Gift of Fire

loyalty.
    “Of course.” Jonas patted the stone door affectionately. “I tell you, there is nothing as refreshing and interesting as the Renaissance mind.”
    “You ought to know,” Verity said as she stepped out of the corridor into the safety of the bedroom. “You’ve got one yourself.”

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Jonas followed Verity out of the stone passageway feeling more relieved than he wanted to admit.
    Hazelhurst’s dying clue revealing the location of the door mechanism had been very welcome, to say the least. Jonas knew he could have spent a long time trying to find it on his own.
    As he stepped into the relative warmth of the bedroom he thought he could hear echoes again, echoes of ancient laughter. He started to close the stone door.
    “What are you doing?” Verity asked.
    “What does it look like I’m doing? You want to spend the night staring at old bones?”
    “No, of course not, but what about poor Hazelhurst? We have to tell someone we found him.”
    “He’s been in there for a couple of years,” Jonas observed as the door groaned shut. “He’ll keep awhile longer.”
    Verity’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re not going to tell anyone we found him?”
    “Not just yet. If we report it now there’ll be an investigation. Things will be disrupted around here for days, maybe weeks. Rumors of the treasure will leak out, and the place will be overrun with reporters, fake psychics, and God knows who else. We’ve only got a week, Verity. I want to spend it getting some answers. Something very important is hidden in that corridor.”
    “But someone killed Digby. He didn’t die by accident—murder took place in that corridor.”
    “I know. But the murderer has been gone for over two years. Hell, he might even have died in that passageway himself, trying to find a way out. For all we know he’s lying at the other end of the tunnel.” Jonas stopped talking, hoping she hadn’t noticed the rest. He should have known better. The woman had eyes like a hawk.
    Verity wandered over to the window. “The hand that held that stiletto had a ring on it. A big ruby ring.”
    “I know. I saw it.”
    She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “It looked very old, Jonas. In fact, it looked like it could have been part of the jewelry collection in that treasure chest in the vision, or it could even have been one of the rings the man in the image was wearing.”
    “There was a certain resemblance,” Jonas agreed carefully. He saw the expression in her eyes and walked over to put an arm around her shoulders. “Hey there,” he said softly, giving her a slight shake. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you.”
    “You know what I’m thinking?”
    “Yep. You’re wondering if the four-hundred-year-old man in the frozen vision managed to come alive long enough to kill old Hazelhurst. It’s utterly and completely impossible.”
    “Jonas, you’ve said yourself that you learn something new every time you explore that psychic corridor. You don’t know everything about how reality works in there. And you’ve admitted there was something very strange about that first vision. What if he figured out a way to survive in the time corridor, and he’s been sitting there all these years protecting his treasure?”
    Jonas felt a shudder run through her and he tightened his comforting grip around her shoulders. “Not a chance. Relax, honey. There are no ghosts in that corridor, just small scenes from the past. Postcards caught in time. That’s all.”
    “The postcard of that man seated at the Renaissance writing desk didn’t look like it had ‘wish you were here’ written on the back. I got the feeling that guy didn’t want us around.”
    “That vision was different from anything we’ve seen before in the corridor, I’ll grant you that. But that doesn’t mean a lot at this point. You’ve got too much imagination for your own peace of mind, honey.” He blew a fiery ringlet away from her temple and kissed her there. She smelled sweet and felt warm. He could feel himself getting hard, not an unusual reaction after a trip into the psychic corridor—not an unusual reaction around Verity at any time, for that matter.
    “Someone killed Digby,” she reminded him stubbornly.
    “Yes. But it was a long time ago. You want my best guess?”
    She nodded quickly.
    “I think he had a companion helping him in the treasure hunt. Someone he trusted enough to take into that passageway. Maybe