The stranger made no threatening gesture despite his warlike attire. He merely sat on his animal and silently studied the people clustered below him. After a few moments, his gaze shifted from the crowd to the millet fields, the houses, the livestock pens and the river flowing endlessly off into the distance. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The farmers continued to gape and point and whisper among themselves.
The woman felt a shadow cross the sun even though the sky was clear and bright. She didn’t have the gift of second sight like the shamans of the clan. Her gift lay in making things grow. Still, she felt an unaccountable sense of despair welling up from the depths of her heart. Without being able to explain why, she knew that her world was about to change—and not for the better.
Chapter 2—Legal Threshold
Present Day, Western Suburbs of Chicago
“I think you’ve got OCD.” Cassie climbed out of the driver’s seat and slammed her car door for emphasis.
“Humor me,” Griffin replied dryly as he exited his own vehicle.
They were standing in the parking lot of Cassie’s apartment complex.
Leroy Hunt’s persistent efforts to find her had caused the Pythia to take shelter in the western suburbs—as far away from the Vault and downtown Chicago as possible. Her housing development was a sprawling complex of modern three-story apartment buildings clustered artistically around a central retention pond whose fountain had been turned off for the winter. A thin glaze of ice still coated the water.
Cassie hugged herself to keep warm while she waited for Griffin to catch up with her. Even though spring was technically around the corner, the early evening temperature was barely above freezing. They scurried up the walk to her front door on the ground level.
“Look, I’m telling you,” she continued. “I just cleaned my place two days ago and I didn’t see your missing field agent’s journal anywhere.”
“Really?” The Scrivener sounded genuinely puzzled. “I could have sworn I left it here the last time I dropped by.”
Cassie gave an exasperated sigh and fitted her key into the lock. “Go ahead and look but you won’t find it.”
She swung the door open to reveal a dark, quiet apartment. Without warning, the ceiling lights blazed on and a chorus of voices shouted, “SURPRISE!”
“What the...” Cassie trailed off, blinking under the glare. She turned mutely to the Scrivener.
Thirty people popped out from behind various pieces of furniture and came forward to greet her. She recognized them as co-workers from the Arkana. Her visitors must have been busy before her arrival because the dining room table was covered with an array of chips, dips, sandwiches, salads and pastries. They had even gone to the trouble of decorating for the occasion. Helium balloons bobbed above the dining room chandelier and the patio door valance was festooned with streamers.
The crowd launched into a boisterous rendition of “Happy Birthday.”
By the time they finished, Cassie was blushing from the fuss everyone was making.
Maddie’s tall form strode forward. She bent down to give Cassie a bear hug. “Happy birthday, kiddo. It’s not every day that a Pythia turns twenty-one.”
“I guess that’s because Pythias usually don’t live that long,” Cassie retorted.
Maddie drew back. “Nonsense. Your sister Sybil was a lot older before she got murdered.”
“Thanks, that’s really comforting.”
By this time, Faye had elbowed her way through the crowd to offer her own congratulations. “Never mind her, my dear. This day is a cause for celebration. You’ve officially come of age.”
The Pythia smiled ruefully. “After working for the Arkana for the past two years, I can honestly say I feel like I’m twenty-one going on forty-five.”
“You don’t look a day over forty-four.” Griffin patted her consolingly on the shoulder.
She turned to face him. “So your story about needing to find your missing journal was just a clever ruse to get me here?”
“That was only part of the ruse. I was charged with detaining you at the Vault as late as possible until Maddie rang to tell me that all was ready. Then I was to lure you here at the proper moment.”
“Good job on both counts.” Cassie nodded approvingly.
At that moment, an unexpected guest walked up bearing a tray with several glasses of champagne.
“Oh my goddess!” Cassie exclaimed. “Rhonda, what are you doing here?”
Her sister’s former business partner handed the tray to Griffin so she could enfold Cassie in an embrace. “It’s so good to see you again, sweetie,” she murmured, pressing her lips to the Pythia’s cheek.
