The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set

by N. S. Wikarski

  “If you’re searching for megaliths near the Tropic of Cancer, I think I know just the site.” Michel smiled with satisfaction. “Give me a moment. I didn’t print photos of this location because I was concentrating my search primarily in northwest Africa.” He turned to his computer and started typing. After a few moments, his printer disgorged several pages of photographs. “Have a look at these,” he suggested.

  Cassie intently scrutinized the image that was handed to her. The photo displayed a flat stretch of sand interrupted by a series of oddly-matched rocks. Some of the stones jutted up out of the desert at oblique angles. Others were flat slabs embedded in the ground. The size and color of each of the boulders was different. No attempt had been made to shape them in any way. However, they had been placed equidistant from one another to form a circle. In the center of the circle were several other stones, seemingly scattered at random. After studying the photo for several seconds, Cassie raised her head and smiled. “I’m getting a strong pull from this one.” She peered at Michel. “What is this place?”

  “It is called Nabta Playa and is very old. The stones were arranged to record celestial phenomena many thousands of years ago when the Sahara was still green pastureland. Some estimate the age of the site at eight thousand years. More importantly for your purposes, it is erected precisely on the Tropic of Cancer as it existed in 6000 BCE. Of course, the stones you are seeing in the photographs are no longer in their original location.”

  “What!” Griffin gasped in alarm. “Where are they now?”

  “In the Nubian Museum. This is a simulation of what Nabta Playa must once have looked like. Some of the stones in the exhibit are original parts of the calendar circle. Others are still onsite.”

  “Oh, dear. That means the lily mark, if it existed, may have been defaced or destroyed and we would have no way of knowing.”

  Michel sighed. “I am sorry. The Egyptian government is not so interested in preserving ancient artifacts which are pre-pharaonic. The idea of an ancient Nubian culture possessing sophisticated calendar measurement which predates Egyptian civilization by millennia doesn’t fit the current overlord narrative.

  “You said Nubian Museum,” Cassie repeated doubtfully. “Where is this Nabta Playa circle?”

  “In southern Egypt,” Michel replied. “In the middle of the Nubian desert.”

  “There may be nothing left to find there,” Griffin observed gloomily.

  “Oh, there’s something all right,” Cassie retorted. “We have to take a chance and go there.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Erik extricated himself from Fifi and stood up. “Michel, can you arrange the paperwork for us in Egypt?”

  “Certainly. When will you be leaving?”

  “Tomorrow morning if we can catch a flight,” Erik replied. “OK with you guys?” He glanced at Cassie and Griffin for confirmation.

  They both nodded.

  Fifi looked shocked by the sudden turn of events. She opened and closed her mouth several times before words could form. “But wait.” She stood up and linked her arm possessively through Erik’s. Appealing directly to him, she said,” Mon chéri, you only just arrived. There are many, many stone circles nearby that you should search first.”

  Erik shook his head, appearing more relieved than regretful. “Sorry, Fifi. We can catch up another time.”

  “But this is madness!” she protested. “You are willing to leave at a moment’s notice and fly halfway across Africa simply because the little girl thinks Nabta Playa is the right spot?”

  At those words, Cassie stood up too. Fifi’s attitude and her accent were getting on the pythia’s nerves. She folded her arms resolutely. Glaring directly at Fifi, she said, “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t just think Nabta Playa is the right place. Zee leetle girl KNOWS it is!”

  Chapter 24—A Lack of Intelligence

  Joshua waited patiently at the back of the shooting range while Orvis Bowdeen finished some last-minute instruction before dismissing his class for the day. The process was a lengthy one since Bowdeen had to speak through an interpreter. From what little Joshua had managed to see, these recruits were still fairly inept in the use of firearms. He hoped their instructor would be able to whip them into shape soon.

