The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set

by N. S. Wikarski

  “Then I suppose it’s to be expected.” Griffin directed his next question to Erik. “Why shouldn’t they have relocated their headquarters?”

  Erik dutifully swallowed his bite of sandwich before speaking. “Because they don’t exactly travel light, that’s why. You should have seen this place. It looked like they’ve started building their own city.”

  Maddie scowled. “Bad news for our side.”

  Faye moved on to a more urgent topic. “What about this fellow who broke into Sybil’s apartment? You said you don’t think he’s one of theirs.”

  “Not likely,” Erik laughed. “He was wearing a cowboy hat.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?” asked Maddie.

  “Not great. It was dark, and he was getting into his truck, but I saw enough to put together a sketch. And I got his license plate number.”

  “Well, that’s a start.” Maddie walked over to the counter for a bag of chocolate chip cookies. She brought them back to the table. “Did you have a chance to check out the plates before we got here?”

  “Yeah,” Erik hesitated. “It was a rental. I found out it was leased to a guy named Matt Dillon.”

  Maddie and Faye both laughed. “Our villain has a sense of humor,” the old woman observed.

  Griffin looked confused. “I’m sorry?”

  “Never mind, old chap,” Erik said in an exaggerated British accent. “I guess you lot didn’t get Gunsmoke over the pond.”

  “Gunsmoke over the pond?” Now Griffin looked completely lost. “What on earth is he talking about?”

  Maddie patted Griffin reassuringly on the back. “Nothing important. It’s just an old TV series. What we Yanks would call a horse opera. You know, shoot ‘em up stuff. Cowboys and Indians.”

  “How very extraordinary,” Griffin remarked, helping himself to a cookie.

  “And what about Cassie?” Faye asked.

  Erik decided to skip the cookies and dipped into a bag of potato chips instead. “Today I trailed her from her dorm to Sybil’s apartment. It was already dark when she got there. I waited for her to go up in the elevator before I followed. I was just getting off on the fourth floor when I saw this guy come tearing out of Sybil’s place and head straight for the stairwell. He didn’t see me. I ran inside the apartment to check that Cassie was OK. That he hadn’t hurt her.” Erik looked around the table at the others. Their faces were troubled. He continued. “But she was just shaken up. Lucky for us, she actually saw what he took.”

  At these words, they all stopped eating. A captive audience.

  “Yes?” Griffin prompted.

  “She said it was a five-sided ruler with markings on it.”

  “A what?” Maddie sounded suspicious.

  Even Faye was taken aback. “Griffin, do you have any idea what she meant?”

  “No, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Sybil never mentioned a find like that to me.”

  “We’ve been very careful to keep away from anything that they might consider interesting,” Faye mused to herself. “Sybil knew that. She wouldn’t deliberately go after a recovery if there was any chance they might want it too.”

  “If it’s ours, then we get it back,” Erik stated matter-of-factly, popping open a can of soda.

  “No dear, we don’t.” Faye sighed. “If we lose a valuable find, then we lose a valuable find. It’s far more important for us to protect our anonymity.”

  “So, we let them kill one of ours and take something that belongs to us?” Maddie’s eyes were blazing with indignation. “Again?”

  Faye glanced at her sadly. “Yes, I’m afraid we must. It seems like the last straw, but we can’t retaliate. There’s too much at stake here to risk exposure.”

  “I suppose.” Maddie relented slightly. “What about the kid? Do we tell her anything?”

  Faye folded her hands on the table, regarding her guests gravely. “Sybil died to protect our secret. We owe her a great debt. She always said she wanted to keep Cassie safe.”

  “By safe, you mean in the dark?” Erik asked, a slight edge of sarcasm in his voice.

  “‘If ignorance is bliss, ‘twere folly to be wise,’” Faye observed softly. “I believe we have an obligation to respect Sybil’s wishes.”

  The group was silent for a few moments, mulling over the old woman’s decision. When the phone rang suddenly, they all jumped. It wasn’t the phone on the wall, but a cell phone lying on the kitchen counter.

