by R. J. Ladon
“The attack was on Bonnie, not me. She almost died. Did you hear about that?”
“Bonnie? Who is Bonnie?”
“We were working on English homework together. Remember?”
“Friends are dangerous. See, now we are on their radar.”
“Whose radar? I suppose you think the Russian mafia are after Bonnie?”
“Um, well.” Artem sat on the couch next to Megan. “I just want to protect my daughter.”
“You have. By having Nikolai teach me, you probably saved both our lives tonight.” Megan leaned against his side, hugging him.
A phone rang. Artem went into the kitchen. “Yes, I see. All right.” He came back into the living room. “You’re right. Someone named Howard is in custody for killing a man. But the police have two bodies.” He looked at Megan and raised his eyebrows.
“What?” She shrugged. “I had to.”
“Did you give a statement?”
“No, they told me to go home. The police will be in contact tomorrow. That’s another reason why we can’t just leave.” Megan placed a hand on his knee. “I would look guilty of something. Then we’d be fugitives in this country too.”
Artem bowed his head. “You’re right.” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved. This is what I mean when I say friends are dangerous.”
Megan stared at her father. Was he serious? “Are you saying I should’ve let her die? That I should let those evil men walk free to kill others? When I have the power to stop them?”
“What I am saying is if you didn’t have this friend, you wouldn’t have to make that decision.”
“Yea, she would have died, and I wouldn't be any wiser,” Megan said sarcastically.
“Exactly.” Artem smiled as if this was the lesson every child needed to learn.
Megan looked into her father’s eyes, wondering if he was always cold and uncaring. “There’s another reason why we can’t go.” She reached into the book bag and pulled out a semi-crumpled piece of paper.
He took the paper from her and straightened it. He flattened it as much as he could without smearing the pencil rubbing. He turned the paper, twisting and examining it. The longer he studied the writing, the more excited he became. “Is this real?”
“I took the rubbing this afternoon. As far as I know, it is real.”
“But it could be a fake,” Artem said.
“Sure, I suppose. But why would anyone fake a stone with cuneiform writing?”
“Because if it is real, it’s worth millions.”
“Millions?”
Her father nodded. “Millions. So, there is a reason to be suspicious of such an item.” Artem turned the paper, smiling. It seemed that Artem had forgotten about the trouble at Bonnie's house.
“I doubt Kevin would know. It’s not common knowledge.”
“Kevin? Who is this Kevin?” Artem scowled.
“He’s a boy from school.” Megan tried to placate her father with the simple statement, but he frowned further. “Kevin asked the history teacher about the writing, and I got involved. Especially when I saw the stone. I thought he stole it, but he said he found it in his grandmother's Wiccan things.”
Artem smirked. “I told you, it’s a witches stone.” He relaxed and looked at the paper again.
Megan sighed in relief. “Do you think the Chinese group would be interested in adding to their collection?”
“I don’t have to think. Tai Lu told me, if anyone has a stone like hers, that she would buy it.”
“Wow.” Megan paced; her mind awash with thoughts. “Why are they worth so much? Can you read the words? What do they represent?” She wanted to ask a few more questions, but her father raised his hand.
“First.” Artem opened his left hand. With his right, he pulled the erect pinky into the palm. “They are worth millions because Tai Lu has a huge bank account, and she wants all the stones that look like this. And before you ask, I don’t know why.”
He pulled his ring finger in toward his palm. “Second. All the stones have the same engraving.” He sighed, looking at Megan, expecting another question. “Alright, I’ll translate it if it pleases you. Now that I have a rubbing that ought to be easier to accomplish.”
Artem added his middle finger. “Third. The inscription says, and I quote, “The stone shall protect the bear till the end of time.”
“The bear?” Megan raised her eyebrow. “Bear?”
“Tai Lu and I agree that it must have meant bearer, or the one who holds the stone.” Artem smiled. “You didn’t think it meant an actual bear, did you?”