  After they’d all filed out, Bowdeen packed up a duffel bag of gear and headed toward the exit door. He was unaware that he had a visitor. When he noticed Joshua standing in the vestibule, he gave a start. Joshua found the mercenary’s reaction odd. The man was a combat-hardened veteran with a brawny physique and an off-putting scar that twisted his lips into a perpetual sneer. Not the sort of man one could frighten easily but the sight of Joshua appeared to have done exactly that.

  “Hello, Joshua, I forgot you were flying out here today.” Bowdeen covered his initial reaction and stepped forward to shake hands.

  The spymaster gave his associate a bland smile. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Bowdeen.”

  “How was your trip?”

  Joshua shrugged. “Like most trips, tedious. This is the first time I’ve crossed an ocean, but in all other respects it was quite similar to flying across the United States.”

  “Have you seen much of Germany yet?” The man seemed determined to make small talk.

  “The language may be different, but the customs of the Fallen appear to be much the same from country to country,” Joshua replied flatly. “I have little interest in seeing more of them. My sole reason for making the trip was to speak to you on a matter of some importance.”

  “Right.” Bowdeen cleared his throat uncomfortably at the veiled rebuke. “Let’s go to my shack and talk.”

  He led the way out of the shooting range which was located in a wooded area several acres from the central portion of the compound. The two men followed a worn foot path a few hundred yards through the trees to what appeared to be a thatched cottage.

  “This used to be a woodcutter’s hut long before the Nephilim came to these parts,” Bowdeen explained. “Since I had to spend a fair chunk of time here and I didn’t want to bunk in the main house, the local brotherhood fitted it up for me. C’mon inside.”

  Joshua surveyed the interior of the rustic cottage. It consisted of one room. The ceiling was so low it almost grazed the top of his head. There was a small central table which Bowdeen was obviously using as a desk. The kerosene lantern resting on a stack of papers suggested that the cabin had no electricity. A ladder at the back of the room led to a sleeping loft above.

  “My meals get sent over, and there’s no indoor plumbing but, believe me, I’ve had to make do with worse than this in my time.” Bowdeen walked over to the tiny window at the far side of the room where several amber bottles were propped against the glass.

  “Without a refrigerator,” he explained, “it’s the only way to keep them cold.” He took two bottles from the sill and held one out toward Joshua. “Want a beer?”

  The spymaster recoiled at the offer. “No, thank you. I don’t drink alcohol.”

  “Suit yourself.” Bowdeen put one of the bottles back. “Since you rub elbows with the Fallen so much, I just figured that you might have picked up some of our ways.” He grinned. “Maybe next time.” He flipped the cap and took a long swig before setting his bottle down on the table.

  Joshua found the man’s comment insulting. The spymaster prided himself on his ability to travel among the Fallen without being contaminated by their influence. He never forgot that the pure blood of angels ran through his veins. Lowering himself to adopt the customs of the outer world was inconceivable. Of course, he didn’t allow his face to betray his outrage. He merely smiled.

  “Take a seat.” Bowdeen gestured toward a sagging sofa that was drawn up to face the fireplace.

  Joshua selected the corner of the couch farthest from the grate. He instinctively preferred to keep to the shadows.

  The mercenary walked over to the cold hearth, knelt down and began to build a fire. Over his sho
ulder, he said, “According to the calendar, it’s almost spring, but the air still has a nip to it.” It took him about five minutes to coax the kindling into a blaze. When he was satisfied with the result, he took the seat opposite Joshua and held his hands out to warm them.

  “How are your students progressing?” the spymaster asked. He knew his father would want a report.

  Bowdeen shrugged. “As well as can be expected for kids who’ve never handled a gun before. We’ll get there. I didn’t think much of you when you started, but you turned out to be a decent marksman.”

  “Yes, I am,” Joshua agreed softly. “You taught me well.”

  “I suppose you’re here because your father wants you to set up the same intelligence network as you did back in the States?”

  “Yes,” the young man assented. “I’d like you to provide me with the names of potential candidates from the students you’re training. At least one of them will need to be able to speak English. You know the sort I’m looking for by now.”

