Free Nightbound by Lynn Viehl

fields, acres of woods, and several small lakes, all of which showed no signs of occupation. Alys liked the sprawling majesty of the black oaks and their long, twisted limbs, made almost elegant by the silvery drapery of Spanish moss. The dirt road on which she drove had been recently leveled and graded, which would make the students’ trips back and forth to the site easier.
    She spotted a crumbling brick wall illuminated by her headlights and slowed to take in the first sight of the old Spanish mission. Bright lights over the archaic buildings suddenly switched on, making her flinch until she heard the faint rumble of a generator.
Someone is already out here, or Tremayne has the power supply on a timer.
Since there was no sign of any other vehicles, Alys guessed it to be the latter.
    At least Beau York hadn’t shown up yet. Alys needed time to collect herself and prepare to deal with him.
    The preliminary surveys conducted by Hylord’s contractorhad included a few photos of the mission, but seeing it in person allowed her to appreciate the fine details. The Spanish priests who had arrived here six hundred years ago had evidently taken their time constructing the place, which appeared much larger and more elaborate than some sixteenth-century Franciscan missions on Florida’s east coast she had seen in photos.
    Four main buildings, all joined by open-sided passageways, made up the compound. In the center stood the mission’s church, which featured a two-story tower vestibule and arched windows that might have once held glass panes. Beside it a flat-roofed structure was probably the cloister, where the priests had lived and slept. The other two buildings were smaller, and she guessed they had served as a kitchen and a stable or storage barn.
    From all indications the mission had been built as the precursor to the sustained European presence in the area, one that had lasted until the late eighteenth century, when Spain ended two hundred and fifty years of rule over Florida by trading it to the English in exchange for Cuba.
    Alys parked in a clearing behind the mission, where she got out and directed her intern drivers to back in so they could easily access the cargo areas.
    “Do you think we’ll find any dead people out here?” Brenda asked as she went to help with the unloading.
    The groans and laughter drew Alys’s attention, and she joined the group of students. “If I answer all the questions, then you won’t learn anything. Does anyone want to offer an opinion for Brenda?”
    “I doubt it,” Charles drawled. “The ground’s too wetin this part of the country. That decays the soft tissue right away, and turns any bones left into rice pudding.”
    “Thank you for that visual, Charles,” Alys said. “Human remains can be found almost anywhere humans have lived, but we won’t be excavating any we might uncover here. Does anyone know why?”
    “Because of chapter eight seventy-two of the Florida Statutes Unmarked Human Burial Law,” Chan said. “That makes it illegal to disturb any burial site, and any that we uncover we have to report to both the state and local tribal officials so they can decide on their disposition.”
    Charles pretended to yawn. “You’re such a geek, Chan.”
    “Bite me, preppy,” the Asian shot back.
    “Gentlemen.” Alys gave them the eye before addressing the rest of the group. “What that means, people, is that any human skeletons or bones are to be left where you find them and reported to me immediately.”
    Setting up the site would take most of the night, Alys estimated, although some work had already been done. Brush and grasses around the old mission had been neatly trimmed back, and she could see an ancient trail leading into the woods had also been cleared. Thanks to the winter season and its chilly night temperatures, they wouldn’t have to combat swarms of biting insects. According to the surveyors, the land hosted only a minimal number of nocturnal predators,