Solomon Key

by David Wood

  Far below, Maddock could just make out ancient mining tools: pickaxes, shovels, and carts. Here and there, mounds of dross stood interspersed with smaller piles of ore.

  “Gold everywhere,” Bones said.

  “I can’t imagine how much wealth is contained here,” Isla said. “Look at all those mining tunnels.”

  “How do we get down?” Bones asked.

  Maddock turned to inspect their surroundings. He whistled when he saw what lay behind them.

  “Guys, check this out.”

  A crescent moon-shaped cut had been scooped out from the bedrock behind them. A series of ornate columns divided the space into eleven galleries. In ten of them, Bronze Age weapons stood propped against the wall—spears and swords. At the foot of each lay a pile of bones.

  “It’s like they set guards here,” Isla said, “and they stood here until they died and rotted away.”

  Maddock thought that was exactly what it looked like. Bits of armor and scraps of rough fabric lay amongst the bones.

  “Do we want to hazard a guess as to who they were guarding?” Flanked by Bones and Isla, Maddock approached the gallery in the center.

  The back of this gallery was adorned with Solomon’s Seal, the star rendered in gold and aquamarine jewels set in the wall. But it was what lay beneath the seal that drew his interest.

  Their flashlight beams shone on a marble coffin adorned with cherubim and seraphim. Inscribed on the lid were the Hebrew letters SLMN.

  “Solomon,” Isla breathed.

  Maddock gazed at the coffin, soaking in the knowledge that he was looking at the final resting place of the famed Hebrew king. Something, he realized, didn’t add up.

  “Isla, why does the Sisterhood want the mines?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “There’s a ton of gold here; I get that. But the Sisterhood already has money. And it’s not like this place is filled with treasure they could just scoop up and carry away. It would have to be mined, which would involve expense and complications. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

  Isla took a deep breath and let it out in a rush.

  “I think the answer might lie inside the coffin.”

  “Sweet. I’ve been wanting to take a look,” Bones said.

  He and Maddock worked the heavy lid free and carefully slid it to the floor. Isla shone her flashlight into the coffin.

  The mummified remains of King Solomon lay before them. Hollow eye sockets stared back at them, his teeth drawn back in a haunting rictus. Bits of dried flesh were stretched out over a skull adorned by a headdress of gold and jewels. A golden breastplate, also jewel-encrusted, lay across his chest.

  “That would buy a lot of beer,” Bones said.

  In his left hand, Solomon clutched a copper scroll. In his right, a staff.

  The staff was made of dark, polished wood. Each end was capped with iron and a brass band ringed the center. Strange symbols were carved into every inch of the surface. Maddock had just leaned in for a closer look when a voice rang out.

  “Put your hands in the air slowly, or you all will die.”

  Chapter 35

  Tsingy de Bemaraha, Madagascar

  MADDOCK TURNED SLOWLY, hands above his head. Had he been alone, he might have tried something different, dive behind the coffin and come up fighting, perhaps. But he was not alone and he didn’t know what they faced. He knew Bones could fend for himself but not Isla. The only time she’d ever come under fire, she’d lost her composure and fled.

  Triple flashlight beams shone in his direction. He could tell by their positions that they rested on the floor. No good for targeting.

  “Last time we were together, I didn’t make certain you were dead, Mister Maddock. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “Nomi.”

  “Did you miss me?”

  “Not especially. I prefer a girl who sticks around.” He had not intended that as a slight against Isla, but he could tell from the hurt expression on her face that she had taken it that way. Too bad. They had more pressing concerns at the moment.

  “I intend to stick around,” Nomi said, “long after you’re gone.”

  Maddock’s fingers itched to go for his pistol, but he’d never get to it in time. He could just make out the three figures arrayed before them, all down on one knee in a shooting position, weapons aimed with steady hands. Any sudden move and they were all sure to die.

  “Give me the ring,” Nomi said.

  “I don’t have it anymore.”

  “Lie to me again and you all die. Give it to me.”

