Secrets Of The Serpent's Heart (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 6)

by Wikarski, N. S.

  A gasp was heard from several quarters. Apparently, not all the trove-keepers had been kept in the loop.

  “Last week during a failed attempt to rescue Hannah from the Nephilim compound, our Paladin Erik was shot and killed.” Maddie’s eyes strayed unwillingly to the empty chair draped in black. Her face expressed a mixture of sorrow and desperation. “Shortly before his passing, Erik found out that the Arkana has officially made the Nephilim’s hit list.”

  A burst of exclamations followed this announcement.

  Grace Littlefield asked tensely, “Do they know the location of the Vault?”

  The Chatelaine shook her head. “Not yet. They only know that we played a role in sheltering Hannah and that three of our agents have been obstructing their artifact search.” She paused and added heavily, “Correction—two agents now. Because of our interference, the Diviner has targeted our entire organization for destruction.”

  She solemnly regarded the troubled faces around the table. “Things have taken a bad turn for us but we’ve been in tight places before. The Arkana has been around for a long, long time and we’ve managed to weather witch hunts, the Spanish Inquisition, Communist purges, and two world wars. Every time the planet faced a new crisis, we declared a blackout and shut ourselves down temporarily. I believe we need to apply the same measures now. That’s why I propose we end the quest for the Sage Stone immediately, dismantle the Central Catalog, and suspend operations.”

  “For how long?” Michel Khatabi asked in a concerned tone.

  Maddie shrugged. “Who can say how long it will take for the cult to forget about us. A year? Five years? A decade? I only know one thing for sure. The price of fighting the Nephilim has gotten too steep to pay. Faye was like a mother to me. I’m sure many of you felt that way about her. Now she’s in a coma. Erik was the son I never had and he’s dead. I’ll never—” She cut herself off abruptly as her voice threatened to crack. Mastering her emotions, she sighed wearily. “We’ve lost too many good people already. We can’t afford to lose any more. Before I call for a vote on my proposal, the floor is open for discussion.”

  Worried voices surged as people turned to their neighbors and debated the situation. Nobody appeared to dispute Maddie’s assessment of the need for a shutdown.

  Cassie stood up. “I have something to say,” she declared.

  The buzz ceased immediately.

  Maddie folded her arms truculently across her chest. “Of course you do.” She looked annoyed but knew she couldn’t stop the Pythia.

  All faces turned toward Cassie. She took a deep breath. “I don’t think everybody here realizes how close we are to the finish line. We just returned from China with the final clue that points to the hiding place of the Sage Stone. Now that we’re only one step away from retrieving it, you want us to back off and call it quits?”

  Aydin Ozgur cleared his throat to speak. “I have been a trove-keeper for many decades now. Perhaps more than most, I understand the symbolic importance of the Sage Stone. It is the matristic equivalent of the Holy Grail. But what is that when weighed in the balance against the survival of the Arkana itself? It seems to me the wisest course of action would be to terminate the quest.”

  The Pythia shook her head. “This isn’t about us nabbing the Sage Stone. It’s about keeping that rock out of the hands of the Nephilim. Their Diviner has been assembling global death squads ever since this quest started. He’s planning to arm those guys with some kind of biological or chemical weapon and turn them loose on the world. I don’t know why the Sage Stone is important to him but Faye believed that his whole plan hinges on it. I believe it too. He won’t give the order to attack til he has it. We can stop him cold by snagging the artifact before he does.”

  “But what if your theory doesn’t hold up?” Grace Littlefield challenged. “Say you prevent Metcalf from capturing the Sage Stone, what’s to keep him from unleashing his army without it?”

  “He won’t,” Griffin remarked quietly. “You must remember that the brotherhood of the Nephilim owes its very existence to nothing more substantial than a mad set of religious beliefs. The god they serve is exacting and prone to wrath which makes cult members anxious to please him. Their Diviner has apparently decided that the best way to gratify his lord is by starting a holy war—a war which he is convinced he cannot win without the Sage Stone. If we deprive him of the artifact, he will interpret his loss as a sign of divine disapproval of his military ambitions. Such an ill omen will immobilize him with fear.”

  Grace remained unconvinced. “Even if you’re right, it would still be a good idea to hedge our bets. In the past, whenever soldiers started marching, the Arkana went dark and waited til the smoke cleared.”

  Several members of the Circle nodded vigorously in agreement. Half a dozen voices chimed in with comments like “Yes, absolutely” and “We need to lay low.”

  Cassie raised her hands for silence. “You’re forgetting one major difference. Every time the Arkana used that strategy in the past, we were spectators. We could afford to sit back and watch while the rest of the world slugged it out. Now that Abraham Metcalf has tagged us for extermination, we don’t have seats in the second balcony anymore.”

  Her listeners looked stunned as the implication struck them.

  The Pythia continued. “None of you have been up close and personal with the Nephilim the way Erik and Griffin and I have. The cult has a zero tolerance policy for anybody who doesn’t drink their flavor of Kool-Aid. You can’t simply stick your heads in the sand and wait for this thing to blow over because it never will. We’re the Nephilim’s Number One Enemy now which means they’ll be coming after us bigtime. You might as well paint a giant red bull’s eye on the roof of the schoolhouse because they won’t quit til they’ve wiped us out.”

