The Cotten Stone Omnibus: It started with The Grail Conspiracy... (The Cotten Stone Mysteries)

by Lynn Sholes

  Richard handed her his lantern and removed a small triangular trowel from his backpack. He leaned over the edge of the box and scraped away a thin layer of dirt at the bottom. Twisting and poking the point of the trowel, Richard was able to penetrate the base of the box a few more inches. “Nothing here,” he said.

  “How do we know this place wasn’t looted a thousand years ago, Richard? And if not, wouldn’t they put something as valuable as the tablet in a more secure place than this box? Seems to me this would be too obvious. Wouldn’t they choose a place no one would ever think to look? Maybe not even in this building.”

  “I believe they would have kept it here. This was their holy of holies. The shaman came here to pray, to make offerings to his god. Sacred ground only he could step upon. I’m sure he kept the fire pit burning constantly to show that the spirit of the people—”

  Richard straightened and took his lantern from Mariah. He held the light over the charred stone circle in the middle of the floor. “A place where no one would think to look.”

  * * *

  The ride was bone-jarring as the four-wheel-drive Chevy Tahoe slowly crunched along the washboard road. In the distance, Cotten watched the headlight beams bounce across a desolate landscape. The high-intensity lights attracted flying insects that appeared to relish giving their lives as they flew into the front of the vehicle.

  Cotten sat in the passenger seat while Thomas Wyatt drove. Duchamp had remained behind at their motel. Now that Wyatt was here, the monsignor would fly back to Washington tomorrow.

  “How do you know the location of this place?” Cotten asked, holding onto the strap over the door.

  “The earthquake and landslide made national news. They gave specifics. I plotted it on my GPS.” He tapped the dash, where a handheld Magellan rested. “We’ll need it when we leave the road.”

  “And how can you be certain the Hapsburgs will be there at this hour?”

  “Trust me, Cotten. They’ll be there.”

  She looked out over the expanse of desert and moonlight-silvered mesas. Thinking of Yachaq, she wondered if there was a sacred place in this remote spot that was like the one in the Peruvian mountains.

  “What did John tell you about me?” she said.

  “That you are special.”

  “We went through a lot together.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Thomas Wyatt switched off the Tahoe’s headlights. “We’re going to depend on the full moon,” he said as he turned off the dirt road onto the beginning of a wide wash. The ride immediately became more uncomfortable.

  “What’s the deal? Why can’t we just drive up to the site?”

  “It’s been closed off. They don’t want anyone going in there except their own.”

  “Who is ‘they’?” Cotten asked.

  “Eli Luddington and his legion.”

  “Luddington?”

  “One of the same group you faced with the Grail conspiracy. The Hapsburgs are two of Luddington’s own. He sent the Hapsburgs here to retrieve the tablet.”

  Now it all made sense to her. The Hapsburgs had been in Peru, and when the tablet was found, Edelman called them. They were the link to what had happened that night. When the word of finding the tablet spread, fireflies—or whatever they were—were sent to destroy it. No one who had seen the tablet was left alive. No one but her . . . because of who she was.

  Furmiel’s daughter.

  The daughter of a Fallen Angel.

  Half Nephilim.

  “Cotten, I’ve been told things that I don’t understand—probably will never understand. But my job is to help you stay focused. I know a great deal about human behavior. John chose me because he trusts me. He knows you’re going through a tough time, and maybe I can help smooth out the rough spots a little.”

  “So you’re a shrink?”

  “More like a guardian angel.”

  * * *

  On his knees, Richard Hapsburg dug the point of the trowel into the black smudge in the center of the fire pit. Mariah watched over his shoulder as the layers of soot and charcoal were scraped away. A few inches down, Richard hit a hard object. With a four-inch paintbrush from his backpack, he cleaned the surface of the stone slab. It was a little over a foot square, and on it was painted a series of markings.

  “What do they mean?” Mariah asked.

  “This one is the symbol for the sun, this for the earth, this for water, and this for fire—the elements of life. I’d guess pre-Chacoan.”

