Riddle Of The Diamond Dove (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 4)

by N. S. Wikarski

  “Tonight, the Circle honors his virtues. When a Security Coordinator on a field mission has distinguished himself as Erik has done, he is given the title of Paladin—the Pythia’s defender.”

  Faye reached toward the table and selected a small silver dagger with a scrollwork handle. She held the object out to Erik. “Receive this symbol of your new title.”

  Erik bobbed his head in acknowledgement and took the dagger.

  More applause followed.

  Apparently the new Paladin wasn’t used to positive attention. He ducked back into line with the others.

  “Griffin, if you please,” Faye called next.

  The tall Brit looked pale enough to faint but he did as commanded.

  Addressing the group as a whole, Faye said, “Young as he is, our Griffin can already claim the remarkable achievement of being appointed Chief Scrivener at the ripe old age of twenty two.”

  Knowing laughter once again travelled around the hall.

  “There is no higher title than Chief Scrivener for someone in Griffin’s position so we have decided to augment his existing title. Henceforth, Griffin shall be known as ‘The Right Honourable Chief Scrivener’.” Faye reached for a quill pen made of ostrich feather lying on the table. Handing it to him, she said, “Receive this token of your elevated rank.”

  Griffin bowed from the waist before accepting the pen. Shyly, he refused to make eye contact with the cheering crowd in the bleachers and darted back among his fellows.

  Cassie felt her palms begin to sweat.

  Faye’s attention settled on her. “And last, but certainly not least, I call forward our Pythia, Cassie.”

  The young woman tucked back the curtain of hair that had swung over the left side of her face.

  Faye reached out and took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly before releasing it.

  “And what can I say about our most recent recruit? Someone who knew nothing of the Arkana before she found herself gifted with telemetric powers like her sister before her. Someone who was forced to master her talents in a few short weeks and use those skills during a perilous field mission. Since that first expedition, she has repeatedly put her own life at risk for the sake of our cause.”

  Applause echoed off the walls.

  “Again, there is no title higher than ‘Pythia’ for one with Cassie’s abilities, so the Circle has no alternative but to augment Cassie’s rank as well. She will henceforth be known as ‘The Right Honourable Pythia’.” Faye reached for the final object on the table. A small crystal ball resting on a brass pedestal. Handing it to the young woman she added, “Receive this symbol of your rank.”

  Cassie looked around the room and saw several people leap to their feet in a standing ovation.

  She took the object from Faye, dashing away a few tears before rejoining her colleagues.

  Faye raised her hands for quiet. The applause ceased immediately and people sat back down.

  “My friends, this is more than a change of title for these worthy individuals. All four of them shall henceforth exercise voting rights within the Circle.”

  More applause followed.

  “We get to sit at the grown-up table?” Cassie whispered aside to Erik.

  “Sounds like it,” he murmured back, stunned.

  In the time it took Cassie to blink, four empty chairs had magically appeared at the large circular table. The thirty individuals already seated there smiled as if to invite the four newcomers to join them.

  “Go ahead,” Faye urged. “Take your seats.”

  They all silently did as requested.

  When everyone was settled, Faye spoke again. “And now your first official act as members of the Circle will be to vote to adjourn this meeting and retire upstairs for refreshments. All in favor?”

  Four new hands shot up into the air to join the thirty already raised in assent. The motion carried unanimously.

  Chapter 3—Cold Case

  Leroy Hunt stood in the middle of Daley Plaza in downtown Chicago holding a cup of steaming black coffee. He grimaced at the very thought of swallowing that witches’ brew. Its sole purpose was to keep his hands warm. He stamped his booted feet in a vain attempt to get the blood circulating to his toes. The March wind off the lake was cutting right through his denim jacket. March! Back where he came from it would be spring already. He gazed up humorlessly at the Picasso statue staring down its long nose at him. It looked like a fifty foot cross-eyed horse. At the moment, Leroy wished he had a real horse that he could mount and tell to “giddyup.” Why in the name of creation did old Abe want to meet here? Leroy’s first choice would have been a bar, closely followed by a strip club but he knew that a Bible thumper like Metcalf wouldn’t cotton to those suggestions. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught some movement on the opposite side of the plaza.

