Into The Jaws Of The Lion (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 5)

by N. S. Wikarski

  She fixed Annabeth with a baleful glare. “When Adam and Eve were cast out of the garden, the Lord cursed the woman and told her that all her affection should be toward her husband and that he should rule over her. And Adam was only a mortal man. Think how much greater your duty is toward your own husband since he’s descended from angels. Daniel is your one true path to salvation. You and I are nothing more than mortal women, no different than the Fallen. It’s only because God selected us to be the mates of his angelic offspring that we have any hope of a place in His Kingdom.” She paused with an air of disgust. “Instead of securing your heavenly future, you turn your back on your husband and dote on a witless infant. That just proves you’re unworthy of the title of Consecrated Bride. Small wonder that God isn’t pleased with you.”

  Annabeth glanced down at her hands, embarrassed to meet Mother Rachel’s pitiless stare. She realized with a start that she’d begun biting her fingernails again. She jammed her hands into her apron pockets. “It’s worse than you know,” she confided. “There was a time, not so long ago, when I imagined I heard voices.”

  “Voices?” The old woman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What kind of voices?”

  Annabeth replied in a whisper. “Demon voices.”

  “God have mercy!” Mother Rachel exclaimed in a shocked tone.

  “I couldn’t get them out of my head.” Annabeth pressed her hands to her temples. “They were telling me to do terrible things. The Diviner said because I was so weak, the Evil One had deluded me and led me astray. Satan wanted to take control of my thinking—to corrupt me and use me to corrupt others.”

  “The Lord surely revealed the truth of the matter to my husband.” Mother Rachel nodded sententiously. “You should hearken to his words.”

  “After the baby was born, the voices stopped. I thought I was safe. But now...” She hesitated. “This week, the whispers started up again.”

  Mother Rachel tapped her finger on her chin, pondering Annabeth’s confession. “It’s obvious that your son’s death was meant both as a punishment for your idolatry and as a caution to have nothing to do with the Evil One. Listen to that warning, Annabeth, before worse things happen to you. Turn your back on Satan.”

  “But how can I avoid him!” Annabeth cried, her sense of terror growing. “Those voices are inside my head, not outside. How can I fight them?”

  “Get on your knees and pray, child. Pray that God will have mercy on your sinful soul and keep you from the fiery pit where all the Fallen are doomed to go on the Day Of Judgment.”

  Annabeth sprang out of her chair in a panic. “No, no! I can’t go there. To be cast out of the Kingdom. Never to see my son again for all eternity. It’s too horrible!”

  Mother Rachel rose too. She towered over Annabeth. “Then take heed. Pray day and night for God’s mercy or else Lucifer will snatch you away in an unguarded moment.”

  “I’ll try.” Annabeth bobbed her head in vehement agreement.

  The old woman turned to leave, apparently satisfied that she had roused Annabeth out of her apathy. Then she paused as a new thought struck her. “All this nonsense has distracted me from the real reason for my visit. I came to tell you that you’ll be moved out of these apartments by the end of the week. This space is needed for another Consecrated Bride who just rose to the rank of principal wife. She gave birth to twin sons yesterday. You’ve been reassigned to your old quarters.”

  Annabeth scarcely felt the sting of her demotion as Mother Rachel exited the room. All her attention was focused on the demons prowling restlessly inside her head. They were calling her by name now—inviting her to join them in hell.

  Chapter 35—Baggage Transfer

  Daniel trotted in the direction of the back fence where he’d been told his father was inspecting the grounds. Lately, the Diviner had adopted the habit of touring the perimeter of the property just to make sure all the surveillance cameras were operational. He also made a point of examining the fencing to check for gaps that might offer a means of escape. Although the compound had always been secure, Hannah’s disappearance had turned it into a prison for the rest of its hapless inmates.

  Abraham’s increasing infirmity meant that he could no longer stride across the acreage using his own two legs. He had chosen the improbable conveyance of an electric golf cart. Daniel briefly entertained the fanciful image of his father riding around an actual golf course. His funereal attire would undoubtedly put a damper on the game for the rest of the players.