“You never know. We have seen some unusual items listed in cuneiform.” Megan frowned and repeated the quote, tapping her hand. “That’s only twelve syllables.”
Artem shrugged. “Some things can be lost through translation.”
“I know, I know, Sumerian or Acadian is not one for one with English. Still, it ought to be close. Shouldn’t it?”
“You always want a mystery.” Artem chuckled. “The syllable count ought to be within a tolerance of two for every ten. For twelve, you ought to have a tolerance of two or three.”
Megan cracked her knuckles and leaned back on the couch, feeling smug. “There are over thirty syllables, assuming I broke the cuneiform correctly.” She handed the folded paper to her father. “Look for yourself.”
Artem’s smile fell. He opened the paper and counted. “You’re right.” He dropped the paper to his lap. “Why would Tai Lu lie about the inscription?” He folded the paper, stood, and put it in his pocket.
“To hide something,” Megan said.
“Okay. But why lie about something that I can figure out?” Artem rubbed his chin.
“What if they don’t know it is a lie? They say a sucker is born every minute. Might be this collector is a sucker?”
“Perhaps and perhaps not.” Artem paced, tapping his bottom lip. “While the Field Museum has an object, it is not under the nose of government officials. If a collector wanted to hide something of value, it would be easier to hide if it were out of the country. China isn’t exactly a friendly government. This Chinese collector could be quite wise.” Artem smiled at his daughter. “Looks like you have your mystery.”
Megan rubbed her hands together. “We could use the computer and translate it now.” She stood and moved toward the study.
“Wait.” He held up his hand, then dropped it. “No, no, go ahead. It’ll be fine; they won’t care about stones or cuneiform. They will assume I am working.”
Artem’s home computer was museum purchased and owned. It was connected to the museum system through a network, allowing him to work from home. He rarely used the machine and often wouldn’t allow Megan to use it either.
Megan ran into the study and turned it on. It had been unused for so long it had an update. She knew her father worried about the U.S. government or Russian mafia listening to his phone calls, bugging the house, or watching online. The worry seemed unjustified; no one cared what he or she did. No one was watching. Their computer was linked to the museum, not the outside world. It had no search engines or other software to navigate. As far as Megan was concerned, no one could possibly know the computer was in use.
After the computer came on-line, Megan looked at the syllables for each of the cuneiform marks. She tried Acadian first, but her first translation didn’t work. All that appeared was a string of sounds, not words. Megan attempted another series of words but found nothing. Feeling a little frustrated, she tried Sumerian, but that resulted in a similar gibberish answer.
Artem entered the den, left a sandwich and iced tea near Megan, and left the room. She ate absently as she attempted to figure out the puzzle. The stones in the museum were from China. They could be written in Mandarin or Mongolian. Megan tried her assumption, but the other languages didn’t work any better than the first two. The carving on Kevin’s stone was old; she was sure. The language could be from something older than Acadian or Sumerian. But, newer? Englis
h? She doubted it but tried anyway. Nothing.
She placed her head into her hands and sighed. Megan returned to Acadian and tried more words.
“Dorogoy, it’s midnight. You need to get to bed,” Artem called down the hall.
Chapter 17
A n old tan, four-door sedan was parked outside Grandma Ruby’s house. On the driver’s door was a strange star logo with the letters AKG. Both the logo and the lettering were in a tone that was only a few shades lighter than the vehicle itself. None of the neighbors owned the ugly car, he would have remembered. An unfamiliar man sat in the driver’s seat, reading a book and drinking from a thermos.
Ruby met Kevin on the porch. “Good, your home. Your mother wants to have dinner with us tonight.”
“But we already had ravioli.”
“I told her, but she wouldn’t hear it. She wants us to come over.”
Kevin sighed. “Do you know who that is?” Kevin hiked his thumb over his shoulder toward the ugly vehicle.
“Oh, that’s Johnny.” She smiled, looking fondly back at the car.
“What’s AKG?”
