by J. F. Penn
As he cut the line, Morgan sat unmoving in the tomb as the medic swabbed her wounds. The smell of antiseptic filled the air, the hubbub of voices around her as security teams tried to get everything under control. But she could only see the wall in front of her, a portrayal of the death of the Pharaoh, his heart weighed against the feather of truth as he left this world for the one beyond.
22
Oxford, England.
Krait pushed Ben into the chair as the other man entered the room behind them. Together, they bound him, arms pinned by his sides, legs taped to each chair leg, a final piece of tape over his mouth.
Then they left the room.
Ben broke out in a cold sweat as he looked at the table of knives by the chair. His heart beat so fast he thought it might burst from his chest. Lord, give me strength. Martyrs had suffered torture and pain for the sake of Christ. They were in glory now. If he could just calm himself … but his eyes kept lighting on the knives and he could almost feel the sharp edges on his flesh. This body was old and he feared that he would not be strong enough to withstand the pain.
What did the man want?
Ben wracked his brain for something that they could be interested in but the years jumbled together in his mind, the many archaeological digs he'd been on, the artifacts he'd worked with at the Vatican, the people he had wronged along the way. He had sought forgiveness, praying for his own soul and those of others, but all leave a wake in the path through life. Sometimes those ripples have unintended consequences.
The sharp whistle of a boiling kettle pierced the air.
A minute later, the first man entered the room with two steaming cups. He placed one on the table next to Ben, alongside the knives.
"Hot, sweet tea. Helps with stress. Can we talk a little?"
Ben nodded.
The man pulled the tape away and lifted the cup for Ben to sip. Sweetness filled his mouth and the taste calmed him a little. The man wiped a little dribble from his chin, an almost tender gesture.
"Forgive my brutal tactics but I'm going to be honest with you, Ben. We don't have much time. So we need to begin now and I need you to cooperate. I hope I don't have to use these." He nodded to the knives. "Let's begin with introductions. My name is Samael."
His words sent a chill down Ben's spine. The archangel of death, the seducer and destroyer. For a man to take such a name, he had to be committed to the dark.
"I seek the seven seals of Revelation."
Ben paled. It was worse than he had thought.
Samael took up one of the knives, his hand hefting its weight.
"I dislike such crude measures of torture, so I have something that will help you remember. Something that will make your compliance pleasurable." Samael walked out of the room and then returned a minute later with a hypodermic needle. The liquid within was a pale green. "Your kind have always been wannabe martyrs, resisting pain with the power of faith. But with this, you won't be able to control your response. Even your God won't be able to stop you speaking of the past."
Ben squirmed on the chair, pushing himself as far away as he could but he was pinned.
Samael advanced towards him and pulled Ben's collar down. He grabbed Ben's hair and yanked his head sideways. He plunged the needle into the muscles of his neck.
Ben felt the sting and then pressure as the liquid forced into him, burning like fire as it spread.
"This is a hallucinogen distilled from the venom of the coral cobra, one of God's most beautiful snakes, with distinctive red and black bands." His voice was mocking. "There is no cure for the venom but this is just a tiny dose." Samael pulled the needle from Ben's neck. "You might even enjoy the experience, as it dulls the real world around you."
Samael sat back in the chair opposite Ben and sipped his tea as he waited for the poison to take effect. Minutes ticked past and it seemed that the silence expanded to consume the space. All Ben could hear was the dry rustle of snakeskin across the floor behind him.
Or did he imagine that?
Samael's dark eyes raked his soul and Ben felt that the man saw something inside him, the darker part, the aspect of himself he wrestled to deny, that he prayed on his knees to subdue.
But all men had a drop of darkness within them and Ben felt the poison caressing that part of him, a tendril of truth after a lifetime of hiding.
He wanted to confess. He wanted to give up the secret he had held for so long.
"I found a seal." Ben heard himself from a long way off. It didn't even sound like his own voice anymore. "On a dig in Ephesus many years ago." His mind slipped back into the past, back to the days when he was young and he was in love with Marianne, Morgan and Faye's mother. He had watched her that summer and doubted his calling to the Church. But she had loved another.
"Continue." Samael's voice snapped through his memory.
"I was part of a series of digs, investigating what was left of the seven churches named in Revelation. The Vatican believed that much of the book wasn't allegory but real. We found seven lampstands in the ruins. And although there weren't seven seals, I did find one."
"Where is it now?" Samael snapped.
"I didn't give it to the Vatican like I should have." Ben's voice trailed off.
Samael slapped him across the face, the jolt of pain anchoring Ben to the here and now. "I don't have to hurt Morgan and her family, but I will. Answer me."
Ben couldn't remember why he ever thought to hide the seal, but whatever the reason, it was nothing compared to those he loved. He was at the end of his own days, and theirs were just beginning.
"It's in the Ashmolean," he whispered. "Within their extensive catalogue of ancient Near Eastern seals, hidden in plain sight. No one would think it was anything special and when they collected other seals from the period, I donated it."
"Why is it special?"
