by Amy Lignor
“But it can create horrific hallucinations,” Leah added her knowledge. “And the toxic elements will cause death if they’re inhaled for a long time.”
She immediately slowed her breathing, not wanting to test any god who might be watching. “Let’s make sure we don’t knock that candle over onto a mercury floor, shall we?”
She wanted to back out of the room, yet she found herself intrigued by the tiny river of silver that filled the lines between the marble tiles. It looked almost like a spider web; a trap that would somehow snare their ankles with thin, silver threads.
She watched Gareth step across the labyrinth. “Someone put this here on purpose.” Getting to the other side of the room, he stared at the candle supplying the odd, flickering light.
Leah shook her head. “This is impossible. That candle is big, sure,” she said, staring at the large, white pillar, “but there’s no way the light from this thing could be responsible for the light we saw back there…the light that was…”
“Leading us here?”
Leah knew he was thinking about a power she had no desire to debate over right now. Instead, she examined the candle, noticing the fact that wax wasn’t creeping down its sides. “This was just lit.”
“By who?”
She sighed. Yet another question she had absolutely no answer for. “Maybe there’s a manager for the site who puts one here for the tourists? Just in case they want to explore after the sun sets?” She stopped speaking, knowing that her responses were about as lame as they could possibly get.
As her eyes adequately adjusted to the bright sheen, Leah turned in a circle and stared at the paintings that decorated the walls. Each scene portrayed was interesting. In one small frame was a winged lion sitting atop a bright blue throne. Beautiful, she thought. In another frame, however, the infamous Minotaur made her blood run cold. There, as if glued onto the open arms of the vile creature, was a photograph of a woman. Her face was practically gaunt. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open in a scream.
Her vision started to spin. The photograph seemed to appear, only to disappear again every time the candle flickered. First the woman was there…then, three young women appeared, standing in the middle of a fire. Their golden hair burned and flames licked their faces. But the small eyes with trails of blood flowing from the sockets did not bother Leah—it was what they glared down at.
The painted scene was of three men walking down a small lane covered in white flowers. It looked as if they were going to some sort of celebration, carrying gifts in their hands. But on the left side of the canvas, four figures bore down on the gleeful group. The horses they rode were of different colors and the riders appeared as mere skeletons in the saddles. They were bearing gifts, too. Hideous ones.
As Leah studied them, she caught sight of a lone traveler painted in the woods; he looked like he was bound for a building that sat in the center of a field. Above the building was an angel holding a sword painted in gold. Tears filled Leah’s eyes.
The woman…screaming. The trio…bleeding. The Four Horsemen…bringing death, and worse. The scenes all meshed together in a blur of color.
Blinking rapidly, she tried to stay awake against the burning sensation that was now overwhelming her senses. But when her pupils felt like small knives were being jabbed into them, Leah lost the fight.
Falling forward into the miniature silver rivers, she was engulfed in blackness.
CHAPTER 21
The candle continued to flicker…
No, Leah corrected herself. This is more than a candle.
She scanned the unfamiliar area and attempted to quell the fear building inside her. It was as if she were no longer alive. No longer taking breath. Closing her eyes, casting the silly thought from her head, she reopened them to start her search once again. There, in the middle of the floor, was a fountain full of cool, clear water that seemed to call out to her. She was suddenly elated; her throat was so dry she could hardly breathe. Attempting to run across the black and white floor to enjoy a drink, Leah’s feet were frozen in place. She didn’t understand why her body wasn’t obeying her mind’s command.
She glanced down at her legs, willing them to move.
That’s when the scream should have come.
Her legs were not free; her body was encased in stone. Only her face emerged from the wall of cold, hard rock that was serving as her coffin.
Opening her mouth, desperate to call out for Gareth to come save her, a seizure nearly stopped her heart when she realized she hadn’t made a sound. She’d been silenced. Her throat was burning.
Hearing a sudden thump, Leah shifted her gaze to a small door sitting open across from her, and watched a shadow approach.
Gareth! she thought, reveling in her hero’s presence once again.
But as she studied it, she saw that the owner of the shadow was calm; its’ gait was slow. It was as if the person was creeping along…twisting, like a snake slithering through the underbrush.
A gleam caught her eye and she viewed the stone fountain. The sparkling liquid was now cascading over the edges.
The shadow kept coming.
Finally, as each second felt like an hour in her mind, the shadow stepped over the threshold and headed straight to the water that Leah needed more than air. She felt complete shock at seeing the familiar eyes of a villain she’d once fought. Stepping closer, his progress continuing in slow-motion, he reached up and placed a polished crown on his head.
Her heart dropped when she realized what she was witnessing. It was no use. By not paying attention, by turning her focus away from the real battle and toward her true love’s needs, the bastard had snuck up behind her and claimed victory.
She watched him take a sparkling green cup from the pocket of his coat and place the rim against the overflowing font, filling the relic with water. Carrying it slowly and carefully, the shadow walked to her and lifted the cup to her parched, cracked lips—offering her this one small gift.
