“Somebody once warned me never to discuss politics or religion,” Cassie observed ruefully. “I guess it’s true.”
“People cling stubbornly to their beliefs. We are attempting to set the record straight, but our efforts carry a certain degree of risk. The evidence we are collecting is threatening to those who dedicate themselves to maintaining the prevailing historical fiction.”
“I get your point,” Cassie conceded. “I can see why you’re going to so much trouble to protect a stack of papers.”
Griffin frowned slightly. “We aren’t merely protecting a stack of papers. We are protecting the fragmented memory of the human race itself from those who would like nothing better than to erase everything that is inconsistent with overlord values.”
By this time, they had walked around to the left wall of the vault which contained three doors. The closest one read “Operations Division,” the middle one read “Scrivener’s Office,” and the farthest one “Security Division.” Passing the door marked “Operations Division,” Griffin stopped in front of the one that read “Scrivener’s Office.” He opened the door without knocking.
Cassie hung back. “Should you be going in there? I mean, what if the scrivener catches you?”
“I’m sure he won’t mind.” Griffin sounded unconcerned. “After all, he is me.”
“You’re the scrivener?” Cassie gasped. “What’s a scrivener?”
Her companion chuckled. “It’s an honorary title much like the term ‘pythia.’ It refers to the person who is in charge of all the scribes.” Anticipating Cassie’s next question, he added, “We call all the record-keepers in the vault ‘scribes.’ Obviously, these antiquated names go back to the earliest days of the Arkana.”
“That means you’re in charge of the whole operation?” the girl asked doubtfully.
Griffin nodded. “Of the cataloguing tasks anyway.”
“But aren’t you sort of young?”
“My colleagues didn’t seem to think that mattered when they elected me to this post. Though I am quite new at it. Just over a year now. Please come in and take a seat.”
The scrivener’s office was furnished in simple elegance. Two leather wing chairs faced the Sheraton mahogany desk. The desk was flanked on either side by floor-to-ceiling book cases. Cassie sat down while Griffin began opening and closing drawers, evidently looking for something.
“The scrivener must have a ton of responsibility. Nothing personal, but why would they pick you?”
Griffin didn’t seem offended by the question. He continued turning over the contents of his desk drawers as he spoke. “I think it may have to do with the peculiarities of the way my mind works. I seem to have the ability to recall nearly everything I’ve ever read. It’s called ‘eidetic memory.’”
“That skill must come in handy with everything you have to juggle. I mean, this place is about as big as the Library of Congress, and you’re the head librarian.”
“Scrivener,” he corrected. “Head Scrivener.” He resumed his search, muttering to himself until he finally found what he was searching for. With a triumphant, “Aha! I’ve found you at last,” he dug the object out of the back of a desk drawer and came to sit in the chair next to Cassie. Holding up the article, he said, “Tell me what you think of this.”
Cassie gasped. In his hands, he was holding the stone ruler.
“How did you get it back?”
Griffin smiled. “We didn’t. It’s just a replica that we built here, but I’d like your opinion. Does it look anything like the original?”
Cassie took the ruler from him and examined it for several seconds from every angle. When she looked up, she perceived Griffin with an entirely new level of respect. “You got it exactly right. This is just like the one that was stolen. Same size, same markings. Even the same color. Everything.”
Griffin seemed pleased at her words. “I’m relieved to hear you say that. We want this to be accurate.”
The girl was puzzled. “Why would it matter?”
“If you made a duplicate house key that was a fraction of an inch too big to fit the lock on your door, do you think it would work?”
“I get your point. But it sure doesn’t look like it would unlock anything.”
Griffin took the object back and considered it. “It may not unlock a physical location. It’s far more likely that it unlocks information of some kind.” He hesitated and looked away for a second. “I’m very sorry to have to ask you this, but could you describe to me the encounter Sybil had with her attacker? Precisely what did they say to each other?”
Cassie’s face drained of color. “I don’t want to think about that.”
“But you must,” Griffin’s tone was urgent. “So much depends upon information only you can provide. I know how difficult this must be for you, but please try.”
The girl gave a deep sigh and shut her eyes, reliving the scene. “They didn’t say much. He kept asking her where the key was. She said she didn’t know what he was talking about. They struggled, she fell, and then there was shattered glass everywhere. Sybil didn’t get up.” The girl blinked several times to wipe away the memory and a few fresh tears.
“He wasn’t specific about the name of the key or the language of it?”
Cassie shook her head. “No, he just called it ‘the key.’ That’s why I didn’t make the connection that this stone ruler might be some kind of key when I first saw it.” She sighed. “So, you don’t recognize the language of any of those doodles?”
“Sorry, not yet. Some of the glyphs do appear vaguely familiar though. I know I’ve seen at least a few of these before. I’ll keep searching our records. Something is bound to turn up.”
Cassie felt a sense of foreboding. “I hope you figure it out before the cowboy does. If he didn’t mind leaving a dead body behind to get it, it can’t unlock anything good.”