“When I asked him. He showed me his badge and said, ‘It's just a multi-government agency, with no jurisdiction or governing country. Got any coffee?’” A wistful smile crossed her face.
Kevin frowned at his grandmother. “What the hell, Gran…Ruby?” He turned to look at the tan car. Johnny lifted the thermos and drank. “Tell me you didn’t give him coffee.”
“Of course, I did.”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “What’s he doing here?”
“Trying to catch a smuggling ring. But I don’t think he told me the truth.”
Kevin nodded. “I’m not sure anything he said was true. He doesn’t know you. You could be the neighborhood gossip.”
Grandma threw her head back and cackled. “I am the neighborhood gossip!” She grinned, eyes twinkling.
Kevin steered her into the house. “I want to cast that spell tonight. Do you think you can help me?”
“You need to do the spell for me, remember: strength and youth.”
“That’s not what I mean. I need help writing the spell. But I was going to take care of it.”
Grandma nodded. “Let me think about it.” She wrapped her good arm around Kevin, and they walked out the back door. “Oh, wait. Johnny told me to lock up the house.” She shrugged, looking at Kevin’s disapproving face. “What? Not like it’s a bad idea.”
“But the front door is unlocked.” Kevin pointed out.
“Is it?” She stood on the back stoop, thinking. “Bah, it’ll be okay. Johnny’s out there.”
“Hey, wait for me.” Inez scrambled out of the treehouse; she stopped beside them. “I can see into your bedroom from up there. The whole thing! We’ll have to get walkie-talkies.” She skipped away from them, opening the gate.
Kevin looked at his sister, appalled at what she might see if he had Annie spend the night. He made a mental note to keep the drapes shut.
The three of them walked into the empty kitchen. Laughter and conversation came from the dining room. In the middle of the table was a huge pan of lasagna, flanked on either side by garlic bread. Even though Kevin ate recently, it smelled so good; he felt starved.
“You’re late,” Mom grumbled. Her eyes snapped on Inez. “And where have you been?”
Inez shrugged. “The treehouse.”
“I shouted for you to come in an hour ago.” Mom’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
Inez shrugged again. “I must not have heard.”
“I bet not listening is what happened,” Grandma whispered and then ruffled Inez’s hair
Inez giggled then sat next to her sisters.
“How did things go this afternoon?” Mom asked Kevin.
Kevin decided not to tell his mom about the missing Mr. Tibbles incident. “I think everything went okay. But honestly, I’m at school for seven hours. Would it be too much to ask if you checked on her at noon?” Kevin felt a kick from under the table.
He looked at Grandma Ruby. “What? I want to make sure you eat lunch. I don’t think you ate today.”
“Mother,” Dad scolded.
Grandma rolled her eyes. “I’m older than the lot of you. I don’t need any mothering.”
“Grandma,” the triplets whined in unison. “We don’t want you hurt again.”
Kevin didn’t know if the girls were cute or creepy. He shuddered. Creepy, he decided.
Grandma sucked in her breath and cooed. “Oh, my babies.” She smiled sweetly at the girls. Then shot a narrow gaze to Dad than Mom. “Alright, I relent. A noon phone call will do. But that’s it. Kevin is doing fine.” She patted his arm. “Just fine.”
After dinner and countless games, Kevin and Grandma headed home. While passing under the clubhouse, Kevin felt like they were being watched. He turned to see the triplets at their window waving.
Grandma tried to open the back door, then sighed and dropped her hand. “I knew there was a reason I don’t lock my doors.” She beckoned to Kevin. “We’ll have to go through the front.” They walked along the dark side of the house. “Watch your step, don’t squash Benny.”
“I’m watching,” Kevin reassured her, even though it was too dark to see, and that Benny was a figment of her imagination. They climbed onto the porch and entered the house.
Grandma Ruby looked over her shoulder to the tan car and waved at Johnny. “I’ll be right back,” she said, then ran to the car and leaned into the window. She returned, chuckling. “I love it when plans come together.” She waved her hand. “Would you please get the books?”
