by J. F. Penn
Morgan didn't share Fred's faith but she nodded. "I'm going to miss him so much."
Fred reached a hand out and squeezed her shoulder. "He certainly thought a lot of you, Dr Sierra. In fact, he told me to give you something. It was a while back, before he went to India. He must have been worried about traveling at his age, I s'pose." Fred opened a tall filing cabinet and rustled around in the papers. He pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to her. "He said that if anything happened, I was to give you this."
Her name was written on the front in Ben's handwriting.
"Thank you. Do you mind if I read it up in his room?"
Fred waved her away. "Take as long as you like. We're not scheduled to get the room cleaned up until after the funeral at the end of next week."
Morgan walked back across the quad and up the stairs to Ben's room. She pulled a key from her pocket and opened the door. It was dark inside and she went to pull the curtains open. The room smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg, the spices of the chai tea that Ben loved so much. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hoping to feel him here somehow.
But Ben was gone.
Morgan opened her eyes and looked around at his study, dominated by shelves piled with books. Ben had never defined himself by physical possessions, but he certainly loved to read. She had sat here so many times asking him convoluted theological questions and he had always pulled down exactly the right tome to find the answer. He had retained his quick mind and inexhaustible memory to the end.
Who would she ask her questions of now?
Martin Klein? Google?
Morgan smiled at the thought. Then she looked down at the letter in her hand. She sank down to the chair and opened the envelope. It contained one sheet of paper covered with Ben's spidery handwriting.
My dearest Morgan,
I write this as I head to Goa to meet you. The Lord only knows what we shall face together this trip. Part of me is excited to join you on a mission! But time passes and I grow weaker and I worry that I won't have time to tell you what I need to. So this letter is just in case and if you're reading it, then I am gone.
Don't be sad that I've passed beyond the veil. I've been so tired these last years so it will be a relief to go, although I will miss seeing your future triumphs. And they will be triumphs, dear Morgan, whatever you choose to do. I will miss seeing little Gemma grow up and I hope you and Faye will find your peace with each other.
Take whatever you want from my study, whatever will help you or leave it all. It matters not.
Except one thing.
There is a box that is for you and you alone. Do not tell ARKANE of it for I know that Marietti would dearly love what is inside. Remember the day we discussed the role of Spirit-inspired prophecy vs. the effect of fasting in the Revelation of St John? You will find the directions in the book we talked of then.
Be safe, Morgan, and know that I have always loved you as the daughter I could never have.
Ben
Morgan let the silent tears come as she re-read his words. At his age, the end could have come at any time, and Ben had been ready to face it. But he should not have died in agony without those he loved around him, and her rage would not abate until she avenged his death.
But first, she had to find this box and her curiosity was piqued as to what could be within. ARKANE had vaulted rooms under Trafalgar Square in London, containing precious objects from all cultures across history. What could Ben have kept that ARKANE could possibly want? She knew that Ben and Marietti had a history together, a distrust from their past at the Vatican and both kept secrets she would never know. She smiled. Trust Ben to leave a mystery, knowing she would be unable to resist the hunt.
She looked up at the wall-sized bookshelf and tried to remember the conversation he referred to. It was a few winters ago, before she had even joined ARKANE. She had a client at her private psychology practice, a survivor of a cult. The girl had believed the End Times prophecy, but much of their cult practice involved extreme periods of fasting. Morgan had gone to Ben to understand his perspective, since fasting was a common spiritual practice in many religions and Ben specialized in multi-faith disciplines.
She stood and scanned over the titles, running her fingertips along the oversize spines.
This one.
She pulled the book from the middle shelf, a treatise on fasting by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. Not a book that many would expect in the library of a Dominican monk.
There was something in the pages and as she shook the book, a postcard fell to the floor.
Morgan picked it up. There was no writing on it but the distinctive spire of the building on the front caught her eye.
24
Salisbury, England.
Morgan and Jake walked down the path through the expansive green lawn around Salisbury Cathedral. The tallest spire in Britain towered over the town, and Morgan looked up as they approached.
"It was built in the thirteenth century to the glory of God," she said quietly, "but there are a lot of interesting things about this place."
"Stonehenge is only up the road a little way, isn't it?"
The prehistoric standing stones were thirteen kilometers north, constructed over 4000 years ago as a pagan worship site aligned with the sunrise of the summer solstice and the sunset of the winter solstice. Like the Egyptian temples, light would strike a particular stone on a particular day, evidence of the continuation of the gods' pact with mankind.
Morgan realized that Jake was trying to distract her from dwelling on Ben's death. She appreciated his attempt, but truthfully, this place really was fascinating. While Martin worked on trying to locate the sarcophagus, they had some time and Salisbury was only a few hours' drive. Martin had relocated to the vaults below Oxford, and promised to keep an extra eye on Faye and Gemma. While Morgan wanted to go to them, she needed to finish things with Samael first to ensure they would be safe. She would not see her sister's face on a mortuary slab.