  The Scion plunged through the woods, hoping to take a shortcut to catch up with the cart. He was due to give the Diviner a progress report on his travel plans. Now that Chris had helped him pinpoint Elephanta Island and the ruined city of Dholavira as two possible hiding places for the next relic, he could be on his way to India at any time. While Daniel wanted nothing more than to quit the misery of the compound, his very desire to leave made him feel guilty. The baby’s death had cast a pall over his impending journey.

  Much as he disliked Annabeth’s behavior of late, nobody should have to endure the loss of a newborn. Especially not in the shocking way she’d experienced that tragedy. His wife didn’t deserve that. He reminded himself brutally that she also didn’t deserve a spineless husband who wanted to abandon her at the drop of a hat. He felt disgusted with himself. His urgent longing to escape was unpardonable. Today he intended to ask his father to postpone the trip. Although he hardly expected the Diviner to welcome the news, given the circumstances Daniel didn’t expect him to prohibit a delay either.

  He spied a flash of white up ahead through the trees. The Scion crashed through the remaining brush and shouted, “Father!”

  He came out of the copse just as Abraham stopped the cart, squinting in his direction to see who had summoned him. The old man gave a broad smile when he recognized his son.

  “Hello, my boy.” Abraham’s greeting was uncharacteristically cordial. “I hope you’re well this fine afternoon.”

  The Scion jogged up to the vehicle.

  The old man gestured to the empty seat beside him.

  Daniel slid in and turned slightly to face the Diviner.

  “How are your travel preparations progressing?” his father began conversationally.

  “Everything’s going according to plan, sir,” Daniel replied. “All the arrangements have been made. I can leave as soon as I’ve packed...” He balked, hesitating to come to the point.

  The Diviner shot him a suspicious glance. “What’s the matter? Have you lost interest in this great endeavor of ours?”

  “That’s not it, sir,” the Scion countered. He shifted self-consciously. “I’m concerned about Annabeth.

  “Annabeth?” His father echoed blankly. “What’s she got to do with your trip?”

  “Nothing directly,” Daniel equivocated.

  “Then what is the problem?”

  The Scion took a deep breath and forged ahead. “It’s just that I’m worried about her current mental state. She hasn’t been herself since the baby died. She’s been found sleepwalking—wandering the corridors at night. She insists that the baby has wandered off and she needs to find him.”

  “Pointless self-indulgence,” the old man muttered. “The child was baptized. She’ll see him again in the celestial realm on the day of glory.”

  “Yes, of course she will,” Daniel agreed softly. “But that’s small consolation to her right now.”

  Abraham peered at him, baffled. “What do you expect me to do about her emotional state?”

  “Given her fragile condition, I’m not sure I should be leaving her alone right now.”

  “Alone?” Abraham gave a mirthless chuckle. “Look around you, my boy. There are over two hundred members of the community surrounding her at all times. She’s never alone.”

  “Physically, no, but I believe she feels isolated just the same. Somebody needs to take a personal interest to pull her out of this.”

  “That’s what her sister-wives are for,” the Divi
ner retorted.

  Daniel realized he was talking to a brick wall. Compassion had never been his father’s strong suit. He needed to try another approach. “I don’t believe her sister-wives have the wisdom to guide her through this trial.”

  “Yes, I see.” The old man pondered his words. “That would be the duty of her husband.”

  “Exactly, sir,” Daniel agreed. “I knew you would understand. I think it only right that I stay by her side until she’s more stable.”

  “Nonsense.” Abraham waved his hand dismissively. “God has given you a sacred destiny to fulfill. You alone are capable of finding the relics I seek.”

  “But—”

  “Never fear.” The old man cut him off. “I’ll take charge of Annabeth myself. Who better to provide spiritual direction to a lost soul than the Lord’s own prophet?”

  This wasn’t the answer Daniel had anticipated. “But, sir,” he objected. “I believe she’s frightened of you.”