  “Fine.” Slowly, Maddock brought his hands down, reached into his pocket, grabbed a coin, and tossed it into the air toward Nomi.

  That was the signal. As Nomi’s eyes followed the arc of the shiny metal object, Maddock dove to the side, rolled, and came up with weapon in hand.

  Bones had tackled Isla and was shielding her with his body as he drew his weapon and fired from a prone position.

  The intruders returned fire. Maddock heard a cry of pain, but didn’t know who had been hit.

  Nomi stumbled backward, teetered on the edge of the chasm, but caught herself just as she snatched the coin from midair.

  Maddock fired off a single shot in her direction and rolled to the side. He saw her dash away, clutching her wounded hand to her chest.

  It was chaos. Flashes of gunfire. Bullets flying, ricocheting. Flashlights kicked, rolling crazily in every direction. Maddock tried to choose his targets but could not tell who was who.

  “Stop!” A woman’s voice, strong and terrible, boomed throughout the cavernous space.

  Isla rose up from behind the coffin, Solomon’s staff clutched in both hands. Red sparks danced along its surface, the symbols glowing like embers. On her left hand, Solomon’s ring blazed a brilliant, icy blue that burned the eyes to look at it.

  “Isla! Get down!” Maddock shouted.

  Either she could not hear him or she chose to ignore him. She brandished the staff, her eyes alive with the same light as the ring.

  Shots rang out from Nomi and her companions, but none of them struck Isla. Whether they missed or were deflected by some mystical power Maddock could not say. Intent on doing his part, he aimed a shot at the spot where he had seen the closest muzzle flash, then dodged to the side as someone fired back.

  Isla looked to her right, then to her left. “The breath of life!” she cried. “Rise!”

  Flickering trails of red light flowed out from the staff, each settling upon one of the piles of bones that guarded the remains of Solomon. At the first touch of the light, the bones began to assemble themselves, forming ten massive skeletal soldiers who hefted their weapons and marched forward.

  “Kill them!” Nomi shouted. She and her companions opened fire. Bullets shattered bone, pinged off of sword blades and spear points. One skeleton went down, its knee shattered. Then another. But both continued to crawl forward.

  The pace of gunfire slowed and then abated.

  “Run!” One of Nomi’s companions broke and ran, heading for the exit. A skeleton warrior stepped forward and swung its sword.

  Maddock just had time to recognize the fleeing man as Ronald before the sword took the man in the throat, cleanly severing his head from his body.

  At that, Nomi and her other companion, Maddock assumed it was the man called Cleo, turned and fled. The skeletons gave chase.

  Terrified, Nomi and Cleo ran right off the ledge and plunged into the chasm below. Like lemmings, the skeletons followed behind them.

  Maddock rose and turned to Isla, and gasped at what he saw.

  A crimson nimbus surrounded her. Her head was thrown back, her face a mask of ecstasy. Winds began to swirl. Maddock remembered the stories of Black Caesar, how he could call up a storm to disable a ship before he captured it. Gale force winds buffeted him, driving him toward the ledge.

  “Isla! Stop it!”

  The winds continued unabated. Maddock leaned into them, trying t
o get to Isla. He suddenly realized Bones was nowhere to be seen. Where was he?

  He spotted his friend, soaked in blood, crawling out from behind the coffin.

  “Isla, you’ve got to get a grip on yourself!” Maddock shouted.

  But Isla could not hear him and now he knew why. The glowing red light around her had taken on a human form—a muscular form with slanted eyes, a sharp chin, pointed ears, and fangs.

  He remembered another of the Solomon legends Isla had collected. Solomon had used the ring to control the djinn, both good and evil, to do his bidding. An evil spirit had taken control of Solomon, persuaded him to hand over the ring, and that spirit had wielded the power of Solomon for forty days and nights before Solomon recovered enough of himself to wrest control from the malevolent spirit.

  As Maddock looked up at the glowing red figure, he knew that he had truly seen the face of evil.

