The Phoenix Apostles
Page 36
The next moment seemed to hang up somewhere in her mind, frozen in space, in silence.
"Nooooo," Scarrow wailed as she pulled away, her fingers uncurling, setting the cloth free.
Seneca watched it fall to the fire of the Eternal Flame. In slow motion it floated on the heat, winging as the updraft caught it, billowing and slipping downward.
Scarrow swatted at the cloth, attempting a rescue. But he was too late.
As the sacred relic touched the flames it fully opened revealing the image of Billy Groves. The edges curled, browned, and burst into flame.
The three stood motionless staring at the fire.
Seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
Groves's eyes emptied of hope.
Scarrow's expression shifted from horror to relief, to joy. He opened his arms and lifted them toward the sky, praising the gods. Finishing his prayer he looked at Seneca. "You were wrong and you have given up a gift you can never be offered again."
It was then that she saw a small trickle of blood drip from the sleeve of his robe and splatter on the ground, a tiny rose on the marble. She looked at his feet, the gold threads of his sandals suddenly stained red. The wounds from the spikes gaped open and blood poured out forming a crimson pool. Bright red splotches seeped through his robe-the dagger wounds from La Noche Triste; The Sad Night.
Seneca raised her gaze to meet his. Her reaction made him glance at his hands. Startled, his head jerked back up, and his eyes darted from her to Groves.
Billy Groves touched his chest where red stains bloomed across his shirt. Two old wounds.
Seneca placed her palm to Groves's cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Groves smiled. "I'm not."
ANOTHER DAY IN PARADISE 2012, FLORIDA KEYS
SENECA SMELLED THE FRESH Scent of the ocean sweeping across Matt's second-story veranda. She stood by the railing and sipped a margarita, Matt beside her. She watched the ever-changing orange and red and purple as the sunset put on its final show of the day.
"Just another day in paradise." She held up her glass, and Matt touched the rim of his to it. "And I really like your new boat."
"The insurance payout was more than generous." Matt smiled proudly as he gazed in the direction of the brand new Boston Whaler moored at the end of his dock.
"Sariel II. Nice name."
"She's not only the main character in my books, she's the angel who pays my bills."
"You ready to get back to writing?"
Matt took a sip then nodded. "No choice. My deadline on the new thriller is looming large. You should see the emails from my agent and editor. In some courts they could be considered death threats."
"At least they're not from your radical readers who think you're a heretic."
"Oh, I get those, too. But after what you and I have been through, those wackos come off fairly mild." He turned to Seneca. "How about you? Ready to start the grind again?"
"Actually, yes. First, I've got to fly back to Mexico to testify in Carlos's trial. The courts have been on a fast track to get him convicted for planting the bomb that killed Daniel and the others."
"I hope you can feel some closure in seeing him punished."
She shrugged. "Some." Pausing for a moment, she thought of Daniel. The pale circle around her finger where the engagement ring had once been was a reminder of her loss. She had taken it off several days ago. It was time to move on. Closure meant healing. For the first time since the bombing, the pain didn't cut as deep. But it was still there.
"Yes, I'm ready to work. God knows there's plenty to followup on, starting with the Phoenix Apostles. Scarrow's creations are still among us, carrying on his mission, not because they believe so much in his message, but because they enjoy their task. Scary."
"Yeah, but tracking them down is nearly impossible. They're scattered across the globe."
"I don't think anyone really understands the whole conspiracy completely. I'm not sure I do. But the fact is, there are eleven potential mass murderers lurking out there in the shadows somewhere."
She turned her back to the ocean and rested her arms on the banister. "I'm also eager to investigate all the doctors and scientists who worked for Scarrow in the Bahamas. I know the Bahamian police have questioned them, but I want to get the real story of what went on in Azteca."
"What's going to happen to that place? And the Phoenix Ministry temple in Mexico?"
"Azteca is being turned into a tourist attraction. And apparently the new Groves Consortium board of directors is converting the Mexican temple into a nondenominational house of worship and charity outreach center. It's been renamed in honor of William Groves and his contributions to science and industry."
"I'm sure Groves would be proud, wherever he is." Matt seemed to grow serious. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"The command to destroy the veil by fire, we saw it in the catacombs and again at the island penal colony. And yet, you said that when Al gave you back your camera, those photos were missing. The legend says that an angel gave that command to Veronica. Do you think the woman we saw in the catacombs..."
"Was an angel?" Seneca slowly shook her head as she looked into his eyes. "I don't know, Matt. What I do know is that my beliefs have shifted since this whole thing began. I used to think that everything should be scrutinized until proven true. Now I'm wondering if it's just the opposite. Maybe all things are possible until proven otherwise. And it's certainly made me look at death in a whole different light. There's a lot more to this life than we can possibly ever understand."
"You should read my novels. That's what Sariel says all the time."
She looked at Matt. "You know, in some bizarre incomprehensible way, I feel sorry for Scarrow-for Montezuma. In his mind he believed he was doing the right thing, nothing evil, nothing diabolical. He wanted to ensure the well-being of the world and the universe in the only way he knew how. I remember when I asked Daniel about Aztec human sacrifices, he said that we should try to understand the why as well as the what and the how. We have to understand the customs and the belief systems of other cultures, other civilizations."
"That's an interesting point of view." Matt motioned to the horizon. "Check it out."
Seneca turned to see a final unexpected burst of color as the sun set the sky on fire. "My God, that's lovely." She glanced over her shoulder. "Isn't that beautiful, Mom?"
Brenda Hunt sat in a lounge chair nearby, a light blanket wrapped around her legs. She wore a bright, flowered blouse, sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed straw hat. "Beautiful."
Al sat next to Brenda holding her hand. He leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Almost as beautiful as you, sweetheart."
As Seneca watched her mother and father together, she felt a surge of warmth rush to her cheeks. It was a sight she had never thought possible. Even if Brenda didn't know who Al was, there was a thread of love that wove its way through the convoluted labyrinth of her dementia and into the present.
The chime of her cell phone distracted her. Seneca pulled it from her pocket and read the display.
"Bad news or good?" Matt asked.
With a smile, she said, "It's a text message from my editor. He says he thinks I finally have enough for a story."
THE END
Joe Moore (Florida) spent twenty-five years in the television postproduction industry where he received two regional Emmy® awards for individual achievement in audio mixing. As a freelance writer, Joe reviewed fiction for The Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel, The Tampa Tribune, and The Jacksonville Florida Times Union. He is a member of the International Thriller Writers, the Authors Guild, and Mystery Writers of America.
Lynn Sholes (Florida) is a writing teacher on special assignment for Citrus County Schools. Writing as Lynn Armistead McKee, she wrote six historical novels before writing thrillers under the name Lynn Sholes. Lynn is a member of International Thriller Writers, the Authors Guild, and Mystery Writers of America.
&nbs
p; Don't miss the other books in the Cotten Stone Mystery Series
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