Chapter 21 – Damnation Motivation
Abraham found himself standing in the middle of a rope bridge. It swayed precariously over a flaming gorge. He could feel the heat from below, roaring upward to bake his skin through his clothing. He imagined he saw a face in the flames. A demon leering at him. A demon with his own features. At the opposite end of the bridge, he saw the Lord staring at him. His father was there too and behind him scores of past diviners. Abraham looked down and realized he held the stone key. He raised his hands in supplication. “Look, I have the key. See, it is here. I have done your will.”
The Lord was unmoved by his cries. He raised his staff and stamped it on the ground. It sent a tremor through the ropes that held the bridge together.
In horror, Abraham watched the ropes fray. Then the wooden steps began to fly apart and disintegrate in the blaze. He ran forward toward the other diviners. Toward the Lord. They all frowned at him. None reached out a hand to help. He felt himself falling as the bridge dissolved in flame. He felt himself collapsing into the demon shape that came rushing up out of the fire to absorb him.
“Nooooo!” He sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat. An ordinary person might have breathed a sigh of relief that it was just a bad dream. But he was the diviner. For him, a bad dream was never as simple as that.
***
The following morning, Abraham decided to pay a long overdue visit to his son Daniel. He wanted a progress report. The evil sending of the night before had convinced him that they were running out of time. Fortunately, this was one of the rare days when his son hadn’t sequestered himself in the libraries of the Fallen. He found the young man alone in the compound study room.
Daniel was seated with his back to the door, poring over a stack of volumes he had brought with him from the city. He didn’t turn around to see who had entered. Abraham noted the public library tags on the book spines as he drew up behind his son.
“Father!” Daniel exclaimed in surprise and alarm when he saw who was looking over his shoulder. “I… uh… that is… uh… I wasn’t expecting to see you
here.”
“I daresay you weren’t.” The old man attempted to soften his fierce gaze. No sense in alarming the boy too much. Nothing could be gained by that. Abraham took a chair across the table. “I see you are hard at work,” he observed pleasantly.
“Yes, yes I am.” Daniel bobbed his head in agreement. “I spend most days at the library in the city until Brother Jeremiah comes in the van to bring me home.”
“And what have you learned so far?” The old man kept his tone deliberately mild.
Daniel sighed deeply. “I have made very little progress. At first, I tried on my own, but it was too difficult navigating the Fallen library records, so I finally had to ask for help.”
Abraham felt a shockwave travel down his spine. “You spoke to one of them? You know that our community is set apart. We are God’s chosen ones. We cannot allow ourselves to be contaminated.”
His son looked guilty. “Yes, Father, I know, but there was no other way. I had to ask a research librarian, and he was very kind. Not at all what I expected.”
“Really?” The old man raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“He was dressed very neatly, and he wore a gold cross around his neck. He said he was a Christian.” Daniel smiled at the memory. “To me, he looked like one of the seraphim. His hair was golden, and it curled around his collar. He must have been about thirty. My age.”
“Remember, my son, that the devil often appears in a pleasing shape. He adopts the guise of the young and fair, the better to gain the trust of the unwary.”
Daniel frowned slightly, unconvinced. “His name was David, and he seemed very knowledgeable. He had the most beautiful blue eyes—”
Abraham cut in. “And how did this knowledgeable young man help you?”
“He showed me something he called the internet. A wondrous device that can call up information instantly from anywhere in the world.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of it,” Abraham said darkly. “I feared you might be exposed to its evil influence.”
“Evil?” His son looked puzzled. “How could it be evil? In the space of a day, I was able to learn more information than I had been able to accomplish on my own in a week.”
Abraham felt a growing sense of uneasiness. “My son, I told you there would be unexpected dangers in the world of the Fallen. This device, this internet, is a gateway to all sorts of temptations. Only think what other pernicious information is also available to you at the touch of a button. Vile things that no Nephilim ought to know.”
“But Father, I was very careful. I asked only about ancient languages, and David did all the typing. He knows how to command this internet machine. I really think it will help us find the answer.”
Abraham’s attention was caught by the title of the book sitting on top of a stack of other library volumes. “What is this?” His tone was deliberately sharp.
“Why, it’s something David thought I might find interesting. A history of comparative religion.”
“Religion is never comparative!” the old man thundered. “Your immortal soul is never comparative!”
His son was taken aback and stammered a protest. “F… Father, he m… meant no harm. I meant no harm by reading it. P… please, don’t be angry. I had no idea there were so many other faiths in the world.”
“The faith of the Fallen has nothing to do with us! We are not like them! We are a race set apart!” Abraham sprang out of his chair and pounded his fist on the table for emphasis. “My son, you are being seduced by their world. This is the way their evil influence begins. They convince you there is no harm in anything they say. They draw you in, and before you know it they have taken your soul. Do you understand what you are risking? You would be cut off from us for all eternity!”
Daniel’s eyes grew wide. He said nothing but looked up at his father in shock.
