Trouble & Treasure - Dave Moyer (reading rainbow books .TXT) 📗

round chunk of stone that might have once been a head, and as Amanda brought the car to a stop next to it, I realized that what remained of the base of the statue was a torso and a single hand raised in prayer, the rest of it being eaten away by age and weather.

Amanda turned the engine off, pulling the handbrake up, but I put my hand over hers as she did. Not even bothering to turn to her, my gaze still locked on the crumbled statue outside, I shook my head. “Don't. Leave it down; it will be a quicker getaway.”

“It will roll down the hill,” she said, voice shaking with incredulity.

I didn’t remove my hand and turned to her, hoping my expression told her how stupid I thought that was. “Park it on the flat, dear.”

Amanda swore at me as she turned the car back on and moved it until it was right outside of the church and on the flattest ground.

I got out of the car, and though my heart was racing with excitement at what I might find within, the leather-bound book clutched tightly in one hand, I still made an effort to check that this place was as abandoned as it looked. I told Amanda to stay in the car while I walked around it, checking this way and that for signs of life or even old footprints pressed into the gravel and the years of dirt and detritus that had built up over the church steps. When I was satisfied, I walked up to the front of the church, running a hand over the old, weathered door before I pushed it open. While there’d probably once been a lock on the chain wound around the two large tarnished brass handles on each of the two doors, it looked as though it had been stolen or lost over the years.

It wasn't until I walked all the way into the church and disappeared from sight that I heard Amanda's door open and close.

I heard her hurried footsteps as she tried to catch up to me, but I hardly paid any attention as she called out for me to wait; the sight that met me once I walked through those two great doors was enough to rivet my attention.

It was a shambles, all right, with all of the pews pushed over, and so much broken, shattered wood scattered everywhere. At the end of the church what looked like a once great stained-glass window was broken, with a hint of colored shards remaining around the corners of the window frame. The ceiling above had great big stones missing, rays of sunlight streaking through from outside. I still held my gun in one hand, the journal in the other as I carefully picked my way over the rubble around the door. Amanda caught up, pelting through the door, as if she was some lost puppy far too keen to get back to its master. I had to admit, as a smile grabbed my mouth, that that was a damn good way to describe it.

“You know,” Amanda pulled her jacket tighter around herself, and even gave a shiver at the cold, dark, damp church, “That smile on your lips, it makes you look halfway between constipated and deliriously happy.”

She walked ahead, surprisingly quick on her feet as she dodged between the broken pews and chunks of rock, her heels tapping lightly as she went.

She bit her lip lightly as she surveyed the church, her eyes wide with interest as they settled on the broken stained-glass window at the far end. She picked her way towards it.

“You are going to break your neck if you don't look where you're going,” I snapped at her, and as I did, I lost my own footing and fell harshly to the ground, the book slipping out of my grip and sliding across the floor.

Amanda didn’t bother to laugh, and turned around, picked up the book, flicked through the pages, top teeth still touching her bottom lip, and walked back to the stained-glass window.

I picked myself up, dusted off my suit, shrugged, cracked my neck, and followed her with a stony look on my face. I reached her as she stood on what remained of the raised platform where sermons would once have been given. She didn’t look around, her eyes blinking as she read from the book, her finger marking her place as she kept looking up at the stained-glass window and back at the words before her.

I watched, irritated by how damn cute she looked when she was biting her lip like that. I got over it, cleared my throat, put my arm out and leaned against the wall by her side, leaning into view. “I think you'll find that I have a bit more experience of this stuff than you do.”

She glanced over at me, then ignored me and looked back at the book, flicking a couple of pages forward and back as she looked for something.

I cleared my throat again, leaning further in front of her. “You can give me the book, Amanda.”

She looked up at me, blinked several times, put her head to the side gently, and closed the book with a snap. “You know,” she put a finger up to her mouth and tapped it several times, “I think it might be over there.” She turned from me, tucking the book under one arm, and jumping lightly off the platform.

You could have driven a van through my mouth considering how wide open it hung. “Amanda.” I jumped off the platform to follow her, my move a hell of a lot less dainty and a hell of a lot angrier.

