Destiny

A

People wrote books, journals and papers that were often shuffled around, loaned, borrowed or sold at estate auctions that ended up in those businesses. Colleges and students sold off old books that somehow stayed in circulation for a hundred years or more.

Over the past decade, though, many of those finds ended up on Amazon.com or eBay. Genealogy centers took up a lot of old documents, as well.

"There are no more pictures," A

Roland's Bookstore was a treasure trove. She'd already purchased seventeen books and shipped them back to her apartment in Brooklyn. Where she was going to put them in the overflowing mass that she laughingly called her library, she had no clue.

"There have to be more pictures," Doug whined.

"Nope."

"If you're holding out for more money – "

"That's not it."

Doug was silent for a moment. "You don't want more money?"

"More money would be nice," A

"You should have taken more pictures."

"Did you read my e-mail?"

"Yes."

"The part about how I was chased out of the cave by guys with guns?"

"Maybe."

"You didn't."

"I think I did, A

"I was nearly blown away by the guys."

"Why?"

"I don't know." A

"Were you somewhere you weren't supposed to be?"

"I was in the Céve

"Those guys just didn't want you there?" Doug asked.

"I don't know."

Doug let out a low breath. "Generally when people chase you, there's a reason."

A

"I'm just saying."

"Maybe they wanted the gear I was carrying."

"You said the ground opened up and dropped you into this cave."

"Yes."

"Then it closed after you left."

"Right." A

The Destruction of the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain.

She flipped the book open and stared at the plate inset on the first page. It was a match to the image on the back of the charm.

"Do you think if you packed a few explosives back up into those mountains," Doug began, "that you could – ?"

"Doug!" she interrupted.

He paused.

"No," A

"No?" The producer sounded as petulant as a child.

"No explosives. No more pictures. That's what we have. It's more than anyone else has everhad."

"You don't understand, A

And a mysterious missing charm,A

Quickly, she flipped through the book. It appeared to be a history of a monastery that had fallen onto hard times and been disbanded. She knew the chances were good that it wouldn't help her, but gathering information meant taking in more than she needed in hopes of getting what she needed.

"How much longer do you think you'll need for the piece?" Doug asked.

"A few more days."

"The deadline looms."

"I know." A

"If you need anything else, let me know."

"Sure."

"Maybe Kyle and the art department can touch up these pictures – "

A

"Yes," he said contritely.

"If you touch those pictures – "

"They need to be enhanced."

"If anyone touches those pictures – "

"Just a little tweaking. I promise. You won't even know we did anything."

"Doug!"

Doug sighed in surrender.

"I'm going to call your mother and tell her about Amy Zuckerman," A

"You wouldn't."

"Do you remember the lagoon-creature piece I did a few months ago?"

Doug was silent.

"You took a perfectly interesting piece about a legendary swamp monster – "

"The mangrove coast of Florida isn't that interesting," Doug argued. "I had to switch the location to Barbados."

"You turned it into a freak fest. You stood me up in front of a digitally created, shambling pile of muck with eight-inch fangs – "

"The fangs were too much, weren't they? I told Kyle that the fangs were too big. I mean, who's going to believe a seven-foot-tall mud monster with eight-inch fangs? I wouldn't. I'll tell you that," Doug said.

"You told people the footage was shot somewhere it wasn't." A

"We got a lot of favorable comments about that show," Doug said defensively.

"I'm a respected archaeologist," A

"You'll always be respectable to me," Doug promised.

"Not when you stand me up in front of digital monsters that don't have shadows."

"That was an oversight. All the monsters we do now have shadows."

"Amy Zuckerman," A

"That's low, A

"Your mother would never forgive you," A

"You know, it's conversations like this that remind me I should never drink with friends."

"At least friends put you in cabs and send you home," A

Doug sighed. "Okay. We'll do it your way. I have to tell you, I think you're making a mistake, but – "

"Bye, Doug. I'll talk to you later." A

The small bell above the entrance rang as someone opened the door.

"Ah," Roland greeted from the front counter, "Good morning, Mr. Lesauvage."

Cautiously, A