Abraham could feel the shadow of the outer world inching closer to his flock. Already it was corrupting the mind of his own son. He feared that in his zeal to unlock the secrets of the stone key, he had unlocked a portal for the devil to creep into this bastion of purity. He leaned forward over the table and sighed heavily. “Daniel, nothing has prepared you for dealing with these people. They are not like us. Their ways are treacherous, and you must remain on your guard.”
“Yes, of course, sir,” Daniel hastened to agree.
“Remember the task I have set you,” Abraham urged earnestly. “Ask only about ancient languages and nothing else, is that clear?”
“Absolutely. I am sorry, Father.” The young man bowed his head in submission. “I wasn’t thinking.”
The diviner became unnerved as a new thought struck him. “You didn’t tell this David why you wanted the information, did you?”
“Oh, no sir!” Daniel quickly reassured him. “I was very careful. I showed him photographs of the characters I wanted to translate. He didn’t ask me anything about them.”
The old man relaxed his stance. “Good. That’s good. Have you been able to establish anything at all yet?”
Daniel grew thoughtful. “Well, we are certain of all the things it isn’t. With David’s help, I’ve been able to rule out every ancient language including Egyptian and Sumerian, but that’s where the trouble begins. All the history books in his library say that the earliest written language is Sumerian cuneiform. These characters look nothing like that. They may, in fact, be older, and we’ve gone back as far as 3000 BCE.”
Abraham attempted to conceal his dismay. “My son, I don’t think I need to remind you how important it is that you solve this puzzle for me.”
Daniel stared at the tabletop, afraid to meet his gaze. “No, Father. I know. I would hate to disappoint you.”
Abraham gave a humorless laugh. “It isn’t me you would be disappointing, Daniel. It’s God. This has all been set down in prophecy for nearly a century now. You will find the answer I seek, or I fear the Lord will be mightily displeased with both of us.”
***
Daniel listened to his father’s footsteps retreat out of the library. He swallowed hard. He remembered Annabeth’s terror of damnation. Suddenly, her dread didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore.
Chapter 22 – In Security
Cassie knew that déjà vu meant you had the feeling you’d already done something once before. She wondered if there was a French expression for something you’d already done twice before. Deja deux? She shrugged and knocked at the front door of the schoolhouse.
This time there was no Griffin popping out to greet her. The door opened slowly to reveal a young man in his mid-twenties with shaggy blond hair. Cassie decided that he was much too good-looking, and since he probably owned a mirror, he already knew that. She tried not to stare.
“Come on in,” he said laconically. “I’m Erik.”
“I’m C—”
He cut her off. “Yeah, I know. This way.” He turned his back and started walking, assuming she would follow.
Cassie stood in the doorway, shocked by his rudeness. Who did he think he was? She wasn’t sure whether to fall in line or turn around and go home. Finally, curiosity won out over resentment, and she hurried to catch up.
He was already at the hidden elevator door, swiping his key card.
She peered at his profile for a few seconds until recognition dawned. “You’re the guy from my sister’s apartment, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, that was me.”
The elevator doors opened, and they entered.
“Why were you there? Were you following me?”
Erik punched in his code, and the elevator descended to the vault level. “Faye wanted me to keep an eye on you. We weren’t sure if the guy who went after Sybil would go after you next.”
“What does that make you? My secret bodyguard?”
He shrugged. “I guess you could call me that.”
Cassie had known Erik for less than five minutes, and she already disliked him intensely. His good looks were only exceeded by
his bad manners. “Are you always this charming?” she asked pointedly.
He looked down at her impassively and then gave an infuriating grin. He had perfect teeth too. Dislike was rapidly turning to loathing.
The doors opened, and Cassie found herself once more in the Central Catalog. Several people looked up from their work as the pair entered. They waved at her cheerily.
Erik jerked his head to the left. “This way.” He once again turned his back, expecting her to trail along.
She complied but made a mental note to complain to Faye about him the next time she saw her.
Erik walked through the door marked “Security Division.” The interior was a large space carved up into office cubicles which were staffed by about twenty people. Some were staring at security monitors. Others were working at computers. Still others were reviewing paperwork. In contrast to the scribes outside, nobody looked up when they entered.
Her guide didn’t bother to introduce Cassie to anyone. “Over here,” he said offhandedly.
She followed him into one of the offices against the back wall. There was no lettering on the door. Inside was a desk, computer, phone, and printer. Stacks of paper were piled on filing cabinets and scattered around on the floor. Half a dozen paper coffee cups were parked haphazardly on top of the cabinets. A greasy paper plate with a stale, half-eaten piece of pizza sat on the desk. Because of the mess, Cassie immediately concluded this must be Erik’s office.
“Nice digs,” she observed sarcastically. “Do you do your own housekeeping?”
He shrugged. “Neat is for wusses.” Picking up a stack of papers that had been parked on a chair, he dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. “Have a seat.”
“Great filing system too,” she added.
He threw himself into the swivel chair behind the desk. “I hate reports.”
“I would never have guessed,” Cassie mumbled to herself as she took the offered seat. “So, what am I supposed to learn from you?”
Without a word, he selected a sheet from a pile of papers and shoved it across the desk toward her.
The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set Page 11