  “Looks like another dead end. Just a stone with common petroglyphs.”

  Richard glanced over his shoulder at his wife. “You simply have no patience, do you?”

  She shrugged and watched as he cleared the dirt from around the edges of the slab. Once he was able to get his fingers beneath the stone, he pulled it up. With a grunt, he lifted and moved it out of the way.

  “More dirt,” she said, eyeing what was beneath.

  Again, Richard gave her a look before gently scraping the trowel through the dirt. A moment later, he uncovered another object. Carefully, he swept away the last layer of ash and charcoal with his brush. “More light.”

  Mariah raised her lantern and gasped. There, hidden beneath the slab, beneath scorched black desert sand and thousands of years, the surface of the crystal tablet reflected the light like a shimmering jewel.

  Ever so carefully, Richard blew away the remaining dirt and tenderly pried the tablet free with his fingertips. Gripping it firmly, he stood and stared at what he knew was crafted by the hand of God.

  Mariah brought her hand to her mouth in wonder.

  The lantern light spun an iridescent rainbow of flares off the tablet’s surface.

  Mesmerized by its splendor, Mariah said, “What a shame that something so beautiful will soon be destroyed.” She scanned the strange markings on its surface, knowing that if she could decipher their meaning, they would reveal the greatest secret ever known to mankind.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Richard said, “Don’t get too caught up in what it might say. It isn’t for either of us. Our task is to destroy this before anyone can decipher its message.” Cradling the tablet in one arm, he pulled a satellite phone from his jacket and pushed memory dial. A moment later, when Eli Luddington answered, Richard said, “It is ready.”

  * * *

  “That’s unusual,” Thomas Wyatt said.

  Cotten was lost in thought as she stared out the Tahoe’s window. Thin wisps of cloud passed across the full moon. She turned to Wyatt. “What?”

  “Fog,” he said. “Just seems unusual in such a dry place to have ground fog.”

  In the moonlight, she saw mist moving down the wash toward them. It seemed to undulate in waves, growing within minutes from an almost transparent veil to an impenetrable curtain.

  A blade of fear cut through her, gouging the breath from her lungs. “Stop!”

  Wyatt slammed on the brakes, sending a cloud of dust and dirt in every direction. Instantly, the mist engulfed the Tahoe, creating a blanket that seemed as solid as the cliffs around them. The only light came from the dim dashboard lamps. Outside, a gray wall pushed on the windows.

  “Oh my God!” Cotten said, pressing back into the seat. “This can’t be happening!”

  “What can’t be?” Wyatt said.

  “Stop it!” Cotten screamed, her fists clenched, her eyes squeezed tight, her breathing rapid.

  The mist had found her.

  Then, just as unexpectedly as it had appeared, the fog vanished.

  * * *

  Mariah and Richard Hapsburg stood at the entrance to the ruins under the desert sky. Mariah watched what seemed to be ground fog form around their feet and swirl about. Soon, it thickened until the ground was lost from view. Then she saw them: tiny pinpoints of light moving down the wash, slipping past the canyon walls and cli
ffs. Their number grew from a handful to hundreds, then thousands—swirling, twinkling, moving in formation toward Mariah and her husband.

  “Richard, what’s happening?” she cried. “What are they?”

  “Be still,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.”

  She watched her husband as he extended his arms and held the crystal tablet out. The mass of fireflies wrapped around his hands, forming a glowing ball that enveloped the tablet. The glow became so bright that it blinded Mariah. She felt the heat generated from the fireflies singe her face. She heard the whirling of their mass as it grew to a roar.

  Suddenly, she knew she was in the midst of demons.

  * * *

  From a quarter of a mile away, atop a narrow ledge, Tempest Star lay on her stomach, watching through high-powered binoculars. “Motherfucker!” she whispered. Turning to the photographer lying next to her, she said, “Did you get all that?”

