by R. J. Ladon
“Good afternoon Megan. Your father is in his office.”
“Thank you, Ben. Kevin Arkis is with me.” Megan indicated Kevin then walked down a well-lit hallway.
“Just a minute, Kevin, how do you spell your last name?” The guard looked expectantly while his hands hovered over the keyboard.
Kevin pronounced and spelled his name, then nodded to the guard and trotted to catch up with Megan.
She knocked on a door and then walked in. Megan held the door open for Kevin to follow. Inside was a desk and chair near the door. Items and boxes filled the tables and shelving that covered the rest of the room, which was deceptively long and narrow.
Artem sat behind the desk in a high-backed chair. Stacks of papers covered the desktop. Two flat-screen monitors perched on thick books, above the mess.
“Did you collect the stones already?” Megan asked, sitting in a small wooden chair, like something seen in an elementary school.
“They’re right here.” Artem pulled a briefcase from under his desk. He opened it and exposed a velvet lined case and numerous stones. Most were round, but some were square or rectangular. Each was roughly the same size as the bloodstone.
Kevin reached out.
“Nyet.” Artem pulled the case away from Kevin, setting it under his desk. “No one is allowed to touch, remember?”
“I can’t seem to control myself. Sorry.” Kevin bowed his head and grasped his hands together. The rocks seemed to call to him as if requesting help.
Chapter 52
A knock fell on the door. Artem opened it. A man in a three-piece suit stood in the doorway. Four Chinese people were behind him. “Good evening, Dr. Martin.” Artem stepped back and allowed the people into his office. “Megan, Kevin, this is Dr. Martin, he is Collections Manager.”
“Good evening, Dr. Petrov.” Dr. Martin shook Artem’s hand. “I am here with the Chinese delegation to pick up the items they allowed us to borrow for the Halloween exhibit. I assume they have been collected and boxed for their return trip home?” The director indicated the people behind him with a sweep of his arm. “This is Tai Lu. She owns the items. Her bodyguards, Chen Yu, Bai Wong, and Qiang Li.”
Kevin stepped behind Megan. He spoke softly into her ear. “They weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow. Right?”
Megan looked at her father. “Dad?”
Dr. Martin’s phone rang. He answered it then said, “Excuse me, I have to take this call.” He stepped out of Artem’s office.
“If you don’t mind, Dr. Petrov, our plane leaves in a couple hours.” Tai Lu’s English lacked any hint of an accent.
“Yes.” Artem nodded and smiled. He walked over to a shelf and pulled a cardboard box. He placed it on a table. “I am sure you would like to inspect the items before you take them?” He directed the question to Tai Lu, ignoring her bodyguards.
The young woman stepped forward. “Yes, I would.” She opened a briefcase and pulled out a laptop. She opened a file and pulled up images of the items that were sent to the Field Museum. She said something in Chinese, and two men unpacked the box, laying all the pieces out on the table. She looked at the objects, comparing them to her visual list. “Very good. Pack it up.” The men repacked the box, then waited, standing beside it.
Tai Lu strolled to Artem’s desk. “I have everything on my manifest, except my stones.” She tapped the desktop with her fingernails. “Tick tock, Dr. Petrov.”
Artem reached under his desk and produced the case, setting it on the smooth wood surface.
Kevin placed his hand on the case, protectively.
“Please, father, you promised,” Megan begged.
Artem stood and bowed to Tai Lu. “I promised my daughter that her friend could see the stones before you took them. Would you be so generous as to allow them to stay for a few more minutes? Her friend should arrive soon.”
“Your daughter?” Tai Lu studied Megan then grabbed her chin, turning her face side to side. “She looks a little feral to me.” The woman released Megan and laughed.
“Will you permit it?” Artem asked again.
“I will.” The woman sat on the edge of the desk, an amused smile on her face.
“Alone?” Megan asked.
Tai Lu raised her eyebrows then shook her head. “No, my dear. I have a feeling that if I leave my stones alone with you, I will never see them again.”
