Chapter Three

Moments of Revelation

Untying the tan button-down from around her waist, she pulled it on over the thin ribbed tank-top she wore and then snatched up the book. Just an hour ago she'd wanted to avoid sleep for as long as she could, now all she wanted to do was climb into her cot, yank her sleeping bag closed over her head and tell everyone to go away.

She almost didn't want to take that damned treacherous walkie with her, but she grudgingly picked it up and clipped it on her belt, knowing the interference a moment ago would likely pass. Despite all of the more environment-focused safety measures in place, she knew Sango would never forgive her if she ventured into the jungle with no way to call for assistance.

A few minutes later, she was traversing the slender carved path, kept safe from any curious animals by a chemical mixture used to treat the ground—harmless to the vegetation and wildlife, but just pungent enough to deter potentially dangerous creatures from the immediate area. Every yard, a pair of glow rods illuminated the wilderness, her careful progress aided by the light of her hand-held lantern.

While she still wasn't fearful of the jungle surrounding her, she was unsettled by the eerie green hue the rods cast on everything. Before she knew it, she had dropped her gaze, watching her feet and counting her steps in her head to keep her mind from wandering. The last thing she needed was for her imagination to run away with her out here.

She was aware that it wouldn't only be her immediate vicinity that might cause such a thing to happen, either, but the unnerving visual anomalies she'd been duped into sitting through. Get it together, Kagome! You're a scientist and you already know what made those images. She paused, lifting her gaze just long enough to gauge how far she was from the cavern.

Much to her relief, she was almost at the spot where the path began to curve around the mountain.

"Kagome," she said to herself in an angry mutter, "perception is reality. If Grandpa was here, he'd have run over to the temple and purified every inch of the place, and you know what? The next reel of footage from that chamber would still have exactly the same sort of creepy defects as the ones you just saw." Her bizarre sense of familiarity with the area notwithstanding, of course, she was much more inclined to believe Professor Taisho's reasoning in that matter than in some other-worldly cause.

As she pivoted on her heel, turning herself to face the mouth of the cave, she paused.

For just a moment as she stared into that sparsely illuminated darkness, she was overcome with the feeling that someone was standing behind her. The sensation was there and gone in a blink, yet so strong she could have sworn a physical presence had been with her. Whatever it had been was gone now—she was certain of that—but she couldn't stop herself from casting a glance over her shoulder.

Her knees sagged a little beneath her as she confirmed that she was indeed alone, but the awareness of how real—how living, how breathing—that presence had felt sent a smattering of goosebumps rising across her skin.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she faced forward again, shaking off the feeling only to find her motions stilling once more. Lifting already widened blue eyes, she caught the slimmest glimpse of the moon through a break in the canopy above. The gleaming, pearly white waxing crescent was almost hypnotic, the tapered ends appearing oddly sharp and elongated.

As beautiful as it was, she couldn't help thinking that there seemed something unnatural about it.

Okay, Kagome. Now you're really being stupid. She forced a laugh at herself. It's just the moon, there's noth— A sensation like a chilled fingertip dragged along her spine.

She bolted instantly, darting down into the tunnel, a hand clamped over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. Kagome might be running to hide behind the professor—from nothing more than her own imagination, she mocked herself even as she ran—but she had no desire to give him the negative impression of hearing her shriek all the way to him, like some frightened elementary-schooler.

The winding tunnel seemed longer than she remembered, her heart hammering in her chest with every step. She felt certain her entire ribcage must be rattling with the force of it by the time her feet hit the underground shore.

Common sense slammed into Kagome as she brought herself to a skittering halt a few meters before the temple. Her body pitched forward from the waist up and she braced her free hand on her knees as she caught her breath forcibly. She could not go running in there at top speed like this!

She could not let her professor see her looking even remotely freaked out, because then he'd ask why, and she'd have to tell him.

Straightening up, she inhaled deep and smoothed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears. She didn't have to tell him the honest answer, she reasoned with herself as she took plodding steps across the shore and started up the wide, flat stone stairs that led into the temple's ante chamber. However, if he saw her like that, he would ask what was wrong, and she already knew she would feel irrationally compelled to tell him the truth.

She drew in another deep breath, through her nostrils this time, letting the rich earthy smells of damp air and saltwater ground her. He would listen patiently to everything she had to say and then . . . he would decide that she was having some sort of breakdown and that she clearly wasn't ready for field work.

He'd have her sent home a mere two and a half weeks into the excavation.

That thought was sobering. Nodding to no one at all, Kagome took another moment to straighten herself out—tugging at corners of fabric and dusting her clothes off, whether or not they needed it—and then stepped into the temple.

