Page 164 of Empire of Shadows

A glittering, wickedly sharp obsidian blade lay among the bones, jammed between a pair of ribs.

Some of the corpse’s fingers still clung to the handle, with just enough dried tissue remaining to keep them articulated.

Had they been pulling the knife out, or driving it in?

The question put a deeper chill into the atmosphere of the room.

Whoever the body on the floor had been, someone had either killed him right here in the ritual heart of Tulan—or else he’d done it to himself.

Orherself, Adam thought uncomfortably, noting the diminutive size of the bones.

There was a clatter behind him. Adam turned to see Dawson rifling through the objects on the shelves. The professor peered under the delicate pots and pushed aside ancient garments that cracked and collapsed at his touch.

“Whoa—hey!” Adam cut in. “Watch how you’re handling that stuff.”

“But it has to be here!” Dawson shot back. He stomped his foot with frustration.

“What—your Smoking Mirror?” Adam retorted irritably.

Dawson’s eyes widened. He looked anxiously toward Staines, Pacheco, and Lopez—and then back to Adam again.

He narrowed his gaze thoughtfully.

“You three,” the professor said, waving dismissively at the others. “Go out on the platform. No, wait!” he quickly corrected himself. “Give me that first.”

He flapped a hand at the rifle Staines was carrying.

Staines cast him a surprised look, but handed the gun over before he left.

Adam wondered if he was about to be shot. Dawson didn’t seem like the kind of guy who shot people. He probably had no idea where to put the bullet.

Adam debated whether that was a good or bad thing.

Dawson skipped over to the doorway and peered out at the departing men.

“My apologies,” he said. “I needed to make sure we weren’t being overheard.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. Did the professor not want to be overhead murdering him? Or was something else going on here?

The way the man held the rifle was all wrong. It was obvious he barely knew how to use it, if at all.

An idea sparked to life inside Adam’s mind. It was probably a bad one—but Adam was going to consider it anyway.

“I am aware you are not particularly fond of me, Mr. Bates,” Dawson began.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Adam replied automatically, still distracted by his bad idea.

Dawson hardly seemed to notice. He rolled on into a monologue.

“…but there is far more at stake in this than personal regard. You may be a bit… rough,” Dawson said awkwardly as he eyed Adam’s filthy borrowed shirt and unshaven jaw. “But I do not believe you to be a man completely lacking inprinciples.”

“I didn’t realize you could tell a guy’s principles by his wardrobe,” Adam dryly returned.

“Entirely correct, Mr. Bates,” Dawson agreed obliviously. “Sometimes, appearances can be quite deceiving! But if I am right, and you are a man of principle, then perhaps you might like to know that the very future of our civilizationmight depend upon our efforts in this place.”

That sure as hell hadn’t been what Adam expected to hear, and Dawson looked damned earnest about it.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to explain that a little better,” Adam replied.

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