by Amy Lignor
“Here, at the museum. About a month ago. Right around the time that—”
“—Bauer died.”
Gareth nodded. “You were right. I think when Bauer died everybody else took off.”
Leah thought long and hard about the words she needed to say. “So, he came here to…?”
“All I can think is that he was embroiled in something, Leah. I think he was trying to find mom, but I also think he knew what was going on and wanted to stop the next bunch of Nazi-loving crazies from immediately picking up where Bauer left off.”
“So you’re saying your father knew where Satan’s crown was hidden and wanted to find it?”
“And bury it. If it weren’t for my mother and this crown, I believe he would’ve gotten on a plane to hunt down me and Kathryn the second he was free.”
Sitting down on a bright white bench beside the wicked-looking Snake Goddess, Leah tried to focus. “Okay,” she began. “We can now state for a fact no one died in that car accident when you were a kid.”
Gareth remained silent. “Well…another scenario is that he came here just for the crown. My mother could have died.”
Leah shook her head. “No one could have died, because there was no accident. We have all the clues, Gareth. We found them when we were stuck in that Nazi castle. Bauer told us everything. He just assumed that we wouldn’t make it out of there. We know that his mother was given all the information they needed to succeed from Neith’s own mouth. Bauer’s mother knew about the stone, the crown…and she was willing to do anything to see her son in charge. We stepped right in the middle of a game that was already being played.”
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the wall. “So what did your dad ask about when he was here?”
Gareth looked down at her. “Same thing he worked on thirty years ago; the Phaistos Disc.”
Feeling a bit revived, Leah opened the card catalogue. “That’s a two-sided clay disc covered in hieroglyphs. Both sides have different pictures and inscriptions, the latter being indecipherable. People have had theories over the years about what it means, but no one knows for sure.”
He nodded. “My father believed that, since it was carved by a wise man, it showed a hidden, sacred path that must be followed.”
“A wise man,” Leah mumbled, remembering the odd comment that Anippe had made over the phone. “The path of a magi.”
Shrugging away the tingling sensation that felt like an electric current racing through her bones, Leah stood up. “I say we go take a look at this thing. They’re going to throw us out soon.”
“Actually, no, we have time. The curator is allowing us to stay after the doors are closed.”
“How much did you have to pay for that?”
“Believe it or not, nothing.” Gareth smiled. “He wants me to find what I’m looking for. Security will escort us out when we’re done.”
A part of her wanted to cross herself at his remark. She wondered how anyone could just believe their cockamamie story, unless they had motives of their own.
CHAPTER 30
Suspended inside the glass cabinet, held from the top by an almost invisible mechanism, the magnifiers set in the case allowed one to see the intricacies carved on both sides of the coin, bringing into focus every inch of the relic. Leah studied the spiral of icons and inscriptions that had been carved on one side of the clay disc.
“There are forty-five separate signs on this,” Gareth spoke. “But there are only a few on one side that are distinguishable Minoan figures.”
She made notes of the pictures in her mind. Dainty rosettes that looked similar to daisies appeared almost everywhere, with one etched directly in the middle of the coin. A woman’s figure sat near the center flower, and all the other symbols formed a path someone would walk in order to reach her. Between the daisies, set intermittently on the path, was a mixture of small double-headed axes, humans walking, birds flying, and round circles with holes in them that reminded Leah of honeycombs. Other small icons were mixed in, like boats and fish, and a tiny hand that seemed to wave at her from the clay, inviting her in to the odd world.
“A majority of people think this is a representation of the Minoan way of life,” Gareth interrupted her study. “It has references to agriculture, architecture, and even images of tiny horns that would naturally represent the Minotaur.”
“Naturally,” Leah replied.
She continued the trek through the magnified glass. Carved at the beginning of the trail was a human figure. The daisies seemed to spring up around him, starting the path that the small explorer would take.
Leah studied the big bold lines scratched into the clay after each trio of icons. It was as if the creator of the disc had used the heavy lines as breaks between scenes—notating chapters in the explorer’s life.
In the next set of images, the person continued on and ran into a tiny little boat. Axes, manacles, crests and gauntlets had then been carved—a row of painful things lying directly in the figure’s path.
Leah’s skin crawled at the thought. She was starting to believe that if she stood in front of the disc long enough, she would witness the journey of horrors that she and Gareth had been on for what seemed like forever. A part of her actually wished that could be true. After all, if she could see the journey—if the record of all their adventures had been carved in clay thousands of years ago—then perhaps the end could be deciphered and some sort of normal future could be seen.
Her eyes moved faster, heading to the end of the path to stare at the female. She looked to Leah as if she was waiting patiently for the explorer to arrive and free her from the suffocating clay. She exhaled a deep breath as her brain suddenly reeled. It felt as if the path that led to everything they wanted to know was hovering right in front of her—the answers just out of reach.
Looking away, Leah found Gareth sitting on a bench by the wall, head down as if deep in thought, trying to understand what their next step should be.
