Blood in the Marsh

by Ciana Stone

  “What’s the rush?” Leo asked from the top of the stairs.

  They looked up and saw him leaning his hands on the rail of the landing. He was wearing a silk dressing robe that was tied loosely at the waist, exposing his bare chest. A heavy gold chain hung around his neck with a strange medallion suspended from it that lay nestled in the thick hair of his broad chest.

  For a moment Lyra was frozen, her eyes glued to the medallion. Something about it was so familiar. It seemed to call to her. The moment was broken when Chelsey elbowed her in the ribs. She jumped and her eyes moved to Leo’s. He stared intently at her.

  “We don’t have time to talk.” She was a little flustered and spat the words out in a rush. “See you later.”

  “Where are you going?” Leo called out to them as they turned for the door.

  “California,” Chelsey said at the same time Lyra said, “None of your business.”

  Leo’s eyebrows drew together in a frown and Lyra cut Chelsey a look that said ‘be quiet.’

  “Need I remind you that you are in no way related to me and have no say in what I do? I’m a grown woman and I don’t need anyone’s permission to lead my own life. So, do us all a favor, Leo. Keep your nose out of my business.”

  “And just how do you think you’ll provide for yourself?” Lexi chimed up. “You forget, Miss Smart Mouth, I’m still in charge of your inheritance. You don’t even have a job and it’s a sure bet you’ll never find a man willing to take on your sharp tongue.”

  Lyra looked at Lexi. “I have plenty of money, thank you. Now you won’t have to worry about keeping track of what you spend on me so you can be reimbursed from my inheritance. You can spend it all on yourself and your little gigolos.” She cut Leo a hateful look.

  “Well I never!” Lexi puffed up indignantly.

  Lyra rolled her eyes and turned to open the door. “See you later.” She almost pushed Chelsey through the door then pulled it closed behind her. “Come on; let’s get out of here before they decide to follow us to the car.”

  “What’s with them?” Chelsey tossed the suitcase she was carrying in the trunk and walked around to get in behind the wheel. “Lexi’s never even given a thought to where you are or what you’re doing. Why the sudden attack of maternal concern? And what’s her sudden gripe about money?”

  Lyra shrugged and closed the car door. “She’s been a little strange ever since she got back. Maybe it’s just this thing about coming out of retirement. Maybe she’s more nervous than she wants to let on. Then again, maybe she’s just having one of her ‘episodes’. She has them every couple of years, usually right before she decides it’s time for another face lift.”

  Chelsey laughed and backed down the driveway. They saw Michael’s dark sedan parked a couple of houses down along the street. Michael looked out the window and motioned for them to follow him. He turned up 15th Street, then took a right onto Lanier Blvd, and went up to Teach Road.

  “What’s all this about?” Chelsey asked as she followed him. “We could have just driven up Sea Island and turned on Teach.”

  “Maybe he just wanted to make sure it looked like we were headed for the airport,” Lyra suggested. “In case anyone was around watching.”

  “Oh!”

  They pulled in the gate at Lucius’ and parked in the triple garage so that there were no vehicles visible outside.

  Lyra had decided to put her things in the master suite. Nick helped her carry her bags upstairs.

  “Think it’ll bother you sleeping in here?”

  Lyra looked at him in surprise. “No, why should it?”

  “I don’t know. Some people are just funny about being in someone’s room after the person dies.”

  “Oh.” She sat down on the bed and looked around. “Well, if I had to choose to be haunted by anyone, it’d be Lucius. Besides, it makes me feel sort of close to him, being here. It’s almost like I can feel him and it’s a good feeling.”

  Nick smiled and sat down beside her. “You surprise me sometimes the way you look at things.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “Definitely good. I like not being able to see the whole picture at first glance. It makes the discovery that much more fun.”

  She didn’t have the heart to tell him there wouldn’t be a lot of discovering to be done. She already knew that she and Nick had no where to go. And once all this trouble was settled she’d go back to school and he’d forget about her. Sadly, she also knew that she would not forget Michael.

