by R. J. Ladon
The man at the front door sighed. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
Megan could imagine the man at the door, smacking his head or covering his face in frustration. But when he spoke again, he sounded just as calm as her father, which was worse.
“As you wish. I have intelligence that tells me your computer was accessed looking at information on cuneiform, stones, and a variety of languages.”
“That computer only accesses the Field Museum. There is no search engine on it. I work for the museum as a curator; my job is Neolithic in nature. Neo means new and lithic means stone.”
“I understand what Neolithic means, sir,” Johnny said.
“Cuneiform writing is also within my job description. I often have to look up hieroglyphs of all types, not just Egyptian.”
Johnny’s shoes scuffed on the cement porch steps. He was fidgeting. Megan smiled; she felt that way, too, when her father was not forthright with her.
“Sir, there has been activity in Siberia and China. I’m afraid you and your daughter may be in danger. If your computer connects directly to the Field Museum, that may be where the leak is located.”
“What kind of activity? Your government promised us protection.”
“Yes, we did, and that’s why I’m here. Whatever it was you looked up in the past day or two seems related to the activity spike. I hoped you’d tell me what your research was so that we could identify if the threat is legitimate.”
There was a long pause, and Megan wondered if it was time to come out of hiding or if the man was still there.
“Who are you?” Artem asked. “What government agency are you with?”
“AKG.”
“I want to see your credentials.” Another pause, and then Artem burst out laughing. “Asylon Kryptos Gignoskein. Is this a joke? Sanctuary of Hidden Knowledge. That’s a riot. You tell the FBI, CIA, or whoever you really work for that they got me. Jokes on me. Very good.” His laughter stopped suddenly. “Now go.”
The front door slammed shut. Megan assumed it was on the face of Johnny. She moved from her hiding spot and went to her father.
“That’s the man I saw in the car on the street and again at Nikolai’s gym. What’s going on, Dad?”
“Either someone is trying to get to us, or this is an elaborate joke.” Artem held his hands in front of him and bounced his splayed fingertips on each other, thinking. “There is something familiar about Asylon Kryptos Gignoskein,” he mumbled under his breath. “Don’t use the computer anymore. If you need to research, go to the library. But even there, don’t use the computer and use your alias when checking out books.” Her father grasped her shoulders. “Pack your car with essentials and keep a burner on you.”
Megan nodded. “Yes, father.” She’d had an alias for years; it included everything. Name, passport, social security, and birth certificate. She didn’t know where they came from, only that they were hers. This alias was like her shadow. It was always with her, not like the cold identities that she carried in her bugout bag. If she and her father ever had to leave the city, state, or country, she was to go by Sara Higgins until their new identities could be established.
Megan was excited about going to the library. Apart from the museum, it was her favorite place to be. She felt comfortable among the books. The smell of an old book reminded her of the fun times in the museum. It would surprise the average teenager, but there are books and information that are only available at the library. Some things were considered too old or irrelevant, and they never made it online.
Megan went to the pantry and down into the safe room. She picked up a small black backpack and placed a burner phone, gasmask, a bottle with a water purifier, and a first aid kit into the bag. The Sara Higgins driver’s license and passport were slipped into her back pocket. Mentally she touched on the items in her car’s bugout bag. She topped off her backpack with two boxes of .40 ammunition.
She climbed the stairs, and the safe room door closed behind her. Artem was in the kitchen. “I’d like to try the library to see if they have anything on cuneiform and languages.”
Artem nodded. “Only use the burner in emergencies. Be back in two hours. I’m going to stop at the gym and ask Nikolai about this AKG official.”
She grabbed her jacket and car keys. The small backpack couldn’t be hidden with the bugout bag; it would be too obvious. She collected the bugout bag and put them both in the trunk.
Megan entered the library through the double doors. Even though it wasn’t as big or fully stocked as the big city libraries, she loved this library. It was once a three-story farmhouse built nearly one hundred and fifty years ago and had five or six extensive additions. Each room was decorated according to the genre of the books inside.
One of her favorite rooms was horror. Scattered among the books on the shelving were skulls, ravens, spiders, hourglasses, wolves, bats, and owls. Sometimes the exotic items were on sale, made by a local artist or taxidermist. She browsed, looking at the decorations and the books. Two novels attracted her attention. Megan selected them in case her father refused to let her leave the house again.
The fantasy room had a dragon mural on the ceiling. The only way to fully appreciate it was to lay on the carpet and gaze. Which was dangerous because no one looked down once they entered. A woman sat in the window nook, reading a novel.
Next to the fantasy room was science fiction. There was a fabulous mural in this room too. Nebulas and spaceships were the highlights. At the edges of the ceiling were silhouettes of famous fight scenes. In the occult room, two young girls looked at a book on witchcraft. A cryptozoology text was open near them. Megan smiled, remembering when she was curious about the oddities of life.
She walked across the hall to anthropology and history. Megan dug into the books, looking for anything to bring home and convince her father that was why she went to the library. She found a few texts on ancient lost languages and decided they’d be perfect.
