Metcalf’s scowl deepened at the sight of the woman’s unseemly apparel. There was a reason he avoided visiting the Fallen Lands too often. The bold behavior of the Fallen females was particularly disturbing. They conducted themselves with appalling forwardness. The fires of the pit would burn away that impudence, no doubt. Nevertheless, the thought of their present freedom to do as they liked galled him. They were a dangerous temptation to the angel brotherhood—luring the righteous away from their own chaste and obedient wives. Fallen females, by their very existence, were a constant threat to the souls of the worthy. Shaking off the image of the jogger, he returned to the topic. “We were speaking of the Bones, Mr. Hunt,” he reminded his companion.
“So, you want I should dig up some old gal’s skeleton and bring it back here?” Leroy sounded less than enthusiastic.
“Of course not!” Metcalf was losing patience. “There is no skeleton. The Bones is simply a name that refers to a collection of artifacts which I want to acquire.”
“These artifacts worth a lot of money, are they?” Hunt’s face had taken on a calculating expression.
“No, they’re not, Mr. Hunt. There is no monetary value associated with them. I want them for spiritual reasons.”
“That so? You gonna send your boy halfway around the world to pick up some old thingamabobs that you got a hankerin’ for?” Leroy shook his head and laughed. “Man, I tell you what. Meanin’ no disrespect, but you’re a weird duck, boss.”
“Be that as it may,” Abraham said stiffly, “I still require the objects to be found and brought back to me.”
Hunt looked away for a moment. His eyes followed the motion of another female jogger as she darted around pedestrians on the promenade. “You got some idea exactly where we’re supposed to look for this stuff?”
“Not precisely, no,” Metcalf admitted. “Daniel has told me that some of the markings on the key are a sort of hieroglyphic code. The rest of the markings on the key are an ancient script that was found in two places in the world. Either in southern Greece or on the island of Crete. I would suggest you begin your search in Greece.”
Hunt whistled. “That’s an awful big haystack you want us to comb.”
“Not as big as all that. Tablets of the ancient language of which I spoke have only been found in four cities on the Greek mainland. In each of those cities, you will have assistance. Communities of the Blessed Nephilim exist throughout the world. I will appoint some trusted brethren in that region to begin the search before you arrive.”
Hunt repositioned himself on the bench to face Metcalf. He cocked his head to the side to study the old man for a few seconds. “Somethin’ puzzles me about this, and that’s a fact. You got all these other fellers runnin’ around like Santa’s elves to do your biddin’, and you got your boy who knows how to read them markings. What y’all need me for?”
Metcalf gave his companion an appraising look. “Because you have a unique set of skills, Mr. Hunt. A set of skills that my flock does not possess.”
“Boss?”
“Although I don’t anticipate any difficulties, I want to ensure that this expedition proceeds smoothly. I don’t want anything to stand in the way of my acquisition of these relics.”
Leroy grinned appreciatively. “You think maybe I might get a chance to use some of my special skills?”
“Let us hope not. But should such a thing happen, you have my permission to use any means necessary to ensure a successful outcome.”
Hunt chuckled and gave a mock salute. “Yes sir, boss. Don’t you worry about a thing now, you hear? I always give satisfaction. I got a reputation for doin’ quality work.”
Metcalf gave a humorless smile. “I have the utmost confidence in your work ethic, Mr. Hunt.”
Chapter 28 – The Concordance
The sun was just about to set as Cassie drove into the schoolhouse clearing. She was glad that she knew the way. It would have been impossible to find the place after dark if she hadn’t made the trip before. To her surprise, she saw a few dozen other cars parked in the green space in front of the building. The tall stained-glass windows in the main hall, illuminated from within by a dozen chandeliers, cast watercolor shadows across the lawn.
A queue of visitors was slowly making its way up the stairs and into the schoolhouse. Cassie fell in behind several people who were chatting excitedly in a foreign language. When the pythia finally reached the vestibule, she felt a tap on the shoulder.
“Hello there. Nice to see you again.”
It was Griffin. She gave him a relieved smile. “Hey, haven’t seen you for a while. What’s going on? Faye called and told me to be here by seven o’clock.”
“Yes, she called me as well and asked me to be your escort. That’s why I was waiting here for you.”
“I need a date for this?” Cassie asked in surprise.
She noticed a slight blush suffuse Griffin’s face. “A date? Good heavens, no. Faye just thought someone should explain what you’re about to see, that’s all.”
“Don’t tell me it’s a human sacrifice!” Cassie exclaimed tongue-in-cheek. “It isn’t, is it?”
“A human sacrifice?” Griffin echoed in disbelief. “Where did you hear such a rumor? Of course not. It’s a special gathering of the Concordance, and we’d better get inside soon if you don’t wish to stand through the whole meeting.”
He hurried her into the main hall which, for the first time in Cassie’s experience, was ablaze with light and life. More than two hundred people were milling around: some deep in conversation, a few greeting old friends, others climbing the risers to the tiered box seats that lined the walls.