  But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. As self-serving as it might be, she’d use Nick’s good mood to get something she wanted. “Are you going to take on the chest?”

  He stood and held up his hands in a shrug. “Might as well.”

  Michael and Chelsey were downstairs in the den looking through a collection of video tapes. “Hey, there are some great old movies here,” Michael said. “Want to watch one?”

  Nick shook his head. “No, you two enjoy yourself. Lyra and I have a little puzzle we’re going to try to solve.”

  “What kind of puzzle?” Michael put a tape down as he stood.

  “Lyra found this old chest of Lucius’. When she was young, he told her that if she could figure out how to open it she could have whatever was inside. She couldn’t figure it out back then, but we’re going to have another go at it.”

  Michael looked at Lyra and there seemed to be a question in his eyes. She smiled at him. “I really want to see what’s inside it and Nick seems to think he can figure out how to open it.”

  Michael nodded and and turned his attention back to the video tapes. “Well, have fun. Say, what time you guys want to eat?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Yell when you’re ready.”

  Nick and Lyra went up to the attic and got the chest. They carried it downstairs and put in it the study. Nick stooped down beside it and inspected it again, turning it onto each side and running his hands over it. Lyra sat down and leaned back against the leather couch, watching him.

  For over an hour he scrutinized the chest, testing the metal bands to make sure they were all attached as they appeared and that there wasn’t a trick mechanism on the lock. Then he sat back and stared at it without blinking for a long time.

  Lyra started to ask him what he was thinking but Chelsey walked in and announced that she and Michael were ready to eat. They all went into the kitchen and fixed dinner. Lyra and Nick cleaned up while Chelsey went outside to smoke a cigarette and Michael called the precinct to see if there were any new leads.

  After they finished cleaning the kitchen, Nick and Lyra went back to the study. He sat down in front of the trunk and stared at it for a moment then ran his fingers down the seams where the sides were joined.

  A smile lit his face and he looked up at Lyra. “See if you can find a flat screwdriver, or a knife.”

  She ran to the kitchen and looked through the drawers. Unable to find a screwdriver she grabbed a dinner knife and returned. Nick wiggled the tip of the knife into the seam that joined the back of the trunk and the right side. Once he had it inserted, he wiggled it back and forth a few times. The back panel slid back about half an inch. Lyra’s eyes widened and she sat down beside him, watching as he pressed on the side panel, moving it in the direction of the opening. The entire panel slid in on well-oiled groves, beneath the metal bands. When it was fully opened, they looked inside.

  The chest contained a metal box. It didn’t take up the full space of the chest but was too big to remove through the metal bands. Nick worked his hands in on either side of the box and felt around. A few minutes passed during which his brows were knotted together in concentration and his eyes were closed.

  Lyra heard a soft sound, like metal bumping against metal. Nick pulled back and in his hands was the collapsed metal container. Turning it sideways, he slid it between the metal bands and set it on the floor between them.

  “You did it!” Lyra was delighted and amazed.

  Nick smiled and manipulat
ed the metal container so that its sides once more stood up to form a complete box. “Ready to see what’s inside?”

  She nodded and he opened it. Inside was an old leather-bound book with gilt-edged pages. Lyra looked at it for a long time then picked it up as if she were afraid it was going to disintegrate.

  She held it for a moment then opened it to the first page. “This is his diary!”

  “Let’s see what it says.”

  “Do you think we should?” Lyra closed it and held it against her chest. “I mean, this was his diary and that’s kind of personal. Maybe he wouldn’t want anyone to read what he wrote.”

  “But he told you that you could have whatever was inside if you could open it.”

  She thought about it for a minute then stood up, chewing her lip. Nick stood up and watched her as she tried to decide. “I don’t think he’d mind. After all, he left everything to you, so you must’ve been important to him. And this might give you a better picture of who he was.”

  Lyra sat down on the couch and opened the diary, turning to the second page. “Oh!”

  “What?” He sat down beside her and looked at the page. Then his eyes met hers. “But how…why…” Lyra stammered.