She poked around in other rooms and found some information on the black market. Perfect for the Biology assignment that was handed out on Friday. Megan carried her selections to the old living room, which was filled with tables and chairs. A few people were working on research; some hid behind partitions. She left her chosen books on an empty table and went to the front desk.
“Hi,” she said to the man behind the counter. “I need to use a phone.”
The man looked at her, confused. “You don’t have a phone?”
“I have money. I can pay.”
“Let me ask.” The man went through a door. He returned a few minutes later. “Anyone with a library card can use the phone for ten minutes. We had to look it up. No one has ever asked before.”
The man picked up the phone from his desk and offered it to her. Megan pursed her lips. “Is there another one I can use? I’d like a little privacy. I’m calling the hospital to check on a friend.”
“Sure, why not.” The man shrugged. He directed her to the back. “There’s one in the breakroom.”
Megan walked into what used to be a kitchen. An older woman sat at a small table, drinking from a mug and reading a book. “I was told I can use the phone,” Megan said to her.
“Right there.” The woman nodded to the phone on the wall.
“Thank you.” Megan dialed Bonnie’s cell number from memory. “Hi, Bonnie, it’s me, Megan.”
“Why haven’t you come to visit?” Bonnie sounded upset.
“I’m sorry, my father won’t let me visit or call. I used the excuse of going to the library to call you.”
“Oh?” Bonnie sounded both disappointed and intrigued.
“Besides, I did manage to see you once. Didn’t your mom tell you?”
“Yea, but I was sleeping.” Bonnie sighed. “So, what’s going on? If you had to sneak out to contact me, it must be something big. I wish I was there with you.”
“Me too. I miss hanging with you.” Megan looked at the woman reading and sipping from her mug.
“Okay, look, I’m just going to say it. I think you might still be in danger.” She licked her lips, watching the woman. “See if you can change the cop at your door to always be female.”
“Female? Why?”
“Let’s just say Annie has influence over males.”
“Do you really think her reach goes that far? To the cops?” Bonnie sounded excited and a little scared.
“I’ve found evidence that points that way,” Megan said.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not kidding. Crap, I have to go. I’m only allowed ten minutes on the phone. Be safe.” Megan placed the receiver into the rocker on the wall. She walked past the woman to get to the door. The woman stared intently as she turned the page, her eyes wide and focused on the novel. Megan left the breakroom and went to collect her books.
Chapter 26
K evin walked up the stairs and onto the porch of the library. The building used to be a farmhouse and was at least one hundred years old. It had many additions and renovations over its lifetime. Looking at the cobbled collection of architectural styles in one building reminded Kevin of Grandpa Joe, who loved to comment about others’ construction skills.
He ignored the people behind the front desk and wandered the rooms and bookshelves. Kevin knew the numbers on the spine meant something. He didn’t know precisely what, and he wasn’t about to ask. He hoped the decorations and room themes would get him close.
He found books on werewolves, vampires, and the occult after looking for more than an hour. Witchcraft, Christianity, Buddhism, and Voodoo seemed to be in the same area, regardless of what Ruby said about religions. Kevin shrugged. He pulled a few books and brought them to a partitioned table.
He stretched and sat then began to read. One of the books was folklore about sightings of werewolves. The myths spread from medieval England to the modern-day United States. The text included names of cities and towns where the beasts were seen and described the evidence of their existence. Which usually consisted of blurry pictures or a clump of hair that’s never identified. One piece of evidence seemed to be controversial simply because no one could decide if the photo was a werewolf or a bigfoot. Kevin laughed then looked around to see if anyone would come over and tell him to be quiet. He closed the book and pushed it aside.
After an hour, two more books joined the discard pile. Kevin opened another book and skimmed. This one seemed to be of general information, most of which he already knew. Werewolves only come out at the full moon and are allergic to silver. To become a werewolf, one must be bitten by another werewolf. A subsection indicated that saliva from a werewolf had to invade the bloodstream of an otherwise healthy person, which implied licking a wound could pass on the contagion without being detected in the usual manner.
He found a short paragraph about a Russian wolf deity that protected the Siberian Forest. The Wolf of the Woods could transform from wolf to beautiful woman at will. Safe to say, that’s not my problem.
Kevin knew the moon was at half the night before. He fingered the ring on his pinky. He pulled it off and read the inside of the ring, Sterling.
When his mother collected antiques, she always preferred Sterling over any other silverware because it was almost pure silver, not plated. Stands to reason that Sterling on a ring means the same thing. The skin of his pinky seemed no worse for wearing silver, no blistering, no hives. Kevin fingered the book and intentionally pulled his fingertip along the page edges. He caught the right angle, and the familiar burn of a paper cut told him he succeeded. His finger bled, and he touched the wound to the ring, holding it there. His eyes closed, expecting the worst.
“It isn’t often that you find someone in the library checking for lycanthrope.”
Kevin looked up to see Megan standing next to him. Her arms were filled with thick old books. The title of one said Neolithic Dig Sites.
“Is that what you think I am doing?” Kevin smiled nonchalantly.