Professor Taisho was in what she was beginning to think of as the problem chamber when she found him. His long, sleek silver hair was tied back, the length of it falling past his waist as he knelt beside an altar. They'd all noted how odd it was that this temple had a handful of them—and they'd not even been through the entire structure, yet—and that in this room, the altar was positioned differently from those they'd seen thus far.

His back was to her, his field journal in one hand as he tipped his head this way and that, running the fingers of his other hand over the elaborate illustrations carved into the base of the altar.

"Still a mystery?" she asked in a low voice, not really surprised when she didn't startle him—he always seemed to know when she was there. He probably had an acute spatial awareness and could tell when anyone was near, she thought.

Sitting back on his heels, Professor Taisho set his notebook on the floor and rubbed his hands over his face. "Yes, but it's still early. We may not even have an answer in this room. There could be others off-set like this one and this is just part of some pattern we can't see, yet. This," he said, pausing briefly as he turned his head to take in the area, "is a strange place."

His eyes moved from the far walls to rest on hers and after a mute second, she arched a brow.

"Shouldn't you have already turned in for the evening?" he finally asked.

She couldn't help laughing a little—somehow the frightening moment she'd had at the mouth of the cave felt very far suddenly. "Apparently, when you stay awake at camp—and don't have your PhD yet—people like to borrow you to assist them." She held up the book with which she'd been entrusted in way of elaboration.

The professor pushed up to stand and turned on his heel to face her, a flicker of a half-smile playing on his lips as he pointed. "Is that what I hope it is?"

Kagome held the book out to him, nodding as he slid the small tome from her fingers and immediately started flipping through pages. "From what I was told, yes. Poor guy is probably going to sleep for the next two days, but he did seem pretty satisfied with himself."

Professor Taisho's shoulders shook ever so slightly in a brief, silent chuckle as his eyes roved the scribble-laden pages. "I hope he didn't make me sound like a slave driver. He was just as eager to put a rush on the translation as I was."

Kagome nodded, unable to stop her gaze from going to the section of wall where the lighting defects had occurred. Strange, but from here it didn't look as though it dipped or curved at all. Perhaps the difference in depth was so slight, one had to be right in front of it to notice.

The professor's eyes flickered up from the pages to see the young woman staring at the far wall, opposite the altar. A corner of her mouth was pulled tight to one side, creating a dimple in her cheek. He recognized that expression for the classroom. Higurashi Kagome was puzzling over something.

"What's fascinating you this time?"

She shrugged, turning her head to find him watching her, silver eyebrows lifted just a bit in question. "Sorry, I just . . . ." She let out a small, soft laugh at herself, stepping over to the altar and leaning back against it as she turned to face the wall. "All those visual anomalies occur in the same spot against that wall. I'm wondering what it is about that section that's causing it."

He stepped to one side, mirroring her posture as he set the book down to rest his hips back against the altar and fold his arms across his chest. "All in the same spot, really?"

"Mm-hmm."

"That's good news. Should make the issue easier to solve, then. I'm just wondering why you know about that, since your friend Ryoushi was supposed to handle the footage review."

Blue eyes went wide as she scrambled for precisely the right answer—she didn't want to get Sango in trouble. "Well, I . . . volunteered to do it. See, um, she—she had something that . . . I just didn't want her to miss out because . . ." She could hear herself babbling, but she just couldn't seem to stop. "There was this thing and she wanted to go, but she wouldn't 'cause, um, she had to work—" And she was perfectly aware she was nodding like an idiot after every word, and gesturing vaguely but emphatically with both hands which, again, she just couldn't seem to stop doing. "So, I said I'd do it. The work, I mean, not go to the . . . uh, thing and—"

"Oh, God, stop," the professor interrupted gently, holding up one hand as he pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly with the thumb and forefinger of the other. "Two things," he said as he dropped his hands and looked at her. "One—I know about Ryoushi and Miroku. Two—you are a terrible liar."

Her face fell instantly and her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry I just . . . ." She sighed. "I know Miroku's not in a position that prevents him from, um, fraternizing with students, but he is your assistant, and I didn't know if maybe it would be the sort of thing you would frown on."

Professor Taisho shrugged, his brow furrowing lightly. "As long as an off-hours relationship doesn't affect their work, then I don't feel it's my place to step in. In this case, it could be seen as an interference, but as Ryoushi found a competent substitute, it can be allowed to slide."

"You're speaking as if you're our boss instead of our teacher," she observed aloud.