  He lurched forward, the wind nearly strong enough to support his weight.

  “Isla,” he pleaded, “you’ve got to fight it.”

  The djinn bared its fangs and leered at him. Isla looked at him, her eyes still glowing. There was no sign of recognition there. Only malevolence.

  Bones had crawled within arm’s reach of her. With a grunt of pain, he made a grab for the staff. She snatched it away and cracked him on the temple with the iron tip. He fell dazed to the floor.

  Maddock racked his brain, trying to remember any more details of the legend. Solomon had used the ring to control the djinn: iron to control the evil djinn, bronze for the good.

  His eyes fell on the bronze band around the staff. He dropped to his knees and crawled forward, head down, like a supplicant.

  “Don’t hurt me,” he pleaded, inching closer. “Please. I won’t fight anymore.” Closer...closer.

  And then he leaped. One hand closed around the brass band, the other clamped down on Isla’s left hand, his palm pressed against the hard surface of the ring. Would it be enough?

  He felt a flicker, a sense of a faint presence there, just as he’d felt every time he’d put on the ring. He focused all his thoughts on communicating with this presence.

  Help me. Save us.

  A blue mist emanated from the brass band on the staff, forming into an amorphous blue blob. Maddock concentrated harder, pouring his will into the shape until it too formed into the shape of a djinn. A single thought sent it flying into combat with the red spirit.

  Maddock could tell by the faintness of his djinn that it was not here as strongly as the evil spirit, but it fought with zeal.

  The djinn pummeled, clawed, bit, and tore at each other. Maddock felt as if he and Isla were inside the spirits as they battled.

  Meanwhile, a similar battle was taking place between him and Isla.

  He struggled to wrest the staff from her grasp, but the djinn had multiplied her strength, and it was all Maddock could do to remain on his feet. He continued to say Isla’s name, to remind her who he was, who she was, to urge her to come back to him. From time to time, he thought he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes. In those moments, his djinn gained the upper hand over the evil spirit. But the recognition inevitably faded away, and the red djinn regained the advantage.

  Maddock’s strength began to fade, and with it, his djinn. The evil spirit wrapped its long red fingers around the blue’s throat and squeezed, letting out a wicked laugh.

  Maddock fell to his back. Isla, still possessed by inhuman strength, pressed the staff hard against his throat.

  “Die!” she hissed in a voice that was not her own.

  Maddock’s body began to react to the lack of oxygen. He fought with all his might, but could not overcome the demonic power that controlled her. Darkness closed in around the edge of his vision. The blue djinn flickered like a guttering candle.

  Strangely, he thought of Kendra. Rather, he remembered something she had said.

  “Knowing a spirit’s name makes a big difference. They are compelled to respond to you, if only briefly until they can summon the strength to resist.”

  What was the name of the djinn that controlled Solomon?

  “Sakhr,” he grunted. “I call you by name and command you to obey me.”

  The djinn’s eyes went wide with shock. It froze, its light beginning to fade. Resurgent, the blue djinn, shining brightly, struck. It drove its fist into Sakhr’s chest and tore out its heart.

  Sakhr threw back his head and let out a roar like a thousand hurricanes. Flame poured from his mouth, tears like molten lava rolled down his cheeks.

  Maddock felt the pressure on the staff release. He shoved Isla off of him, tore the staff from her grasp, and flung it away. It clattered across the stone, its iron caps sending up red sparks, and tumbled over the ledge.

  Hastily, Maddock seized Isla by the wrist and tore the ring from her hand.

  The djinn vanished.

  All was eerily silent.

  “Maddock, what happened?” Isla whispered. “We were standing at the coffin. Someone told us to put our hands up. I remember I grabbed the staff, thinking I could use it as a weapon. And now I’m here.”

  “I’ll tell you what happened.” Bones’ voice, weak yet gruff, rang out. “I got my ass shot and then you smacked me on the head with that freaking staff. I think you got blood in my hair.”

  Maddock left Isla where she lay and hurried over to Bones.

  “Where are you hit?”