  Nick shrugged and nodded toward the diary. “Why don’t we find out?”

  She hesitated for a few seconds then started to read.

  My Dearest Lyra,

  I can only hope that you have discovered your old “Pandora’s Box”, and have found the secret to opening it. If so then you will have this diary in your possession. This is what I wanted you to have—more than anything else. The house and furnishings, even the money—they are all merely superficial things. This—this is what is important, more important than you can imagine.

  I beg you, Lyra, read this carefully and pay attention to what I have to tell you. There is so much at stake and the outcome may well be decided upon you trusting in me as you did when you were but a child. I ask you to have faith that what you are about to read is the truth. Then I implore you; find a way to use this knowledge. You are my only hope.

  I will begin by telling you a story, much as I did when you were young. It is a tale of love and hate, greed and lust—a tale of war and bloodshed—a tale that has been told in many languages, in many variations.

  As you will know because of your education, the various religions of the world speak of the creation of earth, of man and his relationship with God. In the accounts related in the Bible, there are accounts of angels, Sons of God: the Benei Elohim, stewards of creation.

  I will not spend time referencing the various mentions of the Benei Elohim in the religious writings. That information is easily enough found in many sources. They have been referred to by many other names: the Watchers, the Nephilim, the Fallen Ones to mention a few.

  The Benei Elohim are beings of spirit who have the power to reincarnate over and again into human bodies. Once within the human host they either awaken randomly, or often due to being subjected to the presence of another of their kind or of what is referred to as “magic”. They cannot leave the host body except through death, at which time they can select another host form to inhabit.

  I urge you to consider the Benei Elohim and what you may have learned or can learn of them. It is important that you arm yourself with as much knowledge as possible.

  Now, I would like to relate to you something that happened a very, very long time ago. It was the year 1096 AD. Syria was beset by war.The Christian Crusaders invaded, intent on their quest to regain the Holy Land from the Muslims. But Saladin, who was at the time the Muslim ruler of Egypt, swept in to do battle with them. Many fled their homeland to escape the massacre, to save their families. There was a mass exodus, entire families leaving behind their homes. Among those who fled was a very old man who called himself Ali Alkharad.

  No one knew for sure how old Alkharad was or where he had originally come from. He had no family and there were none who remembered him from their youth. All that was known was that he was a wealthy and learned man.

  Alkharad was too old to travel alone. A kind and needy man agreed to let him travel with him and his family in exchange for a small fee. The journey took many days and in all that time, the old man had little to say about his past or what he would do once they reached safety.

  When they finally arrived at their destination, Alkharad left the family and went his own way. For days, he wandered the marketplace, talking with people and asking questions about the citizens. Finally, one afternoon he stopped beside a cart displaying fresh vegetables. An older man and his son worked side by side, selling their wares.

  Alkharad watched the young man for the rest of the afternoon, taking close note of the young man’s strong body and shining hair—his clear eyes and the way his teeth flashed when a smile creased his face. In Alkharad’s eyes, the young man was perfect.

  As the marketplace was closing for the day, a beautiful young woman stopped beside the cart. The young man’s face lit up like the dawn as he saw her. She was his intended. Alkharad watched silently as the young man began readying the cart to return home. He approached the young man.

  “Is there something you need, Old Sir?” the young man asked politely. “We were about to return home for the night.”

  Alkharad put his hand on the young man’s arm. “What is your name, boy?”

  “I am Akmal, sir.”

  Alkharad smiled to himself, the name Akmal meant Perfect. “Yes, indeed.” He looked up at the handsome Akmal. “Tell me, young Akmal, have you been schooled?”

  “No, sir. My father cannot afford such things. Besides myself, there are five others at home to feed.”

  “Then perhaps your father would be interested in an arrangement of sorts. You see, I am newly arrived in your land. My home is Syria. I was forced to leave because of the wars. I am a man of learning, a teacher by trade. Perhaps in exchange for your services I could instruct you.”

  “What kind of services?”

