The alabaster stone church of Idar-Oberstein loomed above them on the massive cliff face. The view as they drove up the winding road from valley to the hills was spectacular.
All her traveling in Europe and yet she had never been to the gem capital. She dealt mostly in historical objects, art and statutes and other items. Rarely did she deal in gems. The family line was that precious gems attracted too many crazy people, so Doyle Antiquities steered clear. She wished playing “stalking goat” as Daz put it, hadn’t brought her here for the first time. She’d have liked to view it on its own merits.
Her eyes widened as they drove closer to the mountain and the scope of the Church of the Rock became apparent. It appeared the cliff itself had given birth to a pale child, one still attached by a cord of stone.
It must have taken local craftsmen years, no, decades, to construct it. She guessed there were all sorts of handmade touches inside the Church. So often, medieval craftsmen left something personal behind, to sign their work. She wondered if Richard’s court contained immortal stonemasons and metalsmiths. She would love to talk to one.
“Hey, I’ve been here on vacation,” Daz said from the backseat. “Forgot that.”
“When?” Richard asked.
“Yes, when?” Marian echoed.
As striking as a medieval Church built into the side of a cliff was, it was not a well-known tourist destination, at least among regular American tourists. She knew about the city because of the gemstone trade. Precious gems from years gone by often could be tracked to Idar-Oberstein as the source. Once, her grandfather had falsified documents, claiming the unusual gems bought on the black market for a client’s collection had come from Idar-Oberstein’s mines originally. It was a plausible explanation. The client and the customs agents bought it.
But Grandfather had been spooked by the scrutiny, and they’d never done it again. And he called her a coward.
After that, she finally started to think about exactly what she was doing. No one ever gets hurt, her grandfather told her over and over. But that seemed too simplistic. She was a looter, a grave robber, a tomb raider.
“I’ve definitely been here,” Daz repeated.
“You seem more the type to go camping or to the beach for a vacation rather than visit a quaint German town,” she said.
“I visited with a girlfriend who was stationed at Ramstein Air Force base. She loved everything about this place. When she was a military brat growing up in Germany, her family had visited and she wanted to go back. It’s popular among U.S. military families. My girlfriend used a German name for that church. Felsenkid, Felsenkind, no, wait, Felsenkirche.”
Marian nodded. “That’s German for Church in the Rock. Or, the Rock Church, to use an easier English translation.”
“It sounds more impressive in German,” Daz said.
“I know.”
“I wonder if there are tunnels into the cliff from the church?” Richard asked.
He had been mostly silent this morning. No more singing. She had half expected him to demand to drive on the autobahn, yet he’d seemed content.
“You have to enter through a tunnel to even get into the Church, so there’s at least one. If I remember right, it’s quite a climb,” Daz said. “I imagine you could tunnel to other places in that cliff. It’s damn thick rock, though. Any modern tunneling techniques would make a lot of noise.”
“Those who tunneled a church into a mountain in the fifteenth century could easily create an extensive tunnel system,” Richard said.
Marian nodded. “Like your people did at the abbey?”
“Exactly like that.”
“You think Rasputin could be hidden in there with his monks?” Marian asked. It seemed a very public place to hide a monastery, even one run by Rasputin.
“It would explain why Romanoff’s source called from the museum, which is supposed to be right next to the church entrance,” Richard said. “If the monks are devout, they may wish a proper church in which to worship and a proper resting place for their saint. After all, it’s where his body supposedly was hidden.”
“And if they’re led by Rasputin and not just some crazy heir worshipping his relics?” she said.
“They may still need a place to worship. Rasputin was not conventional, but he was devout.”
“That’d be nice if we could just go through the tunnel to the Church and run across them,” Daz said.
“Just so.” Richard grinned.
“I hate to break it to you two but it’s not a proper Russian Orthodox Church, not here in Germany. It’s probably a Lutheran Church.”
“It is consecrated to God. That may be enough for the monks or for Rasputin.”
“Doesn’t impress me,” muttered Daz.
“Afraid of tunnels, Daz?” Richard asked.
“Nah, I already climbed the tunnel, remember? I’m just afraid of churches. My girlfriend dragged me in there as a hint. A big hint.”
“Which is why she is no longer your girlfriend?” Richard asked.
