by J. F. Penn
“So the stones were separated and handed down to you both?” Jake questioned.
“Yes, my father gave me mine when I turned 21. I know he regretted the past but he just wasn’t able to compromise. By the time I came back to England after he was killed, my mother had succumbed to breast cancer. I know she wore her stone until the end and now Faye wears it in her memory.”
“That’s a sad story,” Jake said. Morgan shook her head.
“I think it’s probably the story of many relationships. I had a happy life with my father in Israel. Now I’m trying to get to know my sister and niece.” She looked at her watch. “Talking of them, have you heard back from the men sent to protect them?”
Woodstock. Near Oxford, England.
May 18, 10.47pm
From his study, David suddenly heard Faye’s voice raised, a scream cut off quickly and a scuffle from the kitchen. He leapt up, grabbing the nearest thing at hand, a poker from the fireplace that hadn’t been moved from last winter. He was a big man, having played rugby for years and still muscular. Striding into the kitchen, he saw Faye slumped on the floor and a man in black talking into a radio.
“Faye!” He ran towards her, raising the poker to hit her attacker. As he moved past the door of the kitchen he felt a powerful shock in the middle of his back and excruciating pain spread through his body. He fell to the ground, grunting as he lost control of his limbs and his bladder. Another man leant down over him, grimacing at the stink of urine.
“We’ve got at least ten minutes before he can move. Let’s get the girl.”
David lay there, his ears ringing, agony flooding his senses. In that moment, he cried out to God to save his family. He wanted to scream ‘take me, not them’ but he could only lie there, body jerking in his own piss, witnessing the abduction. The man holding Faye had taped her mouth even though she remained unconscious. He hoisted her over his shoulder and took her out into the night. David heard footsteps come down the stairs and then the other man walked past him, carrying his two year old daughter, Gemma, who was also, thankfully, unconscious. David moaned, an animal sound of desperation. The man turned and said, “Bye bye Daddy” in a falsetto voice. He waved Gemma’s little hand at her father and tears welled in David’s eyes as they left him there alone.
***
Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford, England.
May 18, 10.50pm
A radio hissed, turning Morgan’s attention from the screen. The man at the computer looked over to Jake.
“Sir, you need to see this.”
Jake stepped over to the man’s side as the radio crackled into life. The voice was desperate.
“Man down, man down. We’re under attack. I repeat, we’re under attack. Man down. Calling for backup, all units.”
Morgan felt a chill of fear as she heard the chaos on the radio.
“What is it, what’s happening?” she asked, her heart hammering in her chest. She should have gone straight there.
Jake turned, his eyes serious.
“It’s Faye’s house. They must have come for her already. I’m so sorry, my men didn’t get there in time.”
Morgan stared at the tiny computer screen. It showed her sister’s house, but instead of the quiet scene of the little village, there were men everywhere. She tuned out the sounds of screaming and gunfire, watching in horror as she saw a man running out of the door with the body of her sister slung over his shoulder. Behind him ran a man carrying a small bundle that could only be Gemma. They had taken her family.
Woodstock. Near Oxford, England.
May 18, 11.35pm
The ARKANE team arrived at the house twenty minutes later, Morgan with them. She had spent the journey staring out at the landscape, unseeing, fear snaking in her gut. Police were thronging about the house. Jake showed his badge to the officer in charge and they were waved through. Morgan ran into the house ahead of Jake. This was her sister’s haven, a peaceful retreat from the busy city life. Faye had cultivated it out here in Woodstock, far enough away for them to have chickens and fields to stride through with the dogs but close enough to have coffee in Oxford when the sisters had time to catch up. Anger simmered inside Morgan at the people who dared invade their home. This is quiet sleepy Oxfordshire, she thought. This type of thing happened in Israel but not here. Had she brought this terror to them?
David was sitting on the sofa in the lounge surrounded by scattered toys and upended furniture. He stared into a mug of tea as a medic examined him, a blanket over his shuddering shoulders. One of the policemen said to Jake in a low voice,
“They tazered him. He saw the whole thing so he’s pretty shaken up.”
Morgan knelt in front of him, and spoke in a soft tone,
“I’m going to get them back, David. I promise.”
He looked at her with glazed eyes, shock rendering him barely capable of speech. Morgan reached out to him and then pulled back. There was too much history for this not to be awkward. Her guilt over what had come between them made her even more determined to solve this. David hunched over his mug, tea cold at the bottom. It said ‘best Dad in the world’ and was decorated with baby Gemma hand-prints. He looked at her, his voice breaking with emotion.
“They’re everything to me, Morgan. Who would want to kidnap them anyway? We don’t have much money.”
He lent across and touched her hand. Morgan had a sudden flashback of that one night and she jolted away from him. Her guilt grew stronger as she remembered the promise she had made that night never to hurt her sister, to protect her and keep David pristine in her eyes. Morgan had felt helpless then, adrift on what had happened with her sister’s husband and how he made her feel. Now David was the helpless one, unable to do anything to rescue his wife or daughter.