  Abraham scowled with chagrin. “Yes, I’m well aware of that.”

  “Annabeth’s temperament is high-strung at the best of times. Given her current disorder, I don’t think she’ll respond well to a forceful manner.” He paused. “That’s why I think it best that I stay. At least until she’s better.”

  The old man sighed heavily, relenting. “I see your point.” He drew himself up. “Although I disapprove of cosseting anyone, it would seem that the only way to deal with your wife is to take a mild approach. Very well, I concur.”

  “Then you’ll let me stay?” Daniel felt a mixture of elation at having gained his point and chagrin that he had succeeded in sentencing himself to house arrest.

  The Diviner shook his head. “No, my son. As I said before, you’re needed elsewhere. I will bear your concerns in mind when I counsel her.”

  Daniel’s face must have betrayed his misgiving because Abraham added, “I will treat her as kindly as I did the day I joined you two in marriage.”

  The Scion felt his resolve slipping. His fierce need to escape rushed to the fore when he realized his father was offering him a convenient means to do so. Certainly, the Diviner would keep his word. He had vowed to treat Annabeth gently and that was tantamount to a solemn oath. Daniel could leave with a clear conscience that he had provided for his wife’s welfare in his absence. So why didn’t he feel relieved? A nameless doubt gnawed at him.

  “I know she can be silly at times but you will be patient with her, father. Won’t you?” he asked plaintively, making a last effort to satisfy his small inner voice. “It’s important that she feels secure.”

  The old man smiled and patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “I give you my word, Daniel. I will make it a priority to lead Annabeth back into the light. By the time you return, I guarantee she will be at peace.”

  Chapter 36—Hannah Montana

  Leroy Hunt slammed on the brake pedal. His rear tires skidded sideways in the dirt. He’d missed the driveway. After consulting the scrap of notepaper containing the address, he checked the green fire sign by the road. This was the place. Backing up his rental car, he turned down the quarter mile gravel drive that led to an old farmhouse.

  Everything looked quiet. Nobody out in the yard or around the barn. Of course, he really didn’t expect to find little Hannah hiding out here. He already knew this dog and pony show was all being staged for his benefit. Still, he had to play along.

  The day before, he’d called the preacher on his tapped phone to tell him, and whoever else was listening, that he was going to fly to Maine to follow up on the last known address of the little gal. Metcalf, as usual, started praying and calling on his Lord High God to bless Leroy’s endeavors with success. The cowboy rolled his eyes, kept his mouth shut, and hung up as soon as he could. Right after that, he headed for the airport.

  Since Leroy knew he was being watched, he’d made a game of seeing if he could spot anybody tailing him. Sure enough, a car had stuck to him like glue all the way from his apartment to O’Hare. When he was about to get on the plane, he noticed a suspicious character standing against the wall reading a paper. The feller gave him the once over while Leroy was handing his boarding pass to the stewardess. He guessed that Somebody wanted to make sure he actually got on the plane.

  The address he’d been given in Maine was so far out in the sticks that he had to rent a car at what passed for an airport and drive another seventy miles to get to it. He didn’t notice anybody following him now. It would have been too obvious since his was the only car on this back road. Nobody else for miles around even after he found the right farm and drove up the dirt driveway to the house.

  As Leroy got out of his vehicle, he shivered at the chill in the air. He could even see his breath when he exhaled. Who in their right minds would live in a place where it started snowing in October and didn’t quit til May? His Southern blood congealed at the prospect.

  He walked up the wooden front steps and knocked on the door which looked like it hadn’t seen a paintbrush in half a century. The cowboy guessed nobody but ghosts inhabited this house on a regular basis. It was a stage set like all the other places he’d visited lately. Also like the others, this particular stage set came complete with an actor—an old man in a flannel shirt and overalls who answered the door.

  “Can I help you?” He squinted at Leroy in disbelief as if a visitor was an outlandish sight.

  “Yes sir, I hope you can.” Leroy went into his own act. “I’m tryin’ to track down a friend of mine. Her name’s Rhonda. I hear tell that her daughter Hannah is stayin’ with you folks. Is that right?”

