Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2

by N. S. Wikarski

  He sat up, groggily rubbing his forehead. Then his eyes flew open in alarm. He’d managed to identify the noise. It was a woman screaming. Her voice cascaded down the marble corridor—traveling fast toward his room. He jumped out of bed and quickly donned a robe. The shrieking culminated in the sound of fists hammering at his door.

  “Daniel, Daniel, wake up!”

  He recognized the voice. It was Annabeth.

  The scion swung the portal open just in time to catch his wife as she collapsed sobbing into his arms.

  By this time, the hallway outside his room was clogged with several dozen members of the community—their voices buzzing like a swarm of alarmed and confused bees.

  Annabeth continued to wail incoherently despite Daniel’s attempts to elicit an explanation. He sat her down in an armchair and ran to the bathroom to fetch a glass of water.

  Her shrieks had apparently carried all the way to his father’s chambers in the other wing of the compound because Abraham’s voice could be heard bellowing above the collective uproar.

  The old man stormed into Daniel’s room like Moses parting the Red Sea. Gawkers shrank against the walls, allowing him to pass. “What’s the meaning of this disturbance!” he demanded. It wasn’t a question.

  Daniel glanced up at him helplessly while trying to coax Annabeth to drink some water. “I don’t know, sir. She’s still too upset to speak.”

  Glaring down at his son’s principal wife, the diviner held his peace as Daniel patted her on the arm and admonished her softly to calm down.

  Annabeth eventually peeped up at all the faces hovering nearby. Her mouth tried to form words, but no sound came out.

  Daniel sat down on the edge of her chair and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. “Annabeth, take a deep breath and tell us what happened. We can’t help you if we don’t know what the trouble is.”

  She cast a stricken look at her husband before burying her head against his chest. Between renewed sobs, a few words managed to escape. “It’s the baby... He’s dead!”

  Chapter 34—False Gods

  Annabeth creaked back and forth in her rocking chair, oblivious to the passage of time. She refused to move the chair from its position next to the empty crib. Her chronic mental stupor was only interrupted by the periodic appearance of one of the consecrated brides silently bearing a food tray. The women avoided speaking to her as if her grief might be contagious. Hours after its appearance, each tray would be noiselessly collected—its contents untouched. Annabeth felt no appetite. Whenever she forced herself to take a few bites, the food invariably tasted like sawdust in her mouth.

  Aside from the food deliveries, the only other intrusion of the outside world came in the form of her husband, Daniel. He paid regular visits in a pointless effort to engage her in conversation. They would pass a few uncomfortable hours together each morning before he gave up and fled to his beloved library.

  A sharp rap at the door cut her musings short.

  “Come in,” she said languidly, not attempting to rise. The smallest motion cost too much energy.

  Mother Rachel entered. Judgment cascaded from her tall form in waves of mute disapproval. “How are you today?” she asked curtly. It was a pro forma statement that held no trace of personal concern.

  Annabeth glanced vaguely in her direction. “I don’t know. Most of the time I feel numb. What day is it?”

  “It’s Thursday. A week to the day since we buried your son.”

  Without waiting for an invitation, the old woman dragged a wooden chair across the room and placed it squarely in front of Annabeth’s rocker. She sat down and unabashedly scrutinized the younger woman’s face. “Hmmff,” she sniffed. “You look thinner and paler than usual. Have you been eating?”

  Sparing herself the effort to speak, Annabeth merely shook her head.

  “This isn’t acceptable,” the elder woman said flatly. “You need to rouse yourself and do something useful to take your mind off things.”

  “Things,” Annabeth echoed bleakly. Her dead son was now being described as a “thing” she needed to get over.

  “The diviner has indulged your moping long enough, Annabeth. You’re an able-bodied member of this community, and you should be doing your part like the rest of us.”

  Without showing any sign that she had heard, Annabeth’s mind drifted to another topic. “Mother Rachel, have you ever lost a baby to crib death?” she asked instead.

  “No.” The old woman drew herself up. “I’ve always found favor in the eyes of the Lord.” There was a hint of self-congratulation in her tone.

  Annabeth scowled briefly. “I don’t think I’ve ever found favor with the Lord.”

  “Of course not,” came the abrupt reply. “Just look at your behavior.”

  Rousing herself from her torpor, Annabeth peered at Mother Rachel with an attitude approaching interest. “What makes you say that?”

  A grim smile formed on the old woman’s lips. “It’s no secret that you idolized your boy. Everybody commented on it. And God, in his righteous anger, has chastised you.”

  Annabeth blinked once in puzzlement.

  Mother Rachel elaborated. “Read your bible. It’s all right there in the commandments. ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me.’ You certainly adored that child as if he was a god and your behavior was an insult to Our Lord. Remember what He says in Exodus Twenty, Verse Five. ‘You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation.’”

  The old woman crossed her arms with an air of finality. “Why, it’s as plain as the nose on your face. The Lord made good his promise that the child would pay for the sin of the parent.”

  Annabeth recoiled in shock. The thought hadn’t occurred to her that she, herself, might have brought this terrible fate down on her son. “But surely God wants us to show affection to our children,” she murmured in disbelief.

  Mother Rachel rolled her eyes. “Who’s been filling your head with that rubbish? Back in the days when I was young, consecrated brides were discouraged from coddling their children. It puffs the young ones up with a false sense of self-importance. Only your husband or the diviner himself has a right to bestow praise—and only if it’s earned!”

  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 diviner 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 annoy
ance 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.