  A late model limo had parked just long enough to let out its passenger. Leroy waved to the geezer climbing out of the back seat and motioned him toward a bench under a tree. Of course there was no shade since the branches were bare but sitting near the trunk did cut the wind some. Hunt got to the bench first and sat down.

  Abraham Metcalf, prophet and Diviner of the Blessed Nephilim, took his sweet time hobbling over. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hunt,” the old man said stiffly.

  “Boss.” Leroy tipped his Stetson hat. “Set yourself down and take a load off.” The cowboy marveled at the change that had come over his employer in the three months since they’d met last. Although the old man was in his seventies, he’d always carried his age well. Now it looked as if the years had piled onto him like a pack of coon hounds on a cottontail. His eyes were sunken and the bags underneath them had sprouted little bags of their own. Both his beard and mane of white hair were shaggy. The black overcoat that covered his funeral suit hung on him like a sack.

  Leroy tried not to show his reaction to this transformation. “How you doin’, Mr. Metcalf?” he asked jauntily, setting the coffee cup down on the bench between them.

  Metcalf shrugged off the question. “I’ve had better years.”

  “No doubt, no doubt,” Hunt agreed sententiously. “Must be hard for you with your Missus still missin’ and all.”

  Metcalf winced at the reference. “Yes, that’s the reason I wished to speak to you. Have you had any luck finding her yet?”

  Leroy thought back to his fruitless search for Metcalf’s fourteen year old runaway bride. The trail had gone cold at an antique shop in the city. Of course, he knew she’d made her getaway with the help of Metcalf’s son Daniel but he couldn’t afford to tell the old man that. Daniel was Leroy’s meal ticket—the one person in the world who could find those blasted gewgaws that Metcalf had such a powerful urge to collect and that Leroy had an equally powerful urge to steal afterward. The last thing Hunt wanted was for the old coot to catch wind of the fact that his own son helped his wife to give him the heave ho. Metcalf would kill the relic hunt and his son, not necessarily in that order.

  Shielding Daniel wasn’t Hunt’s only concern. He had to make sure he got to Hannah before any of the Nephilim did. That way she couldn’t get chatty with anybody at the compound about who helped her get away. The mercenary’s face betrayed none of these worries. Instead he replied blandly,” I’m sorry to say, I ain’t had no luck findin’ the little gal yet. I’m guessin’ your own crew ain’t done much better?”

  Metcalf sighed deeply. “The devil has taken her. Mark my words, this was no ordinary disappearance.”

  “You don’t say,” Leroy drawled, sporting an expression of innocent surprise. He knew the devil had nothing to do with it—unless the devil had taken to disguising himself as a pasty-faced runt named Daniel.

  “She was only a child. The devil led her astray and spirited her beyond our reach. None of the brotherhood can find her. I had hoped that one of the Fallen, such as yourself, might have had a better chance.”

  It always rubbed Leroy the wrong way whenever one of the Bible thumpers referred to outsiders as “Fallen” but h
e couldn’t very well let the old man see his annoyance. Instead he asked, “How much time I got left before your son and me need to hit the road to find that next doodad?”

  Metcalf sighed even more deeply than before. “Daniel spends all his days at the library in this city.” He looked around the plaza with distaste. “I don’t like the amount of time he is forced to toil in the land of the Fallen.”

  Leroy ignored the “F” word again. “Now you don’t need to worry about Daniel none. He’s true blue.”

  Metcalf shot him a grateful look. “Thank you, Mr. Hunt, for that reassurance. I believe he is. He says he’s approaching a breakthrough—that within the month he should know where to search for the next relic.”

