The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set

by N. S. Wikarski

  Metcalf winced at the reference. “Yes, that’s the reason I wished to speak to you. Have you had any luck finding her yet?”

  Leroy thought back to his fruitless search for Metcalf’s fourteen year old runaway bride. The trail had gone cold at an antique shop in the city. Of course, he knew she’d made her getaway with the help of Metcalf’s son Daniel, but he couldn’t afford to tell the old man that. Daniel was Leroy’s meal ticket—the one person in the world who could find those blasted gewgaws that Metcalf had such a powerful urge to collect and that Leroy had an equally powerful urge to steal afterward. The last thing Hunt wanted was for the old coot to catch wind of the fact that his own son helped his wife to give him the heave ho. Metcalf would kill the relic hunt and his son, not necessarily in that order.

  Shielding Daniel wasn’t Hunt’s only concern. He had to make sure he got to Hannah before any of the Nephilim did. That way she couldn’t get chatty with anybody at the compound about who helped her get away. The mercenary’s face betrayed none of these worries. Instead, he replied blandly,” I’m sorry to say, I ain’t had no luck findin’ the little gal yet. I’m guessin’ your own crew ain’t done much better?”

  Metcalf sighed deeply. “The devil has taken her. Mark my words, this was no ordinary disappearance.”

  “You don’t say,” Leroy drawled, sporting an expression of innocent surprise. He knew the devil had nothing to do with it—unless the devil had taken to disguising himself as a pasty-faced runt named Daniel.

  “She was only a child. The devil led her astray and spirited her beyond our reach. None of the brotherhood can find her. I had hoped that one of the Fallen, such as yourself, might have had a better chance.”

  It always rubbed Leroy the wrong way whenever one of the Bible thumpers referred to outsiders as “Fallen” but he couldn’t very well let the old man see his annoyance. Instead, he asked, “How much time I got left before your son and me need to hit the road to find that next doodad?”

  Metcalf sighed even more deeply than before. “Daniel spends all his days at the library in this city.” He looked around the plaza with distaste. “I don’t like the amount of time he is forced to toil in the land of the Fallen.”

  Leroy ignored the “F” word again. “Now you don’t need to worry about Daniel none. He’s true blue.”

  Metcalf shot him a grateful look. “Thank you, Mr. Hunt, for that reassurance. I believe he is. He says he’s approaching a breakthrough—that within the month he should know where to search for the next relic.”

  “That suits me just fine,” Hunt agreed, picking up the coffee cup to thaw his fingers. “Can’t stand much more of this northern air. Them folks that hid the doodads a couple thousand years back seem to favor your warm and sandy lands. I’ll take a hot desert over this iceberg any day of the week.” He glared at the Picasso as if it was somehow responsible for the misty drizzle that was freezing his face off.

  “Since you came back from your last mission, surely you’ve discovered some small scrap of evidence that might lead to my Hannah,” Metcalf persisted bleakly.

  Leroy wasn’t about to tell him that he’d spent every day since their return three months ago tailing Daniel. He figured that Miss Hannah might try to make contact with her rescuer again once she was somewhere safe, but that idea hadn’t panned out. Hunt was going to have to cast a wider net. “No, sir, nothing so far but there’s a couple of other things I could maybe try.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Metcalf’s voice held a glimmer of hope. “She must be approaching her time to deliver my son.”

  Hunt recollected that she’d be pretty far along in her pregnancy by now. Inwardly, he was baffled by the old man’s yen for a little gal that was barely old enough to ride a bicycle without training wheels. He wondered if the Nephilim allowed their kids to have bikes at all. Probably not. It might smack of too much fun. He couldn’t see what the old coot was carrying on about anyway. He had three dozen other wives stashed in the cupboards and closets of his creepy compound. So, what if one went missing? He returned to the conversation. “You’re sure the baby’s gonna be a boy? Did you have her checked before she ran off?”

  The diviner seemed puzzled by the question. “Of course, it’s a boy. What else could it be?”

