The Mask of Atreus by A. J. Hartley
By A. J. Hartley
An imprecise museum's useless owner lies in a mystery room surrounded by means of one of many world's such a lot fantastic collections of Greek antiquities. just a helpful Mycenaean demise masks has been taken, in addition to the bones of a mythical hero inspiration to exist in simple terms in historic delusion. Looted by way of the Nazis, the treasures are nonetheless being sought through these whose goals of glory stay undefeated. The masks is an extraordinary discovery that might be a strength for devastating retribution within the mistaken arms. yet by the point museum curator Deborah Miller learns the reality, it can be too overdue not just to save lots of herself--but to bare to the area the remarkable mystery she's exposed.
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Extra resources for The Mask of Atreus
Sample text
Now, in the dim greenish glow of the overhead lamps, she felt the presence of the long-dead, musty animal corpses like gargoyles in the shadows of a cathedral, dead but somehow watchful. She moved a little faster, suddenly sure that the great curving gallery was getting a hint brighter. She felt first relief, then doubt and swelling panic. There was only one light source up ahead, and for it to be filtering into the gallery now could not be good news. She began to run, past the stiff and moldering lions with their bared teeth and hard yellow eyes, past the rigid gulls and their frozen chicks, the great blackness of the water buffalo, its head lowered, horns spread, and began to murmur under her breath as the surreal greenish tinge paled with each step.
It was strange, she thought. She had been too consumed by her own grief at who the corpse was to have been horrified or revolted by it. “I thought I’d get a jump on the day’s work,” Tonya was saying. “I knew there’d be a lot of cleaning up to do. ” said Deborah, turning to the black cop. He had taken out a notebook and was watching her anxiously. He was probably terrified of getting the procedure wrong, she thought, feeling something oddly like compassion for him. The Mask of Atreus 41 “I got a phone call telling me I needed to get back here,” she said.
Could he have been stabbed so deeply (six or seven times, said that insistent, detail-oriented voice which usually commented on potsherds and burial mounds) that the blade had emerged from his back? What kind of weapon would do that? It had to be as close to a sword as a knife. And then there were the pair of indentations in the skin on either side of each wound: two small bruises an inch or so to the sides of each flat puncture . . She turned hurriedly away, overcome with a sudden desperate nausea that made her retch so that her throat stung, but brought nothing up from her stomach.