Megan poked at each book then read them. “Lycanthrope, Medieval Folklore and Ritual, Werewolves and How to Find Them, The Science Behind Werewolves, and Movie Wolves.” She looked at Kevin. “You’re putting a silver ring into a wound. I’m going with my first impression. For some reason, you think you might be a werewolf.”
“Nah, I’m writing a report for English class.”
“Bullshit.” Megan laughed.
“What are you doing here? Besides stalking me.” Kevin folded his arms.
“Looking for some historical information on that stone.”
“Why not use the internet?”
Megan smiled. “Some things are not on the internet. Some things need to be dug by hand and researched. Some of these things are sensitive, and it is nice not to have it on your search history. Right?” She looked him in the eye. Her eyebrows raised.
Kevin brushed aside her werewolf accusation. “Have you told anyone else about the stone?”
“I have more tact than that. Mr. Mulligan, my father, and the museum are the only ones who know. Why do you ask?” Megan shifted the book to her other arm. He made out the words Black Market as part of the title.
“I can’t find the stone. I think someone might have stolen it. But even stranger, my window is broken, and there are scratches in my wall.” Kevin looked down at his hands. He wanted to accuse Annie and Tony, but he kept his mouth closed.
“Well, don’t look at me. Wait a minute, is that why you think you have lycanthrope? Because of a broken window and some scratches?” A smile crept on Megan’s lips. “A branch could have hit your window, or someone might have tossed a brick.”
Kevin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He waved her to come closer. “I forget things, like parts of the evening. And I wake up naked in places I don’t expect,” he whispered while scanning the room.
Megan studied Kevin, deciding if he was telling her the truth. She sat next to him, setting the books on the table. “Where did you wake up?”
“The attic.”
“You could be sleepwalking.”
Kevin pointed to the book that was labeled The Chinese Black Market. “What’s that book for? Are you going to sell my stone on the black market?”
Megan’s eyes widened, then she frowned. “I didn’t think about that.” Her fingers thrummed on the tabletop as if she were giving the idea real thought. “No.” She opened the book and pushed it to him. “I’m writing a report for Biology. About the damage, black market medicines have on the environment and the animals who are involved.”
“What?” Kevin looked at the page that had a bookmark. A strange bipedal creature with scales was in a picture. The photo was titled African Pangolin. “That’s an animal that really exists?”
“For now.” Megan nodded. “People in China think pangolin scales will cure their cancer.” She shook her head, suddenly looking very sad. “The demand for the scales is killing hundreds of pangolins every day.”
“Do pangolin scales work?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course not.” She slammed the book closed. “Those scales are made of the same stuff as your fingernails.”
“Then, why do Chinese people buy medicine that doesn’t work?”
“I think it’s because they’re desperate. Nothing else has worked. Maybe they can’t afford real medicine. Or they don’t trust western medicine. Maybe they’re just ignorant.” She looked at Kevin. “If I told you taking this medicine will cure your werewolf disease, would you take it?”
Kevin rolled his fingers on the tabletop. “Not if I knew an animal died to give me that medicine.”
“People eat steak.”
“That’s different. You can’t get the steak without the animal dying.” Kevin raised a finger. “You can shear a sheep. Maybe they ought to try shearing a pangolin.”
Megan laughed. “Well, this is an argumentative paper. I ought to give that angle a try.” She stood and collected her books.
“You’re welcome.”
“And Kevin, if you think you�
��re a werewolf, you ought to stay home tonight.” She backed away from him. “Stay.” She held up her hand as if telling a dog to listen. She laughed then headed for the checkout.
Smirking, Kevin watched Megan leave and then continued to read. Only one of the books seemed to have practical information about werewolves. Almost as if the person who wrote it experienced werewolves. He picked up the books and put them back on the shelves in the proper locations. Kevin carried Werewolves and How to Find Them to the front desk and checked it out.
Dinner started, and everyone was seated. The triplets sat across from Kevin and Grandma Ruby. Inez sat as close to her father as possible, which was also as far as she could get from Kevin.
Mom was cutting a chicken thigh on her plate. “Did you hear about the church?”
“I’m at work all day I don’t hear anything,” Dad complained.
“The belfry and the cemetery were damaged.”
“Damaged? What do you mean? How”
“Well, the Smiths witnessed something attacking the church and cemetery. The Smiths are elderly, and many of the parishioners think they didn’t have their glasses on. Someone else reported a group of kids in costumes vandalizing the church and its grounds.”
“Poppycock.” Grandma interrupted. “I’ve seen something before. And it always turns out to be a monster.”
Kevin turned to look at Grandma and noticed Inez staring at him. Her eyes were wide with fear. What had she seen? Does she know what I am? Can she help me?
“Ruby, not now.” Mom chastised her mother-in-law. “Father Pat agrees with you. No, not that there are monsters, but on the poppycock sentiment. He is blaming the construction crew who replaced the church roof last year.” She returned to the chicken thigh and continued cutting.
“The monster I saw wasn’t scary, but a beautiful creature meant to trap the innocent.” Grandma Ruby paused for dramatic effect. “A unicorn.”
“Do you really think a unicorn damaged the church?” Mom pointed at Grandma with her fork.