  Deciding not to pursue the question any further, Leroy changed the subject. “I gotta wonder why you picked this spot to meet, sir. I don’t mind drivin’ way out to your place in the sticks.”

  “Your presence at the compound has attracted an inordinate amount of attention lately. Every time one of my flock sees you in my office, the gossip and speculation begin all over again.”

  “Gotcha, boss. Best I do my work for you out of sight.”

  The old man stared at him hard. “Bring her back to me, Mr. Hunt. You’re my last hope.”

  Leroy smiled reassuringly. “I mean to do exactly that, sir. Don’t you worry none.” He failed to mention the shape she’d be in when he did bring her back. Dead.

  Chapter 4—The Riddler

  Daniel sighed and looked at the large clock suspended above the librarian’s desk. It was only noon. This day wasn’t going at all as he had hoped. When he arrived that morning at the main branch of the Chicago Public Library, he had been looking forward to his daily visit with David, a reference librarian in the ancient history section. It was the only thing he looked forward to these days. Instead of the handsome young man he had hoped to see, he was met by a scowling grey-haired woman who informed him that David had called in sick. No, it wasn’t serious, just a case of food poisoning and no, she didn’t know when he would be back at work. Probably in a few days.

  After receiving that news, Daniel sloped off to a back table and occupied the rest of the morning in brooding. He had spent nearly every day for the past three months in the library—not because he expected to further his research but because he couldn’t bear the oppressive atmosphere of the compound any more than he had to. Three months. He was shocked at how much time he’d managed to waste. He had idled away the entire winter pretending to research the clue that would lead him to the next relic.

  He pulled a photo of the object out of his briefcase to study it. A dove with outstretched wings carved entirely out of lapis lazuli. Instead of the row upon row of glyphs which had covered the golden bee, this artifact bore a very simple message: “One dove flies to wake the helmsman. The course he sets reveals his fate.” The bird’s back was encrusted with diamonds in a circular pattern. The middle of the circle consisted of seven emeralds scattered at random. The diamonds at either end of the circle were interrupted by two rubies, one larger than the other.

  Daniel looked at the picture of the relic for the thousandth time and still had no idea what any of it meant. Of course, he felt far less urgency in solving this riddle than he had about the earlier ones. His time in Spain had convinced him beyond all doubt that the trio of relic hunters whom he believed dead were still very much alive and after the same treasure that he was. However, since he was the one holding the lapis dove and the clue it contained, the trio had no choice but to wait for him to make a move. They would have to follow his lead. He didn’t particularly care if they anticipated his route and stole away with the next relic before he arrived. Daniel had no sympathy for his father’s ambition to collect these artifacts or the ultimate prize—the Sage Stone. Even though he didn’t know the diviner’s plan for these strange objects, Daniel imagined it didn’t bode well for the rest of the world. Why should he eagerly assist in that?

  Daniel felt his loyalties fracture a bit more after each field mission. The more he saw of the Fallen World, the less comfort he found in returning to the ways of the Blessed Nephilim. Of course, his father’s marriage to Hannah had done even more to alienate him than the relic hunt itself. Daniel was glad he had helped her escape. He just wished he knew where she had gone after he brought her to the city. A note, a phone call, anything to tell him she was alright. He gave a bitter inward laugh.
That small gesture of reassurance might very well cost her her freedom if Leroy Hunt was stalking her again. No, it was better as it was. He prayed she had found a better life than as the fourteen-year-old bride of a seventy-year-old man. She could scarcely exchange that fate for anything worse.

  Daniel glanced toward the librarian’s desk. The woman behind it was staring at him disapprovingly. He ducked his head down and pretended to concentrate on his paperwork. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. He didn’t simply mean the pretext of visiting this section of the library just to be near David—his only real friend in the world. He also meant the pretext of telling his father that he was on the verge of solving the latest riddle. He was nowhere near a solution to the problem. At best, he could only continue the charade for another month before he would have to get on a plane and go somewhere in search of the next relic.