  “That suits me just fine,” Hunt agreed, picking up the coffee cup to thaw his fingers. “Can’t stand much more of this northern air. Them folks that hid the doodads a couple thousand years back seem to favor your warm and sandy lands. I’ll take a hot desert over this iceberg any day of the week.” He glared at the Picasso as if it was somehow responsible for the misty drizzle that was freezing his face off.

  “Since you came back from your last mission, surely you’ve discovered some small scrap of evidence that might lead to my Hannah,” Metcalf persisted bleakly.

  Leroy wasn’t about to tell him that he’d spent every day since their return three months ago tailing Daniel. He figured that Miss Hannah might try to make contact with her rescuer again once she was somewhere safe but that idea hadn’t panned out. Hunt was going to have to cast a wider net. “No, sir, nothing so far but there’s a couple of other things I could maybe try.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Metcalf’s voice held a glimmer of hope. “She must be approaching her time to deliver my son.”

  Hunt recollected that she’d be pretty far along in her pregnancy by now. Inwardly, he was baffled by the old man’s yen for a little gal that was barely old enough to ride a bicycle without training wheels. He wondered if the Nephilim allowed their kids to have bikes at all. Probably not. It might smack of too much fun. He couldn’t see what the old coot was carrying on about anyway. He had three dozen other wives stashed in the cupboards and closets of his creepy compound. So what if one went missing? He returned to the conversation. “You’re sure the baby’s gonna be a boy? Did you have her checked before she ran off?”

  The Diviner seemed puzzled by the question. “Of course it’s a boy. What else could it be?”

  Deciding not to pursue the question any further, Leroy changed the subject. “I gotta wonder why you picked this spot to meet, sir. I don’t mind drivin’ way out to your place in the sticks.”

  “Your presence at the compound has attracted an inordinate amount of attention lately. Every time one of my flock sees you in my office, the gossip and speculation begin all over again.”

  “Gotcha, boss. Best I do my work for you out of sight.”

  The old man stared at him hard. “Bring her back to me, Mr. Hunt. You’re my last hope.”

  Leroy smiled reassuringly. “I mean to do exactly that, sir. Don’t you worry none.” He failed to mention the shape she’d be in when he did bring her back. Dead.

  Chapter 4—The Riddler

  Daniel sighed and looked at the large clock suspended above the librarian’s desk. It was only noon. This day wasn’t going at all as he had hoped. When he arrived that morning at the main branch of the Chicago Public Library, he had been looking forward to his daily visit with David, a reference librarian in the ancient history section. It was the only thing he looked forward to these days. Instead of the handsome young man he had hoped to see, he was met by a scowling grey-haired woman who informed him that David had called in sick. No, it wasn’t serious, just a case of food poisoning and no, she didn’t know when he would be back at work. Probably in a few days.

  After receiving that news, Daniel sloped off to a back table and occupied the rest of the morning in brooding. He had spent nearly every day for the past three months in the library—not because he expected to further his research but because he couldn’t bear the oppressive atmosphere of the compound any more than he had to. Three months. He was shocked at how much time he’d managed to waste. He had idled away the entire winter pretending to research the clue that would lead him to the next relic.

  He pulled a photo of the object out of his briefcase to study it. A dove with outstretched wings carved entirely out of lapis lazuli. Instead of the row upon row of glyphs which had covered the golden bee, this artifact bore a very simple message: “One dove flies to wake the helmsman. The course he sets reveals his fate.” The bird’s back was encrusted with diamonds in a circular pattern. The middle of the circle consisted of seven emeralds scattered at random. The diamonds at either end of the circle were interrupted by two rubies, one larger than the other.