As Leah ogled the precious water, it turned silver before her eyes. Feeling the rock suddenly crumble around her, she looked down and saw her body appear. Pulling her hand free from the prison, she pushed the cup away from her face. Her legs followed as she wrested them from the stone, stumbling to the font in the center of the room. Cupping her hands, she reached into the water and filled them, shooting a look of triumph over her shoulder at the newly-crowned king.
The smile he offered in return was the epitome of evil.
Leah glanced back at her hands and released a terrifying scream from the depths of her soul. What was water had turned to blood.
Her gaze fixated on a weapon…the sharp tip of a golden sword now jutted up from the center of the fountain. It had just…appeared. Slicing Leah’s hands and turning the water to blood.
As she began to faint, all Leah could hear was the sound of flapping wings inside her head. Her hair brushed against her cheek, and a small breeze rushed over her now collapsing body.
Letting her eyes close, Leah begged the vindictive shadow to let her die in peace. But as the noise of wings grew louder, a voice whispered in her ear: “Kissamos.”
___
“Leah. Wake up!”
She could hear the panic in his voice. Gareth shook her by the shoulders so hard that she felt like a ragdoll being mistreated by an insolent child.
“Come back to me.” His voice was that of a desperate man.
Leah’s eyes opened slowly. She could feel the stale air enter her lungs and she released a breath into the room. Focusing on the worried gaze and the lips that were moving in what looked like a silent prayer, the confusion began to melt away. She was alive.
It was only a nightmare. Leah wrapped her heavy limbs around his neck.
“What the hell just happened?” Gareth’s grip was solid and strong, holding her tight. “I’m over in the corner telling you about the Furies in the painting you were looking at, and you just…fell.”
Leah tried to stay pressed up
against his chest, but Gareth lifted her off the floor and carried her out into the lobby of the ancient medical center. She struggled to turn away from the cloth he was running all over her face, rubbing her lips so hard that it felt like he was putting out a fire.
“Stop it,” she mumbled.
He slapped at her defensive hands. She watched him tear even more fabric from his own shirt, just to shove it into her mouth, like a serial killer who wouldn’t be stopped. “Enough! Stop fighting me! You fell face-first into the mercury. You drank it, Leah. Spit, for crissake.”
Leah heard the terror coursing through his words, and she immediately spat the gooey substance she suddenly tasted onto the floor.
Gareth sat back on his knees; his eyes remained wide and alert. “I told you to be careful!”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Leah replied; her voice was barely a whisper in her own ears. She gagged, trying to bring up as much of the substance as possible. “I was looking at the pictures and…I guess I fainted.”
“Well, no food, all coffee—I’m surprised you can even stand up most of the damn time.” Taking a deep breath, leaving her in the center of the floor, Gareth stood and began pacing the outer ring of the room.
Listening to the tirade of swear words that spewed from his mouth, she leveled her tone and tried to make peace. “Gareth. I’m fine.”
“We have to get you to a hospital.”
“I thought I was already in one.” She attempted to add a light tone to her words, but it was impossible.
Stopping dead in his tracks, Gareth glared at her. “Now is not the time to be funny. I mean it, Leah.”
She tried to focus on the man she loved as images jumped around in her scrambled mind. “I think…Gareth, I think I had that dream again.”
Recollection dawned in his eyes. “Being stuck in a wall? A shadow coming through the door?”
She nodded slowly. “It was a little more detailed this time. The shadow had familiar eyes. He wore a crown. He walked to the middle of the room and filled a cup with water. But when he came over to me and lifted the cup so I could drink,” she gagged once more, “the water was silver.”
“Not surprising,” Gareth’s voice grew louder. “Considering you were lying there for a second sucking in the toxic shit.”
Leah attempted to roll her eyes but her headache was so cruel that even blinking felt like taking a bullet to the skull. Staring up through the broken roof at the moonlight even brought pain, as if the glow was burning her pupils. “I don’t know why you’re so upset. You’re the one who told me mercury is only poisonous if it’s heated. And even though we’re constantly going through some fairly weird stuff, I don’t think I’m going to be forced to make out with a dragon anytime soon.” Running her tongue over her teeth, Leah spat yet again, attempting to remove whatever remained of the quicksilver coating.
Turning her head slowly, she looked back through the door of the inexplicable room. “Did you see the picture in there?”
“You need a hospital.”
“Please stop,” she whispered, resting her head against the cool marble slab behind her.
“Look,” he began, “even if the mercury isn’t poisonous, you still need to be looked at.”
Trying to ignore him, Leah repeated, “Did you see the picture in there?”
“What picture?” Gareth practically screamed the question.
“There was a photograph. A woman with your eyes. It was stuck to the Minotaur.”
He took a step away from her. “What?”
“I think it was your mother.”
Without another word, Gareth turned away from the argument and walked back into what Leah felt was a room built upon demonic ground. In seconds, he returned. “There’s no photograph in there.”
An image of the satanic smile from her dream popped into her mind. Someone, somehow, was setting them up. “I don’t understand.”
His sigh was so frustrated and so fierce that Leah believed the ancient doctors of Pergamon could hear Gareth from their graves. He took a deep breath. “All the pictures in there are of things we’ve already seen. The Minotaur, the Rotunda of Michael Archangelos, the magi…we’ve seen all of it before, Leah. That’s not what’s important here. You are.”