  An idea was nagging at the back of his consciousness. He felt he had missed something. Thinking back to the riddle that had preceded this one, there were lines in that clue which he had never understood. Perhaps it all fit together. Perhaps he needed to solve the earlier puzzle in order to understand the current one. At the very least, he might legitimately burn up some additional time in doing so.

  He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. He hated living this way. His mind drifted back to his last conversation with Hannah. He remembered her final words to him before she disappeared. “How bad does it have to get before you finally walk away?” Perhaps that was the greatest riddle of all.

  Chapter 5—Baggage

  Faye made her way across the main office of the underground vault. The ceiling lights mimicked a sunlit sky and the waterfalls in the corners trickled soothingly. Everybody was working intently at their desks though a few of the denizens of the Central Catalog raised their heads and smiled at her as she passed. She paused in front of the desk of a woman whose outbox held a caged Toucan.

  “Have you seen Griffin? He isn’t in his office.”

  The woman pointed off toward a series of five doors on the opposite side of the room.

  “I think I saw him duck into one of the continent rooms,” she added.

  “Of course,” Faye nodded. Given the team’s next destination, she directed her steps toward a door at the far wall with the simple word “Africa” stenciled on it.

  She peeked inside and saw a silent corridor of more doors. At the far end, light shone into the hallway, indicating that one of the doors had been left open. She travelled toward it. The door bore the inscription of “San.”

  “Hello?” Faye asked tentatively as she peeped around the corner.

  The narrow room was lined on two sides with floor to ceiling filing cabinets. Even though there was a reading table and a pair of chairs at the far end, Griffin was seated in the middle of the floor surrounded by file folders, journals, and loose paper.

  “Are you building a fort?” Faye teased as she came to stand in front of the Chief scrivener.

  Griffin stopped muttering to himself long enough to look up and regard her with a blank stare. Apparently, his brain was too crammed with data to make room for the new fact that he had a visitor.

  He blinked several times. “Oh, Faye, do forgive me.” He leaped to his feet and guided the old woman around the debris on the floor over to one of the chairs at the back of the room.

  “How are you, my dear?” she asked, somewhat concerned by his distracted demeanor.

  “Quite well, thank you.” He attempted to shake off his preoccupation and focus on his guest. “What brings you here?”

  “A much-needed break,” she replied. “Zachary is helping Hannah with her lessons this morning, so I thought I might pop in to see how the plan for your next expedition is coming along.”

  Griffin perched on the edge of the table and gestured toward the mound of uncooperative papers lying on the floor. “I’m in the final stages of packing and thought I’d try to bring along some relevant material from the Catalog. We’ll be leaving in two days for Botswana.”

  “Botswana. That’s a bit off course, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, the latitude I calculated using the lapis dove would put us in equatorial Africa, but I thought we might take a short side trip as long as we’re already on the continent. I wanted to have Cassie validate something for us.”

  Faye smiled knowingly. “Ah, I see. We’re in the San file room, and your destination is Botswana. Obviously, it’s the Python Stone you’re after.”

  “Always three steps ahead of the rest of us, aren’t you?” Griffin observed. “There’s been a great deal of speculation in the archaeological journals lately as to the Python Stone’s purpose. I thought we might have a go at it ourselves.”

  The old woman nodded. “I agree. It would be wonderful to have some first-hand documentation about it in our files. Have you told Cassie yet?”

  The scrivener shook his head. “I didn’t want to give her too much information because it might influence her telemetric reading.”

  “I suppose that’s wise. Best to let her tell you what she senses, rather than have you tell her what she ought to sense.”

  “There’s no urgency for us to begin the quest for the next relic immediately, is there?” Griffin’s voice sounded worried.

  “No, not at all. Maddie’s latest intelligence has the Nephilim safely tucked into the compound. No travel arrangements have been made so I think you have a little lead time.”

