Page 7 of Welcome to Bone Town

“I’m not an archeologist. Although, I do have a degree in anthropology.” And biology and forensics and chemistry. But I keep my mouth shut on all that. It tends to intimidate people. “I’m the technician. A forensics specialist. Gotta know if these bones are really as old as we think, or if this place is something to be more worried about.”

He stares off through theopen flap in the tent, a wrinkle creasing between his brows. “The locals call this place the Sands of Blood. Seems with a name like that there’s cause to be cautious no matter how old the bones are.”

“You’re superstitious?” He doesn’t look the type.

He shrugs.

“The name actually refers to the way the sand changes when it rains heavily. Not often in the desert, but it does happen,” I say. “If the ground is saturated enough, localized iron oxide deposits in the sedimentary rock cause streaks of deep red to appear in the sand where the rivulets of water run. Hence, you know, the whole Sands of Blood thing.” I wave my hands to emphasize the spooky nature of the moniker.

His lips quirk up in a lopsided smile. He doesn’t respond to my explanation, though. Instead, he holds out his hand. “Bear. Head of security. Medic, too. So, if you need anything, just let me know.”

“I’m Archer. Archer Hale.” I shake his hand, warm skin heating mine, holding just a second too long before pulling back. Our eyes catch for a brief moment, his a light sandy brown like the desert behind him. His hair and beard have the slightest hint of red to them, and it makes me feel like he belongs here, amid the desert sands and hot sun. “Bear is a unique name.”

He chuckles. “It’s a nickname, but it's what I’m used to.”

“And your full name is…” I trail off, leaving the sentence open-ended in hopes he’ll fill in the rest.

“Hmm. Like I said, you can call me Bear. Maybe one day I’ll tell you, if you’re good.” He sends me a wink thathas my blood stirring before continuing. “There are jackals out here at night, so be careful and stay close to the well-lit areas.” He strolls across the tent, pausing at the entrance to turn back. “It was nice to meet you, Arch.”

“You too,” I say, but the words come out soft and clipped. He’s gone before I’m sure if he heard me.

6

Offuckingcourse they have decent security on this dig. The plastic casing of the binoculars groans as I clench them tighter, squinting through the bright light of late afternoon. They look like ants down there in the valley, all scurrying around, setting up camp. Trucks moving shit tons of equipment. Specialists who’ve probably never touched a real artifact outside of a museum. They’re probably shitting themselves with excitement right now. This will be the shining moment of their entire lives. Maybe mine, too, if everything goes to plan.

No, digging around in dirt isn’t going to be the highlight of my life. This is going to be the low point that leads to the glory of the mountaintop. The struggle that’s going to set me up for good.

I’ve been searching original texts and pouring over maps for years trying to find the temple of Lunara and the wealth of treasure rumoured to be hidden there. This isthe closest I’ve ever come. Historians all claim it was around here and now they find bodies—human bodies—near a temple where they think hundreds of omegas once lived.

This is it. I can sense it.

The temple is somewhere under all this sand, and if I can get close enough, I can find it.

I’m good at this shit. My mom used to say I had a nose like a bloodhound. It’s how we all knew I was gonna be an alpha long before all the hormones hit. It was a given. But it’s not really a sense of smell that helps me locate things. It’s more than that. I get this itch in my fingers, this feeling like something good is close by, and if I follow that feeling, if I get close enough, all I have to do is grab it.

But getting close will be a challenge this time. It’s not a small dig, and now they’ve brought on a security detail. I zoom in with the binoculars and note the massive man leaving the biggest tent. I’m pretty sure he’s the head of security. He’s been giving orders to other brawny looking guys and going tent-to-tent all morning. Probably introducing himself. He seems the type to do that. Always smiling, but with a sharp look in his eyes that makes it clear he’s alert and ready for anything.

By the way he carries himself and the gear he’s wearing, I’d guess he’s ex-military. And an alpha. The other three circling the perimeter probably are, too.

Even if there wasn’t security, twice as many people have arrived on the dig site since yesterday. It’ll likely double again by tomorrow.

I groan and tuck my binoculars into my bag, rolling from my belly to my back in the sandy dirt. The sun issetting, painting the sky a vivid gold, like the treasures buried in that temple.

My fingers twitch anxiously. I’ve snuck into dig sites before, but they were always small, with only a few people. All I had to do was wait until they were asleep, sneak in, let those senses of mine do the work, dig up some ancient vase or some shit, and get out. Most of the time, I try to get ahead of the bureaucrats altogether and find things on my own. I walked the halls of Misophet’s tomb long before anyone else “discovered it.” Took all the good stuff, too.

But a score like Lunara’s temple… that would be something else.

This kind of job isn’t done overnight. What I need to figure out is if the temple is right here where they’ve set up, or close by, and for that, I’m gonna need information. The kind of information all those fancy machines they’ve been hauling in all day can give me.

I’ll just wait for nightfall. Then, I’ll strike.

7

Collapsing onto the cot in my tent causes a small dust cloud to puff up, as if no one has used it in decades even though it was likely set up today. At least no scents cling to it, so I might get a decent night’s sleep. Well, an okay night’s sleep. I’ve had a migraine since we landed, and this thing has seen better days. It isn’t exactly the soft mattress of my nest at home.

I’m not one of those omegas that needs plush things at all times to survive, but I’m still an omega. Groaning, my muscles protest as I lean forward to pull out the one fuzzy throw blanket I allowed myself to bring on this trip. It's been a long day of travel, people, sounds, and scents, so I bring the blanket up to my face and bury my nose for a deep inhale. It smells like home, and something in my chest loosens.

I should be exhausted, and my body sure is, but my mind is just too excited to be here and get started. Thereisn’t anything to do until tomorrow, though. Glancing around, I take in the tent’s interior.

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