The Granite Key (Arkana Mysteries) (9 page)

Faye paused and tilted her head to consider the matter. “A little bit of both actually. Sometimes she’ll feel a strong pull to investigate a site and will unearth the relic herself. More often than not we acquire things through the private antiquities market and bring them to her for identification.”

Cassie sipped her tea. “How do you know she’s right?”

“Once she’s told us some of the basic details of an object, we can validate its age, place of origin, probable context, and come to some conclusion about her accuracy.”

“Is that what you did with me? Validate?” Cassie asked cautiously.

Faye removed her apron and shook the flour from it before hanging it on a wall hook. She caught a glimpse of her flour-streaked face in the hanging mirror and hastily wiped the smudges away before continuing. “Yes, I already knew what the bowl was before I asked you to touch it. When you described it accurately with no help from me, then I was certain.”

“So here’s another question.” Cassie changed the subject as another thought struck her.
 
“I pick stuff up all day long. Why don’t I go into a zombie trance every time I touch something that belongs to somebody else?”

“We have no explanation for that.” Faye reached across the table to test the temperature of the cooling bread.
 
“It seems to be a function of our Pythia that her gift applies only to ancient antiquities.”

Cassie felt relieved. “That’s good to know. I don’t think I could explain freaking out in a grocery store when the checkout clerk hands me my change. So how many of these antiquities have you gotten so far?”

“Thousands, perhaps millions,” Faye said offhandedly as she began to sweep the kitchen floor.

Cassie felt stunned. “Millions?”

“Our organization has been in existence for centuries. My predecessors were very industrious.”

“Then you must have someplace huge to store all that stuff.”
 
Cassie’s voice grew eager. “Can I see it?”

Faye stopped sweeping. She seemed to be struggling to choose the right words. “Cassie, I have an obligation to protect our treasures. If their location became known to people who want to destroy us, it would be a disaster.”

“You mean like the cowboy who went after Sybil?” The girl’s tone was solemn.

The old woman sighed. “There are people in the world who find our knowledge threatening. It contradicts their basic beliefs about the way things have always been and the way they’re meant to be.” She stared directly at the girl. “So you see, I can’t reveal any more information unless I know you are willing to help our cause. Will you do that? Will you join us?”

Cassie felt uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to say.

The old woman read her expression. “I’m sorry, child. I didn’t mean to force you to decide this minute. There really isn’t a blood oath or anything like that. I just need your promise that you will protect our identity and the location of our treasures.”

The girl let out a huge sigh. She stared at the table instead of looking directly at Faye. Her hair fell forward over her face. “Here’s the thing. I’m not sure I buy the whole package about what you’re doing or how important it is. I don’t care about any of it very much. The only thing I did care about was my sister and some guy in a cowboy hat took her away from me. The police are never going to figure out why but maybe you can.”

She paused. “Besides, you and your people knew Sybil. You worked with her every day. You saw a part of her that I never got to see. Probably understood her better than I ever did.”

Cassie stood up abruptly. She felt tears welling up so she went to stand by the sink, looking out the kitchen window. “I guess what I’m saying is that if I help you, I might feel like I’m still connected to my family somehow. Still connected to the world because, honestly, now that Sybil is gone I don’t feel like I belong anywhere.” She turned back to face Faye and smiled self-consciously. “I guess there was a yes buried somewhere in all that rambling. Yes, I’ll help and maybe helping you will help me feel less alone.”

Faye walked over and wrapped her arm around Cassie’s shoulder. “You were never alone, child. We were always looking out for you. Even before you knew we existed.” She squeezed the girl’s shoulder gently. “We are called the Arkana. Welcome to our family.”

Chapter 16
– Troublesome Relations

Abraham had waited, albeit impatiently, for Daniel to provide some insight into the mysterious stone object that was his newest prize. His son was gone much of the time now. Working ceaselessly in the libraries of the Fallen. Every few days, Metcalf would ask for a progress report but nothing had come to light yet. He had prayed every day on his knees that God would grant his son the knowledge he required. Apparently the Lord was testing his faith. His prayers went unanswered.

He thought it might be best to turn to other matters. He had a flock to manage — both in the compound and abroad. It was time he paid more attention to day-to-day affairs. Perhaps that was the Lord’s intention in denying him.

Daniel’s lack of progress in translation wasn’t the only matter troubling Metcalf. His son’s lack of progeny was distressing, even embarrassing, considering who his father was. A son of the Diviner was expected to be foremost in advancing the angelic kingdom. More than that, the Lord had spoken to him in a dream. The Almighty had told Abraham that he was watching him and would hold him to strict account for his son’s failure. Metcalf was determined to get to the bottom of this.

The old man marched decisively to the nursery where the wives with small children spent their time. There were a dozen women managing the business of toddlers who outnumbered them four to one. They were dressed alike in gray shifts and white aprons
—
the garb of married women. The wives all saw him at the same time and rose as one body.

“Good morning, Father Abraham,” they said in unison.

He nodded in acknowledgement. “I wish to have a word with Annabeth.”

His eyes focused on a timid blond woman of about twenty standing far back in the corner. She was holding a girl who was about a year old. Another woman rushed forward to take the child from her.

Annabeth swallowed hard and walked forward timidly. “Here I am, Father.”