  “All the more reason to dismantle the Central Catalog,” Stefan Kasprczyk objected vehemently. “Above all else, we have a sacred duty to protect the troves, no? We have guarded them for centuries and they must remain our chief concern.”

  Cassie nodded. “You’re right. The troves are your top priority but I think you’ve lost sight of what the troves really are.”

  Several attendees exchanged puzzled glances.

  “The troves aren’t just collections of cracked pottery and old statues. You’ve preserved them because of what they stand for. They prove there was a time long ago when we knew how to live in peace with each other. We created entire civilizations that weren’t fueled by invasion and slavery and murder. The troves prove that the world was a decent place before overlords slaughtered their way across the globe and almost destroyed it with their endless warmongering.”

  She eyed her listeners intently.

  “If you hide and don’t lift a finger to stop them, the Nephilim will root out every single trove and burn it to the ground. They won’t simply destroy the Arkana, they’ll destroy the only proof that a better way of life ever existed and the hope that it could ever exist again.”

  She paused to let her words sink in before continuing. “And it won’t end with us either. After we’re out of the picture, Metcalf’s death squads will keep killing until civilization as we know it is gone. In its place, the Nephilim will set up a world where women are traded around like herds of cattle. Where families are broken apart and reassembled like Legos at the whim of the guy in charge. Too many good people in the Arkana gave their lives to keep that kind of world from becoming our only option.”

  “You just proved my point, kiddo,” Maddie remarked acidly. “We’ve had too many losses already.”

  “You want to talk about loss?” Cassie wheeled on her. “I’ve lost everybody I ever cared about because of the Arkana. My parents, my only sister, Faye, Erik.”

  She stared at the Chatelaine accusingly. “If Erik were standing here right now, what do you think he’d say to you proposal?”

  Maddie glowered back, refusing to answer.

  “He’d ask you why he died for nothing. He went down fighting and he e
xpects us to do the same—to keep on fighting til we win or die trying.”

  Despite Maddie’s stubborn silence, she forged on relentlessly. “Well? He’s waiting for your answer and so am I. You say he was the son you never had. If you really loved him as much as you claim, then you couldn’t use his death as an excuse to take the coward’s way out. He would never have stood for that!”

  The Chatelaine leaped from her chair, overturning it in the process. She towered over the Pythia.

  Cassie fought the instinctive urge to take a step back. Instead she stood her ground, wordlessly daring the Amazon to strike her.

  Maddie drew herself up. Her eyes were burning with fury and grief. Tears streamed down her face unchecked. In mute rage, she turned and stormed out of the hall. The doors slammed behind her with a decisive bang.

  During the stunned silence that followed her departure, Cassie walked around to the other side of the table. She rested her hands on the back of the Paladin’s empty chair as she searched the faces of her colleagues. “Erik would ask all of you the same question. Did he really die for nothing? The only way you can honor his sacrifice is by seeing this mission through—by rescuing Hannah and recovering the Sage Stone and shutting the Nephilim down for good. That’s the answer the Arkana owes him.”

  The Pythia stopped abruptly. “I don’t have anything else to say.” Without another word, she returned to her seat.

  Just as the chorus of voices resumed its chaotic rumble, Griffin stood up. “I’d like to add a comment or two, if I may.”

  In an instant, the chatter ceased.

  “Although Cassie has ably addressed all your concerns, there’s one topic we haven’t touched upon yet—the divergence between the collective and the individual.”

  This comment spurred a flurry of confused speculation.

  The Scrivener elaborated. “All of you are aware of the brutal methods which the Nephilim employ to achieve their ends. Kidnapping, murder and potentially even global terrorism. From birth onward, members of the cult are taught that obedience is the highest virtue. In consequence, they are willing to commit innumerable atrocities at the behest of the deranged fellow who calls himself their Diviner. Such is the damage that can ensue when unquestioning obedience supersedes personal conviction of right and wrong.”

  “I’m not sure what your point is,” Michel Khatabi interjected testily. “But stooping to fear tactics to sway our decision is beneath you.”

  “That wasn’t my intention at all,” the Scrivener countered. “I simply wanted to clarify my motives for tendering my resignation as Chief Scrivener.”

  Cries of disbelief erupted from around the table.

  “Please.” Griffin raised his hand. “Allow me to finish. Collectively, we are bound by the decisions of the Circle. As individuals, we must consult our own best judgment when deciding upon a course of action. Without that necessary counterbalance we would follow authority as blindly as the Nephilim, no matter how misguided that authority might be. Personally, I am convinced that the Sage Stone is Abraham Metcalf’s Achilles heel. If we deprive him of it, all his schemes will collapse like a house of cards. Therefore, should the Circle decide to terminate the relic hunt and declare a blackout, I will dissociate myself from the organization and pursue the Minoan relic alone.”

  The assembly fell still. Shock had evidently taken the place of protest.

