The Illuminati Sanctum (The Relic Hunters 6) David Leadbeater (new reading .txt) 📖

The Hood scrambled through swirling sand and threw himself forward. Bodie caught him by the cloak and hurled him to the right, gaining inches of space. The Hood landed on his knees and was back in his face seconds later. His punches were hard and aimed at nerve clusters so that Bodie folded in pain.

His muscles were lead, his body alight. Again he managed to get a boot up, keeping the length of his leg between him and his attacker. Bodie used everything he could get his hands on, from sand to stones to fingernails, raking at the Hood’s face. He might not be a trained fighter, but he’d had many years of scraps and brawls. He knew a thing or two about street-fighting.

As did Cassidy. The redhead stomped on her opponent’s ankle and threw her knife at his face, anything to gain an advantage. When the Hood flinched, she headbutted his sternum and kicked out his knee with a terrible crunch of bone.

Still, the Hood was not done. He swept his good leg out, tripping her, sending her onto her tailbone. He grabbed her boots and hauled himself on to her knees. He sent evil punches at her thighs and lower stomach.

Cassidy jabbed at his eyes and then his ears and temples, forcing him away. Her last blow was with a rock and it cracked open the skin at his temple, rendering him unconscious.

Which left two Hoods.

Cassidy groaned and crawled then forced herself to her knees. The pain was absolute, wracking her entire body. But they weren’t out of this yet.

*

Lucie grew fearful, cloaked in the dark and assaulted by the cold and a terrible sense of the unknown. How deep was this thing? Was there even a bottom? Would she emerge to find her friends dead and the Hoods waiting?

Or... would they just cut the rope?

Fighting the nightmare, she dropped step after step. Her hands hurt, fingers scraped by the rope and the sides of the well. The harness dug into her body, chafing. It was a dusty, dirty, lonely world, lit only by the forlorn beam of her flashlight. Twice, Lucie froze, wanting only to be back up top, to see the sky, the sand and her friends. Twice, she forced herself to go on.

She lost track of time. Her flashlight was her only friend. When she felt as if she might have missed the bottom and was on her way to the center of the earth, her wavering beam picked out a mound of rubble and a deep gouge in the earth below—the bedrock of the well.

Lucie hit the bottom, fell to her knees and crouched over the hole. She shone the flashlight deep inside. It was nothing special, just a twelve-inch score. Lucie withdrew her chisel and hammer and chipped away inside, loosening more of the bedrock, then she scooped up some pieces and thrusted them deep into her pockets.

When she could fit no more in, she rose and looked up, shivering and scared but realizing she’d succeeded. A moment later she was climbing, step after step, ignoring the intense ache in her arms and shoulder muscles, the screams of protest from her thighs and calves.

The terrible fear that now loomed was that the rope would suddenly go slack, and the end come flying past her as she fell back down to the bottom.

*

Bodie, on his knees, faced the Hood. Yasmine and Cassidy circled the other. Jemma was lying on the floor, almost passed out from a blow to the head. Bodie’s team were bloody, barely able to withstand the attacks of the two Hoods, but they had also done damage. Bodie’s opponent was holding his right arm and the other man could barely stand.

“Why won’t you just die?” The Hood facing Bodie snarled, throwing back the covering that hid his face.

“I’ve been asked that before,” Bodie panted back. “Still trying to think of the best response to be fair. I guess you’re the leader of these clowns.”

Enraged, the man snarled. “I am Nimrod, and I will kill you.”

Bodie was outmatched and he knew it. Jemma was hurt, so was Cass, and Lucie had vanished. He was close to collapse and Yasmine was slouching and bleeding.

The Hoods appeared to know that they had won. They straightened, took a moment to gather themselves and then held up their already bloody knives.

“For the Master.”

Bodie braced for the onrush. A shadow loomed in his eyesight, a shadow standing between him and the stars. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the Hood. Then, a shot rang out. Everyone flinched in shock, everyone except the Hood attacking Cass and Yasmine, who collapsed to the ground, squirming and groaning.

Another shot split the night.

Bodie’s Hood flinched and fell to one knee as a bullet snagged the flesh of his shoulder. Then, he scrambled away.

Bodie looked upward, focusing on the top of the well.

Lucie stood on the wall, precariously balanced and with her gun wavering. A rope was fixed around her body. Bodie could make out no more.

Cassidy put a stop to the pained grunts coming from her opponent as Yasmine ran to Jemma and Bodie tracked the getaway of the last remaining Hood.

“No time,” he said, thankful to finally have the time to remove his gun from his backpack. “We gotta get that sample and go.”

“Got it,” Lucie said, landing on the soft sand. “Let’s go.”

Bodie hugged her.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Heidi rocked back on her heels, sitting in the corner of a run-of-the-mill hotel room, watching Butcher work. Pang was eating noisily from a packet of crisps and drinking cheap cola. Outside, Italy’s afternoon sun was bright, the sky cloudless. Heidi caught herself wondering how much longer she’d have to chase Bodie around the world, but then halted that train of thought.