Walking away from the glass, Leah looked around at the now silent hallway. The tourists had disappeared. Apparently the curator had respected Gareth and kept his promise, allowing them to stay in the Heraklion Archaeological Museum to find what they were looking for.
Knowing that the cameras were all around made Leah suddenly feel odd, as if someone other than security guards were staring down at her. Feeling the panic, searching for a way to calm the mass of confusion that was now spiraling in her head, her gaze fell on the pair of huge red curtains and she walked towards them. Without glancing back, she disappeared through the veiled entry, wishing for a moment of privacy and peace.
But what she found on the other side brought neither.
___
A shot of fear struck Gareth’s heart like a steel knife. Jumping from the bench, he ran towards the sound of Leah’s deafening scream. Rushing through the curtains, following the shout that made his blood run cold, he practically flew into the room filled with paintings hanging from every wall.
Stopping dead, he searched the sapphire eyes that were now wider than he had ever seen them. Her flesh had turned almost alabaster under the fluorescent lighting.
Opening his mouth to ask what was wrong, Leah pointed at the wall in front of her. Time stopped.
CHAPTER 31
Gareth was stunned. He barely heard the sound of footsteps rushing to the spot where he stood. He barely saw the dark uniforms of the security team as they marched into the room and halted right beside him.
“Holy Lord,” a male voice spoke close to his ear.
“Proseuche,” two other voices spoke and then delved into prayer.
All three men moved their gazes from the dark red paint dripping down the wall to the tall woman who remained motionless; her hands over her mouth, her figure unmoving. She looked as if she’d been frozen in time by a demon who’d decided to include the lady among the museum’s rare artifacts.
Very slowly, her bright blue gaze met his and snapped Gareth from his sudden pa
ralysis. Walking directly to her, he pulled Leah into his arms.
His voice was a whisper, glancing over her head at the men in uniform. “How…how would someone get in here to do this?”
Unlike most that would be calling investigators to the scene, the guards remained silent. Perhaps, thought Gareth, they were recalling every minute they had been on duty in order to find a lapse in their routine that would have allowed this vandalism to occur. “The museum was closed yesterday. Minimal security was here.” One man’s voice sounded strong and loud.
“Closed?”
Leah nodded against his chest. “There was an exhibit going in…I mean, coming home. That’s what the guide said.” She added with a whisper, “Hansen would have…he would have had a chance.”
Gareth could barely speak. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I do know this was all meant for us. We’ll never know how he pulled it off, we just know he had a window of opportunity.”
“How would he know we’d come here?”
She shook her head. “Hansen knows things we don’t, Gareth.”
Tightening his embrace, Gareth didn’t comprehend the quiet words being spoken over the guards’ radios. Static filled with Greek words, commands, requests for aid—everything was being relayed, he assumed, as the men finally attempted to unravel the disgusting sight.
Two men turned on their heels like well-trained soldiers at a response that came through the radio. The third, his voice cold and somewhat mean, stared directly at Gareth. “Stay here.”
Gareth simply nodded and watched the guard take one sharp step backwards, turn toward the curtains, and disappear from sight.
Wishing he could avoid the details, knowing he could not, Gareth held his breath while taking a closer look at the shocking wall. The fresco fragment had once been lovely. The woman had been dancing, her dark hair jutting out in waves. But now the woman’s eyes had been covered in red paint, as if the sick artist wanted to represent that her pupils were actually bleeding. Beside her, on the bull-leaping fresco, were three men now also adorned with paint. One had been gored by the mighty horns of the beast, while another standing behind the beast was now spitting a trail of blood, as if his throat had opened and his innards were falling out.
The figure in the center, leaping over the back of the bull’s form like the acrobat he’d originally been painted to represent, wore a red face. A familiar red face. A vile grin had been painted in white on the mask, and a twisted crown sat upon his head. Hansen’s self-portrait.
CHAPTER 32
Gareth ended the call, emitting a small sigh of relief at the news that at least some of the people he and Leah cared about had been accounted for.
As they sat outside, he continued to hold Leah in his arms, refusing to let go. The flashing lights of the police cars were behind them; the questioning by the Greek law officers was over. But the confusion and anger over some of the city’s most priceless items being destroyed by human hands permeated the air. News that would soon be announced to the locals who would call for justice.
Leah’s voice could still barely be heard. “Hansen is a ghoul.”
“Everyone in Cairo is safe.”
“Did you tell them about…this?”
“Not everything. Hansen wants everyone to be scared to death because fear makes people screw up. I checked on them, and let them know we were fine. I did speak to your father, however, and warned him to stay alert. God knows, the bastard might be heading in their direction next.”
“They should get more security.”
“A lot of good that’ll do.”
“Then they need to get out of there,” she said. “Now.”
Gareth nodded. “They are. In the morning they’re taking the stone and going to Alexandria. We’ll meet up with them there.”
“They should just leave that damn thing behind.”
“What?”
Pushing away, Leah sat up and took a deep breath. “I don’t give a crap about it anymore. I’m serious. If Hansen wants to be Satan, let him give it a shot. I’m done with this! I have to go to Kissamos, like we planned, but then we’re going to Knossos, grabbing Kathryn and Emmanuel, finding your parents,” she added those words in a voice filled with doubt, “and then we’re flying back to fucking America.”