“Yep. I pretended to be clueless about what she wanted. I heard she married a fellow army lieutenant a year or so later. Good for her, good for me.”
That made Marian smile. “According to my research, the Museum Idar-Oberstein is the place to visit here. Given it could be staffed of local guides full of knowledge of the town, including stories not in the history books, I would recommend that as our first stop even if we didn’t know Romanoff’s source called from there. If nothing happens, then we climb to the church.”
“After we visit the Fenstermacher house,” Richard said.
She nodded. “Of course.” They’d agreed to check this place before going to confront anyone who might be waiting for them at the museum.
She drove two miles past meadows and only a few farmhouses. Rocks crunched under the wheels as the road became dirt.
“Are you sure we’re going to the right address?” Daz asked.
“Yes, this is the exact address Romanoff gave to Richard,” she said.
As soon as the word left her mouth, a farmhouse came into view.
The home was set the middle of a meadow waiting for planting. Spring was just here, so the grasses were still brown and wet.
“It’s a brick triangle,” Daz said.
“Accurate enough,” Richard said.
She parked the car. Daz had been right, it resembled a big red-brick triangle, albeit one with a thick bottom. It was a classic German farmhouse. From the windows, she guessed it was three stories inside and maybe an attic in that peaked roof.
She got out of the car and shaded her eyes from the sun. It was bright today, even with sunglasses. No cars were parked in the dirt driveway, there was no mailbox and no lights were on inside the home.
No sign of life.
“I’ll knock.” Richard strode up to the door and rapped on the wood.
They waited. He knocked again. Nothing. Daz moved to the side to look in the windows.
“No furniture,” Daz said.
She peered inside. Empty and barren of furniture. A simple farmhouse, kitchen on one side of the home, the fireplace in the middle to warm the entire structure, and open rooms that could be a living room and dining room. Wooden stairs led up to the second floor.
“It’s clean inside,” she said.
“So it’s not completely abandoned,” Richard said.
“I’ll slip inside and look around.”
Richard curled his hand around her wrist. “No. I don’t like the idea of you going inside without us.”
“So we break in?” Daz asked.
Richard shook his head. “This information came from Romanoff, who steered us wrong once. Now that I see this place, I’m more wary. It’s far more isolated than expected.”
“Another trap,” Daz said.
“There could also be a trap at the museum on top of the mountain,” Marian said. “What’s so different about this one?”
“There, at least, it’s public and our disappearance or attacks on us will be noted,” Richard said.
“So we just leave?” Marian said.
Richard nodded. “We have only preliminary information on this place. We leave this alone until we know what we’re walking into.”
“I don’t like it,” Daz said. “We leave without checking, any evidence in there could be lost.”
“We walk in there without a plan and not knowing exactly what to expect and we could be lost,” Richard said. “And I don’t like any of this, but I like being set on in an isolated area even less than being set upon in a public museum.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Daz said.
Marian stared at the farmhouse, as if it could divulge secrets by just existing.
“Waiting might be a good thing. Alec said he might come out to Germany, even though I urged him not to,” Daz said. “If he’s with us, we’ll have all the weapons we need.”
Richard grabbed Daz’s forearm. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“This isn’t your operation. I have no idea how Alec’s presence will affect what I need for my court.”
Marian stepped between them. “You two really want to argue here?”
They broke apart and got back in the car, this time with Richard behind the wheel. “You should have told me,” he repeated.
“I wasn’t sure whether to trust you,” Daz said.
“You are now?”
“Reasonably. I told you now, didn’t I? I could have just let Alec show up without warning.”
“And you wonder why I’m unsure whether to trust you,” Richard said.
Richard drove up the mountain directly to the Church of the Rock. Conversation seemed out. Richard and Daz were seething. No relaxed surfer dude today, Marian thought. Instead of blathering and saying something stupid, Marian tried to enjoy the scenery and think on what to do next.
Idar-Oberstein was a beautiful German village out of the distant past, complete with narrow cobblestone streets, dating it to the time before automobiles. Even the three-story homes seemed like skyscrapers as the road shrank to little more than the size of the car. If she were claustrophobic, she’d have felt trapped.
At her recommendation, they picked a local hotel at the top of the cliff, directly across from the Idar-Oberstein Museum and right next to the entrance to the tunnel that led to the Church. It would provide a base of operations. There was no telling how long they’d be there.