  “I ought to after all the work we did stateside. I guess I’ve spent more time with you than anybody else in the Nephilim.” He seemed on the point of saying something more but stopped short.

  “Mr. Bowdeen?” Joshua prompted. “Is something troubling you?”

  The mercenary flinched at the observation. “You might say that. Something’s been weighing on my mind for a while now.” His voice held a note of misgiving.

  Joshua didn’t press him. He assumed he could get more information by not appearing to be too eager to obtain it.

  Bowdeen gave the spymaster a furtive look and sighed. “I don’t suppose you have any notion what your father intends to do with the undercover groups you’re setting up and all these sharpshooters I’m training?”

  Even though Joshua had secretly been asking himself the same question for months, he tried to appear indifferent. “I haven’t any idea. I imagine all these measures are to better protect us from the outside world.”

  The mercenary stared into the fire and made no reply.

  “Do you have a theory of your own, Mr. Bowdeen?” Joshua hoped that the man did because the diviner certainly hadn’t been forthcoming about his intentions.

  Without shifting his gaze, the mercenary replied, “It seems to me that your father isn’t so much trying to defend what’s his as attack what isn’t.”

  “Really?” Joshua didn’t need to feign surprise. He turned slightly in his seat so he could study the soldier’s face.

  “Your brotherhood already lives behind ten-foot fences. You’ve got surveillance cameras deployed everywhere. You’ve created a fortified position but where’s the enemy?”

  “Why, the enemy is all around us, Mr. Bowdeen,” Joshua protested. “The world of the Fallen is a constant threat.”

  Bowdeen gave a rueful laugh. “I don’t see anybody storming your gates, son. The rest of the world is doing its best to ignore you, but your father is acting like he expects some kind of confrontation.”

  “Shouldn’t he?”

  “If you don’t poke a sleeping bear in its den, it’s got no reason to come charging at you.”

  “What are you suggesting?” The mercenary’s apprehension was infectious. Joshua began to feel it creeping into his own thoughts too.

  This time Bowdeen’s eyes met Joshua’s. ‘I think your father has plans to poke the bear.”

  “I... uh... I’m afraid I don’t understand.” The spymaster had never considered that Abraham would intentionally antagonize the Fallen. Ever since the days of Jedediah Proctor, their first diviner, the Nephilim’s mandate had been made clear. Live apart and keep sinless until the return of the Savior. It would be an abomination to deliberately court the attention of the outside world. Nobody knew that better than the diviner himself.

  “You can’t be serious, Mr. Bowdeen!” Joshua couldn’t be sure if he was trying to persuade the mercenary or persuade himself that his father’s actions remained in accord with the Lord’s plan for the angelic brotherhood.

  Bowdeen’s scarred lips grimaced. “You mark my words, son. Your diviner’s got a fierce itch to start something, and I don’t want to be around when he gets to scratching.”

  Chapter 25—First Tango in Rabat

  After leaving Professor Khatabi’s office, the Arkana team walked silently back to their hotel. They weren’t walking so much as jogging. Cassie strode several feet ahead of her companions, and they had to quicken their pace to keep up. Sensing her mood, neither man seemed inclined to venture a comment and risk getting his head bitten off.

  Thankfully, the trip back was only a few blocks long. The trio hastened through the lobby and made directly for an open, empty elevator.

  Once the doors slid closed, Cassie turned on Erik. “You’re unbelievable!”

  The paladin gave an impish grin. “Thanks.”

  “You think this is funny? How could you let that French fashionista paw you? We were in the middle of a business meeting, dude! Talk about unprofessional. And by the way, ‘Fifi’ isn’t a name for a grown woman. It’s a name for a poodle.”

  Erik shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t expect it either. We had a thing in Paris a couple of years ago, and I guess she never got over it.”

  The elevator doors swung open, and the trio emerged into the hall. Their rooms were all on the same floor.