“She’s not dead, Morgan,” Jake said from the doorway, beckoning her into the kitchen so they could talk away from David. “There’s no body and no demand yet, but no doubt it will come. They clearly want to use your sister as a bargaining chip for your stone and perhaps ours as well, so for now, they’ll keep Faye and Gemma alive because they want all the stones.”
Morgan sat down at the kitchen table, head in her hands. She was suddenly overwhelmed as the situation seemed out of her control. She should have been there and it was Jake who had stopped her. She looked straight up at him, her voice rising in anger.
“Who are these people anyway? You’ve told me about the stones but who are this group who are murdering and kidnapping to collect them in one place? You know, I’d happily trade my stone for their lives. You don’t even need to be involved.”
Jake shook his head.
“You don’t understand Morgan. This thing is bigger than just you and Faye now. You saw the paper from India and the potential of the stones. We can’t allow them to be gathered together, especially with the Resurgam comet approaching.”
“People will say anything. Varanasi could have been mass hysteria, you know that.”
“But what if it wasn’t? What if the stories of power and the comet event are true? Imagine the force of the stones demonstrated in a digital age, the phenomenal ability the holder would have to make people follow him, maybe even to start a holy war. ARKANE’s job is to shield the world from such events, we hold the supernatural secrets that the world isn’t ready to see yet. We can protect you and we can find Faye and Gemma, just give us some time.”
Morgan laughed then, a bark of indignation.
“So much for your all powerful organization, Jake. You couldn’t even protect one woman and a child in an Oxford village. This group know our names, they are informed about you but you don’t know anything. I’m doing this alone. I don’t need you. I’ll take your stone with mine and I’ll get my sister back.”
Morgan stood up and strode out of the kitchen, running upstairs to gather her thoughts. She pushed open the door to Faye and David’s room. Like her, Faye always wore the stone around her neck so it would have been on her at the time they attacked. The bedclothes were rumpl
ed. There was a thick romance novel on the side cabinet by the bed, next to a well thumbed Bible. Morgan went to the antique dressing table and felt around the back of the pine framed oval mirror. This had been their agreed upon hiding place if anything bad ever happened. Faye had laughed when Morgan had suggested it over a year ago. She had said there was no need for such a thing, that England wasn’t Israel and Morgan was just paranoid. Now they needed it, but there were no messages. Faye had not known what was coming.
Morgan sat on the bed and stared at the photo of the two of them that stood on the dressing table in an art deco frame. Their faces were similar in bone structure, but apart from that the twins were light and dark opposites. Morgan had inherited their father’s Sephardic Jewish looks, the ebony hair and dusky skin from his Spanish descent. Faye had a Celtic look from their Welsh mother, blonde hair and fair skin with a sprinkling of freckles she tried unsuccessfully to hide. Only their eyes gave their kinship away. Both were blue with an unusual violet slash through them, Morgan’s in the right and Faye’s in the left. Their parent’s personalities were equally separate in the twins; her own passionate, explosive nature and Faye’s cool, calm demeanor were diametrically opposed. Their parents couldn’t overcome these differences, but perhaps the sisters could succeed where they failed. Morgan traced Faye’s face on the picture with a fingertip, willing strength to her sister who had helped her start again after Elian’s death. Everywhere she walked in Jerusalem there had been memories of him, but here in England his ghost was silent. Here she could reinvent herself as an academic, a sister and an auntie. Morgan knew she would give everything to bring Faye and Gemma home again. Then the guilt came flooding back and she put her head in her hands.
Morgan thought back to the night with David, wincing at the memory, but she deserved the mental anguish. It had been alcohol induced, pure and simple, but that didn’t justify the mistake. Morgan had only recently moved to Oxford and Faye had gone away for a weekend before the baby was born. The sisters had not yet found a rhythm in their relationship. They were still circling each other, questions unasked and history still buried beneath their parents’ skewed remembrances. Morgan knew, if she was honest with herself, that it was partly jealousy that drove her that night. Faye seemed to have domestic bliss, a haven of peace in comparison to her own life of upheaval. She had lost Elian and she was lonely, desperate for a friend and the touch of a man. It had been too long.
David had called into her office that Friday evening to see if she wanted to have dinner. She had started to spend Friday nights with him and Faye in an attempt at friendship and she knew few other people in Oxford then. They had gone to Browns for mussels and ended up drinking a couple of bottles of wine. They had debated religion and psychology, Jung, Freud and the Bible. Morgan found that she could often out-quote David, having studied so diligently, even though he was supposedly the learned Christian pastor. They had laughed a lot and it had been the most fun she’d had in a long time. He had walked her home to her Jericho flat and come inside for another drink.
As she reached for wine glasses in the kitchen, he had kissed the back of her neck and gently bitten her there. It was the last bastion of her defense. She had pushed her buttocks back against him and moaned. The wine was quickly forgotten and they had frantically made love on the kitchen bench and then again on the living room floor. He had been almost violent with her, and she returned his deliberate thrusts, the thought of Faye furthest from her mind. Morgan knew she could have stopped him but she had desperately needed physical release, the pent up pressure of her new life seeking liberation. It was a reminder of who she could be with a man, passionate, unfettered. But of course, it should not have been with David.
