The boy frowned for a moment, then brightened again with his perpetual smile. “Chapple! You are thirsty.”

Vigor smiled. “No. A church.”

The boy’s brow pinched, but his smile refused to fade. “Ah, you are Christian. That’s okay. All good. Muslims like the Bible. It’s a holy book, too. We have saints, too. Muslim saints. But the Prophet Mohammed is best.” He shrugged sheepishly.

Vigor squeezed his shoulder, recognizing the boy was struggling between being a good tourist guide and being a good Muslim.

“The church?” he asked again.

The boy nodded vigorously. “The room of the crosses.” He led them toward the dark opening, still babbling in a furious stream.

Kowalski shook his head at the boy’s antics and set off after them. “He needs to cut caffeine out of his life.”

Gray smiled, a rarity, sunshine through thunderclouds. “Let’s go,” he whispered to Seichan as he passed. He brushed close. His hand grazed hers.

She almost reflexively grabbed it. Instead, angry at herself, she clenched her fingers. But her reaction wasn’t all fury or frustration.

There was guilt, too.

She hated lying to this man.

“Oh, this is going to be a pain in the ass,” Kowalski said.

Gray did not argue.

The chapel rested on the first floor of the castle, all the way to the rear. After passing through the entrance hall, they had needed flashlights to traverse the low, back passages. It grew quieter the deeper they traveled. The air went still. The only movement was from a few nesting rats, scurrying from the beams of their lights.

The hall had ended at a low door, requiring not just ducking one’s head, but also bowing at the waist. Vigor had been the first to enter the room with their guide. A small gasp escaped him as he straightened inside. Gray had followed next.

He stood now, splashing his beam around the dark chapel.

Cut high into the far wall, a cross-shaped window allowed in some sunlight, but not much. The window was no more than a pair of crossed slits, certainly too narrow to squeeze through, but maybe another place from which to defend the castle.

The window cast a cross of sunlight across a waist-high slab of stone.

The chapel’s altar.

The room was otherwise empty.

But not unadorned.

Across every surface — walls, floor, roof, even the altar — crosses had been carved into the stone. Hundreds, if not thousands of them. They varied from ones no larger than a thumbprint to ornate, life-size giants.

“No wonder they call it the room of crosses,” Vigor said.

“Yeah, real serial-killer chic,” Kowalski commented sourly. “Must be all that island inbreeding.”

Gray studied the expanse of crosses, remembering the faint cross inscribed into the marble tile in Hagia Sophia. He pulled out the silver cross, Friar Agreer’s crucifix. “Now all we have to do is find the one that matches this.”

Vigor stepped over and asked Fee’az to leave them alone here.

He seemed confused until the monsignor pointed to the cross in Gray’s fingers.

“We must pray,” the monsignor explained. “We will come out when we are done.”

The boy quickly stepped away, nodding. He could not dart out quick enough, plainly fearful of being caught while a Christian ceremony was performed. From his speed, he must suspect they’d be sacrificing babies.

Once they were alone, Gray scratched his head, momentarily daunted, too conscious of the press of time. “One of these crosses must be an exact match to Friar Agreer’s crucifix. We must find which one.”

He split the party up.

Four of them, four walls.

And that still left floor and ceiling.

Gray placed the cross on the altar, readily available for each person to grab and compare. He also ripped four pages out of his notebook and traced the cross’s shape, crib sheets for each.

As they all searched, Gray noted the shift of the sunlight across the altar, creeping steadily as the sun set, as time escaped him. He finished his wall. Nothing. Sweat poured; his clothes clung to his skin. He started on the floor. The others, one at a time, joined him. Seichan worked on the altar.

The most important cross — the one formed of sunshine — continued to inch inexorably across the room.

“Not on the floor either,” Vigor said, red-faced, straightening from his knees. He stood, one hand supporting his lower back.

Behind the altar, Seichan shook her head.

No luck either.

Gray stared up.

The roof was low, but not low enough to touch. It would require much lifting to test every cross up there that might be the right size.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Vigor said. “Maybe Kokejin’s tomb is somewhere else in the castle. All these crosses may be a false lead.”

Gray shook his head. No. They had lost a full hour already. They didn’t have time to search every nook and cranny of the castle by hand. They had committed to the chapel. There was no turning back, no second-guessing.

“Kokejin’s tomb must be here,” Gray insisted.

Vigor sighed. “Then that leaves us the ceiling.”

Gray assigned Kowalski to help boost the monsignor up. He stepped over to Seichan’s side.

“Man, I got the raw end of this deal,” Kowalski griped.

Ignoring him, Vigor pointed to the walls. “We’ll start along the outer edges. You two do the middle.”

Seichan climbed onto the altar. “I can reach the ones above here by myself.”

As she stood, a cross of sunlight lit her back. She had stripped out of her vest and only wore a black T-shirt. Gray noted her curves as she reached up, the stretch of cotton over breast. Despite all his worries, a part of him was still male enough to appreciate it…yet he was still man enough to feel guilty about it.

Now wasn’t the time…

“I think I see a possibility…” Seichan mumbled, extending to her toes, stretching higher.

Then she winced and came down on her heels. Her hand cupped her left side. She had strained her wound.

Gray climbed up next to her. “Let me help you.”

He offered her a leg up, lacing his hands together into a stirrup.

She picked up the silver crucifix, then stepped into his hands.

As he straightened and lifted her, she balanced one hand atop his head and reached the crucifix toward the ceiling. Her left buttock was pressed against his cheek.

Oh, yeah, he was going to hell.

“I think…I think…” Seichan whispered. “It fits! This mark’s carved deep, and the crucifix snugs right into it. A perfect match!”

Gray craned up, but all he could see were the underside of her breasts.

“Can you tell what Christ is staring at?” he asked, remembering Hagia Sophia.

“Down at the altar,” she answered, but she seemed distracted. “The crucifix is seated in a circular block of stone. When I pushed the crucifix in there, I thought I felt something click. And the stone almost seems loose. With the crucifix in place, I think I can turn it. Maybe loosen it free.”

“I don’t think you should—”

He heard a scrape of stone. A loud clank sounded, but it came not from above. Gray stared down between his toes.

The altar dropped from under his feet, falling straight through the floor, taking Gray with it.

Seichan tumbled into his arms, hugging tight to his neck.

The stone slab hit the ground with a jarring impact, dropping Gray to one knee. Dust flumed up. One of the floor bricks broke away, smashed into the altar, and bounced away into the darkness that lay ahead.

Gray stared up. Though it had scared the breath out of him, they had fallen only four feet. Vigor and Kowalski stared down at them.

“I think you found something, Indiana,” Kowalski said with a smirk. He passed over a flashlight.

Gray rolled his eyes, but he accepted the flashlight. Seichan climbed off him, dusting herself off. Crouching, Gray pointed his light into the chamber revealed under the chapel. A dark archway beckoned.