  “You guess she didn’t get over it?” Cassie flared. “It was pretty obvious to everybody in the room, except you, that she was planning the sequel to your ‘thing in Paris’!” Her fingers made air quotes around the last three words.

  Erik took a beeline for his room in an effort to terminate the conversation. He fumbled in his pocket for his key card with Cassie hot on his heels still hurling accusations.

  Griffin backed away from the fray. “Perhaps someone should report our progress to Maddie, don’t you think? Make travel arrangements for tomorrow?” He looked nervously from one to the other.

  Erik was muttering to himself and jamming the wrong end of his card into the door.

  Cassie glanced briefly at the scrivener, barely registering his words. “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Right then.” Griffin nodded and scuttled toward his own room. “Leave it to me.”

  By now Erik had opened the door and tried to duck inside. Before he could lock himself in, Cassie wedged her foot through the doorway.

  “Oh no, you don’t. I’m not finished.” She slid into the room.

  “Fine.” Erik threw the key on the entry table in disgust.

  “As if it wasn’t enough that Fifi draped herself around you like a cheap Pashmina knock-off, she was totally rude to me through the whole meeting. ‘Zee leetle girl.’” Cassie seethed. “You didn’t hear me calling her ‘zee beeg cougar’!”

  “She’s not really old enough to be a cougar,” Erik objected. “More like a cougar-in-training. Maybe a ‘cougarette’?” He chuckled hopefully.

  “Don’t even try to joke your way out of this! You should have shot her down the minute she started batting those mascara-caked eyelashes at you.”

  Erik paced the room irritably. “I don’t get why this is bothering you so much. Sure, she was insulting to you. I can see why you’re mad about that. But why the hell should you care who I date? Or when? It’s not like there’s anything between you and me.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to stare at her in silence for several seconds. “Or is there?” He appeared temporarily dazed by the revelation hidden in his own question.

  Cassie felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. She was too shocked to do more than gape at him.

  He advanced a few paces, his eyes narrowing. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re jealous.” A slow smile spread over his face.

  His smugness made Cassie’s blood boil. “Jealous?” she squeaked. Her voice rose an entire octave. “You sure have a high opinion of yourself.”

  The grin never left his face. Advancing e
ven closer, he said, “It is what it is, toots.”

  “Jealous of you?” she repeated.

  By now they were standing face to face, almost nose to nose.

  “You can date the Loch Ness Monster for all I care! In fact, you can...”

  With one swift movement, Erik took her in his arms and kissed her.

  Before she could stop herself, Cassie’s arms were around his shoulders, and she was kissing him back. She didn’t know how long the kiss lasted, but when their lips finally parted, she was dizzy from lack of breath. Her eyes flew open wide in alarm. “What the hell was that for?”

  Erik’s arms remained wrapped around her waist. “It was the only way I could think of to shut you up,” he murmured.

  Cassie gave a skeptical half-smile. “A martial arts expert like you? Right off the top of my head, I can think of at least six other ways you might have shut me up.”

  He drew her close to his chest and whispered into her hair. “Yeah, but I don’t think either one of us would have enjoyed them as much.”

  Cassie didn’t push him away. She sighed unexpectedly. “I guess we’ve been dancing around this moment for a long time. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

  Erik drew back and regarded her with amusement. “Some psychic you are. You couldn’t read the vibe between us?”

  She disengaged herself and walked over to the bed. Sitting down, she looked up at him sheepishly. “It’s a lot easier reading an ancient artifact than a living, breathing guy. Besides, I never thought I was your type.”

  “So, I’ve got a type now?”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. “Dude, everybody knows a person never dates outside of their number.”

  “Huh?”

  She ducked her head, not wanting to meet his gaze. “You register as a solid ten on the Attracto-Meter. So, that means you’re only gonna date other tens. A chick would have to be a drop-dead-gorgeous hottie to be your type.” She peeked up at him shyly.

  “Then I guess that makes you my type,” Erik said softly, his eyes never leaving her face.