  The Scrivener gazed around at his flabbergasted audience. “Of course, I would welcome the support and assistance of the Arkana but, either way, I intend to see this quest through.” He glanced down at Cassie. “I haven’t discussed my decision with our Pythia yet so I can only speak for myself.”

  Cassie jumped up beside him and took his hand. “Griffin speaks for me too. We didn’t battle our way this far to fail in the end. Trust me when I tell you that we mean to finish what we started.”

  The Scrivener gave a slight smile. “It would appear the two of us are in accord as to our future plans. The direction the Arkana chooses to take now rests with you but I would hope that you understand the necessity of standing with us in this fight. The survival of the troves depends upon it.”

  They both sat down.

  Jun looked around at his fellow members. “Does anyone wish to offer any final comments?”

  No one spoke.

  The old man nodded. “Very well. I will officially close discussion of this topic. Since the Chatelaine is unlikely to return, I suggest we now take a vote on her proposal.”

  Cassie reached for the Scrivener’s hand once more and gripped it tightly.

  “All those in favor?” Jun announced. He waited several seconds but there were no votes to count. “All those opposed?” Thirty two hands shot up in the air including his own.

  “Brilliant!” Griffin exclaimed.

  “The Nephilim wanted a war.” Cassie’s tone was ominous. “They just got their wish.”

  Chapter 50—Recyclables

  Dr. Rafi Aboud sat in the office of his underground laboratory reviewing a batch of test results. For the past two months he had tried, with only limited success, to develop a vaccine which would quell the strain of pneumonic plague he had created. He was running out of patience with himself. His own mild disappointment was nothing compared to the vocal displeasure of both his benefactor and his business associate Vlad. Their demands for immediate results grew more strident with each passing day.

  He scanned the data before him. The last test subject had taken days to succumb. At least Aboud had succeeded in slowing the advance of the bacteria. He’d made some additional adjustments to the vaccine formulation and was hopeful that the next test might produce a better outcome. He smiled morosely. When he first began the testing process, he’d been worried about how to obtain human subjects. Much to his own amazement, his benefactor possessed an inexhaustible supply of people he wanted to get rid of. The trait seemed to run in the family.

  A month earlier, Aboud had been surprised by a visit from one of his benefactor’s many sons. The young man introduced himself as Joshua and explained that he was the head of security for his father’s organization. He told the doctor that he was tangentially involved in the supply chain insofar as he was the man responsible for identifying malcontents who were then sent to Aboud’s laboratory. Although Joshua wasn’t privy to what went on inside, he did know that those who entered never returned. Given that fact, he was wondering if the doctor might help him with an awkward situation.

  When Aboud followed Joshua out to the reception area, he was confronted by the sight of two of Joshua’s men carrying what appeared to be a body bag. They placed it on the floor. Joshua explained that his father had nearly been assassinated by the person now lying within said body bag. Joshua was aware that the doctor’s laboratory contained an incinerator and he wondered if the doctor might do him the favor of disposing of the remains. Considering the circumstances, Aboud felt it in his best interests to comply. He instructed the security team to leave the corpse and gave his assurances that he would take care of the problem. Joshua left satisfied, presumably never to bother the good doctor again.

  Since Aboud was a practical man, he saw no point in destroying something he might be able to use later. The body was still fresh enough to harvest odds and ends. He extracted the organs and removed slabs of tissue to culture several new batches of vaccine. After he had finished salvaging what he needed, the scraps were incinerated along with the most recent test subject. The matter should have ended then and there. Aboud shook his head.

  When Joshua showed up with four sentries carrying another body bag two weeks earlier, the doctor began to think he’d gone into the waste management business. His benefactor’s son didn’t bother to explain how this latest subject had come to his untimely end. The chief of security quite literally dropped the remains on Aboud’s doorstep and presumed the doctor would know what to do.

  The doctor sighed philosophically and prepared for another salvage operation. Once the body had been placed on his dissection tabl
e, he performed a cursory inspection to determine if it was still fresh enough to harvest. Aboud drew back in surprise when he realized that this particular body was quite fresh—in fact it was still alive. He found himself wondering if Joshua and his men had even bothered to check for a pulse. As things stood, it would have taken more than a simple carotid artery test to discover the feeble heartbeat that remained. The man might not be dead but he was hovering dangerously close to that point.

  The doctor immediately performed a thorough examination of the subject and concluded that it might be possible to save him. Of course he had lost a significant amount of blood from several bullet wounds. Aboud called in his team and they all went to work. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on the doctor. His staff had spent months inventing ever more efficient ways of extinguishing life from the human body. They soon proved to be equally adept at forcing life to remain, no matter how unwillingly. The bullet wounds were cleaned and disinfected. Several blood transfusions later, it became obvious the patient would survive. Aboud dismissed his team and took charge of the subject from there. When the man eventually showed signs of regaining consciousness, Aboud sedated him. Less trouble that way.

  The doctor finished checking his test results and rose from his desk. He whistled an old tune from his homeland as he walked into the decontamination chamber where his hazmat suit hung on a peg. There he methodically donned his coverall, helmet and gloves as a prelude to conducting yet another experiment. After he had taken care to cover every square inch of his body, he moved on to the testing area.