  Griffin looked puzzled. “Who would be calling you at this hour and on that line?”

  “Guess we’re gonna find out.” Erik reached over and handed the phone to Faye, so she wouldn’t have to struggle to her feet.

  She nodded her thanks to him. “Hello?”

  There was a long pause.

  “Why, yes. Of course, you may.”

  Another pause.

  “Oh, I think it’s much too late tonight. You’d never find your way here in the dark. How about tomorrow at noon?”

  Faye then gave her address and detailed directions to her house.

  “Fine, I’ll see you then. We’ll have much to talk about.” She laid the phone down on the table. A look of bewilderment crossed her face.

  The other three stared at her, waiting for an explanation.

  Faye wordlessly got up and started to make another pot of coffee.

  “Faye?” Maddie prompted. “Are you alright?”

  “Hmmm?” Faye turned absently toward her guests. “Well, as I was saying, I believe we have an obligation to respect Sybil’s wishes to keep Cassie away from this business.”

  “Yes…” Erik nudged her along.

  She looked around at their baffled faces. “I just never expected her to change her mind—posthumously.”

  Chapter 9 – Lost in Translation

  The morning after he acquired the key, Abraham was waiting for a visitor in his prayer closet. He called it a closet, but the dimensions were the size of an average living room. It was the space where he conversed directly with God. Heavy drapes barred the passage of sunlight through the room’s two tall windows. Abraham liked cloaking the closet in shadow. It helped his concentration. There was an oak stand between the windows which supported a heavy leather-bound Bible. The wall to the right of the windows consisted of a series of built-in cabinets with locked doors. They contained sacred documents that were intended for his eyes only. A prie-dieu occupied the corner to the left of the windows. In a rare concession to comfort, the kneeler was padded. On another wall hung the portrait of an elderly man with a white beard. He bore a strong resemblance to Abraham, but the cut of his suit hadn’t been in fashion for at least fifty years. His eyes stared down on the room. They were humorless and disapproving. A plaque embedded in the bottom of the picture frame announced that he was Josiah Metcalf—Diviner. Positioned directly below the picture was a small round table and two hard-bottomed chairs.

  Abraham was leafing through some pages of the Bible when he heard a gentle knock on the door. He absently said, “Enter,” without looking up from the page he was reading.

  A man of about thirty came in. He was of medium height. Although his hair was cropped short, it insisted on asserting its curliness. No amount of combing could straighten it out completely. His eyes were dark brown behind horn-rimmed glasses, his complexion sallow. He wore the usual white dress shirt, black tie, and black trousers, but the clothes didn’t seem to fit him properly. They seemed too big for his slight frame and rumpled even though they had been newly pressed. His shoulders sagged.

  “Good morning, Father,” he said tentatively. “You wanted to see me?”

  Abraham turned toward his guest. “Yes, that’s right. Sit down, Daniel.” He indicated one of the two chairs.

  The visitor glanced up briefly at the portrait before he slid into his chair. He sat forward anxiously, his hands grasping the seat.

  Abraham remained standing near the windows. “Daniel, remind me again which of my son
s you are.”

  The younger man didn’t seem to consider the question odd. “I am your twentieth son, Father,” he answered readily.

  “And which of my wives is your mother?”

  “My mother is Deborah, your fifth wife,” Daniel looked down, “though she has passed from this life.”

  The older man’s expression was vague. “Hmmm, yes, I do seem to recall now. She’s been departed, what is it, nearly two years? Never mind, boy. She has gone to wait for me in the next world. We will be reunited there. How many wives do you have now?”

  Daniel cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You have blessed me with three wives, Father.”

  Abraham looked pleased with himself. “That’s a good start though some of your brothers at the same age have collected more.” He paused to consider. “Still, it’s a good start. And how many children?”

  Daniel seemed to be fighting the urge to squirm in his chair. “Three so far.”