Megan frowned. The woman seemed to be up to something nefarious. It was as if she could smell the evil on her.
Kevin groaned. His face was pale and sweaty. “Can they leave for a few minutes?” His mouth contorted into a grimace.
Tai Lu’s men moved closer to their charge as if protecting her from Kevin. “No, my darling, we’re not going anywhere.” Tai Lu chuckled gently.
Kevin stumbled toward the back of the room, slowly removing his clothing, trying to hide behind boxes. The Chinese craned their necks, watching as Kevin transformed, amazed and amused but certainly not surprised.
Chapter 53
K ragnor looked around the room, crowded with shelving, books, boxes, and people. Who were these people, and why were they here? The room used the same chalk board as the Sorceress’s house. He could not port through them, but he could walk through them easily enough. He was not trapped, although he felt like it.
Megan rushed toward him. “I’m sorry they appeared minutes before you arrived. I don’t know what they’re doing here.” She picked up Kevin’s clothes and brought them to her father.
Artem sat behind an ornately carved oak desk. His steepled fingers rested on his bottom lip. The people near his desk had the same general appearance as the great Genghis Kahn, straight dark hair, silted eyes, and small of stature.
Kragnor smiled at them. He had a soft spot for the people of his homeland. They helped his kind in the past with words of wisdom and actions of kindness.
The people grinned back, then spoke rapidly to each other in their native tongue. Kragnor frowned, trying to remember the sound of their dancing language. He was sure that it too changed, while he slept, like English. He caught a couple of words, but it wasn’t enough to make sense of what they said.
The female and apparent leader of the group turned to Artem and continued to speak. Money seemed to be the subject, but Megan’s father shook his head. There was a disagreement. The woman turned away from Artem and approached Kragnor.
She stopped a few feet away from him and bowed deeply. According to custom, she was very high ranked to dip so low.
Kragnor returned the bow and made sure he didn’t bow lower than the woman.
“I am happy to see an akitu wandering free in the United States.” The woman spoke in her native language slowly, purposefully, to be sure the gargoyle understood what she said.
“Thank you. I am happy to hear the name of my people in your tongue,” Kragnor said. He wanted to ask if she knew of any others of his kind, but customs were essential to follow.
“Artem informed me that you desire to see the stones.” She didn’t ask a question. She snapped her fingers, and one of her men brought a case to her. The man held the box flat in his arms so that the woman could access the opening. She turned a dial, releasing the catches. “You may look, but do not touch.” She opened the case displaying the protection stones nestled in foam and fabric.
Kragnor stepped forward. The stones glistened, pulsing with life. These stones had akitu in them, trapped like he was. His hand lifted of its own accord and reached toward the case.
The woman slammed the case shut and barked a few words to the man. The man withdrew to where the others stood, taking the case with him. “I told you to look.” She narrowed her eyes at the gargoyle. “You displease me.”
“My apologies, kind woman.” Kragnor bowed. He remained prostrate. “My brothers and sisters are locked inside those stones. I can feel their souls. Please let me free them.” He chanced a glance at the woman, but she turned away from him.
The woman spoke to Kragnor over her shoulder
. “If you wish to free your people, I will allow it. On my terms. In Shanghai.” She made a hand gesture. Her people gathered the boxes and moved to the door.
The woman stopped at Artem’s desk., speaking in clear English. “We cannot stay and talk. Our plane leaves soon. It will not wait forever. It has been a pleasure.” She inclined her head to Artem and Megan, then bowed to Kragnor. “Another day, perhaps, ancient one.” She followed her people out of the room.
Kragnor rushed to the door, his hand on the knob. Voices from the other side indicated people he didn’t know. He stepped away.
“What the hell was that?” Megan asked her father. “What did they say to you?”
“They spoke of money,” Kragnor said.
“Money? Money?” Megan yelled at her father.
Artem held up his hands. “It wasn’t money. It was about Tai Lu’s mother, she is ill.”
Megan crossed her arms. “Her mother? What do you take me for?”
