"Leave her alone, you son of a bitch," Jonas rasped. "I'm the one you want, I'm the one who got through your damn lock." Then he broke off and said something in Italian.
The old man didn't seem interested in the language problem. He maintained an eerie silence as he refocused on Jonas and swung the sword.
Jonas ducked and slid to one side. The blade passed a scant few inches over his head. He came up from a fighter's crouch and slashed at the figure in the vision.
The old man took a step backward, an expression of astonishment on his face. Viciously he swung once more. This time Jonas leaped recklessly forward, driving himself up under the arc of the swinging blade.
His own blade led the way and buried itself in the man's chest. The victim opened his mouth in a silent shout of agony and rage as he toppled backward.
The sword snapped in Jonas's hand, leaving behind only the hilt.
Verity wanted to scream but she couldn't find the breath to do so. The vision was wavering. The green ribbons around Jonas's arm were leaping for his throat.
Verity sensed the rapacious hunger of the ribbons and knew what was happening. The raw emotional energy that had been trapped in the image four hundred years ago was now fighting to get free. Jonas was the conduit the ancient residual energy could use to get to the present.
The emotions that had governed this scene four hundred years ago could escape only through Jonas. He would be overwhelmed by them—driven insane, or turned into a killer. It was the risk he ran every time he stepped into the psychic corridor.
Only Verity could help him control the power, but she'd never tried to control energy ribbons that were this strong.
Verity tightened her grasp on the earrings. Concentrating on them, she managed to unclench her other hand. The green crystal fell to the floor. With an enormous sense of relief, she focused completely on the fiery crystals of her earrings.
She felt the fire in her hands and held them to her breast. A brilliant red glow seeped out between her fingers. The vibrations were strong and pure and powerful.
Verity took two steps forward to where Jonas was on his knees, struggling with the living green tongues that were wrapping themselves around him. His face was a mask of anguish and rage and his eyes were stark as he looked up at her.
"Get out of here," he said thickly. "Get out of here now. Lock the door to this room behind you, and don't ever try to open it again."
"I can't leave you here."
"Do it, Verity. Do it for me, for the baby, for yourself. Do it now, damn you."
"I love you, Jonas. I can't leave you in here."
"If you love me as much as I love you, you'll do it. Hurry, Verity. For God's sake, hurry. Seal this room behind you, don't tell anyone about it. Go. Please, go. I can't hold out much longer. Once these ribbons take control, I will try to kill anyone in this room. Do you understand?"
"No," she whispered. "I don't understand."
"Don't you see? I will be the one who protects his damned treasure for him now. I'll murder anyone who steps into this room, and that includes you."
"You would never hurt me," Verity said softly. She knelt in front of him.
"Verity."
"Put your hand on mine, Jonas." She held out her clasped fingers. The earrings pulsed warmly. "Do it, Jonas. Now."
His golden eyes were grim as he lifted his ravaged face. With enormous effort he slowly raised the hand that was not clutching the broken sword hilt. He touched her glowing fingers.
"Yes," she whispered as she felt the tuning process begin. "That's it. Just hold on to me. The fire is stronger than anything that bastard left behind. The fire is fresh and new and never grows old. The ribbons are from the past. They must stay there."
The earrings surged with heat. Verity felt Jonas's fingers tighten violently around her clasped hands.
Fire blossomed between her fingers.
The green ribbons that had been coiling around Jonas's neck began to loosen. Verity willed them back to the tangled mass that swarmed around her feet, and they reluctantly obeyed.
The last of the green ribbons unwound itself from Jonas and joined the others.
In real time something clattered on the floor of the stone cell. Verity looked down and saw that it was the broken sword hilt Jonas had used to access the vision.
The psychic corridor faded abruptly and the last of the sickly green vision vanished with it. The fiery glow in Verity's hands died out and Jonas's fingers fell away from hers.
Darkness descended on the small room, broken only by the beam of the flashlight, which still shone futilely inside the empty chest.
Verity sighed in relief. She would never like the darkness that reigned inside this hidden room, but at least it seemed normal now.
"It's over, Jonas. We're free."
There was no answer. Verity heard a heavy thud. She raced for the chest, shoved Yarwood's body out of the way, and grabbed the flashlight.
She aimed the beam at Jonas and saw that he was lying on the stone floor, unconscious.
Chapter Eighteen
Something was missing. Gone. Burned away in a flash of green poison.
Jonas tried to ignore the distant voices that were clamoring for attention. He wanted to concentrate on whatever it was that was wrong, but the voices kept calling to him.
One voice was male and gruffly reassuring. The other was female—demanding and insistent. He recognized the second voice and wanted to let the speaker know he'd be along in a minute. Right now he was busy.
He stayed in the darkness awhile longer, struggling to think, trying to figure out what piece of himself was missing. But he couldn't get a handle on it. He had a sense that something was gone, something that had been a part of him—something important.
"Jonas? Can you hear me? Say something, damn you. Talk to me! Jonas, answer me this instant. Do you hear me? You can't do this to me. I won't allow it. Open your eyes and answer me. Answer me, you bastard."
Deep in the bottomless darkness, Jonas smiled to himself. Verity was chewing his ass, as usual. His redheaded tyrant was on her throne, and all was right with the world.
He pushed the sense of wrongness to the back of his mind and made an effort to open his eyes. He wanted to see Verity's face. She sounded angry.
"I warned you about frown lines," Jonas said as he managed to lift his lashes. He wondered why his voice sounded so thick, as if he were drunk. Then he saw Verity's face, and he wanted to chuckle at the mix of emotions in her eyes. "You look like you don't know whether to kiss me or strangle me. What'd I do this time?"
"Oh, Jonas, I've been so scared." Joyous relief flared in her beautiful eyes.