  “Three?” Abraham registered shock. “Are any of your wives barren?”

  “N… no, I don’t think so, Father.” Daniel stared hard at the table.

  Abraham took a pace or two forward. “And when did I give you your first wife?”

  “When I was twenty,” Daniel mumbled.

  “Ten years,” Abraham mused. “In ten years your wives have only produced three children. That’s unheard of!”

  Daniel shifted his position slightly. “I’m sorry, fa—”

  The old man cut him off. “We are charged with the obligation to be fruitful and multiply—to extend His dominion over the earth. We must increase our numbers. You cannot hope to claim a place of glory in His kingdom otherwise. Surely, you don’t wish to bring shame on your family.”

  Daniel shrunk back in his seat.

  Abraham was standing above his son now. “Remember who is watching.” He gestured toward the portrait. “Your grandfather is watching you even now from heaven. God, himself, is watching you.” He paused for effect. “He is watching us all. He sees the secret sins of our innermost hearts, Daniel. He sees all, and he will punish all!”

  Daniel gulped and nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand. I will pray for more issue.”

  “And instruct your wives to pray as well!” Abraham observed his son silently for a few moments. He seemed satisfied that he had made his point. “Good, that’s settled then.”

  Metcalf walked to the wall cabinets. He took a brass key out of his pocket. “I am told you are quite the scholar. You have distinguished yourself above your brothers in the study of ancient languages.”

  Daniel seemed to puff up a bit at the encouragement. “Yes, it is the subject I love above all others. Translating the word of God.”

  “That shows a proper spirit,” Metcalf nodded approvingly. “Come here. I have something to show you.”

  Daniel obediently walked over to join him.

  Abraham unlocked one of the cabinets and withdrew the stone ruler. “What can you make of this?” the old man inquired, handing the object to his son.

  Daniel held it up to the meager light coming through the windows. He examined the markings with great intensity. When he looked up again, his expression was one of dismay. “The script isn’t Aramaic, or Hebrew, or Greek, or Latin. Not even Egyptian judging by the pictograms.” Daniel now seemed a bit afraid of the ruler. He held it out toward his father as if he thought it was contaminated. “This is some heathen relic.”

  Abraham made no move to take the object back. He stood with his arms folded across his chest. “Yes, I know, Daniel. But the Lord has charged me with the task of finding out its secrets. And now I charge you with the task of translating these strange markings into some language that a Christian can understand.”

  The young man scrutinized the pictures and lines and loops again. “Do we know where it comes from?” he asked tentatively.

  “Only that it was found somewhere in the east and that it is very ancient.”

  Daniel thought of something that caused a look of apprehension to cross his face.

  “What is it, my son?”

  “Well, it’s just that we have nothing in our library that could explain this. Do I have your permission to go into the Fallen Lands? I will need to search in their libraries. Because it is pagan, they may have records that show what language it is.”

  Abraham sighed. “My heart is heavy at the thought of sending you into their world. So many temptations. So much you have never been prepared for. But it is God’s will that this be so.” Abraham’s eyes bored into his son’s face. “Daniel, you must find a way to translate this. Everything depends upon it. Do you understand?”

  Daniel gulped. “Yes, Father, I will find a way.”

  Chapter 10 – Photographic Memories

  The grandfather clock in the hall was chiming noon when Faye heard a gentle knock on her front door. She hobbled over to answer it as quickly as her aged feet would carry her. Standing on her porch was a girl in her late teens dressed in blue jeans, a pullover, and a light spring jacket. She was about Faye’s height with the slender build of a gymnast. Her shortness and tiny frame gave her the air of a pixie.

  The girl smiled hesitantly. “Are you Faye?” She tilted her head slightly to flip her hair out of the way. It was parted to the side and seemed to want to cover her face like a curtain. The color was a dark shade of brown. There was nothing remarkable about her features though they were uniformly pretty. Nothing remarkable but her eyes. They were large and grey, but not a clear grey. Opaque as sunlight struggling to burn through fog.