As they walked inside the hotel lobby, a bell tingled overhead, signaling their arrival. She glanced around. It seemed a typical tourist hotel, even with a corner set aside for pamphlets of all the local attractions. Narrow stairs were to the right, presumably to the rooms on the next floor. The entrance into the hotel’s restaurant and beer garden were to the left.
No sign of crazed monks.
The front-desk clerk, an older, balding man, came to immediate attention and helped them.
“One room, please.” Daz spoke before she could.
The clerk glanced over, pleading silently. She cleared her throat. “Yes, one room, and please enable the wireless,” she said in German, which she hoped Daz didn’t understand. Let him wonder if she’d agreed with him or not. She was feeling that petty. He could have mentioned wanting to share a room in the car. She knew he must have good reason, but leaving her out of the decision made her feel like baggage.
She checked them in and asked the clerk if the restaurant was open yet. It was, though the beer garden was closed.
They brought their luggage upstairs to their room.
“Want to tell me why just one room, Daz?” she asked as they set the suitcases down.
“Protection. We’re too close to the heart of it to be separated,” he said.
Richard nodded.
“You might have mentioned this before jumping in front of me with the clerk.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Daz said.
She gave them each their pass cards to the room. “Fine, but I get a bed and you two can share.”
Richard said nothing but took her hand as they descended the steps back to the lobby.
The restaurant was typically Bavarian, and the tables were sturdy hardwood. Daz picked the seat at the table that put his back against the wall and gave him a full view of the entrance, including the connecting door to the beer garden and hotel.
Daz was doing his job. She let go the resentment over not being consulted.
Richard chatted with the waiter in German, asking about the weather and if he grew up here and if he had ever been to the museum and where else would he recommend they visit.
All basic tourist questions. All seemingly innocent. If this was a trap, Marian decided they’d already been spotted.
“Is the Church of the Rock still an operating church?” she asked the waiter when Richard finally stopped talking.
“Of course,” the waiter snapped.
Odd for his mood to change from solicitous with Richard to snappy with her. Maybe he considered her an American and beneath him while Richard appeared to be German. Richard’s German was as flawless as his French.
“I am not used to anyone snapping at my companions,” Richard said. “See that you treat us with respect.” He added something harsh-sounding in German. Ah, that was an insult she hadn’t heard before.
The waiter cleared his throat. He nodded. “Apologies, Fraulein.”
“No offense taken,” she said.
“Your bread will be out very soon.” He backed away from the table, eyes always on Richard.
“Just what did you say to him?” Daz asked.
“I called him on his rudeness to Marian,” Richard said. “Odd that he changed his friendly tone so fast.”
“He thought you were a German native and I was a dumb American,” Marian said.
“Did he now? Interesting. Still, a waiter in a restaurant so close to the museum and church should be more accepting of tourists.”
“I found that a lot of people who lived near overseas American military bases held grudges against Americans,” Daz said. “And, like I said, this is a popular stop in American military circles. Maybe he’s been burned by cranky Americans.”
“That’s one explanation,” Richard said.
The other was that this waiter was connected to Rasputin. Now they had her being paranoid.
A busboy came out and put bread and butter on the table. They resumed talking after he left.
“It would be a huge coincidence if we stumbled across one of the monks at lunch,” Marian said. “The hotel and the museum aren’t connected.”
“We’re here in the off-season, we’re Americans, and the prince and I are hard to miss. Not too many mixed-race dudes in a small German town. If our robed friends are about, they know we’re here or will know soon.”
Daz looked around, his eyes focused on the two men in the far corner, near the window, chatting. “At this point, it is a good idea to assume everyone is a possible hostile.”
“That’s a rough way to live,” she said.
“Live. That’s the operative word.”
She turned to ask for a second opinion and caught Richard staring off into space.
“Richard?”
He blinked. “Yes?”
“Daz thinks the waiter could be involved with the monks.”
Richard shrugged. “Likely not but it does no harm to assume so and be cautious.”
“I’ve eaten in many places in Europe and I’ve had incompetent waiters, indifferent ones, ones who hit on me, and ones who ignored me, but I’ve never had anyone sneer at me before like this,” she said.
“It’s odd,” Richard said.
“Good thing we’re not in the islands off Scotland,” Daz said. “They burn up outsiders there.”