“It is possible,” Kragnor interrupted. “The words money and mother are only an inflection apart. It has been a very long time since I heard their language. I am sorry, Megan, Artem, I did not mean to cause a fight between you.”
Megan narrowed her eyes at Kragnor as if the gargoyle stopped a legitimate fight. “Something fishy is going on.”
“Indeed! The airplane,” Artem offered. “A woman of that power and money would never have to wait for a plane. It would do her bidding.”
“Yes.” Megan nodded but seemed disappointed at the same time.
“I would not go to Shanghai, Kragnor. I believe it is a trap. She seemed very interested in you. Too interested.” Artem tapped his fingers on the desktop. “What do you think, Megan?” He pushed a water bottle toward her.
Megan frowned. “I think you’re right.” She sat in the small wooden chair, took a drink from the bottle, then set it down.
Both Megan and Artem seemed to be preoccupied with their thoughts. Kragnor studied the shelving and wooden crates that snugly filled the room. The lid of a wooden container big enough to hold his great size was askew. He moved the loose wooden top and looked inside. Curled and twisted bundles of straw and paper filled the empty cavities. Nestled in wrapped and taped padding was a partially exposed Egyptian statue.
Kragnor moved the straw aside and finished unwrapping the alabaster statue. He turned it over. It was a cat sitting on its hindquarters, ears tall and upright. On the cat’s shoulders were Egyptian hieroglyphs. The cat didn’t move. It was not a brethren. It didn’t have the spells cast upon it, but to Kragnor, it still had special meaning. There was a connection, a familiarity that couldn’t be described with mere words.
“What does that stone tell you?” Megan asked, watching him turn the statue in his hands.
The gargoyle knew humans didn’t see the statue as he did. Often, he wondered what statues looked like from the human perspective. Did they contain the same mystery and significance? He doubted it.
Cradling the statue, Kragnor brought it to Megan, setting it on the desk. “What does the statue tell you?” he countered.
“I can’t speak to stones,” Megan said, then drank more water.
“Not literally. What can you deduce by examining it?” The gargoyle cocked his head to the side and studied her.
She shrugged, then stroked the statue, as if petting a living cat. “It’s smooth. The craftsmanship is wonderful. I would love to own one.”
Artem laughed gently. “We couldn’t afford that statue.” He patted his daughters’ arm. “If only we could.”
“What gives it value?” Kragnor asked.
“It was certified to be from the tomb of Tutankhamun.”
“Was it?” Kragnor picked up the alabaster statue and focused. “The stone tells me that information is incorrect.”
Artem frowned. “Excuse me?” He stood from his chair and walked around the desk. “The stone told you?”
Kragnor nodded. “It tells me it used to be a statue of Anubis in Egyptian times, but recently it was re-carved into Bast.”
“Re-carved?”
“Indeed, the Anubis statue broke, and an artist named Tuku used part of the foot and shin to carve the cat. It sat high on a shelf in an art store between the re-carving and coming here.” Kragnor sunk further into the stones' memories and counted the days that passed as the stone sat on the shelf. “It appears its current form was a recent carving, within the last fifty years, or so.”
Artem laughed. “You would be an excellent partner. If I could spot fakes as easily as you do.” He whistled. “I could command better rates from vendors and a bigger paycheck from my employer.”
“If it’s a fake. Does that mean I can have it?” Megan picked up the cat statue and placed it in her lap.
“I’m afraid not. The museum believes it to be genuine. They would expect a good price for it.” Artem looked at Kragnor. “Let’s be honest. They would never believe the information I have or where it came from.”
Megan put the statue on the desk. “Well, that sucks.” She looked around the room. “Are we here until morning?” She finished her water and left the bottle on her father’s desk.
Artem looked at his wristwatch. “In a couple of hours, the rest of the staff will be leaving for the night. We can walk around the museum after they go. We’ll have to keep an eye out for the guards, for Kragnor’s sake. In the meantime, you can sleep on the couch.” He waved his arm to the back of the room. “It’s against the wall, probably under some boxes.”