Griffin motioned to two seats in a lower tier which they hastily claimed. Once they were settled, Cassie looked around curiously at all the new faces. Some she recognized from the vault downstairs, but most of them were strangers to her.
She noted that many people had adopted strange attire. Some wore business suits with sashes across the chest. Several were sporting unusual headgear—a turban, a fez, a burnoose. One woman was dressed in a silk kimono while another wore a feather cape over a black gown.
“If there’s a dress code for this event, I can’t figure out what it is,” she confided to Griffin.
“For a ceremonial gathering such as this, some members like to show off their native costume. Unfortunately for the majority of them, the climate of the Midwest is a bit chillier than where they came from. Practicality dictates that they must dress for warmth, but they like to wear some scrap of indigenous clothing as a memento of their homelands.”
“Good thing nobody’s being judged on their fashion sense. It’s a runway nightmare!” Cassie commented.
Griffin chuckled but offered no opinion.
As the pythia looked around the room, she noticed Erik. He was leaning against the opposite wall, his arms folded across his chest. While there were empty seats nearby, he chose to remain standing.
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s he doing here?”
The scrivener followed her gaze. “Erik? He is an elected member of the Concordance, so he can attend if he chooses.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t open his mouth,” Cassie murmured under her breath.
Griffin gave her an odd look. He was apparently unaware of the animosity between the two.
The pythia continued her inspection. Her attention settled on the round table. The thirty chairs were now occupied by people of various hues, nationalities, and odd styles of clothing.
“Why thirty?”
“Hmm?” Griffin asked absently. He had been looking in the opposite direction, waving at someone he knew across the room. He glanced back toward the center. “Oh, you mean the main table? Tradition. The original idea was to have five representatives from each continent, but that seemed unfair to the continents which had the majority of the troves. The current system provides proportional representation based on the number of troves. The allocation among continents
changes from time to time as the number of troves changes.”
“And who gets to decide who sits at the main table?”
“Each trove chooses a representative to the Concordance, and those representatives elect the people who sit at the round table which, by the way, is called the Circle. Circle members are the governing body of the organization. They are the ones who vote on matters of import affecting the Arkana. However, when a topic is up for debate any member of the Concordance may participate in the discussion.”
“Will I be allowed to say something?” Cassie asked eagerly.
“Fortunately for you, the title of pythia carries with it automatic inclusion in the Concordance, so the answer is yes, you may.” A worried look crossed Griffin’s face. “What were you planning to say exactly?”
Cassie shrugged. “Not sure, but it’s good to know I could speak up if I wanted to.” She scanned the room once more. “I don’t see Faye yet. Where does she sit?”
Griffin leaned over and pointed. “Look there.”
Cassie followed Griffin’s instruction and noticed two men carrying a chair forward to place it at the table. It was more of a throne than a chair with a high back and ornately carved arms. She seemed to remember seeing it parked against the back wall on her previous visits to the schoolhouse.
“That chair is only used if Faye, herself, is conducting the meeting,” Griffin explained.
Cassie was surprised. “You mean sometimes the Concordance meets without her?”
“Yes, if it’s an issue that doesn’t require her involvement. But she called this session, so she will definitely be presiding.”
Cassie shifted her full attention to Griffin. “Do you know what this meeting is about?”
He smiled cryptically. “Oh yes, and it should prove quite interesting to see how they take it.”
“How who takes what?”
Cassie was about to badger him with several more questions when her attention was caught by a small white-haired woman making her way toward the center of the room. People stepped to either side respectfully to let her pass. The woman was wearing a white silk dress and long matching jacket. With a start, Cassie realized it was Faye. She had only seen the old woman in her flowery house dresses before. Tonight, her attire made her look more like the Queen of England with the regal bearing to match. Cassie smiled at the memory of the little old grannie who baked her own bread and tried to overfeed everyone who came to see her. This was a side of Faye that the pythia hadn’t seen before.
All conversation in the room ceased the moment the memory guardian reached the table. Faye stood in front of her throne-like chair. She looked around the room and gave a pleasant smile. “Good evening everyone. Shall we get started?”
Those who hadn’t yet found a seat scurried to get settled. Maddie rushed to capture a spot on the opposite side. She must have been outdoors finishing one last smoke.
The throne dwarfed Faye when she sat down in it but, despite her diminutive size, her voice carried through the hall. “To those of you who have come a great distance on very short notice, I give my thanks. This is an urgent matter that must be decided quickly. About a month ago, our pythia Sybil was able to acquire an artifact which we have since begun to call the granite key. We were unsure of its purpose because, as most of you know, Sybil died before she was able to tell anyone what the find represented.”
Cassie could hear sad murmurings coming from various points around the room. It never occurred to her that so many other people besides herself had mourned her sister’s death.
Faye continued. “Fortunately, due to the efforts of our scrivener, we were able to decipher the code inscribed on the stone key. I will let him explain the details to you.”
Faye looked toward the tier seats. “Griffin, if you would.”
Cassie stared in surprise at the young man sitting next to her. “You did it!” she exclaimed. “You figured it out!”
“I did indeed.” Griffin gave her a quick smile. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to fill you in earlier.” He stood to address the Concordance.