“What?”
Daz smiled. “It’s a movie. The Wicker Man. A police officer goes to investigate a missing kid on this isolated island and all the natives treat him oddly, so he thinks everyone knows who killed the little kid and is covering up.”
“Are they?”
“Nope, it’s something worse than that,” Daz said.
“What? He finds out they did it and they burn him up?”
“Close but not quite. I don’t like the vibe here. That’s why I thought of the movie. Maybe the whole town’s in league with Rasputin. I don’t remember this kind of thing from my earlier visit.”
“You might have been focused on your lady friend,” Richard said.
“Maybe,” Daz said.
The waiter came with the check. He gave it to Richard. Marian grabbed it out of his hands, took out her own credit card and gave it back to the waiter. He glared and practically snatched it from her hand.
“He’s not getting much of a tip,” Daz said.
“You were right, Daz,” Richard said. “I first took his rudeness for a quirk but have you noticed the other patrons? Their eyes keep sliding away from us. It’s eerie. Your Wicker Man analogy may be apt.”
“You’ve seen that movie too?” she asked.
“I’m always curious about how the current Englishmen view the past.”
“Weird glances won’t hurt us,” Daz said. “But I still wish I had a gun.”
After they paid, Marian was glad to step out into the afternoon sunlight. The oppressive atmosphere dissipated, though she half expected monks to jump out from an alley and block their way through the cobblestone streets. Old-world architecture never seemed so foreboding before.
We beat the monks the last time. She must keep reminding herself of that. Besides, she could go phantom. Daz was the only one whose life was really in danger, and he was calm. She could be too. “How about a walk around the block before we go into the museum?”
“Excellent idea.” Richard offered her his arm and she accepted. “The more we’re seen, the better the odds that we’ll stir something up.”
“And it will give us a chance to see if all the villagers are as unfriendly as the ones inside the restaurant,” Daz said.
It might have been the sunlight, it might have been the company, but her spirits lifted. She walked, head held high, with Richard, letting the day’s warmth fill her.
She almost imagined she was on holiday, having an adventure, though Daz’s careful steps behind them made her aware he was still on watch, so the illusion wasn’t complete. If only she were on vacation with Richard.
“I should like to take you on a real holiday,” Richard said.
Maybe he was a mind reader too. “Where?”
“Perhaps Hawaii and some of the Pacific islands. The surf is beautiful there.”
“I can’t surf,” she said.
“I’ll teach you.”
“Sounds better than this gloomy town,” Daz said.
“I doubt it was always this gloomy,” she said. “Remember, it used to be the center of the gem trade. The local economy has been hit hard the last couple of decades, like some areas in the states.”
“You’re saying this is the gem equivalent of Detroit?” Daz asked.
“Something like that.”
They encountered only a few people on the streets, neither friendly nor unfriendly, but obviously uninterested in the visitors. In no time at all, they were back at the museum entrance.
The museum loomed before them, three stories of whitewashed stone set just off from the entrance to the Felsenkirche. As museums went, it was strictly small-time, Marian thought, which only meant it was locally run and supported, rather than having wider scope. It was no Smithsonian, but local museums often held knowledge not in facilities with a wide, less focused scope.
She’d no idea why Romanoff’s source would have been located here. Surely, Rasputin would want to be in Russia.
A single employee manned the relatively small desk in the front room, which almost seemed a twin to the lobby of the bed and breakfast where they had stayed the night before.
The receptionist instantly came to attention, stood up and welcomed them in German. The middle-aged woman reminded Marian of many Germans she had encountered through the years. Solid, friendly but not too friendly, and with crisp, careful movements.
Richard answered the receptionist in German, and then asked for three tickets in English.
“It would be rude to speak only German in front of my American companions,” he told the receptionist.
Playing along, Marian turned in a circle to look at the photographs of the gem mines and the Church of the Rock that were hanging on the walls.
“Just how did they carve that church into the mountain?” Marian said, letting her voice fill with real awe. The Church was truly a work of artistry.
“It took many years and many skilled craftsmen,” the receptionist replied in halting English. “You must visit it after your visit with us. You must experience it.”
“Thank you, we will,” Marian said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Do you have any recommendations on what exhibits we should see in the museum?” Richard asked, also in English.