Samael bent close. Ben could see each scale of his snake tattoo, the pulse in the vein in his neck giving it a semblance of life.
He frowned. It was important not to say the words but he couldn't resist. The venom freed his tongue. Perhaps this was God's will anyway. He was a mere wisp in the wind, blown apart by forces much bigger than himself. He took a deep breath and uttered the words he had never before spoken aloud.
"I fear it is one of the seven seals that will usher in the End Times."
As he said the words, Samael smiled with triumph and began to free him from the chair.
"Krait," he called. "Get the van. We're going back into Oxford."
Ben couldn't move. His head rolled onto his chest as the bonds loosened. His limbs felt disconnected, as if they weren't his own and he was dimly aware that his heart rate was much faster now, his pulse skipping beats. He heard it thudding in his chest like a countdown.
As the two men helped half-drag, half-carry him to the van, Ben realized that hours had passed. The night air smelled of autumn leaves and a hint of wood smoke. With his heightened senses, he could separate the scent of decaying flowers in the mulch of the earth from the tang of his own cold sweat. He could feel the muscles of the men by him and sense his own wasted body. The filters of reality shifted and for a moment, Ben felt as if his own flesh melted into theirs. He was just a tiny part of a whole organism. Wonder flooded his mind.
Krait pulled open the door and they lifted him inside the van, laying him on the floor.
Ben could feel the cool metal against his skin, a welcome balm to his heated flesh. Visions of the martyrs from history came to him and flames danced across his flesh as they drove back into Oxford. But his eyes were fixed in another realm and he smiled at the sheer beauty of it.
In what seemed like moments later, Samael and Krait walked him into the delivery entrance round the back of the Ashmolean.
"Is he alright?" a gruff voice said. One of the security guards, clearly paid off to let them in.
Samael pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, the roll of hundred pound notes silencing the guard. They walked on.
Now
that he was inside, Ben felt pulled to the seal, as if it called to him through the museum corridors.
He had been in to visit it over the years. It always pleased him to see it sitting side by side with seals used for official correspondence, the disinterested public not seeing the true meaning of the stone. The gaudy and shiny objects attracted more attention. As it was with so much of life.
"That way," he panted and his words seemed to linger in the air.
Ben led Samael and Krait into the labyrinth of corridors. Like so many great museums, the Ashmolean was an overwhelming cornucopia of ancient delight, a treasure trove of objects, each of which had a story spanning generations. Ben had spent many of his days here over the years, as it was just next door to Blackfriars and he enjoyed the company of strangers without having to talk to them. The sense of history soaked through the walls of the place. The colors around him were brighter now and Ben wished he could stop to look once more at some of his favorite objects.
But there was no time.
He led Samael and Krait to the ancient Near Eastern section and stopped in front of a glass-fronted case.
"It's that one." Ben pointed at a round stone seal with the undulating curves of a serpent clearly visible on its surface. He remembered digging it from the ground of Ephesus that summer, a symbol of an ancient belief that even pre-dated Christianity. Now he could feel the tightening of the serpent's coils.
It was suddenly hard to breathe.
Ben sank to the floor, clutching at his chest through a haze of pain. He watched as Krait pulled a crowbar from his backpack and hammered the metal into the glass.
It cracked. An alarm rang out.
"Hurry!" Samael shouted. Krait smashed the glass again, then levered the end of the crowbar into the hole and pulled the shards away.
Samael took the seal from its case, a triumphant smile on his face. "The seventh seal."
At his triumphant words, Ben felt a jolt of pain flash through his chest. In the depths of the venom trance, he sensed his end approach.
It was past time.
He summoned Morgan's face to his mind, the daughter he never had, the woman he was so proud of. There was only one thing now that might stop the Great Serpent from consuming the world. He hoped she would find it.
But he could do no more.
A violent spasm wrenched Ben into blackness.
23
As dawn broke over London, Morgan looked out of the plane window at the sleeping city nestled around the curves of the River Thames below. Millions of people lay down there with no idea of ARKANE and the secrets they kept, no clue about the edge of destruction averted so many times. She had once been one of those unknowing, and now she could never go back to that state.
Even if she left and returned to her university position in Oxford, she would always be aware that Jake and the other ARKANE agents walked the earth, hunting down dark secrets.
She looked over at Jake now, his face relaxed in sleep, the corkscrew scar the only physical evidence of the battles he had faced. Could she really have a normal life on the outside?
As the plane touched down soon after, Morgan turned her phone back on. When they had boarded the plane a few hours ago, Marietti still hadn't located Father Ben and she had spent the flight worrying. She hoped he was lost in some manuscript in one of the lesser-known libraries around the university, head bent over ancient Greek words. He had forgotten the time, that was all. Just an old scholar lost in his manuscripts. But she also felt a rising sense of desperation, and she held back her tears as her phone beeped.
There were several voicemails and a text message.
Morgan's heart beat faster as she opened it.
