Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(51)

She rolled her eyes as he turned on his heels and headed out of the portal room. Fane had never tried to interfere in her intimate affairs. Usually because she had no affairs, intimate or otherwise.

But they both understood that Duncan O’Conner threatened to become more than a passing distraction.

They entered the main section of the monastery, and Callie forced herself to ignore Fane’s foul mood as a heavily cloaked monk moved toward her.

Her guardian was like an older brother. No matter how much they might fuss and fight, nothing could break their bond of trust.

She would never, ever doubt he had her back.

“Welcome to our humble abbey.” The monk offered a bow before he straightened and pulled back his hood to reveal a long, deeply wrinkled face that was made beautiful by his kind blue eyes and sweet smile. “I am Brandon.”

Beside her, Fane returned the bow, his hand pressed over his heart in a gesture of respect.

“We are honored to be your guests. I’m Fane and this is Callie Brown.”

“Fane. Ms. Brown.” He sent them both a piercing glance. “A pleasure.”

“Please call me Callie.”

“Thank you.” Another sweet smile before Brandon waved a hand toward a nearby archway. “We have prepared for your arrival. If you’ll follow me.”

They traveled through the reception room, which was built of stark gray stones with narrow slits that offered a mere glimpse of the fading sunlight. She didn’t allow herself to think that it was still late morning at Valhalla. Her stomach was just settling from the journey.

There was a long, narrow hallway that ended in a heavy wooden door with an old-fashioned iron lock. Brandon pulled an equally old-fashioned key from the pocket of his robe and used it to tumble the lock. Then, with a strange air of ceremony he pushed open the door and stepped aside so Callie could enter first.

She wasn’t sure what to expect.

Although she’d been surrounded by Sentinels all her life, not to mention traveled by portal with Fane from one monastery to another, she’d never been beyond the public rooms that were always stark and uninviting. The monks were OCD when it came to the privacy of the students and their training.

Now she sucked in a startled breath as she glanced around the vast library.

The place was . . . stunning.

Unlike the sleek, high-tech library at Valhalla, this room spoke of Russia’s past, with an onion-domed ceiling that was richly painted with Orthodox icons and edged with gilt. The floor was a white marble inset with pieces of jade and gold that shimmered in the light from the candelabras. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves that were ornately carved and separated by fluted columns. The rosewood furniture was clearly the work of master craftsmen and so highly polished it seemed to glow.

“Oh.” Callie twirled in a circle, absorbing the sheer beauty of the room. “This is exquisite.”

The monk chuckled. “I will share your appreciation with our students.”

Callie widened her eyes. “Sentinels did this?”

“We train all our Sentinels with some craft.”

Callie shot a glance toward the silent Fane. “So that’s how you learned to carve such beautiful figurines.”

Fane shrugged, but his features eased as he studied her dazzled expression. He would have his tongue cut out before he admitted he took pride in his small carvings that filled the nurseries at Valhalla.

Tiny ballerinas, trees with squirrels perched on leafy branches, intricate castles, and mind-twisting puzzles. Bewitching creations that the children adored.

“It teaches that anything worthy comes from patience and dedication to detail,” Brandon explained.

Callie smiled. “We should all learn that particular lesson.”

Brandon moved to a fireplace set behind a large desk, brushing his hand over a jade vase. Without warning a panel beside the fireplace slid open to reveal a hidden staircase.

“This way,” the monk urged, leading them down the dark stairs.

Callie followed behind him with Fane bringing up the rear.

“Where are we going?” she asked in confusion, skimming her hand down the cement wall as the darkness thickened to the point she was nearly blind. Her own skills didn’t include seeing in the dark.

“This is where we keep items that are too fragile to be put on display,” Brandon answered, opening the door at the bottom of the stairs to reveal a brilliantly lit room that was built in the shape of an octagon and lined with steel. Eight doors were set in the steel. “These vaults are specially designed to maintain the proper temperature and humidity.” Brandon headed to the nearest door, pressing his thumb against a digital scanner. If the library upstairs had been a vision of old-world elegance, this was a glimpse into the future. “And, of course, the scribes are trained to handle even the most ancient artifacts.”

Callie frowned, wondering if there had been a miscommunication. “The information we seek isn’t particularly ancient.”

Brandon nodded toward the door that silently slid open. “This particular vault contains various books and journals and even letters that refer to ...” He paused to consider his words. “Let us say sensitive issues dealing with our people.”

“Secret histories?” Callie asked.

“Not secret.” Brandon smiled his sweet, sweet smile. “Regulated on a need-to-know basis.”