Gabriel Hunt - Hunt at the Well of Eternity

Gabriel Hunt tugged at the tight collar around his neck and grimaced as he failed to loosen it. He stuck the thumb of his other hand inside the cummerbund cinched around his waist and pulled it out a little.

I hate tuxedos, he muttered.

His brother Michael leaned closer to him. Without altering the beaming smile on his face, Michael said from the corner of his mouth, Stop figeting.

Easy for you to say, yours probably fits.

You could have had one made as well, Michael said. Thomas would have been delighted. If instead you choose to rent from some off-the-rack dealer

Best part of wearing a tuxedos getting to give the damn thing back, Gabriel said. Then he spotted something that interested him more than the collars constraints.

Someone, actually.

The loveliest woman he had seen in quite some time.

She moved toward the Hunt brothers, her natural grace allowing her to glide with apparent ease through the crowd that thronged the Great Hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She was as beautiful as any of the masterpieces hung on the walls in the museums many galleries.

A mass of midnight-black curls framed a compelling, high-cheekboned face dominated by dark, intense eyes. Those curls tumbled over honey-skinned shoulders left bare by the strapless evening gown of dark green silk that clung to the generous curves of her body. She possessed a timeless, natural beauty that was more attractive to Gabriel than anything the multitude of stick-thin, face-lifted society women attending this reception could ever muster.

And she appeared to be coming straight toward him.

Whos that? Gabriel asked his brother.

I have no idea, Michael replied. I dont think Ive ever seen her before.

Youd remember if you had, Gabriel said. I thought you knew everyone here.

Tonights reception was in honor of a new exhibit of Egyptian art and artifacts, many of which the Hunt Foundation had provided on loan to the museum. Gabriel had brought several of those artifacts back with him from a recent trip to Egyptsome of them even with the knowledge of the Egyptian government. The exhibit would open to the public the next day, but tonight was an advance showing for the museums wealthiest benefactors.

Gabriel snagged a couple of glasses of champagne from a tray carried by a passing waiter. The beautiful young woman might be thirsty, and if she was, he was going to be ready.

Whats that shes carrying? Michael asked in an undertone.

It was Gabriels turn to say, I have no idea. Instead of some glittery, fashionable purse, the young woman carried a cloth-wrapped bundle of some sort. The cloth was a faded red, and to Gabriels eye, it appeared old. The fabric looked distressed, the edges frayed.

A waiter moved in front of her, offering her a drink. She shook her head and looked irritated that the man had interrupted her progress across the hall. When Gabriel saw that, he tossed back the champagne in one of the glasses he held, then pressed the other into Michaels hand.

Either the lady didnt drink, or she had something else on her mind at the moment.

Gabriel set the empty glass on a pedestal supporting a clay vase, then turned to greet the young woman with a smile as she finally reached the spot where he and Michael were standing, near one of the pillars that ran along the sides of the hall.

Seor Hunt? she said. He caught a hint of a South American accent, but only a hint.

Thats right, Gabriel said, but before he could ask her who she was, she spoke again.

Seor Michael Hunt?

Gabriel shot a sidelong glance Michaels way and Michael stepped forward, smiling. Shorter, younger, and studious-looking rather than ruggedly handsome, he was accustomed to paling into insignificance next to his more dynamic older brother. But that didnt mean he had to like it.

Im Michael Hunt, he said. And you are?

My name is Mariella Montez, she told him.

And what can I do for you, Miss Montez?

Before she could reply, the waiter who had stopped her on her way across the hall appeared behind her sleek, bare left shoulder. Excuse me, maam, but I believe you dropped this.

With an annoyed look again on her face, she turned toward the red-jacketed man and said, I didnt drop anything

But what the waiter was extending toward her was a pistol, aimed directly between her ample breasts. He reached out with his other hand to snatch the bundle she was carrying.

Mariella jerked back and said, No!

Incredulous and instantly tensed for trouble, Gabriel stepped between Mariella and the waiter. Hey, buddy, put that thing down. This is a museum, not a firing range.

This is not your concern, the waiter said, and swung the pistol at Gabriels head.

Instinct brought Gabriels left arm up to block the blow. His right fist shot up and out in a short, sharp punch that rocked the waiters head back and bloodied his nose.

With his now crimson-smeared face contorted with anger, the waiter swung again. This time he slashed at Gabriels throat. Gabriel leaped backward and collided with the young woman.

Such a collision might have been pleasurable under other circumstances, but not now. Not with a madman of a waiter swinging a gun that he could just as easily start firing at any moment.

Gabriel felt Mariella push him away, then say, Seor Hunt, you must take this! But she wasnt talking to him. He heard Michael, behind him, saying, What is it? She was probably trying to give Michael the cloth-wrapped bundle, what ever it was. Gabriel didnt have the time to check whether the hand-off had been successful. Instead, he lowered his head and tackled the waiter around the waist, driving the man off his feet. The gun went off as they fell, the bullet shattering a pane of glass in the ceiling twenty feet overhead.

Commotion filled the Great Hall as shards of glass rained down. Some men yelled and pushed forward, demanding to know what was going on. Others scurried out of the way, trampling on the trailing edges of their dates expensive gowns in their rush to steer clear of the fray. Security guards ran toward the scene of the struggle.

Gabriel knocked the gun out of the waiters hand, but the waiter darted in under Gabriels guard, wrapped his fists around Gabriels throat, and squeezed with a grip like a dockworkers. Gabriel heaved himself off the marble-tiled floor and rolled over in an attempt to break the mans hold. The waiter hung on stubbornly.