There's a car waiting for you at Arrivals. You need to get to Oxford.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
Ben was more than a mentor. He had been her mother's friend a long time ago and when her parents divorced, Ben supported Marianne and helped her care for the twin daughter, Faye, that she left behind when she died of breast cancer. Morgan had met Ben later in life and he had helped her settle in at Oxford, providing guidance to the academic political quagmire.
He had helped her and Jake on so many ARKANE missions, risking his life for her in the flames of the Grand Lodge of the Freemasons and almost dying in India in the hunt for the Shiva Nataraja statue. He was an old man, for sure, but he had an inner strength that made him seem so much younger.
Morgan summoned Ben's face to her mind, his quiet smile, the depth of his faith despite what he had seen in the darker side of religion. It was never God who erred in his mind, only His creation.
Jake stirred and opened his eyes. He frowned as he saw the concern on her face.
"What's wrong?"
"It's something about Ben." Morgan clicked the voicemail button and listened to Marietti's words, color draining from her cheeks as she heard what had happened.
Morgan, I'm so sorry. Father Ben was found at the Ashmolean Museum next to an exhibit of Near Eastern seals. He died of a massive heart attack and his body showed signs of poisoning by snake venom. One of the seals is missing. We're sure that Samael and the Brotherhood of the Serpent were involved.
"No!" Morgan couldn't help her cry of despair. Tears welled up and ran down her cheeks. Jake pulled her close, rocking her as Marietti's voice continued the message.
His body is at the John Radcliffe hospital morgue. The car waiting at Arrivals will take you straight there. Again, I'm so sorry. Despite our differences, Ben was a good man. Call me when you can.
Morgan wept as Jake held her. He said nothing while she sobbed and for that she was grateful. Sometimes, there were no words.
The worry and pain of the last few days overflowed and Morgan let it all out. Not long ago, she had fought for Ben's life in a bloody temple in India. She had expected many more years together, and now he was gone.
Her tears finally slowed and Morgan felt the stirrings of a white-hot anger. She raised her head and wiped her eyes.
"Samael will pay for Ben's death." Her voice was calm. "I'm going to Oxford to say goodbye and then we'll track the bastard down."
Jake nodded. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No. I need to do this alone. Can you work with Martin on where Samael might be going next? If he has all seven seals, we need to find where he's planning to use them."
A few hours later, Morgan arrived at the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford and headed for the morgue. Although Ben's body had been identified already, Marietti had arranged for her to visit before it was released to the funeral directors.
The clinical white corridors smelled of antiseptic, an attempt to reverse the stench of sickness and decay of death. The scent took her back to the tomb in the Valley of the Kings. Death comes for all in the end and cannot be held back for long. Ben had been old, and of course, Morgan had expected this day would come at some point. She had hoped he would go to his God in his study surrounded by books, in the comfort of the life he had built for himself. But then few are able to choose the manner of their own deaths.
She entered the morgue and signed in, before being escorted to the viewing area. In a small white room, a body lay on a metal gurney under a white sheet, face covered.
Now she was here, Morgan hesitated.
She had seen death so many times, but this was different. After her own father had been blown up in what had seemed like a suicide bombing in Israel years back, Ben had been like a second father to her. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing his face now, lifeless on a slab.
Morgan steeled herself. She needed to be sure, and she owed Ben these last moments. She walked to the body, and stood by the head. She nodded and the lab tech pulled the sheet down, revealing the face of the corpse.
Ben's face.
Tears sprang to her eyes and ran down her cheeks as Morgan looked down on his dear features one last time. White hair swept back from a strong brow. Lines that had been earned through living and working hard f
or his God. She didn't know too much about Ben's past but she knew that he had given much for his belief. And he would have done anything for her.
She took one last look, understanding that this physical body wasn't the man she had loved, just his temporary shell. The Ben she knew had gone.
"Thank you."
The lab tech covered him again. Morgan turned and walked out. She would remember Ben as he was in life. At his funeral, the remains of that physical body would be lowered into the ground, but his kindness and faith lived on in her memory. She would honor that.
She would also make sure that the man who sent him to his grave would beat him into the ground. She would find Samael.
First, she needed to check Ben's office. Martin had sent through security footage showing Ben being taken from St Giles and many hours later, being escorted through the halls of the Ashmolean. A seal had been stolen, but Morgan was puzzled as to how Ben knew about it.
She needed to get to his rooms before the college cleared them out.
A short time later, Morgan arrived at Blackfriars, her heart heavy. Tears pricked her eyes as she walked towards the staircase that led to Ben's study rooms. She passed the green quadrangle where students lay on the grass, laughing and joking together. The sound rang hollow for her, even though she knew that Ben kept his window open so he could hear the students. They kept him young, he always said.
"Dr Sierra?"
The voice came from the window of the Porter's Lodge. Morgan turned to see an old man dressed in a three-piece suit poking his head out and waving at her. Fred, the Porter, took his job as the gatekeeper to the college very seriously.
She hadn't signed in. Morgan walked back over.
"Sorry, Fred. I'm just here to visit Father Ben's room one last time. Is that OK?"
"Of course. And you know how sorry we all are to hear of the Father's passing. He was a good man. With the Lord now though. A better place."