“The whole museum should be seen.” The receptionist smiled. “We are small, so it should not be a hardship.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “But there is a room all in darkness to better see the light given off by the crystals. And I am especially fond of the fossil coral display.”
“Those sound unique,” Richard said.
“All of our stones are beautiful.” She frowned. “They are far better than the synthetic rocks they make now. These are real, made by nature and God. Synthetic is not the same. Fake. No good.”
“I agree. I want to see the real ones,” Marian said as she took the guidebooks from the receptionist. “Tell me, do you get many other visitors who appreciate the real stones?”
“Not as many in passing years but in the last few months, the number of visitors has picked up. There were even some monks who came a few months ago.”
“Monks! Fascinating. Well, it is a place to worship what God has created,” Richard said.
“So they said, almost those words, sir,” the receptionist answered.
“Were they traveling? I didn’t realize monks traveled in packs,” Marian said.
“I have no idea. I never thought to ask.” The receptionist sat back down in her chair and picked up a pencil, as if going back to work. Perhaps they had been too nosy, Marian thought.
“Thank you so much for your assistance,” Richard said again in German and smiled at her. “It has been a pleasure to deal with someone who appreciates history.”
That won him a small answering smile from the receptionist. She bent back to the journal or whatever she was writing in.
They passed through the museum doorway into the first room. Daz looked back.
“She didn’t have a computer that I could see.”
“Obviously, they don’t have enough visitors to need a computer to track them all,” Marian said.
“So she sits out there alone all day, with no internet connection, unless someone happens to come in?” Daz shook his head. “I’d go crazy. And if monks did arrive en masse one day, I’d ask them all kinds of questions, if only for the company.”
“Maybe they told her they had a vow of silence?” Richard said.
Daz laughed.
“Germans as a whole aren’t big on questioning or curiosity,” Marian said more seriously. “A German client visiting the U.S. once asked me why police had to guard an area cordoned off. I said it was to prevent anyone from crossing the crime scene tape. He said in Germany, no one would dare cross the tape.”
“Hah,” Daz said. “I guess we’re not big on following directions.”
“I’ve noticed that,” Richard said. “It’s not always a positive trait.”
“You would say that,” Daz answered. “But even so, it might not be a cultural difference with the museum employee. For all we know, she’s Romanoff’s contact.”
“True. So now what?” Marian asked.
“We look at the gems and minerals,” Richard said. “And see what happens.” He took Marian’s hand. “I’ve noticed that patience is not an American virtue either.”
Daz only shrugged.
“Once we see the museum, we can ask her more specific questions, which might lead to some information,” Marian said.
Overhead lights lit the exhibits in the museum. Their first stop was a room of whitewashed walls with wooden braces along the walls. The exhibit featured various rocks and minerals not only from local sources, but around the world. Pretty stones but nothing spectacular. Marian sighed. Not a promising start, but at least no one was trying to kill them.
The next room held the fossil corals. She stared for a long time at wide-mouth rock that looked to have blue fungus growing out of the bottom of its yawning opening. But she knew if she could reach out and touch it, it would be solid and unyielding.
Richard stared for a time at green lichen trapped inside a glorious field of blue rock.
Until someone had split it open, it had looked like any other large rock.
Daz whistled. “Maybe I should I have explored this place instead of the Felsenkirche.”
“Maybe,” Richard said but his voice was flat, as it had been when talking about the abbey.
“Bummed these stones are even older than you?” Daz teased.
“Only noting that while I seem old, I am but a tiny child compared to the rest of the Earth. One day, even I will be dust. These rocks will remain.”
“That’s hardly a happy thought,” she said.
“I suppose I have had too many years that provide too much time to think.” He smiled. “It’s good to see such beauty, even if I half expect murderous monks to jump out of the shadows.” He pulled her close, with his arms wrapped around her waist. “Nature produces the most amazing things, more so even than man. And that includes you, Marian Doyle.”
Daz cleared his throat. “I’ll just check the next room for problems, since this one is clear.”
Marian let Richard hold her, for a time not wanting to speak. Richard had all the time in the world. She wondered how much time she had in comparison, at least with him.
“Have I scandalized you, Angel?”
“With Daz? No, after the last couple of nights, I think I’ve gotten over that. Or, at least, he has.” She closed her eyes, letting her head rest against his shoulder. “I’ve no idea what this is between us but I’m glad it exists.”