  Daniel looked at the picture of the relic for the thousandth time and still had no idea what any of it meant. Of course, he felt far less urgency in solving this riddle than he had about the earlier ones. His time in Spain had convinced him beyond all doubt that the trio of relic hunters whom he believed dead were still very much alive and after the same treasure that he was. However, since he was the one holding the lapis dove and the clue it contained, the trio had no choice but to wait for him to make a move. They would have to follow his lead. He didn’t particularly care if they anticipated his route and stole away with the next relic before he arrived. Daniel had no sympathy for his father’s ambition to collect these artifacts or the ultimate prize—the Sage Stone. Even though he didn’t know the Diviner’s plan for these strange objects, Daniel imagined it didn’t bode well for the rest of the world. Why should he eagerly assist in that?

  Daniel felt his loyalties fracture a bit more after each field mission. The more he saw of the Fallen world, the less comfort he found in returning to the ways of the Blessed Nephilim. Of course, his father’s marriage to Hannah had done even more to alienate him than the relic hunt itself. Daniel was glad he had helped her escape. He just wished he knew where she had gone after he brought her to the city. A note, a phone call, anything to tell him she was alright. He gave a bitter inward laugh. That small gesture of reassurance might very well cost her her freedom if Leroy Hunt was stalking her again. No, it was better as it was. He prayed she had found a better life than as the fourteen-year-old bride of a seventy-year-old man. She could scarcely exchange that fate for anything worse.

  Daniel glanced toward the librarian’s desk. The woman behind it was staring at him disapprovingly. He ducked his head down and pretended to concentrate on his paperwork. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. He didn’t simply mean the pretext of visiting this section of the library just to be near David—his only real friend in the world. He also meant the pretext of telling his father that he was on the verge of solving the latest riddle. He was nowhere near a solution to the problem. At best, he could only continue the charade for another month before he would have to get on a plane and go somewhere in search of the next relic.

  An idea was nagging at the back of his consciousness. He felt he had missed something. Thinking back to the riddle that had preceded this one, there were lines in that clue which he had never understood. Perhaps it all fit together. Perhaps he needed to solve the earlier puzzle in order to understand the current one. At the very least, he might legitimately burn up some additional time in doing so.

  He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. He hated living this way. His mind drifted back to his last conversation with Hannah. He remembered her final words to him before she disappeared. “How bad does it have to get before you finally walk away?” Perhaps that was the greatest riddle of all.

  Chapter 5—Baggage

  Faye made her way across the main office of the underground Vault. The ceiling lights mimicked a sunlit sky and the waterfalls in the corners trickled soothingly. Everybody was working intently at their desks though a few of the denizens of the Central Catalog raised their heads and smiled at her as she passed
. She paused in front of the desk of a woman whose outbox held a caged Toucan.

  “Have you seen Griffin? He isn’t in his office.”

  The woman pointed off toward a series of five doors on the opposite side of the room.

  “I think I saw him duck into one of the continent rooms,” she added.

  “Of course,” Faye nodded. Given the team’s next destination, she directed her steps toward a door at the far wall with the simple word “Africa” stenciled on it.

  She peeked inside and saw a silent corridor of more doors. At the far end, light shone into the hallway, indicating that one of the doors had been left open. She travelled toward it. The door bore the inscription of “San.”

  “Hello?” Faye asked tentatively as she peeped around the corner.

  The narrow room was lined on two sides with floor to ceiling filing cabinets. Even though there was a reading table and a pair of chairs at the far end, Griffin was seated in the middle of the floor surrounded by file folders, journals and loose paper.

  “Are you building a fort?” Faye teased as she came to stand in front of the Chief Scrivener.

  Griffin stopped muttering to himself long enough to look up and regard her with a blank stare. Apparently, his brain was too crammed with data to make room for the new fact that he had a visitor.

  He blinked several times. “Oh, Faye, do forgive me.” He leaped to his feet and guided the old woman around the debris on the floor over to one of the chairs at the back of the room.

  “How are you, my dear?” she asked, somewhat concerned by his distracted demeanor.

  “Quite well, thank you.” He attempted to shake off his preoccupation and focus on his guest. “What brings you here?”

  “A much-needed break,” she replied. “Zachary is helping Hannah with her lessons this morning so I thought I might pop in to see how the plan for your next expedition is coming along.”