Cassie held the woman at arm’s length to study her. “You’re looking tanned and rested. Last I heard you were on a world cruise courtesy of the Arkana.”
Rhonda gave Maddie a sidelong glance. “I got back a few months ago. That’s when your fearless leader set me up in an antique shop in San Francisco. Presumably, nobody’s going to look for me there.”
The Pythia shook her head emphatically. “Absolutely not.” She scowled as a new thought struck her. “Is it safe for you to be in Chicago?”
“Please,” Rhonda protested. “If I were to miss your twenty-first birthday, Sybil’s ghost would haunt me from beyond the grave. Besides, I’m not going anywhere near the city—just back to Midway to catch an early flight tomorrow morning. Don’t you worry about me. I’m the one who should be worrying about my silent partner.”
“You’re still cutting me in on Sybil’s share of the shop?” Cassie asked in surprise.
“The agreement stands,” Rhonda affirmed, “no matter where the shop is located.”
While Cassie gave Rhonda another hug for good measure, Maddie distributed champagne glasses to the group. Handing one to the Pythia, she urged, “Your first drink. Take it.”
“Oh, I’ve tasted alcohol before,” Cassie hedged. “But this will be my first legal drink.” She raised her glass. “To the Twenty-First Amendment!”
“To the Twenty-First Amendment,” the others echoed and toasted her.
After a few sips, the Pythia turned to survey the food and decorations and the sheer number of well-wishers. Her face must have betrayed her bafflement.
“Something the matter?” the Scrivener asked cautiously.
Cassie shook her head in wonder. “No. Not at all. This is awesome. It’s beyond awesome. It’s the biggest birthday party I’ve had in my entire life.” She hesitated. “I don’t remember what birthdays were like while my parents were still alive. Later on, Sybil and I had an offhanded way of celebrating. She’d usually come home late from work, take one look at my face, smack herself on the forehead and say ‘Oh, crap!’ Then she’d rush out to the nearest convenience store and bring back a cupcake. I’d stick a candle in the middle, light it, and she’d sing me ‘Happy Birthday’.”
Her story was met by an uncomfortable silence from her listeners.
Realizing how dismal her prior birthdays must have sounded to them, she tried to repair the damage. “Of course, at the time I didn’t realize the kind of job Sybil was doing for the Arkana. I just thought she was being self-absorbed. Now that I know first-hand the number of knives she was juggling, I have to give her credit for remembering at all.”
“How about we sample that spread,” Maddie suggested, changing the subject. “My crew knocked themselves out to put it together.”
In a loud voice, Cassie called out to the room in general, “I want to thank you all. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Everybody dig in!” Maddie commanded in an even louder voice.
As the crowd moved toward the buffet, the Chatelaine grabbed her coat and edged toward the front door.
In response to a quizzical look from Cassie, she explained, “Turns out party planning is even more stressful than running a covert global operation. I’m going to duck outside for a smoke to quiet my nerves.”
***
&nb
sp; Half an hour later, everyone was done milling around the table for seconds and thirds. Someone dimmed the lights and Griffin emerged from the kitchen carrying a birthday cake glowing with twenty-one candles.
After another rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday” Cassie blew them out, not missing a single one.
The Scrivener leaned over and whispered, “What did you wish for?”
“I can’t tell you that or it won’t come true,” she protested. “Let’s just say living long enough to snag the Sage Stone looms large in my plans.”
As Rhonda and Faye busied themselves distributing slices of cake, the doorbell rang.
“Whoever that is, they’re well beyond fashionably late,” Griffin observed.
By the time Cassie reached the door, her visitor had already let himself in.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said in a small voice.
Erik seemed taken aback by the festivities. “What’s going on here?”
“Shut the door, you’re letting in a draft,” Maddie commanded from the dining room.