“Have I not made my feelings clear?”
I have no idea if your feelings are the same as ordinary human feelings. “I know you’re glad to be with me.”
“Ah. I forget, even after all these years, women require words along with actions. Shall I quote some poetry?”
“Are you kidding?” She pushed back from him. “Poetry is the last thing I want. Try something less showy and more real.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Richard, I know you care about me. It’s not hard to see that. But you must have had so many women over the years, and I’m sure you’ll have many more in the future. I don’t need pretty words or romantic gestures. I want something real.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “There were no women like you.”
“Because I can turn into a phantom? Because I’m a novelty? Because I’m interesting? What in the world makes me so unique?”
He frowned. “Why do I have to sort out reasons? I want to be with you. It makes me happy, as I haven’t been in at least the last hundred years. I want to be with you for as far into the future as I can imagine.”
“I love you.”
She put her fingers over her mouth. Oh, God, would she never stop blurting stuff out when nervous? She tried to break away from Richard.
He held her shoulders firm, preventing any escape. “Oh, Angel,” he whispered. “After all my years, I’m unsure of what love is. But rest assured, I’m yours.”
She looked up to meet his gaze. “You are?” Her voice broke.
“And you are mine.”
He kissed her and she kissed him back, pulled him closer, wrapping her hands around his neck, trying to show him just how crazy in love she was with him. Crazy being the operative word.
“Now, before the world crashes in, let us enjoy ourselves,” he said.
“But we can’t do it here,” she whispered. Though if he asked…
He took her hand and kissed it. “Not my intention. I meant we ought to enjoy the day, at least until the world crashes in.”
They wandered into the next room, a brightly lit modern exhibit, so different from the previous room, as if walking from a dreary twilight into light. Or maybe she was still dazzled by Richard. Okay, she was definitely still dazzled by Richard.
A little voice told her she was infatuated, not in love, because Richard was the first man in her life who insisted she was unique and perfect as she was. No conditions, nothing to prove. He simply thought she was wonderful.
She decided that was an excellent reason for falling in love with someone.
She turned her attention to the exhibit. There were more chunks of minerals, mostly quartz embedded in stone. The quartz colors ranged from pink to blues and greens and all spectrums in between. Marian vowed not to say another word and risk breaking this spell of beauty and perfection.
“The next room is the room with the glow-in-the-dark rocks,” Daz said, breaking the silence. “In case you two feel the need to wander to a secluded corner for stuff, let me know where you are, okay?”
“A dark room seems a perfect place for an ambush,” Richard said. “I’ll be on guard.”
“I’ll be right next to you,” Daz said.
True to its billing, the next room featured glowing crystals and rock in the midst of darkness, another kind of beauty.
She stopped to admire the large boulder in the middle with iridescent golden flecks. “I always wished to travel and see things for their own sake but I’ve never had the time.”
“Your family asks much of you,” Richard said.
“Too much.”
“Perhaps. In a way, you’ve been lucky, Angel. I too used to believe my family obligations were a heavy destiny. But, in many ways, I’ve been blessed with my first and second families, as you have been. You never had to toil in a mine. You never had to fear where your next meal might come from. You never had to physically fight to protect your own from certain death.”
Her throat closed up. “First-world problems, you mean?”
He brushed a curl back from her face. “I’m not familiar with the phrase.”
“It means there are many who struggle for simple survival and, whatever my problems, I’m not one of them.”
“Ah. Something like that, then.”
“Have you lost many people in your life?”
“Yes. I thought I’d get used to it but each loss cuts deeper.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “I stayed away from the Court for a long time, but I miss them. I even miss my insufferable brother.”
“I don’t want to lose my family. I just want some space.” She turned. “Daz? It’s time to go. Where are you?”
“I’m in the next room, casing it,” he said from beyond a doorway. “Give me a sec.”
A strangle shuffling sound came a few seconds later.
“Daz?” she said.
“Montoya?” Richard snapped to attention in the darkness. As they rushed to the light, the sound of glass shattering echoed around them.
The large case in the middle of the next exhibit had been smashed, exposing an ancient rock to the air. The pieces of glass scattered around the floor were splattered with blood.
There was no sign of Daz or any attackers.