Grandma sat on the living room floor and laid them out to read the covers. She opened the Witches Grimoire searching for something specific. Occasionally, she nodded and said something under her breath. Finally, Grandma looked up from the book. “We need to write our ideas down. Do you have a notebook?”
Kevin ran to his room and returned with a new composition notebook.
Grandma Ruby wrote instructions for him to follow.
Must be naked.
Must have four candles, pink, mint, light blue, and yellow. Each one must be at north, south, east, and west.
Pour a circle of salt.
Light the candles.
Cast your spell at precisely 9 pm. (listen for the grandfather clock)
Kevin looked over her shoulder, reading the instructions. “Naked? Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious,” Grandma said. “Clothing blocks the energies of the spirit. Those coming and going.”
“Four candles, does it matter what color points north? Where is north anyway?”
Without hesitation, Grandma pointed toward the television and the wall where it hung. “It doesn’t matter, but if you want to do it right, ask the candles which one wants to be north.”
“Wants to be north?” Kevin looked at his grandmother like she was crazy.
She nodded. “Hover your hand over the candles and think or say north and touch the candles. One of them will volunteer to be the north candle. Do the same with the south, east, and west. Trust your grandmother. You’ll see.”
Kevin rolled his eyes. It’s no wonder Mom thinks Grandma is a nutter.
“Oh, this is a good one.” Grandma tapped a spell in the book. “Look.” She pushed it toward Kevin.
Kevin read the passage then asked. “Do I chant this once or twice? Or more?”
“Once. But you’ll need more than just words. You’ll need some earth and a bowl of water. The sky is all around; you won’t need that, and the candles provide fire.” She thought for a moment. “Make sure your window is open to allow the sky and Goddess to see and hear you.”
“Goddess?” Kevin wondered if he was doing the right thing. “Feels like I’m betraying God.”
Grandma squinted at Kevin. “The Goddess is mother nature. If a Wiccan spell is to work, she must give her blessing. You’re helping me. God will understand, and if he doesn’t, he’s not worth your time.”
Insulted at first, Kevin stared at her. But she was right. Wicca wasn’t his belief system; he was helping. He wouldn’t be in trouble with God. “What about the girls? Inez said she could see in my window. I’ll be naked.”
“She can only see into your room from the clubhouse.” Grandma reminded him, chuckling. “Besides, it’ll be nine. Your mother will have seen to it that she’s sleeping.”
She pointed to the ceiling of the living room. “Your room is right above this room. I’ll be down here, casting my spell. If we both start at the chime of nine, we will build a spell column. Two is better than one, of course, three would be best.” Ruby tapped her steepled fingers together. She looked toward the front door. “When you’re done with your spell, go to bed. I don’t want you to come downstairs. I’ll be naked too.” Grandma hid her embarrassment behind her hand, then snickered. “In the morning, we can discuss how things went. If the spell worked or if we need to do something more.” She glanced at the clock. “Please bring everything to the kitchen.”
Kevin set the books on the kitchen table. Grandma dug in a cupboard; she had four small glass bowls on the countertop above her head. “Two for you, and two for me.”
“I only need one.”
“One?”
“I’ll use a rock instead of earth.” Kevin thought the protection stone made logical sense to use in the spell. He felt the weight of it inside his pocket. “I have the perfect stone for the spell.”
“Indeed?”
Kevin nodded. “Indeed.”
“Take a container of salt and go upstairs. Get ready.” Ruby pointed to the cabinet above the stove.
Kevin opened the cabinet. Inside were many glass jars with salt written on them. He pulled out two, leaving one on the stovetop. He caught sight of the time on the green digital display, 8:36. “We have about twenty minutes.”
“Would you fetch four candles for me?”
“Sure.” Kevin ran to his room to pull candles from the other box. They were about three inches long and thin like a standard taper candle, only shorter. When he returned, Ruby had already created a large circle of salt on the floor. “Why is your circle so big?”