  Alkharad sighed wearily. “I am an old man and my body is weak. I have need of a young man, strong of limb. Surely, you must have some understanding of the infirmities of the old. Have you grandparents?”

  Akmal smiled his understanding. “Yes, my grandfather also has difficulties. Often he needs assistance to stand or walk in the marketplace.”

  “Then you do understand. I am glad. Now, would you be interested in my proposal?”

  Akmal looked down at his beloved and saw her eyes light with excitement. To have a husband who was educated would bring her family much prestige. He turned to Alkharad and smiled. “I must ask permission of my father.”

  “Yes, of course,” Alkharad readily agreed. “Please, introduce me and I will make the request myself.”

  Akmal’s father listened to Alkharad’s proposal. “And just how much service would you require of my son? I have need of him to help in the gardens as well as the marketplace.”

  “Merely a short time in the evening hours.”

  Akmal’s father thought about it for a few moments then nodded. “Very well, my son will be waiting for you here tomorrow evening at the close of the day.”

  Akmal smiled happily and bowed his head to Alkharad. Then he and his beloved helped his father with the cart. Alkharad watched as they disappeared down the street then returned to the room he had rented from an old woman.

  All night he worked, preparing for the next day. By dawn’s first light, he was exhausted but satisfied. Lying down, he slept most of the day, rising in midafternoon. Shortly before the market was due to close, he walked to the meeting place. As promised, Akmal was waiting. In his hand was a basket of fresh vegetables and a loaf of fresh bread his mother had baked. With him was his beautiful young woman.

  “Akmal, my young friend! Are you ready to begin?”

  Akmal nodded enthusiastically. The thought of learning to read and use numbers was so exciting he had barely been able to sleep.

  The day had seemed to stretch on forever until the market clos
ed and now he was eager to get started.

  Alkharad led Akmal and his young woman to his small room. “Tell me, my dear.” He smiled at the young woman as he opened the door. “Do you have a name?”

  “Jamilla,” she said shyly, lowering her eyes.

  “Jamilla, a name that means ‘lovely’.” Alkharad smiled. “And indeed you are, my dear. Akmal is a very lucky man.”

  She blushed and followed them into the room. Akmal was surprised as he looked around. Aside from a small sleeping pallet on the far side, the room was bare except for a small table that stood beside the door. He saw no scrolls, no tablets, and no instruments of learning of any kind.

  In confusion, he turned to Alkharad. “Sir, how are you to teach me? There is nothing here.”

  Alkharad smiled and pulled a gourd from his robe. He picked up a cup from the small table and poured a draught of wine from the gourd into it then offered it to Jamilla. She accepted it and sat down on the floor, drinking thirstily. It was not often she was allowed wine and this wine was very sweet and flavorful.

  Alkharad smiled and turned to Akmal, loosening the top of his robe to display a strange amulet. “Tell me, Akmal. Are you a man of faith?”

  “Yes, of course!”

  “I see.” Alkharad nodded thoughtfully as he pulled a flask from within the folds of his robe. “That is excellent. For you see, I, too, am a man of strong beliefs.”

  He walked in a circle around Akmal, pouring liquid from the flask onto the floor.

  “What is that you are doing?” Akmal asked as he watched.

  “I am preparing our place of learning.”

  “Our place of learning? But what is to be learned from a circle of red on the floor?”

  Alkharad completed the circle then tilted the gourd to his lips. When it was empty, he tossed it aside and walked to the center of the circle to face Akmal. “You, Akmal, have been chosen to be the recipient of the highest knowledge. Before this night is ended, you will be a changed man. You will carry with you the answers man has sought since the beginning of time.”

  Akmal swallowed nervously and looked over at Jamilla. She was slumped against the wall, apparently asleep. He turned back to Alkharad and swallowed nervously. Something in the old man’s eyes frightened him, making him want to flee. Yet his voice was strangely compelling and his words carried unspoken promises that filled Akmal with a strange excitement. Shifting from one foot to the other he looked into the old man’s eyes.