Page 8 of Never Leave Me
But Drake was focused entirely on the recess and responded before Harrison could stop him. “There are two ampullae tucked away back in here.”
“Ampullae?” Ellen’s eyes widened.
Harrison stumbled for an answer. “I can explain—”
“You know how I feel about the ampullae.” She pushed off his lap.
He wanted to stop her, but if Drake had genuinely found ampullae, then he and Ellen were headed for a battle—a battle he intended to win.
Drake removed his arm from the recess and beamed as he held up two ancient containers.
The rectangular-shaped flasks tapered to spouts and were flanked on each side by arm-like handles. Even in the dim light, he could see the engraved picture of St. Thomas Becket with a fleur-de-lis pattern decorating the edges.
“Absolutely tremendous.” A chill raced over Harrison. “Original St. Thomas ampullae.”
Drake shook them. “Aye, and they both still contain the holy water.”
“No!” Ellen’s cry echoed in the cavern. “They contain nothing but poison.”
Harrison wheeled toward Drake and took one of the flasks, unable to keep his fingers from wavering. He rubbed the dull metallic container, marveling at the faded but distinct depiction of the saint with one side showing angels flying over Becket and the other showing him being attacked by the knights who’d murdered him.
After all the months of searching, of hiring the antiquarians, of spending countless exhausting hours making phone calls and following leads, this was almost too good to be true.
“You’ve been looking all along, haven’t you?” Ellen hugged her arms to her chest as though to protect herself from his answer.
He wanted to deny her accusation, but what was the point now? “I had to.”
“After it killed Dad and Marian?” Tears glistened in her eyes, magnifying the pain there.
“But that’s just it, love. Marian has to be alive in the past—”
“Please, Harrison. Don’t say anything more. Please.”
“How else would these ampullae appear?”
“Maybe they were here all along, and you missed them the other times you searched.”
“I hired a special archaeologist. You know that.” During the last hours of Marian’s life, he’d scrambled to find an ampulla with the hope of being able to keep Marian from dying. “He had special equipment and detectors. How could he overlook these when Drake found them in only minutes?”
“Seconds, my lord.” Drake cupped the ampulla reverently.
Ellen shook her head and swiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I don’t care how the ampullae got here, the liquid inside is deadly, and we can’t take any chances.”
“You’re already dying.” Harrison’s statement came out much more impassioned than he meant it to.
“So, you want me to fall into a coma?” Her tone rose a notch too. “Is that how you want to squander your last days with me? By my bedside, watching me on life support?”
“No—”
“I don’t want to waste my time either. I want to spend my final weeks—days—relishing every second of every minute, not lying in a bed unable to be with you or with the children staying at Serenity House.”
“I understand that. But to be fair, what if your father was right? What if the water has the power to heal the sick?”
“Marian tried, Harrison. And look where it got her.”
Marian had consumed one of the flasks they’d located in the cathedral crypt and had fallen into a coma. She’d left them instructions to check the crypt once a week for the ampullae she planned to hide there.
Even though it had taken over two weeks, an ampulla had finally shown up in the crypt of Canterbury Cathedral—one that Marian had hidden there for them while she crossed over to the Middle Ages in the 1380s.
