The open door revealed Erik silhouetted against the hall light.
He noted her battle stance and chuckled. “Expecting somebody else?”
She hastily dropped the lamp and gestured him inside before closing the door. “Sorry about that. I thought maybe...”
The paladin shrugged. “After the Mother Rachel incident, I’m the last person who would accuse you of overreacting.”
“Why are you here so late?” She returned the lamp to the table, plugged it in and switched it on.
“I was up and about doing recon in Metcalf’s office when it hit me.” Erik seemed abashed about something. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of this sooner. I should have.”
“Thought of what?”
“This.” He held forward a cell phone.
She stared at it. “What do you want me to do with that?”
He sighed. “Given what you’ve just been through, I thought you might need to hear a friendly voice.”
“A friendly voice?” she echoed. “Whose?”
The paladin rolled his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. How about a really annoying teenager with spiky hair who’d give his right arm to talk to you?”
Hannah flounced down on the bed in disbelief. “Zach?” She smiled as the notion sank in. “You want me to call Zachary?”
“It’s not an order,” Erik demurred. “I just figured the two of you might want to reconnect for a few minutes. Catch up on the news and all that jazz.”
She didn’t need any further urging. Hannah dialed the familiar cell phone number. She prayed he would pick up despite the late hour but even hearing his voice mail greeting would be a blessing.
“Hello?” A groggy voice answered. “Whoever this is, it better be good. Do you know what time—”
“Zach,” Hannah cut in.
There was a sharp intake of breath. Apparently, Zachary recognized her voice even if it had only uttered one syllable. “Hannah?” he asked in disbelief. “Hannah, please let it be you.”
“It’s me, Zach. I’m using Erik’s cell phone, so we can chat for a little while.”
“Are you OK? I know Daniel said you were alright, but I didn’t believe him. You know people can lie about stuff like that. Is somebody holding a gun to your head now? That can happen too. Give me a code if that’s true. Tell me your noise itches.”
Hannah smiled to herself at his babble. “I’m fine, Zach, really. Erik is right here if you want to ask him.”
“No, that’s OK. Why would I want to talk to him when I can talk to you?”
“I won’t tell him you said that,” she teased.
“Tell me what?” Erik asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Hannah countered innocently. “Zach says hi.”
Erik grunted a response and headed for the door. “I’ll give you two some privacy. Tap on the wall when you’re finished, and I’ll come get the phone.” As a final warning, he added, “And don’t run down the battery. I just charged it.”
“We won’t be long,” she reassured him and waited until he’d left the room before turning her attention back to Zachary.
“Erik left. He says we shouldn’t stay on the line for very long.”
“Uh huh. I get it,” Zach concurred.
An awkward silence opened between them.
“So, how are you?” Hannah began.
“I’m fine. Worried about you though.” He gave a brief sigh. “I wish I could be there to protect you but, according to Erik, you know how to take care of yourself. Word on the street is that you really cleaned that old lady’s clock bigtime.”
Hannah scowled with puzzlement. “What word? What street? Mother Rachel wasn’t holding a clock. She was holding a butcher knife. Even if she had brought a clock, I’m sure I would have refused to clean it for her!”
Zach burst out laughing.
“Are you making fun of me?” she accused, feeling offended by his reaction.
“Nope.” He was still chuckling. “I forgot how much I miss listening to the way your mind works.”
“Oh, I see. This is more slang I don’t understand.” She felt abashed but hastened to reassure him. “I’ll work on it some more. I want to fit in.”
The tyro’s mood shifted. In a soft tone, he said, “Promise me you’ll never try to be like everybody else. You’re too special for that.”
Hannah blinked back a few tears. “After the night you tried to rescue me, when I heard that Erik was dead and you were gone, I was sure our time was up. I never thought we’d speak again.”
“Me either,” he said with a catch in his voice.
To distract him, she asked hurriedly, “How’s Granny Faye?”