  “Please, do come in,” Faye offered.

  “My name is Cassie.” The girl held out her hand.

  “I’m delighted to meet you, my dear.” Faye shook her hand warmly. “It’s such a lovely day for early spring, don’t you think? Almost warm enough for me to remember what summer feels like. Why don’t we go outside and talk in the garden?”

  Cassie followed her toward the back of the house.

  “Would you like some lemonade?” Faye asked over her shoulder as they passed through the kitchen.

  “Yes, thank you. I would.”

  She helped the old woman carry a pitcher and two glasses through the screen door to the back yard.

  Spanning a full acre, Faye’s garden was a world of its own. Fruit trees, evergreens, and tall shrubs lined the eight-foot privacy fence, muffling sounds of traffic from the street. There were leafy rose bushes just starting to wake up to the season. Stepping stone paths skirted flower beds blooming with crocus and narcissus. At the far end against the fence was a newly cultivated plot of fresh dirt for summer vegetables.

  “This is quite a yard you’ve got,” Cassie said in amazement. “From the street, you can’t even tell this is here.”

  “That’s the idea.” Faye smiled. “Shall we sit over there?” She led the way to a latticework pergola in the middle of the flower garden which contained a wrought iron bistro table and two chairs. The roof of the pergola was covered with wisteria vines. Clusters of purple flowers were just beginning to bloom. They hung down like a canopy over the two.

  Cassie seemed ill at ease. Faye didn’t press her, so they sat in silence, sipping lemonade.

  Eventually, the girl set down her glass and reached into her jacket pocket. She pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I don’t suppose there’s any good way to talk about this. Here, read it for yourself.” She pressed the paper into Faye’s hands.

  Faye looked questioningly at the girl, set down her own glass, and unfolded the paper. It was a letter. She began to read it out loud.

  “My dear little sis,

  I’m sitting here writing this and hoping that you never have to read it. The only reason you would come across this letter is if I’m gone. Maybe the danger will pass, and I can destroy this. Maybe not.

  There are times when my work can be risky. This is one of those times. I’ve come across a find that has immense value to the people I work with, but it looks like
somebody else wants this find too. Somebody who would be willing to kill for it. For the past week, I’ve gotten the feeling I’m being followed. It might be my imagination. In case it isn’t, and in case something happens to me, I want you to call the number I wrote on the back of this sheet. Ask to speak to Faye. Give her the packet. She can explain everything.

  There’s so much I want to say, but there isn’t enough time, and maybe it only comes down to this. I love you. Everything I did, even when you didn’t understand it, was to keep you safe. No matter what you might have thought, I was always looking out for you.

  Love,

  Sybil”

  Faye stopped reading. She glanced up to see Cassie wiping tears from her cheeks. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.” She reached out to squeeze Cassie’s hand lightly.

  The girl stared off into the distance. She began to speak more to herself than to Faye. “It’s funny the way she ended the letter. She must have thought that I hated her. I suppose I did a little. I blamed her for everything. All the moves. Every year, it was a new school in a new town. She never explained why. She just parked me with housekeepers most of the time while she was off doing whatever it was she did when she wasn’t around. After we came to Chicago, I told her that I was going to finish college at the same school where I started no matter what. She swore this would be the end of the line.” Cassie laughed bitterly. “That was one promise she kept.”

  She impatiently brushed away another tear. “I resented her, but I loved her too. I wonder if she knew that. Maybe she didn’t because we were always more like strangers than sisters. But I did love her. She was the only family I had after our parents died.”

  The girl shifted in her chair to stare directly at Faye. “Sybil said you could explain everything. Can you explain how somebody could walk into my world and wreck it without thinking twice?” Cassie’s eyes welled up once again with tears. “Do you have any idea who killed my sister?”

  Faye hesitated. She measured her words carefully. “We have a notion about who was responsible, and we’re conducting our own investigation. We should have some information to share with you soon.”