Megan sighed, then stomped off to the back of the room. She moved a few boxes before shouting, “Found it!”
“Kragnor, would you look at the rest of the statues in the crate? They were supposed to be from Tutankhamun’s tomb. We now know that one was not. I might be able to convince the museum to return them if they are all fake.”
The gargoyle moved to the crate and dug through the stuffing. Kragnor’s finger touched their alabaster surfaces. The seven other sculptures were siblings with the first. “All the statues came from the same broken Anubis statue.”
“Impressive.” Artem smiled. “You didn’t even look.”
“I see with my eyes like you, but I can find knowledge by touch too.” Kragnor wiggled his fingers.
“What did the stones tell you about the Anubis statue?”
“The Anubis statue was carved from four pieces of alabaster and stacked outside a building. Millions of people went through the door. The sand's ebb and flow moved like water, which tells me the statue existed for many years. At one point, the flow of sand covered the statue. The darkness of that memory was long, but without the sun, I can’t tell you how long. Eventually, the sand moved aside, and people came to uncover the statue. If I could share the memory with you, you might see something I do not.”
“That was fascinating,” Artem said with awe. “How far back can you go into stone memories?”
“To their birth. Sometimes that is when the stone cooled from pools of magma. Other times it is when they gather sediment and are compacted or heated enough to become one voice.”
“One voice?”
Kragnor sat back on his haunches and leaned into his tail. “A tiny grain of sand has a voice, a memory of its existence. A section of sandstone, for example, would have billions of tiny voices. That section would also have a singular voice, the memory of the stone as a unit, not the individual bits and pieces. Eventually, with time, the stone’s voice is louder than the voices of the parts that make it up.”
“Thus, one voice,” Artem finished. “That makes perfect sense."
Kragnor grunted. “In some ways, humans have grown as a people.”
“And in the other ways?”
The gargoyle waved the question away. “I dare not say.”
Artem laughed, deep and throaty. “That, my akitu friend, says it all.” He looked at his watch. “It is getting late. I’m going to take Megan to the lunchroom to get something to eat. If you want to explore the museum, be my guest. Be sure to preten
d to be a statue if you see a guard. Oh, I forgot to mention that small crate there has meteorites in it.”
“Meteorites? I am not familiar with that term.” Kragnor leaned forward, expecting to hear something interesting.
“Atmospheric phenomenon. In this case, space metal and rocks.”
Kragnor frowned, unsure if he understood. “Rocks and metal that were born, not of Earth?”
“Exactly.”
Excitement coursed through Kragnor. A gargoyle could fly high, but there were limitations. Where the atmosphere ended, so did the utility of wings. He dreamt of entering the black satin of the night sky. He could visit the memories from an alien stone, and he could travel with them through the vastness of space. He went to the crate and pulled off the top.
“We’ll be back shortly. I can’t wait to hear the memories you discover,” Artem said.
Kragnor looked up to see Artem close the door. The gargoyle looked to the empty uncovered red velvet couch. At first, he felt disappointed. Megan always said good-bye. Kragnor huffed, then turned his attention back to the crate with the meteorites.
Inside were many cardboard boxes packed tightly. The gargoyle pulled one free of its companions. With his claw, he sliced open the box and removed the stone. It appeared to be a fresh piece of magma, but much heavier like pure ore. It had a paper tag tied to it with the number sixty-five handwritten on it. Brief contact with it told him the stone was older than he. Kragnor reclined back on his tail and entered the stone’s memories.
As with all stone memories, time went backward. Kragnor witnessed the shipping process, cataloging, and collection of the meteorite. The space rock sat in a crater for years, then it struck the ground with unimaginable force, driving into the soil. Dirt and debris flew into the air. The stone fractured, reducing the meteorite by half. Heat and light covered the rock. It struck the atmosphere of the earth with enough pressure and force to cause a crack. It was on a trajectory to hit the blue-green planet. The bright yellow orb pulled at the stone, drawing it ever closer, ever warmer.