As they had lain, briefly, in silence afterwards, she had glanced up at the mantelpiece and seen a picture of the three of them, laughing at the Mansfield College summer tea party. They held champagne flutes and Faye wore a cherry red hat. The sun reflected off her own hair, loose about her shoulders. They looked like twins in the photo and in that moment, shame had washed over her. Nothing was worth jeopardizing the nascent shoots of their renewed relationship. Morgan had sat up, pulling her clothes back around her as she told David to leave. He had looked shattered but they both knew this could never happen again. Faye was his wife and her twin. He was a pastor. This was a sin even if you didn’t believe in God.
When Faye returned, they acted as if nothing had happened and never mentioned it again, maintaining a certain distance. Since then, she and Faye had finally found the relationship that twins were supposed to have. They finished each other’s sentences and picked up the phone just as the other called. Morgan was Gemma’s devoted Auntie, who the little girl called for when she was sick, who brought her surprise presents. They were her family and Faye and Gemma were all that mattered to Morgan now. She walked into Gemma’s room and saw the little girl’s favorite teddy discarded on the floor. Tears pricked her eyes. She picked it up and hugged it to her, saying under her breath, “I’m coming, Gemma.”
Feeling eyes on her back, she spun to see Jake in the doorway. “We can help each other, Morgan. We’re working for the same outcome, the safe return of Faye and Gemma, and the retrieval of the stones.”
Morgan held the teddy tightly in front of her like a shield.
“I don’t think you care about them at all,” she snapped. “For all I know, ARKANE want the stones for the Institute to study and you would have taken mine and Faye’s anyway.”
“Who would you believe, then, the man who has your sister and your niece, or me?”
In the moment’s silence that fell between them, a voice called from downstairs,
“Sir, you should come and see this. We’ve found a package.”
The parcel was wrapped in thick brown paper and tied up with string like an old style present, ‘Morgan’ written in black marker on the front. As Jake and David watched, Morgan untied the string and pulled apart the paper to reveal a number of items packed neatly within the paper square. There were two black Moleskine notebooks, a DVD and a cell phone. No note. Jake put the disc into David’s laptop. It had one video file which they played immediately.
At first the image showed a flickering fire burning in a hearth and a close up of the fiery embers. They could hear the crackle of flame. Then a voice spoke, an American southern accent that lazily grated over them.
“Morgan, apologies for the intrusion but taking your sister and the little one was a necessary step. Time is running out. The myth of the stones will become a reality on the day of Pentecost when the comet reaches its zenith and I will call down the power of miracle. As it was two thousand years ago, so it shall be again. I’m inviting you to be my guest for the event. Of course, you’ll need to bring the other stones, otherwise your sister and niece will become a fiery sacrifice just like the Keepers from Varanasi and Jerusalem.”
The image flickered and changed to show two burnt bodies in gruesome detail. It looked like they had been filmed soon after their deaths, one still smoking, wet flesh hanging from the bones. David turned away, retching.
“I need all twelve of the stones for the day of Pentecost and you will bring the rest to me, Morgan, if you want your family back. I tried to recruit you but your refusal has forced my hand. It seems that another party is also interested in the stones, so you will need to stay ahead of them.”
The screen changed again to display the image of a pale horse’s head. Morgan recognized the tattoo from the attacker’s arm but only now did its significance become clear.
“Before me was a pale horse,” she whispered. “Its rider was named Death and Hell was following close behind him. It’s from Revelation.”
The voice continued.
“I know this group only as Thanatos. They approached me about the stones after Varanasi and now it seems they’re following the same path. They are known to be collectors of occult and religious objects and they will stop at nothing to get the Apostles’ stones. But you must stay ahead of them
on this quest if you want your girls back.”
Morgan could see Jake frowning, as if he knew of the organization and it troubled him.
“I found the first two stones from my Father’s research. He was a biblical scholar and had been seeking the stones before he died. I continued the search but there are vital pieces missing. It needs someone with more knowledge and more ... motivation to find the rest of them for me. In the package you’ll find information to start you off in the right direction. Your background in religion is fortuitous, Morgan. I’ve given you my father’s key notebooks as you have the knowledge to go further than he could. See how generous I am already? Leave the husband out of it though; his emotion will slow you down.”
At this, David sagged as if the breath had been knocked out of him.
“I want the rest of the stones here for Pentecost Sunday, May 27th. You’d better hurry. Only nine days’ time and a lot of travel ahead of you. Keep the cell phone on you and I’ll contact you with where to bring the stones. You’ll have the help of ARKANE, and of course if you want your family alive, then you will do this. If not, I’ll continue to experiment with the effects of fire on human flesh. Tick tock Morgan.”
The screen changed back to the smoldering bodies and then went blank.
“Bastard!” Morgan said, slamming her hand down on the desk. She looked at Jake.
“It’s Everett, the American academic. ARKANE must be able to trace his whereabouts.”
Jake nodded, pulling out his cellphone. “We’ll get started on it.”
David gripped the back of the office chair, knuckles white, his voice low but insistent.
“But you have to do what he says, Morgan. You can’t risk their lives. You have to bring them home.”
“Of course. I’ll do whatever it takes. We’ll find them.”