  “That’s good,” Griffin sighed and then lapsed into silence. He appeared lost in thought again, staring at the floor until Faye interrupted his reverie.

  “Is something troubling you, dear?”

  The scrivener caught himself. “No, nothing,” he said a trifle too quickly.

  “Nothing at all?” Faye urged with a hint of skepticism.

  Griffin appeared to be debating whether to tell her or not. He sighed again and quitted his perch on the side of the table. Drawing up the other chair to face the old woman, he said, “It’s nothing that will affect our mission if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Faye chuckled. “I’m not worried at all, but you seem to be. Please do tell me what it is, dear.”

  Griffin clasped and unclasped his hands. “I think something is about to happen between Cassie and Erik.”

  “How do you mean?” Faye was taken aback.

  “I have a feeling that they’re attracted to one another, and it won’t be long before they act on that impulse.”

  The old woman raised her eyebrows. “From my own observation, they seem to be chaffing one another about as much as they’ve always done.”

  “But lately there’s been an underlying spark to their banter that’s almost palpable,” the scrivener said gloomily.

  “And you disapprove of romance in the workplace?”

  “Hardly,” Griffin retorted. “Given the type of work we do, it’s unlikely any of us would meet a suitable mate anywhere else. It’s just that...” he trailed off.

  The memory guardian waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts.

  “This is very awkward. I shouldn’t even be thinking such things,” Griffin demurred.

  Faye reached out to pat his arm reassuringly. “I won’t breathe a word of what you say.”

  The scrivener sat up straight. “Right then. I worry about the two of them together as a couple. Erik takes a very casual view of romance. I think Cassie could do better. There I’ve said it!” Griffin looked as if he wanted to snatch the words back again instantly. He blushed to the roots of his hair.

  Now it was Faye’s turn to sit forward anxiously. “Is there some bad blood between you and Erik?”

  “Good heavens, no! I didn’t mean to imply that at all. Erik is brilliant. In the field, there’s no one better.” He hesitated for several seconds before continuing. “It’s just that I’m afraid it won’t end well if the two of them become involved. It would be a volatile combination.”

  “Isn’t that th
e general idea in a romance?” Faye observed.

  Griffin shook his head gloomily. “I’m reminded of Friar Lawrence’s speech in Romeo and Juliet. ‘These violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die, like fire and powder.’”

  “And you’re afraid of what exactly?”

  “If one of them were ready to end it before the other, I’m afraid Cassie would be hurt.”

  “But you aren’t concerned about Erik being hurt.”

  The scrivener laughed sardonically. “He won’t be on the receiving end; you can be sure.” Then he repeated, “She could do better.”

  Faye sighed. “It is so difficult to stand by and watch those we care about walking into trouble.” She gave him a keen look. “They wouldn’t thank you for interfering.”

  “I know that.” Griffin stared down at his clasped hands. “It has to run its course, whatever that may be.”

  Faye was silent a moment, weighing her words carefully. “Cassie is fortunate to have such a disinterested friend.”

  Griffin’s eyes flew open wide. He searched the old woman’s face intently, alarmed at her veiled inference. “She would never think of me that way. Never!”

  The memory guardian smiled thinly. “The pity of it is that you would like her to, wouldn’t you?”

  Griffin blushed even more furiously than before. “It’s ludicrous to imagine she ever would! You’ve seen Erik—handsome fellow. Blond hair, green eyes, muscular physique. The only sort of woman trouble he’s ever known is how to keep them at bay.”

  Faye paused to study the young man seated across from her: his full head of chestnut hair, expressive hazel eyes, chiseled features, and tall, slender build. “My dear, it’s obvious that you don’t own a mirror,” she said, stifling a chuckle. “Let me be the first to inform you that you’re far from a homely creature yourself.”

  “That may be.” He brushed aside the compliment. “But I am bookish. Women never go for bookish chaps. It’s the swashbuckling hero they all want. On a field mission, my physical accomplishments are limited to tripping over my own feet or getting shot at highly inconvenient moments.”