Griffin turned to his colleagues to offer an explanation. “Alma’s area of expertise is the overlord footprint in Australia.”
“That’s right.” The scout nodded. “Overlords are a strange breed. They think everybody else is like them or ought to be. Consequently, whenever they encounter a new culture, they don’t know how to interpret what they’re looking at. Take, for example, the first European missionaries and explorers. Given their own patriarchal bias, they misunderstood gender relations in aboriginal society. All the male anthropologists who followed the first wave made the same mistake. When they noticed that women were excluded from certain rituals related to the Dreaming, they erroneously concluded that men controlled the religious realm and women carried out day-to-day chores. In other words, men were sacred, and women were profane.”
Alma rolled her eyes. “The fact is that men are responsible for some rituals and women for others. The overlords never bothered to ask what the women were doing during their secret gatherings from which men were excluded. They assumed it couldn’t be all that important and trivialized ‘women’s business’ as witchcraft and superstition. In reality, women wield significant power in aboriginal society. Their magic is considered stronger than men’s. Both men and women are charged with protecting and preserving the ancestral lands. They just use different rituals to do so.”
Daniel stared at Alma in astonishment.
Noting his reaction, she gave a wry smile. “So, Nephilim. You’ve never heard that version of the story before?”
He shook his head. “All the books I’ve read about aboriginal culture came from...” He hesitated uncomfortably. “Overlord sources.”
“Keep your eyes and ears open,” Alma instructed. “You might learn something.” She transferred her attention back to the image of Yingana and sighed. “I don’t see anything that looks like a lily in this gallery.”
Griffin made a big show of scrutinizing the rock. “Nor do I.”
Of course, Cassie knew there was no lily to be found.
Alma gazed at her inquisitively. “Perhaps the pythia might like to try...”
Cassie’s eyes widened in alarm. “I wouldn’t dare!” She backed away from the wall. “This isn’t like validating a single artifact. That’s hard enough if it’s carrying a long history. This...” she paused to find the right words. “This would be like channeling a million voices all at once because the trace of so many lives has been left on these stones. I might never find my way back.”
Daniel was drinking in the interchange, obviously trying to process the strange notion that Cassie could touch an object and experience its history.
“We thought of another solution to the problem.” Griffin turned to the scion. “Daniel, might we have the artifact I asked you to bring?”
Daniel searched through his backpack and produced the original granite key.
“Our pythia might be able to detect the presence of the Minoans in this locale by using one of their own relics,” Griffin said to Alma.
Cassie hesitated before taking the cylinder, glancing at the rock art again. “Not here. There’s too much psychic static. Let’s find someplace else.”
Alma brightened. “I have just the spot. Follow me.”
They climbed upward through another maze of rock corridors. More sunlight broke through the gloom the higher they climbed. Cassie sensed that they were approaching the crest of Injalak Hill.
They emerged from the rock canyons at last among tall grasses and miniature rock pillars where they were rewarded with a panorama of the countryside.
“I had no idea we’d climbed this high!” Daniel exclaimed.
“Bird’s eye view,” Cassie agreed.
Alma led them to a flat shelf of rock where they could all sit down and enjoy the scene below them. To their left, more hills sloped away toward the horizon. To their right, a green floodplain with patches of exposed red dirt stretched endlessly. Almost directly below them, the small town of Gunbalanya appeared hazy in the afternoon light, perched on the edge of a blue billabong.
Griffin took the granite key from Daniel. Turning to Cassie, he asked, “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” the pythia replied. They had planned this strategy in advance. She held out her hand, took the stone cylinder and closed her eyes. She could feel Alma and Daniel watching her face intently. Scowling, as if to concentrate on some inner vision, she paused a few seconds for effect. Then she raised the cylinder and pointed off toward the horizon. Mimicking a trance state, she murmured, “Across another sea—a cold sea. That’s where they went. Not here. Never here.” She opened her eyes and sighed. “Sorry, guys. Our lead turned out to be a red herring.”