  “You bet your sweet ass,” he said, peering through the 500-milli­meter lens of the night-vision camera.

  The Desert Huaca

  “Care to explain what just happened back there?” Thomas Wyatt said as he steered the Chevy Tahoe cautiously along the uneven surface of the wash. It was just after midnight, and the full moon allowed him to maneuver without headlights.

  Cotten took a deep breath as she watched the jagged edges of the cliffs move by. “On that night in the Andes, just before everyone died, the dig site was first engulfed by a thick fog. There was always a mountain mist at that altitude, but that night it was unnaturally thick—just like what happened back there.”

  “But nothing happened back there, Cotten. It was only fog—a natural phenomenon.”

  “In the desert? Even you said it was strange.”

  “So there is more humidity tonight than usual. But rare desert ground fog doesn’t mean something supernatural happened.”

  Cotten turned away. “Mr. Wyatt—”

  “Thomas.”

  “Okay, Thomas. I understand that you’re just doing your job, trying to make a crazy person like me see things rationally. If what I witnessed that night in Peru qualifies me as crazy, then I am. And you don’t need to define ‘supernatural’ for me. If anyone knows what it means, I do. The least you could do is acknowledge that I have a right to flinch at things that remind me of that night in Peru. Instead, you’re trying to make me feel foolish. I don’t appreciate that at—”

  “Cotten,” Wyatt said, “you’re way off base. I never said you were crazy, and I am not trying to make you feel foolish. I’m only attempting to take the edge off what was a stressful moment back there. If I gave you any other impression, then I apologize. John Tyler has assured me that—”

  Suddenly, Cotten leaned forward. “Is that a light up ahead? Looks like someone with a flashlight?” A hundred yards up the wash, a soft light appeared for a moment, then vanished.

  Wyatt pulled the parking-brake handle to stop the SUV without lighting up the taillights. Then he turned off the ignition. “This is as far as we go. Even at our snail’s pace, someone could hear the motor a mile away.” He grabbed two flashlights from the glove box and the GPS off the dash. “The rest of the way is by shank’s mare.”

  “What?” Cotten said.

  “On foot. It’s an old expression.” He handed her one of the flashlights.

  Wyatt reached up and switched off the interior lights so the car would not be illuminated when they opened the doors. Then he eased out of the driver’s side. “Keep it quiet,” he whispered to Cotten. “And don’t turn on your light unless you absolutely have to.”

  Cotten’s flesh grew clammy as she stared into the night. As much as she wanted to find the Hapsburgs and get positive proof that one or more crystal tablets existed, she was afraid. And the most unsettling element was what the tablet would say regarding the daughter of a Fallen Angel. What had made her think the battle ended three years ago when she’d confronted something evil, unspeakable? Did she really believe the Fallen Ones would just give up and fade away? They would never forget it was she who had stopped them from using the traces of DNA in the Grail to clone Christ. She had crushed their plans to bring about an unholy Second Coming. They would never forgive her for that. She should have known when Yachaq referred to her as Mayta, “the only one,” that this would go on and on. She was the only one. The contract her father had made with God could not be broken. She must accept it. But the chill of the canyon night seeped through her, freezing her courage and filling her with dread.

  “You okay?” Wyatt asked her.

  “Not really,” she said in a whisper.

  Wyatt walked around to the passenger side and opened her door. “I’d tell you to stay here while I go on ahead, Cotten, but John said that the answers we seek would be given only to you, not me.”

  She looked at Wyatt and blinked before sliding out of the seat. He was right. She had no choice.

  “We’ll work through this together,” he said.

  Slowly, Wyatt led the way up the dry wash. The surface was covered with loose gravel and sharp-edged rocks. “Careful. Taking a fall around here would not be a good idea,” he said. After a few hundred yards, he checked the GPS again, as he had several times since leaving the SUV. “We’re close.”

  Finally, they came to the sprawling base of the landslide debris. In the bright light of the full moon, Cotten saw the outlines of the ancient buildings that had been uncovered by the earthquake. She stood beside Wyatt, silent, listening, watching. All she heard was the soft desert wind snaking along the base of the cliffs.