“And buying a great big dog.” Gareth stared at her surprised look. “No. You’ve convinced me. After all this I don’t care if we buy Cujo, just as long as he’s big, angry, and despises strangers from out-of-town.” He added, “And then we’ll have a baby.”
“Just as long as it’s big, angry, and despises people from out-of-town.”
Gareth listened to her awkward laugh. “I’ll do my best.”
The sky above them had turned from the dark purple twilight into night. Gareth closed his eyes, feeling the adrenaline dissipate and exhaustion take over. “We need to find a hotel and rest for a few hours.”
“We’ve got to finish this.” Leah straightened her back against the bench, clutching the old leather duffel in her lap.
“We will. But if you and I don’t get a few hours of sleep and some food in our stomachs, we’re not gonna be able to find our own feet.” His voice grew muted, “I have a feeling we’re going to need all our strength to make it through whatever comes next.”
Her eyes filled with alarm at his statement.
“Look. Everyone’s safe. They’re all together. And with your extraterrestrial mother”—Gareth paused, reveling in the wonderful sight of Leah’s smile—“your smart sister, the strength of Aaron, and the pigheadedness of your dad, they’ll all remain safe.”
“What about your family? We can’t afford to take a break.”
Gareth sighed. “Leah, Kathryn’s fine, and I know I’ll see my parents again. Period.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Standing up quickly, he threw the knapsack over his shoulder and then placed his hands on her cheeks. “My most important job is to protect and care for my wife. Which is you, in case you’ve forgotten. And my parents would be highly upset with me if I didn’t do that job well.”
“I can’t wait to meet them.”
“And I can’t wait for them to meet you. I’ll tell you,” he continued, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they walked away from Lion’s Square, “when we all get back together we’re going to have one hell of a party.”
CHAPTER 33
“Are we having a party?” Anippe asked, entering the small kitchen to witness a table filled with treats of all shapes, sizes, and smells.
Neith smiled. “As a matter of fact, we’re having a celebration of life this evening.”
“Does a celebration of life involve chocolate?”
Neith pulled her daughter into a hug. “What celebration would not?”
Dropping into a chair, Anippe felt her bones relax a little for the first time in days, even though the knowledge that nothing was over still weighed heavily on her mind.
“What exactly are we celebrating? I mean, considering the circumstances.”
Neith put a hand on her shoulder. “We need this, Anippe. If I learned nothing else while I was strapped to the wall of a prison, it was the fact that life is a gift and must be enjoyed as much as possible. We must be grateful for every minute we are granted. Something most people forget.”
“But—”
“No buts. People will always strive to ruin lives, but they can only win if they take that life away from us by making us too afraid to live it.”
Anippe nodded her understanding. “Where is Father?”
Neith set a large, scrumptious bowl of Qara’ ‘Asali down before her. The baked pumpkin was garnished with flakes of sugar, and Anippe practically drooled. Not only was it her favorite dessert, but it was surrounded by so many others that looked just as perfect.
“Your father will be right back. He and Aaron are finding some spirits.” She winked. “And I am not speaking about my kind of spirits.”
Anippe tilted her head
to the side. “We are not allowed to drink here. You know that.”
As if on cue, Aaron Tallent walked through the door and lifted a large paper bag into the air. “No we cannot. However, after what we’ve all been through, I believe the good Lord will allow me to bend this one rule, this one time.”
“I agree,” Neith said. “Have you left David far behind?”
Aaron laughed out loud. “He thought he saw a cat trying to climb into that broken window. But when he’s done checking,” he continued, his eyebrows dancing up and down on his forehead, “he’s going to bring in more libations that are equally sinful. Of course, he is an American, so I will simply cast the blame on him for causing us to sin.”
“You are an American,” Neith reminded him.
“Originally.” Aaron laughed. “But that was a long time ago.”
The women sent out sounds of laughter into the room when Aaron lifted a large bottle of amber liquid from the bag and twisted off the silver cap. Bringing it to his lips, he took a swig that would’ve made any rascal proud.
By the sudden tears that rushed to his eyes, Anippe knew that the alcohol was leaving a burning path of fire down his throat. “The Lord is punishing you,” she said.
His voice rang out high, “Smooooth.” Grinning, he reached into the bag and took out one more bottle, placing it on the table. “Let’s play a very American game. The last one standing will be the winner.”
A blinding flash of light suddenly burst inside the small room.
Anippe blinked from the harsh glare, trying to refocus on the silly grin pasted to her uncle’s face. In less than a second, the bottle fell from Aaron’s hand and smashed on the clean kitchen floor. The strong smell made Anippe queasy as the amber liquor pooled beside the table leg. Leaning over in her chair, she squinted at the scene that seemed to be changing color right before her eyes. Reaching down, she stuck her fingertips in the thick, gooey liquid. Lifting her hand, Anippe was utterly confused by the thick reddish alcohol now coating her skin.