"I suppose that's because on site that's how I actually see you all. Understand that here, you're not a student, Higurashi. You are a future colleague—and I'm the one honored with making that future happen."

Kagome knew she probably looked dazzled, but she couldn't help it. Certainly she'd always felt honored to have Taisho Sesshomaru as her professor—she never imagined he felt even a shred of that in return.

"Wow," she managed to say after a moment that she knew wasn't nearly as long in passing as it had felt. "I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have thought of it like that, but I guess it is true."

"That aside, I'd thought you would be more concerned for Ryoushi due to Miroku's friendly nature with the female students."

She felt her eyes widen, again. "You know about Miroku's flir—" Her words trailed off at the look of mild amusement on the professor's face. "Of course, you do. It's not like I'm not worried that she might get hurt, but . . . I don't know, she's just really into him and there's that old saying about love being blind." She offered a tiny shrug. "I think in some cases, it's deaf and dumb, too."

"So, I've heard," he responded offhandedly.

The girl's dark, arched brows slowly inched their way up her forehead.

He shook his head at her look of obvious disbelief, giving a short chuckle at himself. He was uncertain of when the conversation had taken a personal turn, but oddly at ease with the change of direction.

"Oh, no, it's not as though I've been living under a rock. Work." He gestured around to the chamber. "Our work has simply always taken precedence in my life. When opportunity has knocked . . . I've been rushing out the back door to get to a lecture."

She giggled a little at that, somewhat in spite of herself, as she remembered what Sango had said to her earlier. "I might be the same way some day. Apparently, I have all the makings of a proper workaholic. If I can't find someone who can understand how important this all is to me . . . ." She shook her head, giving a considerate, yet almost sad grin. "I'll be a spinster, but at least I'll be an accomplished spinster."

His brow furrowed thoughtfully, amber eyes roving the chamber for a few seconds. "Then I suppose Ryoushi and Miroku are lucky to find themselves in a relationship with someone who understands from the beginning the demands of a career in this field."

They'd both been staring off, but his words struck a chord within her and she brought her eyes to him. As though he felt the weight of it, he turned his head, meeting her gaze. They shared a moment of quiet contemplation, though neither seemed to know what was really going through their own head.

She wondered if they waited just long enough, would she see a flicker of comprehension in those amber depths? It was a wonder that was in danger of setting off butterflies in her stomach.

Why didn't she just excuse herself and go back to camp?

Understanding that the continued silence was only serving to make the situation awkward, he snatched up the leatherbound journal from the altar and flipped the front cover open. "Shall we see if the answer to this place is in these pages, future colleague?"

He knew he'd taken the right tack—her expression lit up, losing any trace of that skittish uncertainty he thought he'd spied for just a moment.

"What, really?" She'd be one of the first people to know what this place was? The very notion was overwhelming.

Professor Taisho gave a half-nod. "Well, if that's what this says." He once more gestured toward the walls with is free hand. "Of course, it could always be something truly dramatic . . . like a recipe list."

Kagome didn't know how to respond to that. " Do you always get like this when you work into the wee hours?"

Blinking, he checked his watch and then turned his attention back to the book. "It's only just after midnight. I get worse."

The chamber fell quiet again as he skimmed the scribbled pages. During that time, a handful of varying expressions flitted across his face. "Hmm," he said at last.

"Is something wrong?"

"This place . . . is a tomb."

She was very confused by that—it was a notion contradictory to many things she'd learned about this culture, already. "But I thought Mezzo Americans used temples for worship and sacrifice; that they kept their burial places separate."

The professor nodded. "It seems this was a place of worship and sacrifice." He tipped his head to one side for a moment before going on. "Unique sacrifices, and then it became a tomb."

Her face scrunched up in thought. "Worship of what? We haven't seen any religious iconography, or signs of tribute to the native deities."

His eyes snapped up from the book to lock on hers and something in his look had a shiver threatening to run up her spine. "That's because this temple—it's very existence—would have been blasphemy to these people. It was built by a cult who worshiped a demon."

The revelation was jarring, but just like that, Kagome's brain was struggling to comprehend the oddities this place had presented her with, thus far. "That's why it was built in a place that was so difficult to get to." Her fingers snapped reflexively as another piece of the puzzle slid into place. "Maybe that even explains the uniqueness of the text. Like it isn't actually its own dialect, but a deliberate shift in meaning or word usage—a code only the cult members would readily understand."

"Very good," he said, his voice somewhat numb. This was why she was his favorite student.

"But wait . . . then who's this tomb for?"

A thoughtful frown tugged at the corners of Professor Taisho's mouth as those amber eyes became icy. "For the demon."