Page 89 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
"Concrete and steel shouldn't groan." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his clothes. "I should check on things."
"Check on what? And how? You can't just go wandering the halls in the middle of the night. The guards?—"
"Won't stop me from checking on the servants," he said, pulling on his pants.
She knew she should stop him, but he seemed so determined that she knew it would be a losing battle.
"Be careful," she said instead.
He leaned over to kiss her, just a quick press of lips. "I'm always careful. Try to get back to sleep. I'll be back soon."
She listened to him while he finished dressing and then the soft pad of his feet on the carpet. The door opened and closed withbarely a sound. Then she was alone with the oppressive humidity and a growing sense that something was not right.
Sleep seemed impossible, and Tamira lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling and trying to convince herself that her unease was just the aftermath of the earthquake. The island experienced them regularly. The structure had weathered dozens, perhaps hundreds over the years. This was no different.
But her body, ancient and finely tuned to danger after millennia of survival, knew better.
The clock on her bedside table ticked on, marking time and indifferent to her fears. It was three-thirty now. The deepest part of the night, when the walls between the possible and impossible grew thin. When shamans claimed the veil between worlds could be pierced.
Where was Elias? Checking on the servants, as he'd claimed? Or looking for a way to escape? After a week of nights in her bed, she still knew so little about him. The mystery that had initially attracted her now felt like a barrier between them, one that grew higher with each deflection, each half-truth, each careful omission.
Another sound drifted through the walls, so faint she might have imagined it. A sound like running water where there should be none. She sat up again, straining to hear, but it faded before she could identify its source.
The humidity was oppressive by that point, definitely not normal even for monsoon season. The climate control systems, which had functioned flawlessly for decades, were struggling against something beyond their parameters.
She thought of the lowest level, where all those mechanical systems hummed away in the darkness. The pumps and generators, and complex networks of pipes and wires that kept their underground world habitable. What would happen if they failed? How long could they survive without climate control, without fresh air circulation, without the dozens of invisible systems they took for granted?
Stop catastrophizing.
It was just a storm system affecting the equipment. It had happened before, though not recently. The maintenance crew would sort it out, as they always did. By morning, everything would be back to normal.
But what if it wasn't?
The thought wormed its way into her mind and wouldn't let go. What if this was different? What if the tremors had damaged something critical? What if?—
The door opened so quietly she almost missed it. Elias slipped back inside, moving with that uncanny silence he possessed.
"What did you find?" she asked.
He came to sit on the bed beside her, and she could feel the tension radiating from him. "Everything seems to be under control, but some of the servants have woken up and they are worried. Also, the humidity is worse in the stairwells. Much worse. Like walking through fog. The dehumidifier must have malfunctioned." He took her hand, his fingers cool against her heated skin. "Something's wrong, Tamira. I can feel it."
"What exactly do you feel?"
"I don't know. But let's be ready to leave on a moment's notice, so keep comfortable clothes nearby."
"Elias, you're scaring me."
"A little fear will keep you safe." He lifted her hand, twisting it so he could kiss her palm. "We should sleep with one eye open."
She laughed. "I don't think I can sleep like that."
He stood to undress again, and she listened to the familiar sounds with new attention. How many more nights would they have like this?
When he slipped back into the bed beside her, she curled against him, seeking comfort in his solid presence. His arms came around her, holding her close, and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.
"Try to sleep," he murmured. "I'll keep one eye open for both of us."
As if she could sleep now. She lay in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek, and tried not to think about the weight of the earth above pressing down on their shelter.