As he entered the room, Erik confided to Cassie, “I just flew into O’Hare. When I called Maddie to check in, she told me to come straight here for a debriefing. She didn’t mention anything about a party.”
“Doesn’t matter. Help yourself to some food,” Cassie offered.
Erik shrugged pragmatically and headed for the buffet.
Griffin watched the interchange in silent disapproval. Under his breath he muttered, “Not so much as a ‘Happy Birthday’? That’s a bit cheeky even for him.”
“I thought you two made up after we got back from Tibet,” Cassie remarked, walking back toward the dining room herself.
“We did. I’m merely offended that Erik continues to be Erik. His ubiquitous sense of entitlement never fails to appall.”
The Pythia grinned. “Can’t help you with that. He is who he’s always been.” She handed Griffin a plate. “Here. Have some cake.”
The Scrivener smiled ruefully. “Very clever of you. If I’m eating I’m not sniping.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cassie protested innocently.
***
Two hours later, Cassie stood in the doorway bidding goodnight to the last of her guests. Rhonda received a special caution to “watch her back.” The kitchen had been tidied and everyone sent home with containers of leftovers. Turning back into the apartment, the Pythia was startled to realize that Faye, Maddie, Griffin and Erik were all standing together waiting for her.
“Good,” Maddie observed succinctly. “Now we can get down to business.”
Chapter 3—Formal Invitation
Zach surreptitiously checked his watch. It was almost nine PM. He glanced across the table at Hannah who was scanning a menu. The two sat in a booth at the village diner. They’d just walked over from the tiny local movie theater where they’d caught an early show. Unlike the multiplex at the mall, the town’s lone theater stubbornly clung to the tradition of showing only one movie per week. Fortunately, it was a film that both Zach and Hannah had wanted to see. After sharing a tub of popcorn to stave off hunger for a few hours, they’d gone to the only restaurant on the green that was still open.
Much as Zach enjoyed having Hannah to himself for an entire evening, he was acting on Arkana orders. He’d leapt at the chance to be of service. As a tyro, the boy hadn’t been trusted with anything more confidential than filing budget reports. This assignment was as close to top secret as he was likely to get for a while. Faye had told him to keep Hannah out until shortly before curfew. On Friday night, that meant eleven o’clock. His ancestor had been vague on the details but apparently she had some secret business to transact. Since Faye planned to return before their date was over, it would circumvent any awkward questions from Hannah about the old woman’s whereabouts. The mission suited Zach perfectly. He had an agenda of his own to pursue with his girlfriend this evening.
The waitress returned to take their orders. Once she left, Zach leaned over the table and said, “Hannah, I’m a junior this year.”
She gave him a quizzical look. “Yes, I know. And I’m a sophomore. Ever since school started last fall.”
He smiled nervously. “Well, there’s this thing. It’s sort of like a rite of passage for guys my age.”
She peered at him and whispered, “You haven’t started drag racing, have you?”
“Drag racing!” His head jerked back in surprise. “Where’d you get an idea like that?”
“Well, I was watching an old movie last night called Rebel Without A Cause and the high school boys in the movie were drag racing. Personally, I think you shouldn’t try something like that. In fact, I don’t think your car would hold together long enough to go over a cliff.”
“Over a...” Zach’s mouth hung open. “What?”
“It’s very dangerous and you shouldn’t try it. I’m sure Granny Faye wouldn’t want you to either.”
The boy shook his head in disbelief. “What you’re talking about isn’t a drag race. It’s a chicken race.”
Hannah scowled. “There weren’t any chickens in the movie. They were racing cars.”
Zach gritted his teeth and tried again. “No, I mean what you described is called a chicken race. Usually, it’s when two guys aim their cars straight at each other and whichever one swerves to the side first is the loser because he ‘chickens out’. Get it?”
“Oh, I see.” She nodded sagely. “Then what’s a drag race?”
He shrugged. “That’s just two guys racing against each other over a short distance. Whoever has the fastest car wins.”