"This cathedral, the church of Old Sarum, and Stonehenge are said to be placed on a ley line," she said. "They're considered by some to be ancient trackways of pagan Britain, mystical alignments that have a certain energy."
Jake raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like fun. What are we expecting to find here?"
"Ben's note implied some kind of box, but your guess is as good as mine as to where it might be. Or what's inside."
They continued up the path towards the church. The Great West Front portico featured sculptures of the patriarchs, prophets, apostles and saints, many heavily weathered over time. Morgan recognized Abraham with his knife, Daniel with a lion at his side, and a horned Moses with the tablets of the law. There were even some women, Saint Katherine with the wheel she was martyred on, Saint Barbara with a palm and castle. In the Jewish faith that Morgan was raised within, such images were never used, but she had to admit that these churches were spectacular. A myriad of stories in stone.
Some of the more weathered sculptures had been replaced with newer statues and Morgan was surprised and pleased to see one with clearly African features, evidence that Salisbury Cathedral moved with the times. After all, the church was far more active in sub-Saharan Africa, Latin America and Asia these days than it was in the historic centers of Europe.
She consulted the notes that Martin had provided about the church.
"That's Canon Ezra Baya Lawiri," she said, indicating the sculpture. "A Sudanese teacher who translated the Bible into the local Moru language. He was killed in the Sudanese war in 1991."
"I don't think I've ever seen an African face carved on an English cathedral," Jake noted, smiling up at the serious figure clutching his Bible. "It's incredible to think that they didn't have the Bible in their language until he translated it so recently."
They walked through the great door into the cathedral, emerging into the colonnade of the cloisters. Arched stone windows looked onto a square lawn beyond with a massive cedar tree dominating the space. With the rain dripping down outsid
e, it was peaceful but there was a chill here too. Morgan imagined the faithful coming here over the last 800 years, walking the cloister quadrangle as they prayed for their health, for enough to live on, for the safety of their families. People weren't so different now, although perhaps more distant from the spiritual energy of a place like this. But the stone had soaked up the faith of years and Morgan could still feel the imprint of the past here.
They walked into the cathedral nave and stood for a moment at the back. It had a Gothic vaulted ceiling, the lines of the arches accentuated by the use of darker grey Purbeck marble against lighter Chilmark stone walls. Light streamed through stained glass windows either side.
A modern font in the shape of a curving Greek cross reflected the high ceilings above. Biblical sayings ran around the edges. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. Isaiah chapter forty-three. So often these Christian churches used words from the Jewish scriptures and the simple use of water made Morgan feel closer to God than the grand architecture around them. Any belief she did have was rooted in the needs of a desert people, and water was always precious.
They walked on past the niches that lined the nave where noblemen had been buried over the years. Morgan glanced into each of the side chapels as they passed. She didn't know what they were looking for, but she trusted Ben enough to know she would recognize whatever it was when they found it.
They walked down to the far end of the cathedral. A stained glass window in hues of deep blue and shades of red cast a darker light onto a small altar. A candle wrapped in barbed wire stood before it, representing Prisoners of Conscience imprisoned for their faith around the world. It was striking, but not what they were looking for. They continued on in front of the choir stalls, emerging before the altar. It was simple, a juxtaposition to the ornate stone and wood carvings around it.
Then Morgan glanced up.
"Oh!" She couldn't help the exclamation of surprise as she caught sight of the strange window above the altar. She pointed up to a series of glass panels.
Moses stood in the center, a golden serpent wrapped around a pole next to him. At his feet, people lay on the ground writhing in pain while snakes slithered around them. Underneath, they could faintly make out the words, Even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, from John's gospel, chapter three.
"That is a strange image to have above a Christian altar," Jake said.
"I know," Morgan replied. "I've never seen the brazen serpent image used in such a prominent place before. The book of Numbers, chapter twenty-one recounts that God told Moses to make a bronze serpent so that any who were bitten could be healed by it. As we saw at Megiddo, the snake was a cultic object in ancient Israel. There was a serpent in the Holy of Holies, known as Nehushtan, before the reforms of Hezekiah, before the First Temple was destroyed. The serpent was also known in other ancient cultures as having healing properties."
"Like the rod of Asclepius in ancient Greece."
"Exactly. But it's strange because graven images were considered anathema to the Jews. They were punished for the golden calf in the desert, and yet this snake remained a symbol. And now the church uses it as an analogy for Jesus."
Jake frowned. "It's a bit of a stretch to compare Jesus to a serpent, isn't it?"
Morgan nodded. "I've always thought so, although perhaps it relates to healing in some way. A supernatural remedy for snakebite is something truly precious to a desert people."
"So what's the significance? Why would Father Ben send us here?"