“I think there might be a gravestone outside with an inscription on it that can help us,” Amanda made her way to the front of the church, infuriatingly quick as she navigated around the obstacles, her messy hair tipping over her shoulders as she ran along.

She made it outside quicker than I could follow, and I caught up to her as she was rounding the side of the church, heading to the sparse, sad cemetery at the back.

“Give me the fucking book, Amanda.” I was stalking along beside her; this wasn’t how it was meant to go down. She was meant to be huddled up in the car, crying her heart out. She wasn’t meant to be rebounding, showing off her driving skills, snatching the journal, and doing all the treasure hunting. And she was sure as hell not meant to be doing all that while looking suspiciously cute in that old-style outfit of hers.

“There it is.” She pointed to one of the gravestones right at the back of the graveyard. It was directly under an old gnarled oak tree. Despite being spring, the oak hadn't yet grown back many leaves, so it was left unprotected from the wind and harsh cold of this hilltop. It was a somber creepy looking sight. That didn’t stop Amanda from marching towards it, her heels clattering softly against the cracked and over-grown path that ran alongside the church and led to the graveyard beyond.

“What does that gravestone have to do with anything?” I strode up beside her, twisting in front of her path, crossing my arms, gun still held in one hand.

“Well, according to my great-uncle, the inscription on the gravestone is a clue.” Amanda's nose crumpled up and she offered an enthusiastic smile.

For fuck's sake, I felt like pointing out, she wasn’t meant to be enthusiastic about treasure hunting here; she was meant to be an emotional wreck, as she’d been last night. This girl was rebounding far too quickly, and I didn’t like it one bit.

I cleared my throat. “Do you think this is some movie?” I said through a twisted smile. “Let me tell you, in the real world, you do not find clues to hidden treasure written in plain sight on a gravestone inscription. I don't know what crappy ‘50s adventure flicks you've seen, but the only shit you find in a graveyard are dead folks.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, drawing her lips together. “You know, Sebastian, you are remarkably rude. Is this how you are meant to treat your clients?”

I snorted harshly. “You are not a client; you are a liability. Give me that book so we can get this over and done with before every army in the world comes screaming down our throats.”

She took the book, held it before her, and before I could reach for it, she tucked it behind her back.

I had no problem in wrestling her for it, but before I could start, she darted around me and headed for the small gap between the broken wall that ran all the way round the graveyard.

“You know, the funny thing is, I think I remember my great-uncle talking about this place,” she began saying in a normal tone as if what had transpired hadn’t occurred, “And,” she said with that same enthusiastic grin spreading across her face, “I think he even took me here once.”

I shook my head, followed after her, and offered a long, slow, clearly sarcastic clap, clap, clap. “That's great, I'm so glad you had such an interesting childhood, and thank you so much for sharing. Now give me the fucking book, Amanda.”

She kept ignoring me until she picked her way through the graveyard and right to a gravestone at the back. Then she leaned down, journal still tucked under one arm, and leaned in to read the inscription on the crumbling old stone.

If it wasn't the attractive shape the skirt gave her butt at that point I would have tackled her and stolen my book back. Instead I walked up to her, ignoring the sound of the wind as it picked up, gathering speed as it moaned and whistled through the few trees on this exposed hilltop. Chapter Ten

Amanda Stanton

Dear god this guy was annoying, he really fricking was.

For some reason, despite the frantic last several hours I’d had with him, I was starting to get a handle on this. I was still frightened and overcome by the reality of it all, but at least I wasn't a sobbing mess in the back of his car.

Blame it on all of those stories my great-uncle had once told me, the ones about adventure and treasure, the ones the rest of the family had told me were nothing but lies. Despite the crazy awfulness happening to me, I was starting to realize that those stories had likely been true. Dammit if there wasn't something romantic about that, something to distract me from the fact I was being hunted by god knows who with god knows how many guns.

The possibility of realizing how true my great-uncle's tales had been was pretty much the only thing stopping me from truly freaking out. If I threw myself headfirst into this adventure, and I didn't give myself time to appreciate how much trouble I was in, then I could hold myself together.

My great-uncle had been able to do it all those years back. Why couldn't I do it? Hell, Sebastian, who was turning out to be an annoying lecherous idiot, could obviously do it too. If he could do it, god