“A cold sea,” Alma echoed. “It’s possible they went further south.”
“No,” Cassie said half-to-herself. “It was north.”
The scout shook her head “It wouldn’t be cold that way. You’d be heading toward the equator.”
Cassie shut her eyes again. “Past the equator. I feel the distance between the Minoans and Injalak Hill is huge. Many seas from here, as they might say.”
Daniel scratched his head. “If we were to travel directly north of here, we’d arrive in the north Pacific.”
Cassie nodded vaguely. “That might be it. I’m not sure. We’ll have to check our archives again for more clues.” She handed the granite key back to Daniel.
Alma noted the lengthening shadows. “It’s getting late. We’ll have to leave now if we want to reach Darwin before dark.”
“Cahill’s Crossing isn’t the sort of place where I’d like to spend the night.” Cassie shivered at the thought.
“Right then,” the scout said. “Down we go.” She rose and selected a different trail than the one that had brought them to the crest.
Daniel followed close on the guide’s heels.
Cassie and Griffin hung back for a few moments.
“Do you think they believed us?” Griffin whispered.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cassie murmured as she hoisted her backpack to her shoulders. “This trip bought us time. Let’s hope it was enough to give the team at the vault a decent head start. If not...” she trailed off apprehensively. “I really don’t want to think about the alternative.”
Chapter 10—Celestial Sex Trafficker
Hannah nestled into her one-and-only comfy chair and reveled in the luxury of having something to read once more. Ever since her abduction by the Nephilim, non-religious books had been denied her. Reading Fallen texts was an occupation meant only for scholars, archwardens, and the diviner. No doubt, Father Abraham feared that exposure to unorthodox ideas might cause people to start thinking for themselves. The girl chuckled grimly—little chance of that happening here.
Shortly after her incarceration, Hannah had grown fretful and fidgety with nothing to occupy her mind. She begged Daniel to bring her a book. It didn’t matter what the topic was, so long as it wasn’t a sermon. She assumed he would smuggle her a single title but instead he brought her an ebook reader loaded with over two hundred volumes. The scion had gotten a list of her school subjects from Zachary and, with the help of his librarian friend Chris, had improvised a reading list for her. He’d also included a hefty fiction selection for fun. Even though the ebook reader had internet capability, Daniel warned her not to use the connection since the device might be traceable. No matter, there were enough books already downloaded to last her six months. With any luck, she’d be freed from the compound long before she ran out of subjects to explore.
Her eventual liberty now seemed assured. Daniel told her of the meeting between the Nephilim and the Arkana. Wonder of wonders, Father Abraham had agreed to let his enemies take her back temporarily as a hostage in exchange for the artifact they were all chasing. She smiled at the word “temporarily.” Once she was back in the outer world, the diviner would never catch her again.
Now that the scion was in contact with her friends outside, sh
e asked him to bring her news about Granny Faye and Zach. She was relieved to learn that Zach had escaped unharmed but devastated that Granny Faye was in a coma. At least her guardian was still alive, and there was hope she might recover once the swelling from her head injury had subsided.
A knock on the door interrupted the girl’s reverie.
“Sister Hannah.”
She jumped to her feet and hurriedly stuffed the ebook reader behind a spare blanket in her closet.
Another knock. “I’m coming in.” The voice brooked no refusal. A key turned, the door opened, and Mother Rachel entered.
Hannah tensed. The diviner’s principal wife was nearly as daunting as Father Abraham himself. She was very tall and generally used her height advantage to look down her nose, both physically and morally, at everybody else.
The matron closed the door behind her and wheeled around to scrutinize Hannah. “Hello, Sister Hannah. You appear quite fit for a sick person.”
The girl made no reply. Instead, she assumed a blank facial expression.