This question did little to change his troubled mood. “She’s... uh... still sleeping.”
“Oh,” Hannah said in a whisper. “But she might come out of it?”
Zach tried to rally. “Yeah, that’s what everybody keeps telling me. The doctors are waiting for the swelling in her brain to come down. Then we’ll see.” He forced a laugh. “Cassie said Gamma is too tough to kill.”
“I believe she is,” Hannah agreed. Her eyes welled up again.
“We’re gonna get you out of there,” Zach rushed to cheer her up. “Cassie and Griffin and Daniel are closing in on the Sage Stone. It won’t be much longer. Metcalf promised to exchange you and Erik for the artifact.”
Hannah sighed deeply. “I don’t really believe he’ll let me go, even for a little while.”
“Neither do we,” Zach agreed.
“What!”
“We expect a double-cross but don’t worry. Everybody on this end is working on a plan. Don’t think for a minute that we’d abandon you. You have no idea how much they all care about what happens to you. How much I—” He stopped speaking abruptly.
Hannah understood the implication. “I care about you too, Zach.”
“That’s good,” he concurred lamely. “It’s good that we both—” Again he cut himself off.
“Yes, it’s good that we both...” Hannah trailed off with a smile.
“Um, do you think Erik will let us talk every few days or so?” the tyro asked hopefully.
“I’ll make sure that he does. I’ll tell him it keeps up my morale.”
Zach chuckled. “Mine too. I can be a real pain when I’m not happy. The people I work for will do anything to shut me up. If Erik gives you a hard time, I’ll pester his boss until she orders him to let us talk.”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary. Still,” she paused, “I better give him his phone back now.”
“Yeah well, it’s good we talked because, um...” He gave an exasperated sigh. “You know...”
“Yes, I know. Me, too. Goodnight, Zach.”
Chapter 32—The Lady in the Lake
Daniel, Cassie, and Griffin sat on the shores of Lake Baikal gazing hopefully at Olga. The scout was on the brink of offering a solution to get them back on track.
“We must go to Matushka Ayana at once. She can help us.”
“‘Matushka’ means ‘mother’ in Russian,” Daniel noted cautiously. “I can’t imagine how your mother can help us except perhaps to lend moral support.”
“She is not MY mother,” the scout replied with a laugh. “That is simply what the people on the island call her. Matushka Ayana is a shaman. Her spirit guides are very powerful. Perhaps she will be able to see what the pythia cannot.”
“That’s just grasping at straws,” the scion protested.
“Hey, we’re fresh out of leads,” Cassie said. “I think we should grasp at any straw that’s offered.”
Olga stood and dusted sand off her hands. “We will need to get the car. She lives some distance up the shore.”
The four trudged back to the hotel to reclaim the old rusted sedan they’d rented at the ferry landing. Olga took the wheel and headed north from the hotel parking lot. They traveled for about twenty minutes, passing small settlements and fi
shing villages of no more than a dozen ramshackle buildings. Eventually, the scout turned off the road next to a domelike structure perched on a hill overlooking the lake. They all got out.
“This is Matushka Ayana’s yurt,” Olga explained.
“Her what?” Daniel asked.
Griffin intercepted the question. “A yurt is a customary Mongolian dwelling. It’s built of a collapsible wooden frame covered by layers of felt made from sheep’s wool. There’s a vent in the center of the roof to let out smoke from the hearth. It’s quite a practical design given the extreme cold in this part of the world.”
While the scrivener was speaking, Olga had gone on ahead to rouse the yurt’s occupant.
A tiny Mongolian woman peeped through the open doorway. She appeared to be in her sixties. Contrary to expectations, she wasn’t wearing a folk costume that matched her traditional home. She looked utterly commonplace in her western slacks and sweater. The old woman exchanged greetings with Olga and gestured for the scout and her friends to come inside. Olga shook her head and led the shaman out to meet the group standing by their car.
“She speaks no English,” the scout said.