The pythia listened intently as Griffin talked about hieroglyphics, ancient written scripts, Linear A, and Linear B. He explained how the code worked and where the encrypted message was likely to be found. Once he finished his explanation, Griffin sat down and allowed Faye to take over.
“We are of the opinion that one of the artifacts collectively known as the Bones of the Mother is the Sage Stone,” she said.
The last two words produced an excited buzz from all corners of the room. Cassie had never heard the term “Sage Stone” before, but she guessed it was important to the Arkana.
Faye raised her hand for silence. “I realize that the Sage Stone is generally regarded as a mythical object, but we have good reason to believe it exists and that we can acquire it by recovering the Bones of the Mother.” She paused for a few moments to allow her audience to digest these new facts. A roar of incredulity shot around the hall.
Cassie noted the stunned reaction among the members of the Concordance. It meant that the secret Sybil had tried to protect was huge. “She didn’t die for nothing,” Cassie thought to herself.
She leaned over and whispered to Griffin, “Give me the details. What’s this Sage Stone?”
“I’ll explain later,” he answered hastily as Faye raised her hand once more for silence.
The old woman continued. “My friends, we are being offered a singular opportunity to recover some of the most important artifacts of our buried past. The Bones of the Mother need to be retrieved and housed in our troves, so we can preserve them for future generations. I propose that the Arkana should send an expedition to Crete to recover them.”
A rumble of approval rippled across the room as people eagerly discussed the implications of the find with their companions.
An Indian man wearing a sash and seated at the round table across from Faye spoke. “Such an expedition seems an obvious step to take. Why would you need the support of the Concordance to make this decision?”
Faye smiled grimly. “Because there is another factor to be considered. This expedition cannot be undertaken without grave risk to the Arkana. The Nephilim are involved.”
A chorus of dismay broke from several quarters at once. Cassie was startled by the extreme reaction that the cult evoked.
Faye held up her hand again, and the babble instantly ceased. “You need to know all the facts before an informed decision can be made. We believe that Sybil was killed, either deliberately or accidentally, by an operative of the Nephilim. We also have reason to believe that the current diviner of the cult is actively seeking the Bones of the Mother, most probably to get to the Sage Stone. Once in his possession, that artifact could trigger untold disaster. Based on our previous experience with the Nephilim, we know they are prepared to kill anyone who gets in the way of what they want.”
An African woman wearing large hoop earrings and a turban spoke next. “I don’t think our biggest problem is that they’re willing to kill for these relics.” She looked around the room. “Going after this find means we risk letting the Nephilim know that the Arkana exists.”
Several shouts of “Hear, hear!” affirmed her comment.
“But they must know about the Arkana already. Otherwise, why would they go after our pythia?” The question came from an elderly Hispanic man wearing a multi-colored woolen shawl over a business suit.
“We don’t believe they know about the organization,” Erik chimed in from the other side of the room. “They thought Sybil was an antique dealer who had something they wanted, that’s all. The Nephilim aren’t famous for religious tolerance. If they suspected the Arkana existed, they would have launched some kind of holy war to stamp us out.” His eyes flicked briefly in Cassie’s direction. “Starting with our new pythia. We’d know they were on to us because she’d be dead already.”
All eyes traveled to Cassie. She glared at Erik, making no attempt to
hide her dislike. “He wishes,” she thought to herself.
“If our anonymity is still intact that’s all the more reason to keep it that way,” countered the African woman from the Circle. “We should stay as far away from those relics as possible.”
Cassie could hear conflicting comments surging from different directions. “She’s right,” someone said. “We should go anyway,” another disagreed.
Back and forth it went. The discussion continued for what seemed like an eternity. Just as the participants approached consensus, their opinion would be swayed in a contrary direction by a more eloquent opposing voice.
***
Cassie sighed and looked at her wristwatch. They’d been at it for almost two hours. She glanced quickly at Griffin. The glazed expression on his face suggested that even he was getting bored with the proceedings. She thought this might be a good opportunity to learn more about the Sage Stone.
She leaned toward him and whispered, “So what is it?”
“What’s what?” the young man asked vaguely.
“Wake up, will you? I want the backstory on the Sage Stone.”
Finally snapping to attention, Griffin turned to her. “Oh, that. It’s a unicorn,” he said soberly.
“You’re kidding, right?”
He shrugged. “Well, it’s like a unicorn. And King Arthur’s Excalibur. And Santa Claus. The Sage Stone is a myth, a legend. Something that up until quite recently none of us believed existed.”
“But what does it look like? What does it do?” the pythia urged.
“It’s a baetyl.”
“A beetle?”
“No, a baetyl,” Griffin corrected. “A meteorite that fell to earth thousands of years ago.”
Cassie gave him an incredulous look. “Like kryptonite?”
“Good grief, of course not.” The scrivener sounded exasperated. “To the peoples of the ancient world, a flaming rock that crashed to earth was a sign from the deity. It was meant to be treated with reverence. Do you remember what I told you about the black stone at Mecca? The one Muslims kiss when they visit the shrine?”
The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set Page 16