Mother Rachel circled her, noting every aspect of her appearance. While Hannah had been forced to don the gray smock and white apron of a consecrated bride, her hair was too short to braid and wrap around her head in the prescribed manner. She still looked like one of the Fallen. In contrast, Mother Rachel’s braided hair formed a towering iron-gray beehive. She’d probably never cut it during her entire lifetime. The diviner’s principal wife paused after she’d completed her circuit around the girl’s person. She tried looking down her nose, but Hannah was tall and nearly matched the matron in height. This required a new tactic to assert her dominance.
“Sit down,” Mother Rachel commanded.
Hannah knew the woman’s reputation for intimidating others. The rest of the consecrated brides fluttered out of her range like a flock of doves after a hawk lands in their midst. The girl wasn’t about to obey just because Mother Rachel felt like giving orders. Hannah marveled at her newfound bravery. Her exposure to the outside world had certainly changed her perspective. Even as a hostage, she refused to be cowed. She mentally enumerated her advantages: she had books to occupy her mind, friends outside who planned to rescue her, and the conviction that Abraham Metcalf must protect her so long as she remained his prime bargaining chip. The girl took her time walking back to her seat, showing no trace of nervousness. Instead of offering the comfortable armchair to her guest, she reclaimed it for herself, forcing Mother Rachel to find her own seating arrangement.
The diviner’s principal wife blinked in surprise at this tacit act of insubordination. She hesitated briefly before dragging one of the hard-bottomed dinette chairs across the room. Positioning it to face Hannah, she settled herself and peered at the girl. “Do you know why I’m here?”
Hannah shook her head, hoping she appeared suitably puzzled.
“I am here because our husband wishes it.”
The girl noted the words “our husband.” It seemed absurd that a woman in her seventies and a teenager should be sharing the same spouse or any spouse for that matter.
Mother Rachel continued. “Father Abraham has sent me to provide comfort during your time of affliction.”
This time Hannah didn’t need to mimic an expression of bafflement. She was genuinely flummoxed.
Interpreting the girl’s reaction correctly, the old woman gave a thin smile. “Our husband believes you will regain your voice more quickly in a peaceful environment with a female companion to provide emotional support.”
Hannah found herself wondering why the diviner thought his principal wife was the ideal candidate for the job.
Mother Rachel crossed her arms truculently. “While our husband is the wisest of men he has one weakness. We both know what that is, don’t we?”
The girl squinted at her, waiting for an explanation.
“Don’t pretend to be ignorant,” Mother Rachel countered. “Father Abraham has a blind spot when it comes to you.”
Hannah’s head jerked back in surprise. This conclusion was unexpected.
Perceiving her response, the matron pressed on. “I am astonished that this is news to you. All the faithful can see how he dotes on you. He allows you far too much leeway, in my opinion. I thank the Lord that He has shown me the truth of the situation and guided me to what must be done.” Mother Rachel paused and swiveled around in her seat, apparently looking for something. “Where is your Bible?” she demanded.
Hannah pointed to her nightstand. Every bed chamber in the compound was stocked with a copy of the Bible and the Nephilim Revelations of Jedediah Proctor.
Mother Rachel rose and retrieved the volume from the nightstand drawer. “We’ll begin with this,” she announced, resuming her seat.
For a fleeting moment, Hannah suspected the old woman was going to hit her with the book. Instead, she rested it on her lap and pursed her lips. “My husband’s fondness for you has clouded his judgment. He wishes me to indulge you, to cajole you out of your ailment with sympathy. I hardly think that is the proper method to employ. You need a firm hand to shake you back to reality and make you a useful member of this community once more. Above all, you need the word of God to remind you of your place in the grand design!”
The matron reached into her apron pocket for her reading glasses. She perched them on her nose and leafed through the Bible’s pages, muttering to herself until she found the passage she was looking for. “Here.” She tapped the open page for emphasis. “Right here in black and white. We are told that there is no evil in the world that compares to the evil of the female sex. From Ecclesiasticus 25:19: ‘All wickedness is but little to the wickedness of a woman: let the portion of a sinner fall upon her.’ And again, in Ecclesiasticus 42:13: ‘For from garments cometh a moth, and from women wickedness.’ And lastly in Ecclesiasticus 7:26: ‘And I find more bitter than death the woman, whose heart is snares and nets, and her hands as bands: whoso pleaseth God shall escape from her; but the sinner shall be taken by her.’”
