Douglas Preston - Cemetery Dance

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2009 by Splendide Mendax, Inc. and Lincoln Child

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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First eBook Edition: May 2009

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ISBN: 978-0-446-53784-1

BY DOUGLAS PRESTON AND LINCOLN CHILD

The Wheel of Darkness

The Book of the Dead

Dance of Death

Brimstone

Still Life with Crows

The Cabinet of Curiosities

The Ice Limit

Thunderhead

Riptide

Reliquary

Mount Dragon

Relic

BY DOUGLAS PRESTON

The Monster of Florence (with Mario Spezi)

Blasphemy

Tyrannosaur Canyon

The Codex

Ribbons of Time

The Royal Road

Talking to the Ground

Jennie

Cities of Gold

Dinosaurs in the Attic

BY LINCOLN CHILD

Terminal Freeze

Deep Storm

Death Match

Utopia

Tales of the Dark 13

Dark Banquet

Dark Company

Lincoln Child dedicates this book to his daughter, Veronica

Douglas Preston dedicates this book to Karen Copeland

For their various and sundry ministrations, wed like to thank the following: Jaime Levine, Jamie Raab, Kim Hoffman, Kallie Shimek, Mariko Kaga, Jon Couch, Claudia Rlke, Eric Simonoff, Matthew Snyder, and everyone at Grand Central Publishing and beyond who help bring our books to our readers.

We are extremely grateful to those who helped create Corrie Swansons Pendergast Web site, including Carmen Elliott, Nadine Waddell, Cheryl Deering, Ophelia Julien, Sarah Hanley, Kathleen Munsch, Kerry Opel, Maureen Shockey, and Lew Lashmitt. We raise a glass of Lagavulin 21-year-old to your exceptional talent and literary taste.

And, as always, our endless and abiding gratitude to our families for their love and support.

Readers familiar with upper Manhattan may notice that we have taken certain liberties with Inwood Hill Park.

It goes without saying that all people, places, public and private institutions, corporate and official entities, and religious establishments described in Cemetery Dance are either fictitious or used fictitiously. In particular, the ceremonies and beliefs depicted in the novel are completely fictitious and are not meant in any way to resemble, imply, or depict any existing religion or creed.

C an you believe it, Bill? I still cant. They told me almost twelve hours ago and I still cant believe it.

Believe it, sweet thing. William Smithback, Jr., unfolded his lanky limbs, stretched out on the living room couch, then draped one arm over his wifes shoulders. Any more of that port?

Nora filled his glass. He held it up to the light, admiring its garnet color. Cost him a hundred bucksand well worth it. He sipped, exhaled. Youre a rising star at the museum. Just wait. In five years, theyll make you dean of science.

Dont be silly.

Nora, this is the third straight year of budget cutsand here theyve given your expedition a green light. That new boss of yours is no fool. Smithback nuzzled Noras hair. After all this time, he still never failed to find its smella touch of cinnamon, a hint of juniperarousing.

Just think: next summer, well be back in Utah on a dig. That is, if you can get the time off.

Ive got four weeks coming to me. Theyll miss me desperately at the Times, but theyll just have to make do. He took another sip, swirled the liquid around in his mouth. Nora Kelly: expedition number three. You couldnt have asked for a better anniversary present.

Nora glanced at him sardonically. I thought tonights dinner was my anniversary present.

Thats right. It was.

And it was perfect. Thanks.

Smithback winked back. Hed treated Nora to his favorite restaurant, Caf des Artistes on West 67th. It was the perfect place for a romantic meal. The soft, seductive lighting; the cozy banquettes; the titillating artwork of Howard Chandler Christyand then, on top of everything else, the sublime food.

Smithback realized Nora was looking at him. There was a promise, in those eyes and that sly smile, of another anniversary present to come. He kissed her cheek, pulled her closer.

She sighed. They gave me every dime I asked for.

Smithback mumbled his response. He was content to snuggle with his wife and perform a mental postmortem on the meal hed just consumed. Hed sharpened his appetite with a brace of dirty martinis, followed by a charcuterie plate. And for a main course he could never resist the steak barnaise, rare, accompanied by pommes frites and a savory dollop of creamed spinachand, of course, hed had a hearty helping of Noras loin of venison

And you know what that means? Ill be able to complete my analysis of the spread of the Kachina Cult through the Southwest.

Thats fantastic. Dessert had been chocolate fondue for two, accompanied by a plate of delightfully malodorous French cheeses. Smithback let his free hand settle lightly over his stomach.

Nora fell silent and they lay there a moment, satisfied to enjoy each others company. Smithback stole a glance at his wife. A feeling of contentment settled over him like a blanket. He wasnt a religious man, not exactly; and yet he felt blessed to be here, in a classy apartment in the worlds greatest city, holding down the job hed always dreamed of. And in Nora, hed found no less than the perfect companion. Theyd been through a lot in the years since theyd first met, but the trouble, and the danger, had only served to bring them closer. She was not only beautiful, svelte, gainfully and eagerly employed, immune to nagging, empathetic, intelligentshed also proven to be the ideal soul mate. Looking at her, he smiled despite himself. Nora was, quite simply, too good to be true.

Nora roused herself. Cant let myself get too comfortable. Not yet, anyway.

Why not?

She disentangled herself and walked into the kitchen to grab her purse. Theres one more errand I have to run.

Smithback blinked. At this hour?

Ill be back in ten minutes. She returned to the couch and leaned over him, one hand smoothing his cowlick as she kissed him. Dont go anywhere, big boy, she murmured.

Are you kidding? Ill be a regular Rock of Gibraltar.

She smiled, stroked his hair again, then headed for the front door.

Be careful, he called after her. Dont forget those weird little packages weve been getting.

Dont worry. Im a grown-up girl. A moment later, the door closed and the lock turned.

Smithback put his hands behind his head and stretched out on the sofa with a sigh. He heard her footsteps recede down the corridor; heard the chime of the elevator. Then all was quiet save for the low hum of the city outside.