pages and pages about the legend mentioned anything about princesses or good triumphing evil. For that I was immensely grateful. The whole thing sounded hokey enough. I closed the last book and sat back, propping one foot on the windowsill and enjoying the view. I would have twirled the pen around my hands, but my fingers were so badly cramped I didn’t think that I would so much as hold a pen again anytime soon.

  So the suit brigade thought that Mike time travelled to this mythological land. Right. Try as I might, I still couldn’t wrap my head around that theory. That was probably because, well—it was crazy. Part of me kept expecting my brother to pop out of a closet, yell ‘surprise,’ and tell me this was all a big prank. Mike loved pranks and jokes more than most people I knew. There were only two things wrong with that idea. John wasn’t funny, and no one would go to this much trouble for a laugh.

  I glanced down at the box of notebooks in the corner of the sitting room and shook my head, resigned. No, an entire box of notes written in code was not a joke. Whatever was going on and wherever Mike had taken off to was serious enough to him. So I would take it seriously as well. I couldn’t afford to forget, though, that my number one priority was tracking down Mike. Not for a second did I believe that he time travelled his way to far and distant lands. No, there had to be a more logical explanation that that...there just had to be. Actually, I wasn’t sure if time travelled was even the right track. His notes hadn’t mentioned anything about that. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned anything at all about going to the land he described or about how one would even begin to go about that. I could see his desire and his curiosity, though.

  I shook my head again, frowning as I sat back and tried to think about things that were more solid than alternate universes. I thought back once more to the last night I had seen my brother. His visit had been short and tense. No, I corrected, not so much tense as scared. Mike had looked scared. I realized that for what it was now, although I didn’t think much of it at the time. He was cryptic, I recalled; said he was leaving on an expedition for an extended p
eriod of time; gave me the spare key to his apartment; looked over his shoulder again; smiled, and left. The key.

  Actually, it was several keys on a thin silver ring. I dashed into my bedroom and yanked the drawer open to grab them. I wondered what the other keys were. I knew the largest medium sized key on the ring was to his apartment, but I never asked him what the other two were for. Under more ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t have thought that detail was important. Now, however, I was beginning to realize that every bit of information counted. It all pointed to something. Like a trail of breadcrumbs through a forest, Mike had left clues for me to follow. I checked the clock on the nightstand. It was eleven o’clock at night. What the heck, I shrugged and grabbed my keys and jacket.

  ***

  “The plot thickens.” I announced to no one in particular an hour later. I had to leap over several piles of laundry to get to the light switch in the apartment. I blinked at the bright light and surveyed the place in shock. It was a mess. Everywhere I looked there were piles of papers, newspapers, clothing, and various odds and ends. Dishes were piled in the sink. I shook my head, trying not to think about how long they must have been sitting there. Months. Gross. The condition of the apartment would make my search all the more difficult.

  Yet a couple of things occurred to me just then. The first was that Mike was not a messy person. The second was that the apartment didn’t stink—not even a faint unpleasant odor lingered in the air. I walked over to the kitchen sink and carefully lifted a plate between two fingers for inspection. Clean. I dug deeper to find that the rest of the dishes piled in the chrome sink were also clean.

  I picked up a shirt from the nearest laundry pile and sniffed, dropping it back down with smug satisfaction. So someone had gotten to the place before me. I had to admit whoever scoured the place did a fairly good job of covering their tracks. To the casual onlooker, it would look as if Mike was simply a lousy housekeeper, the typical bachelor. At first glance it didn’t appear that the place had really been ransacked.