Mother Rachel eyed Hannah over the rim of her spectacles. “And why has the Lord condemned us so harshly?”
She paused for emphasis, not really expecting a reply. “Because we lead good men astray, that’s why. When the serpent planned the fall of man, he didn’t tempt Adam directly. He chose Eve instead—a far easier target. Sadly, the pleasing shape of the weaker vessel gave her great power over her husband. While Adam might easily have resisted the blandishments of the serpent, he couldn’t resist the temptation of his own wife. Woman’s innate corruptibility and man’s vulnerability to her charms gave birth to the world of woe we all inhabit.”
Mother Rachel scowled at the girl. “As it was since the beginning of time, so it is now. My own husband, the prophet of the Blessed Nephilim, has sadly shown himself to be no stronger than any other man in this regard. The diviner’s weakness for you has made him putty in your hands. Now you seek to subvert the natural order of things and rule over him.”
Hannah was tempted to break her silence and point out that while Mother Rachel was busy lecturing her on the virtue of wifely obedience she herself was rebelling against Father Abraham’s express orders to treat Hannah kindly.
The matron transferred her attention back to the text. Hannah tried to keep from rolling her eyes as Mother Rachel spouted more choice passages condemning female insubordination. The girl allowed her mind to drift to other topics instead. She found herself wondering how many lives had been damaged by Mother Rachel’s toxic influence. She must certainly have passed this same doctrine on to her children and to her children’s children.
Of course, the matron had received a great deal of scriptural help in forming her destructive conclusions. It was clear that the biblical god didn’t like women much. He seemed to blame the entire female sex for ruining his perfectly obedient man. Hannah thought back to her childhood when the story of Eve and the apple had first been taught to her. At the time she’d believed it and felt guilty for things she
couldn’t even understand. Then she’d escaped to the so-called Fallen World, and the scales fell from her eyes. She went to school and learned about all sorts of other religions—some that even worshipped a female deity. This pagan goddess, as she was called, supposedly created the universe out of her own being and she lived in every atom of it. That must mean she loved the world she’d made and all its creatures, including women. Hannah liked that notion. Deep down, she felt sure that this goddess, whoever she was, wouldn’t stand apart and curse her own creation like some tantrum-prone toddler wrecking a finger painting that had gone wrong.
The girl focused back on Mother Rachel. By now the matron had stopped for breath, having worked herself up into quite a froth. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the girl’s face for some reaction. What did she hope to find there? Fear? Remorse? Hannah’s mask of insipid blankness never varied.
Mother Rachel shook her head. “I see the Fallen World has corrupted your soul. That you could remain unmoved by the Lord’s own words is proof of how shameless you have become. If these messages of divine rebuke can’t stir you, then let me give you something else to think about.” The matron leafed through several pages searching for a particular text. She raised her head and repeated the words from memory. ‘Of the woman came the beginning of sin, and through her we all die.’”
She jabbed an arthritic index finger in the air to make her point. “There is more at stake here than your own soul.”
Hannah tilted her head to the side, exhibiting a tinge of curiosity. She wondered what Mother Rachel could possibly mean.
The old woman closed the book and removed her glasses. “I couldn’t care less if you wish to damn yourself, but I won’t allow you to drag us all down with you.”
Hannah registered surprise.
Mother Rachel elaborated. “Father Abraham is the head of our family, and we are all tied to his destiny. When he rises to a glorious rank in the celestial kingdoms, his consecrated brides and their children will rise with him. I’ve never doubted I would enter paradise at the end of my days. Until now. Until you...” She trailed off.
Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2 Page 64