  “Shoulder,” he said. “Nothing critical, but damn, it hurts. Messed up my jacket, too.”

  As Maddock tended to Bones, he filled Isla in on all that had happened. Isla was horrified to learn what she had done.

  “Well, you did save us,” Maddock said. “You just got a bit out of control there at the end.”

  “That must be why Solomon let the mines fall into legend,” Bones said.

  Maddock nodded. “I’ll wager he arranged for the staff and ring to be split up after his death so that Sakhr couldn’t be loosed again.”

  “Wonder why he didn’t just destroy them?” Bones asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe they can’t be destroyed.” Maddock held up the ring. “But I think if we were to drop this thing into the deepest part of the sea, that would work just as well.”

  “As long as it doesn’t end up in a fish’s mouth,” Isla said.

  Maddock chuckled. “That’s a chance we’ll have to take. Let’s get out of here.”

  Epilogue

  Glasgow, Scotland

  The call came from a private number but Brigid knew who it was. She had no interest in talking to Nineve any more often than absolutely necessary, but in this case, she was eager to hear from any member of the Sisterhood. She had not heard from Isla for several days and her daughter was not answering her phone or returning calls for messages. Perhaps Nineve could tell her where Isla was, or at least let her know that Isla was all right.

  “I need to talk to your daughter,” Nineve said the moment Brigid answered. “Where is she?”

  Brigid’s heart pounded out a rapid beat. “I had hoped you could tell me. I have not heard from her for some time.”

  “You’re lying,” Nineve said flatly.

  “No.” Brigid saw no point in pleading her case any further. Nineve would believe what she liked.

  “Gowan was found dead yesterday.”

  Brigid frowned. “The man who was working with Isla?”

  “Correct.”

  “But Isla was not...” Brigid could not finish the sentence.

  “Isla has disappeared. A security camera spotted her near Heathrow the night she and Gowan fell out of contact with us. We’re still working to find out if she did leave the country, and if so, where she went and with whom. Make no mistake, we will find out.”

  “I hope you do,” Brigid said. “Doubtless she was running from whoever killed Gowan.”

  A long silence hung between them, each trying to wait out the other. Finally, Nineve went on.

  “Gowan was shot from behind at close range. The bul
let was the same caliber as the pistol we issued to Isla.”

  “That doesn’t mean...”

  “Listen to me,” Nineve barked. “I am not a fool. The two of you have conspired in this to betray me. Mark me well—if Isla does not return to Modron and accept the consequences of her actions, it will mean war between the Sisterhood and the Tuatha de Danaan. And I will not stop until every last Tuatha is dead.”

  She ended the call.

  Brigid stared at the screen, pondering her next move. Finally, she sat down, typed out a long text message to Isla, and hit send.

  She poured herself a tall glass of Scotch whisky and sat. Now the waiting game began.

  Antananarivo, Madagascar

  Isla rolled over when she heard her phone vibrate. Beside her, Maddock slept soundly. She smiled at the memory of the night before. It was what she had wanted for so long. And now it was real.

  She reached out and placed a delicate finger on a ragged white scar, one of the many that covered his muscular body. She found them oddly erotic, symbols of his courage and strength. He’d told her there was a story behind each one, and she couldn’t wait to hear him tell the tales. There was so much about him she still didn’t know.

  Rolling over, she picked up her phone and unlocked it. She assumed it was another message from Nineve, or perhaps from her mother. She couldn’t wait until she was safely back in the States. Maddock had promised his friend in the CIA would help her start over with a new identity. Once that had been achieved, she would find a way to let her mother know she was alive and well.

  The message was from her mother, and Isla read it with an increasingly sick feeling. War between the Sisterhood and the Tuatha? How many would die? And every death could be laid at her feet. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there trying to think of any possible solution other than the one she was considering. She considered waking Maddock, but she was certain she knew what he would say. He’d tell her to keep out of it, that those people had made their own beds. What’s more, the moment he learned what was happening would spell the end to her plan.