“So that’s the kind of racing you do. Drag racing?”
“I don’t drag race!” Zach exclaimed.
“Good.” Hannah gave a relieved smile. “I’m glad I was able to talk you out of it in time.”
“I never said...” Zach threw his hands up helplessly just as the waitress returned with their soft drinks. Removing the paper cover from his straw, the boy dipped it into his soda glass, eyeing his companion warily. “Can we get back to the topic?”
“I thought we were on the topic. I just convinced you to stop drag racing.”
“How can somebody as smart as you be soooo linear?” he demanded loudly.
Hannah sat up straight in the booth, clearly offended. “You don’t have to bite my head off, Zachary.” She only used his full name when she was annoyed with him.
The boy moderated his pitch. “I was trying to explain about a rite of passage that happens to juniors in high school and it’s got nothing to do with poultry or engines.”
The waitress came back with a tray and served them both veggie burgers and fries. She thumped down bottles of ketchup and mustard and then retreated back to the kitchen.
When they were alone, Zach tackled the subject once again. “This rite of passage that I was talking about is a school event that only kids in my class get to attend. Of course they can bring whoever they want.”
Hannah gulped down a mouthful of burger and stared at him. “Some of my friends were talking about that just the other day. It’s a dance, isn’t it? A special dance.”
“That’s right.” Zach nodded with relief that he’d finally gotten her to focus. “We call it Junior Prom and I’d like you to be my date.”
The girl gave a dreamy smile. “I would get to dress up, wouldn’t I?”
“Sure.” The boy warmed to the topic. “All the girls wear fancy dresses. Not long ones like for Senior Prom but fancier than regular clothes. The guys wear suits and ties.”
“Oh, my.” Hannah seemed flustered but excited by the prospect. “When Granny Faye took me shopping for school clothes we looked at dresses like the ones you’re talking about. They were made of shiny, gauzy fabrics. In my whole life, I never saw anything as fine as that.”
“Not likely.” Zach snorted with derision. “When you were living with the Nephilim, they made you dress in old horse blankets.”
She giggled self-consciously. “You
’re not wrong about that.” Then her eyes glazed over as her imagination switched into overdrive. “And I would have to get my hair done in a salon. And wear evening makeup and maybe some jewelry. Granny Faye showed me a beautiful necklace of hers. She said I could borrow it if ever I went anyplace fancy.”
Zach propped his hand under his chin, watching her make plans. It was nice to see her so happy. She’d come a long way from the scared runaway who’d taken refuge with his grandmother. Hannah kept up a steady stream of chatter for several more minutes. He wasn’t really listening. He was just basking in the glow of her excitement. The way her eyes sparkled made his head spin.
Finally she paused to catch her breath.
Taking advantage of the momentary lull, Zach grinned. “Should I take all of that as a ‘yes’?”
“Oh, Zach!” She beamed at him. “I’ll get to be a fairy tale princess for one night. Like Cinderella. Absolutely, I’ll go with you.” She paused. “There’s just one thing...” Her tone was tentative. “Do you think you might be able to borrow your father’s car that evening? Even though Cinderella rode to the ball in a pumpkin, it didn’t have a bad muffler and polka dot spray paint on the doors.”
“If I ask to borrow the sedan, you know he’s gonna make me clean out the garage,” the boy warned ominously.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Hannah countered.
“My family’s garage hasn’t been cleaned out in five years.” Zach groaned at the prospect.
“Then I’ll just have to ask my Fairy Godmother to help you out.”
“Unless your Fairy Godmother has a wand that doubles as a grenade launcher, it’s not gonna cut any ice with my dad.”
Hannah giggled mischievously. “My Fairy Godmother’s name is Granny Faye.”
“Oh, that Fairy Godmother.” Zach laughed. “Well in that case, she’ll get my dad to hand over the keys before you can say ‘Bippity Boppity Boo’.”
Secrets Of The Serpent's Heart (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 6) Page 2