Through an elaborate pantomime, it was obvious that Olga was introducing the shaman to the members of the Arkana team. The old woman smiled and nodded at each in turn
A rapid conversation ensued in a language which Cassie assumed was Buryat. The pythia inferred that Olga was explaining their predicament to Matushka Ayana. It was hard to guess the shaman’s reaction since she merely listened intently and murmured a question here or there. When the scout finished speaking, there was a long silence. The shaman scanned the faces of the visitors one by one. Her eyes were bright as black pearls, and they seemed to miss nothing. Her gaze settled on Cassie. She stepped forward a few paces and extended her arms toward the pythia.
Cassie darted Olga a quizzical glance.
“Give her your hand,” the scout prompted.
The pythia shrugged and complied.
The shaman took Cassie’s hand in both her own, examining the palm and fingertips closely. Apparently satisfied, she nodded and released it. Turning once more to Olga, she spoke for nearly a minute without stopping.
At the end of the monologue, the scout reached into her handbag and withdrew several bills. She straightened out the creases, turned them all upright and, bowing slightly, proffered the money to the shaman.
Matushka Ayana accepted the offering and said a few more sentences to her visitor. Then she turned to the rest of the group and made a shooing gesture as if to scatter a flock of chickens. Without another word, she re-entered the yurt.
The puzzled Arkana team turned to the scout for clarification.
Olga’s face registered relief. “I convinced her to help. It is customary to pay for such assistance. Matushka Ayana has agreed to ride the wind horse and find those you seek in the other world. She said she has never been consulted by foreigners before. She thinks the experience will be...” the scout paused. “Interesting.”
“That’s good news.” Cassie broke into a smile. “What does she want us to do now?”
“She must make preparations for the ritual. She said to come back at nightfall, and all will be ready then.”
“Nightfall?” Daniel echoed. “But it doesn’t get dark here until eleven o’clock. That’s five hours from now.”
“She said to come back at nightfall,” Olga doggedly repeated. “You do not argue with a shaman.”
Resigning themselves to the delay, the group piled into the car and headed back to the hotel for an early dinner and some rest.
***
Darkness was just beginning to claim the sky as Olga once more pulled the car up in front of Matushka Ayana’s yurt.
Rather than going inside, the scout led everyone to a fire which had been kindled on the crest of the hill a short distance from the dwelling.
“She will want us to sit out here,” the scout advised. She took a seat on a wooden bench positioned several feet back from the fire.
Daniel sat down to her left with Cassie and Griffin to her right.
“Now what?” the scion asked.
“Now we wait,” the scout instructed. She took a moment to scan her surroundings. “In the old days, Matushka Ayana might have been killed for performing a ritual in the open like this. We are very lucky the times have changed.”
About five minutes later, a shrouded figure emerged from the yurt and walked slowly toward them.
“God save us!” Daniel exclaimed in shock. “What hellish vision is this?”
Rather than a tiny Asian woman in western clothing, the figure moving toward them was dressed in a fringed tunic, its tattered edges sweeping her ankles. Beneath the tunic were leggings and boots with bells strapped around the ankles and knees. They jingled with every step. A clanking sound emanated from brass mirrors suspended from her belt. Her face was entirely covered by a curtain of brightly-colored streamers which hung down past her chin. On her head was a close-fitting cap adorned by a pair of steel antlers. Eagle feathers had been fastened to the band over her forehead. She carried a large painted drum and a wooden drumstick.
“Ah, good. She is ready,” Olga commented approvingly. She leaned over and whispered to the others. “You must all remain silent. Do not interrupt no matter what you see or what you hear. Matushka Ayana will travel to the spirit realm and discover what she can for us.”
They all resettled themselves and focused their attention on the shaman. Taking no notice of the spectators, she walked up to the fire. Beating her drum rhythmically, she began swaying from side to side, stamping her feet in time to the sound. The brass mirrors and bells set up a jangly accompaniment. She danced clockwise around the blaze in a series of random movements—swaying, stamping, spinning, hopping. All the while, she muttered a low chant presumably invoking her spectral guides.