  Old Macdonald scratched his head. “Well, she was here.”

  Leroy pretended to look disappointed though that reply was exactly what he’d expected to hear. “But she ain’t here now?”

  “Nope.”

  The cowboy realized he was going to need to drag information out of the old coot, one fact at a time. “Do you know where she went?”

  “Yup.”

  Hunt ground his teeth. “Where exactly might that be?”

  The man in flannel crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. “Her aunt and uncle took her out west to get her signed up for school. Musta been last week sometime.”

  “So you ain’t her uncle?” Leroy felt compelled to ask the question even though he already knew the answer.

  “Nope.”

  Before Leroy could continue, the man volunteered a fact all on his own.

  “I’m watching the place til they get back. Cows still need to be milked, you know.”

  “Yessir,” Leroy agreed. “They surely do. So how come Hannah’s people didn’t sign her up for school here?”

  “Cause her mother wanted it that way,” the man replied. “She called and told them to bring the girl to a private school in Montana. Said she’d be safe there. I don’t know what that was all about. It’s already safe enough around here. This isn’t New York,” he huffed.

  “Sure as shootin’ nobody would make that mistake,” the cowboy observed. “You happen to have the address of this Montana school? I might as well try to catch up with Hannah and her momma there.”

  “Just a minute.” The old man left him waiting on the porch.

  Leroy shook his head at the elaborate charade. The pair of them were doing a proper job of shining each other on. He comforted himself with the fact that the seventy mile drive and this sham of a cross-examination weren’t wasted efforts. Before he left, he would get what he’d really come here for. The next address.

  Old Macdonald returned and thrust a crumpled piece of paper into his hand. “The school’s in Billings. You want me to call ahead and let them know to expect you?”

  “No sir,” Leroy protested. “I already put you to enough trouble. I can take it from here.”

  “Alright then.” Without so much as a goodbye, the farmer turned his back and shut the door.

  Now Leroy’s real investigation could begin.

  ***

  Several hours later, Hunt sat
on the bed in his airport motel room reviewing what he’d learned. He’d had to conduct his inquiries at close quarters. The hamlet where he was staying had more cows than people. He didn’t want to move about on foot and get noticed. As a result, he’d holed up in the motel and spent the afternoon calling various county offices on his burner phone in order to track down the real estate records of the farm he’d just visited. It came as no surprise to learn that the farm was a rental, just like the moving company office and the bungalow in Phoenix. It had only been leased a week before he showed up. Also like the other two properties, the tenant was a corporation. Because each of the three places had been rented under a different corporate name, it would take a little digging to figure out how they were all connected. More paper-shuffling. Leroy grimaced at the thought of the documents he’d need to comb through once he got back to Chicago.

  He jumped slightly at the sound of his phone ringing. It was his tapped line. The preacher was calling.

  “Mr. Hunt?”

  “Howdie, Mr. Metcalf.”

  “Well?” the old man demanded eagerly. “Did you find her?”

  “It’s this way, boss. I got some good news and some bad news for you. The bad news is she ain’t in Maine. The good news is I only missed her by a week which means I’m closin’ in. It seems somebody bundled her off to Montana to go to school there. No need to fret. I got the address.”

  “A school!” Metcalf echoed in a shocked tone. “The people who have her are trying to indoctrinate her in the ways of the Fallen?”

  “Meanin’ no disrespect, boss, but unless the gal’s been holed up in a cave or some such, she’s been knee-deep in the ways of the Fallen for a while. Hard to imagine some of it not rubbin’ off on her by now.”

  Hunt could hear a sharp gasp on the other end of the line. His comment had knocked the breath clean out of the old man. Apparently it hadn’t occurred to the preacher that his Hannah had been polluted by the big, bad world for months now.

  “You want me to fly out to Montana next?” Leroy asked half-heartedly. The prospect of frostbite in Billings didn’t appeal to him especially since he knew it was a fool’s errand and he already had enough leads to keep him busy for the time being.