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Each step, each test, each twist and turn leads closer to death
A book dealer lies imprisoned in a Boston mansion, an IV tube dripping a lethal narcotic cocktail into his veins. In thirty-six hours, he’ll be dead. His final request is to receive a visit from one woman....
It wasn’t the most hospitable invitation she’d ever received. Archaeologist Annja Creed is being rushed to Massachussetts, abducted by a famous environmental terrorist—a zealot willing to kill anyone who gets in his or the planet’s way. He has taken the book dealer hostage in order to steal a rare and very valuable treatise called the Tome of Prossos. Annja is the key to retrieving the ancient manuscript hidden somewhere deep within the mansion. But the book is well-protected. In order to find it, she must survive the rigors of an elaborate maze. She has only twelve hours to decipher the labyrinth’s sinister secret…a secret that could ensure she never emerges.
“There’s no exit.”
In answer, Kessel’s eyes blazed. He was perfectly able to communicate his understanding, even without the benefit of having a tongue.
Annja studied the only thing in the room: a table with a book on it. “Somewhere here there’s got to be a clue how we’re supposed to get out of this place. I mean, we could take the crawl space and go backward through the maze—”
She heard a rumble and a cloud of dust poured into the room. The crawl space had caved in. Annja sighed. “All right, the only way out of here is to figure out a way forward.”
There seemed nothing special about the table. And as far as she could tell, the book was a hardcover edition of the King James Bible. Overhead, a single light burned in the ceiling. It didn’t appear as if some type of guillotine would drop on them if she picked the book up.
Before Annja could stop him, Kessel flipped open the cover. Nothing happened. But there was nothing written on the pages, either.
Annja tried to pick the book up, but it didn’t budge. Flipping through it where it was, she found a small button at the back. Annja glanced at Kessel. “What do you think?”
He shook his head.
But Annja’s finger was poised over it. “What have we got to lose?”
She pressed the button.
The lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. Annja heard a sudden movement and a grunt.
“Kessel?”
And then there was nothing but silence.
Labyrinth
Rogue Angel
Alex Archer
The Legend
...The English commander took Joan’s sword and raised it high.
The broadsword, plain and unadorned, gleamed in the firelight. He put the tip against the ground and his foot at the center of the blade. The broadsword shattered, fragments falling into the mud. The crowd surged forward, peasant and soldier, and snatched the shards from the trampled mud. The commander tossed the hilt deep into the crowd. Smoke almost obscured Joan, but she continued praying till the end, until finally the flames climbed her body and she sagged against the restraints.
Joan of Arc died that fateful day in France, but her legend and sword are reborn....
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