Cassie could hear Daniel repeating the “Our Father” in a quavering voice until Olga jabbed him in the ribs and shushed him.
The shaman drummed and chanted and danced without ceasing, completing circuit after circuit around the fire. The pitch of her voice seemed to change periodically. Sometimes it sounded like a man, sometimes like a woman. At one point it split into two voices at once. The relentless pounding of the drum matched the tempo of a cantering horse. It took on a hypnotic quality for Cassie. She could feel the drum like a heartbeat emanating from her own chest. The clanking mirrors and bells set up a buzzing in her brain. Shutting her eyes, she began to sway slightly, a feeling of dizziness overwhelming her.
Even though the pythia knew she hadn’t budged from her place on the bench, she could sense herself standing up. She was walking the circle several paces behind Ayana. The shaman gave no indication that she was aware of Cassie’s presence. Her ritual continued unbroken. When she performed a clockwise spin, Cassie copied the motion. The shaman then advanced forward, but the pythia spread her arms wide and continued revolving in a slow clockwise arc. She turned her face upward toward the stars, watching them spin in the orbit she was creating as they mingled with sparks flying skyward from the fire. All the while, she continued to follow in the shaman’s steps, spiraling clockwise as she went. She completed a circuit around the fire. Then a second. Then a third. She lost count of the number of circles within circles she had traced. Then, vaguely, she became aware that a third figure had joined the strange procession. This figure mimicked Cassie’s actions in reverse. It spread its arms wide. It turned its face upward toward the sky. It wheeled in a solemn counter-clockwise revolution, matching its speed to the pythia’s. The figure was dressed in a white cape with a white hood. The two figures seemed to pass right through one another on their respective transits around the flames. One pass, two passes. As they reached the point of intersection on the third pass, the white figure unexpectedly gripped Cassie’s hand, compelling her to stop. The shaman continued onward, dancing through both figures as she went. Cassie stared at the white
apparition which lowered its hood and smiled at her. It was the Minoan priestess. The pythia remained rooted to the spot, watching in fascination as the priestess removed a string of yellow beads from her neck. She placed the beads around Cassie’s neck, whispering a blessing in some long-dead language as she did so. Then she kissed the pythia on the forehead and vanished. With a start, Cassie realized she was no longer standing by the fire but seated once more on the bench. In the distance, she became vaguely aware that the drumming sound had ceased. Then blankness enveloped her completely.
The pythia heard urgent voices nearby. Someone was shouting for her to wake up. It was Olga. The scout was kneeling in front of her and shaking her gently. It took several seconds to bring her eyes into focus. She realized Griffin had wrapped his arm around her shoulders to keep her from tumbling backwards off the bench. Daniel had bolted into the shadows. He was praying at the top of his lungs now, entreating his god to deliver him from the power of Satan. The shaman stood on the opposite side of the fire. Her face was still obscured by the streamers, but she seemed to be watching the scene intently.
“What happened?” Cassie asked in confusion.
Olga rose to her feet and translated the question to the shaman.
Matushka Ayana laughed softly. She spoke a few sentences to Olga. Then she walked back inside her yurt and shut the door, thereby signaling that the ritual was over.
“What did she say?” Griffin asked Olga as he assisted Cassie to sit upright.
“I don’t know what she meant.” The scout sounded mystified, taking a seat on the bench to Cassie’s left. “She said the past danced with the future but why ask her? Our shaman was there too.”
“Oh, that.” Cassie frowned in concentration, endeavoring to put the pieces together.
“Oh, that what?” the scrivener demanded. Turning with irritation toward Daniel who was still muttering to himself, Griffin commanded, “Belt up, will you? I’m quite sure your Beelzebub and all his minions have more urgent priorities than conspiring to steal your soul tonight!”
Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2 Page 76