“Come with me.” Without waiting for a sign of assent, he turned on his heel and left the room, expecting her to trail in his wake.

He swung around to face her outside the common room. “Where are your quarters?”

Awed by all this direct attention from the Diviner, Annabeth had difficulty forming a coherent sentence. “Th…th…there. O…o…over that way. I mean…that is…in that direction, Father.” She pointed down another corridor.

“Show me,” Metcalf ordered. “We will talk there.”

With a sidelong glance of dread, Annabeth led the way. She obviously feared she was in serious trouble if the Diviner had come to seek her out and wanted to speak privately. When she reached her door, she hesitated, looking over her shoulder at him. Then she stood aside and allowed him to enter ahead of her.

Abraham surveyed his surroundings. The room was simply furnished as were all the sleeping chambers in the compound. A double bed with bleached white sheets and a pine dresser. A plain wooden cross hung above the headboard. His eyes traveled to the opposite wall. There was no crib. All the older children slept in dormitories but those under the age of two remained with their mothers. That meant the child Annabeth had been holding was not hers. Occupying the space where a crib should have been was a pair of chairs facing each other across a small square table. Abraham noted approvingly that his son’s picture hung on the wall above the table. That showed a fitting respect on Annabeth’s part.

The young woman stood gawking at him, unsure of what he expected. “Sit down,” he ordered. She scurried to comply and he took the chair opposite her.

“Annabeth, when did I assign you to be my son’s wife?”

She hesitated as if she were solving a difficult mathematical equation. “I think it was…no…let me see…umm…it would have been uh…f...f …five years ago, Father.”

Metcalf leaned forward over the table. “And what is your rank among his wives?”

“We are all of equal rank, Father, since we’ve all borne an equal number of children. Each of us has had one.”

Metcalf was nonplussed by her answer. A wife’s rank was determined by the number of offspring she produced. It was also a good indication of which wife a man favored most. He had started his inquiry with Daniel’s most recent wife since the newest tended to receive the most attention from their husbands. But he could tell nothing from this line of questioning. He still didn’t know which wife was the weak link in Daniel’s chain.

Abraham forced a smile. He wanted to put the woman at ease. “Perhaps you can help me understand this. You say each of you has had one child. One?” He let the word hang in the air between them.

Annabeth clasped and unclasped her hands. Apparently she was fighting an urge to bite her nails. They were already bitten to the quick. “Yes, Father. We have prayed for more issue. All of us. Daniel has instructed us to do that and we have. Every day. We have.”

“Is your child the youngest of my son’s offspring?”

Annabeth cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s right. She is three years old.”

“She.” Metcalf allowed a note of disappointment to creep into his voice.

The woman looked down at the table, flustered. “All Daniel’s children are girls, Father. All three of them. They are good girls, too. They never misbehave. They are pure in the eyes of the Lord.”

Abraham folded his arms and sat back in his chair, considering the facts he’d just been given. Something was quite amiss here. “Annabeth, when was the last time you and my son had relations?”

Apparently the woman had been dreading that he might ask this question. She looked at the floor, at the walls, at every spot in the room other than into Metcalf’s eyes.

“It has been some t…t…time, Father,” she faltered.

“How long, precisely?”

“Since before my daughter was born, sir.”

Abraham was appalled. “But that would be years, woman!”

“Yes, sir” she nodded vigorously. “About f…f…four years.”

Metcalf made an effort to control his temper. He wanted more information. Again he forced himself to smile. “You are one of the Lord’s chosen, Annabeth. A Consecrated Bride. Do you understand that?”

She seemed to relax a bit. “That is what our holy books say. We are not like the Fallen. We have been selected from among all the women of the earth to be God’s chosen vessels. It is through my children and the children of my Consecrated sisters that the Blessed Nephilim will increase the angelic kingdom.”

“Very true. Yet you are failing in your duty to increase the kingdom.”

“But
—
”

“Let me continue please.” Metcalf held up his hand to silence her. “It is often the case with a young husband that one of his wives can be overbearing.”

A look of panic crossed Annabeth’s face. “I…oh no, Father. Never! I would never do that!”

“As I was saying, if a wife is of a headstrong nature, she may intimidate her husband and he will not seek her company.”

“But I
—
”

Metcalf cut her off. “Annabeth, do you know what a Consecrated Bride’s principal duty is?”

“Of course, Father, of course. It is her principal duty in life to marry and bear her husband’s angelic offspring.” She recited the words as if by rote.

“And do you think you have fulfilled the duty of a Consecrated Bride?” he asked quietly.

“I have always
—
”

He broke in once more. “Perhaps you should search your conscience a little more. Perhaps you don’t deserve to be counted among the Consecrated.” Abraham stood up and towered over her. “You must pray, Annabeth.”

She looked up at him confusedly. “Father?”

“I want you to get on your knees now and ask the Lord to give you a more pliable disposition.”

“Just as you wish, Father.” She scrambled out of the chair and knelt beside the table.

“You must ask God to change your unruly temperament so that you may win back your husband’s affections.”

The woman bit her lip to keep it from quivering. Tears began to run down her cheeks.

Abraham turned his back and walked toward the door. “You must pray unceasingly, Annabeth. God is watching you. He is watching us all.”