  Wyatt produced a small automatic pistol from under his jacket. “Something’s wrong.”

  “What?”

  “It’s too quiet. There’s no one here.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Cotten asked.

  “We should have run into resistance by now. Luddington should have this place locked down. But we just walked right up. Unless . . .”

  “Unless they already got what they came for,” Cotten said.

  “Exactly. We’re about to enter the ruins, and there’s no one here to stop us. Luddington has obviously called back his guard because they’re no longer needed. And tomorrow, you watch, he’ll make some big philanthropic announcement that he’s going to help finance a university or state team to excavate the site. Suddenly, he’s a hero.”

  “So you figure that if there was a tablet here, they’ve already recovered it?”

  “If there was one at all. We don’t know that for sure,” Wyatt said.

  “But isn’t the reverse true? If they hadn’t found it, they would still be here. It would take weeks to explore the whole site, wouldn’t it? Trust me, I know these guys, and they don’t give up easy.”

  “I think you’re right,” Wyatt said.

  Cotten leaned against a large boulder. “Now what? I need to talk to the Hapsburgs. Somehow, some way, I have to find out what the tablet says.”

  “Do you remember what the markings looked like on the one in Peru?”

  Cotten glanced at him, the moonlight creating shadows under his square jaw. “Dots and lines, lots and lots of dots and lines. Like khipu. That’s all I can recall.”

  “Chances are, a tablet found here probably won’t have markings that look like khipu anyway. My guess would be petroglyphs. That’s what the ancients who lived throughout this region would have understood. But we’ll never know standing around. Ready to take a look inside?”

  “What for? You and I both know the tablet has already been found.”

  “We’ve come this far, and it looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves for now. Once the excavation team moves in, we won’t get another chance.”

  Reluctantly, Cotten nodded, and she motioned for him to lead on.

  After carefully making their way across the debris field, they approached the first of the ancient buildings.

/>   “Incredible,” Cotten said, gazing at the stone structures looming out of the darkness in the pale light. “But eerie. This place gives me the creeps.”

  They walked along a path past thick walls and empty apartments. “Check this out,” she said, shining her beam on one of the walls. “Must be three feet thick.” She aimed the flashlight at a seam between the stones. “No mortar.” Cotten looked at Wyatt. “The bricks are matched together with such precision. Their technology and craftsmanship are amazing.”

  “We’re a pretty pompous civilization,” Wyatt said, “thinking we’re so advanced. One close look at a place like this and you’ve got to have a great deal of respect for these people.”

  “My time in Peru convinced me of that. It’s like we are a speck in the universe . . . but somehow still interconnected.”

  “Humbles you, doesn’t it?”

  “Very much,” she said.

  Moving on, they left what Cotten thought to be the main path and explored room after room in the many structures.

  “Almost like whoever lived here just up and moved out one day,” Wyatt commented.

  Cotten shivered, remembering the comments on the same subject from Edelman. “Exactly,” she said. “Like the people who inhabited the ruins in Peru. They just disappeared overnight.”

  A few paces later, they stopped to explore what Cotten guessed was someone’s living quarters. As they entered the room through the T-shaped doorway, she saw that broken pottery littered one corner. Suddenly, she felt dizzy—off balance.

  “Wait,” she said, her voice weak. “I think we must be higher up than I realized. I feel lightheaded.”

  Wyatt took off his backpack and pulled out a bottle of water. “I don’t think the elevation is making you feel that way. At least not altitude sickness. We’re only somewhere near six thousand feet.” He handed her the bottle. “Take a drink.”

  Cotten leaned against a stone wall. “Thanks,” she said. He was right. It wouldn’t be altitude sickness. But something had made her lose her balance.

  Wyatt continued to shine his light about.

  “Why don’t you go on while I sit here and rest a minute,” she said. “Just don’t be gone long.”