She stared up at him. “Rotunda of what?”
“It’s in Crete. Who cares?” She could see him barely holding back his anger, trying not to scream at her for pushing him to the brink of a heart attack.
Her stomach suddenly twisted. “Where your sister is?”
“My sister is in Knossos,” he growled. “The Rotunda is across the island in Kissamos.”
Standing up way too quickly, Leah felt her legs wobble underneath her. She forced her brain to focus so she wouldn’t come crashing back down. Reaching out, Gareth grabbed her hand and she pulled him to the door.
“Good. Let’s get to a hospital. Now you’re thinking clearly.”
“No. We have to get to Crete. As fast as possible.”
“What? Why? You need a hospital.”
“Gareth. That Rotunda…it’s the next step. We need to get to Crete.”
“You’re having delusions.”
“Your father went to Crete from here.”
“How would you know that? Why would he go there?”
“He was looking for your mother.” Leah felt the guide. Whether it was the hand of Athena or a much darker, more dangerous character, Leah was sure that Crete was the next step.
Hearing the squeak of what sounded like rusted metal behind them, Leah and Gareth turned back to peer into the dream temple. They were dumbstruck when the tiny doors located around the base of the walls began lifting up of their own accord. It was then that the wretched sounds began.
I have to still be dreaming. Leah could barely breathe as the bright silver floor illuminated creatures that could be held in the palm of her hand. Small, yes, but they were also the most frightening things Leah had ever seen. The light was so bright that she could even see horns protruding from their flat triangular heads. The hiss they emitted was that of an old crone rasping, screaming at the intruders in their temple. It was a continuous cackling sound—a warning to get out fast, or stay and die.
Leah swallowed hard, disregarding the hideous taste that remained caught in her throat. “Are those the harmless snakes you were talking about?”
Gareth barely made a move beside her. “No. Those are horned vipers.”
“Doesn’t sound good.”
“Nope. Not good.” Without a word of warning, Gareth scooped her up into his arms and raced out of the building.
CHAPTER 22
The lightning flashed. The storm raged outside, as if trying to shake the ancient foundation of the Coptic Museum.
Anippe used to love these thunderous storms. When she was a child, she would sit in the dark corners of the museum and try to guess which artifact would be the next one illuminated by the gods’ rage. She’d hold her breath in anticipation. Then, when the next bold strike exploded in the darkness, she’d squeal with delight. The power of a sudden sizzling bolt would light up a mask, making the red and black face of the legendary medicine man come to life, looking as if it was ready to snatch her up and carry her away.
Anippe remembered her nervous giggles filling the hallways as the next powerful bolt would make an Egyptian casket glow, causing the mummy inside to rise from its grave. She missed her childhood imagination that’d allowed her to run wild.
“Because now I’m a grown woman who just acts like a child,” she chastised herself.
Sitting on the floor across from the throne, she pulled the double-headed axe into her lap. She clenched the mighty weapon tightly, as if she believed Hansen would appear in the next bolt of light and try to steal Satan’s stone from its case. But even though the power from outside did brighten the maniacal looking piece, it still just sat there.
Sizzle. Snap. Rumbles of thunder echoed between each hit, traveling down the museum corridors and making her wo
rld sound haunted. Anippe shivered. The rain had turned into a downfall; the deluge now sounded like an army assembling on the roof, waiting for the command to enter the museum and draw blood.
Hanging her head, the tears came swiftly. The excited child who’d once roamed the Coptic Museum was indeed long gone. Tonight, it was the adult who sat alone and afraid.
The sound of soft steps creeping closer made Anippe stand and wipe the tears away. She glanced over her shoulder and watched her mother move forward, carrying a wooden chair.
Without a word, Neith set the chair on the floor in front of Anippe and sat down.
“You say I speak in riddles.” Neith cleared her throat. “I don’t want you to distrust me, Anippe. Ask me anything you like.”
Anippe remained silent, wondering where this conversation was going to lead.
“Your father just ordered me to stop acting like some all-knowing dream interpreter and start acting like a wife and mother. He does not care about this ‘ridiculous gem’ as he calls it, or my marking. The all-seeing eye never meant anything to him—only his family did.”
“He was right.”
“Was he?” She exhaled a long, deep breath. “Anippe, you must believe in all this by now.”
“I believe, yes. I also very much believe in family. One that loves each other can protect each other from anything—human or Divine.”
Neith responded quickly, “Actually, no. Gareth is a prime example of that. He is a man who lost his loving family at the hands of a very human drunk driver.”
“Apparently not,” Anippe replied just as fast.
When Neith remained silent, Anippe sighed heavily. “Look, I am not a child. I do understand things happen every day that are out of our control. But Leah believes that humans are responsible for the problems out there. Wars, starvation, terrorism, bigotry—these are created by men, not by the hand of a god or a devil sitting on an altar somewhere.”
Neith sat back against the wooden chair. Finally, she nodded. “Leah is correct. But there is another side. I was raised as a protector. Certain beliefs were passed down to me and I took my job very seriously. I believe your sister will too, once she breaks down the walls she has built up around herself.”