Morgan's face crumpled at Jake's words and he reached out a hand to grasp hers.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
Morgan wiped the tears from her eyes. "I miss him so much already, but I'm determined to find what he left me. Samael is mine when we find him, Jake."
He nodded. "Understood."
Morgan looked up again at the stained glass. "We need to ask who worked on this or whether there are any other artifacts that relate to the serpent here."
They walked back down the nave and into the little shop at the side of the cloisters. Morgan spoke to one of the ladies serving and they were directed back towards the document archives.
An elderly man met them at a rickety desk.
"We're interested in the Moses window," Morgan said. "I think a friend of mine had something to do with it. Father Ben Costanza?"
The man's eyes didn't flicker. Morgan saw no indication that he recognized the name.
"The preservation of the stained glass windows will always be an ongoing project," he said. "That window was threatened because it needed so much work. To be honest, I think some in the church consider it an inappropriate image to have above the altar." He smiled. "But I quite like it. Ties us to the past and let's say, the exotic beginnings of our faith. Reminds us to remember the Middle East in our prayers."
Morgan wanted to encourage his friendliness but they didn't have much time.
"It was threatened, you say …?"
"Yes, but then there was a large donation, specifically tied to that window."
"Do you have any records of the details, or anything that was left behind along with the donation?"
The old man rubbed his chin. "Hmm, let me see. I'll have to go out back but you've piqued my interest, young lady. Why don't you wait in the Chapter House and I'll come find you when I've had a look."
Morgan didn't see that they had any choice. She nodded.
"Thank you, I really appreciate your help."
She and Jake walked back down the cloisters towards the Chapter House.
"The world turns on the curiosity of one man," Jake whispered. "But I'm glad we don't have to break in here and look for it ourselves."
"That's if he finds anything."
They walked into the octagonal Chapter House, bright with sunlight that poured in through high windows. A decorative medieval frieze circled the interior above the stalls, alive with figures from Genesis and Exodus. Morgan recognized Adam and Eve, Abraham, Noah and even the Tower of Babel. A gigantic display case dominated one side. A group of tourists huddled around it as their guide explained the manuscript within.
"This is one of the four surviving original copies of the Magna Carta, the Great Charter or peace treaty that promised protections against a tyrannical King."
The guide continued to explain the history of the document but Morgan tuned out her words. She looked at her watch. Time ticked on. She imagined the old man rifling through boxes in a long hall of records. Would he even find anything?
The sound of footsteps came from the corridor and then the old man emerged.
"I found this." He held up a small rectangular package wrapped in brown paper, dusty from the storeroom. It had her name written clearly on the front in thick black ink. "Are you Morgan Sierra?"
Morgan pulled out her driver's license. He looked at it, nodded and then handed her the box.
"I'll just go and photocopy this for the records," he said. "Back in a minute."
The tourist group walked out of the Chapter House and they were alone.
"I'm not waiting any longer."
Morgan crouched down on the floor and peeled open the package. Inside was a plain cedar-wood box. There were no carvings as would be expected from a Dominican friar. Morgan smiled. Ben was never one for over-decoration or fussiness.
She opened it.
25
Inside the box was a note and another package, wrapped tight in oilskin. Morgan opened the note first. Ben's spidery handwriting stood out on the cream paper.
My dearest Morgan,
If you find this, I'm gone and I'm sorry to leave you with this burden. I found this vial with the seal in Ephesus. The carvings in the tomb where I discovered it referenced a serpent trapped for a thousand years and suggested that this was some kind of antidote or weapon. I don't know which, or what it's for. But I know enough of evil to trust how important this is. Whether the serpent is real or allegorical, this may help in the fight against it.
&n
bsp; May God guide you and give you His strength,
Ben
Morgan unwrapped the package.
It contained a vial made of thick glass, tightly sealed with creamy wax. The glass was opaque but the color within was a deep scarlet.
"Blood?" Jake suggested.
"Could be." Morgan held it up to the light. The liquid inside was viscous and stuck to the sides as she swirled it. "I should get this to Martin to test in the labs, right?"
Jake nodded. "That would be the best plan."
"But Ben said specifically to keep it away from ARKANE …"
"And given what happened to Martin," Jake continued, "it might not be safe to take the vial into HQ right now."
Morgan nodded. "So we keep it with us until this is done."
Her phone buzzed with a message from Martin.
The confluence of the stars is imminent and the eclipse will cover Jerusalem tomorrow. We've had reports of a sarcophagus being taken into the Old City of Jerusalem by night. Flights booked out of Heathrow for you both.
Jake checked his phone for the details. "Looks like we need to get going."
Morgan slipped the vial into her backpack. "Let's finish this."
Jerusalem, Israel.
Deep underneath the citadel, the sound of dripping water echoed through the tunnel. Then came heavy breathing from the men who hauled the massive stone sarcophagus towards the central chamber.
"Careful!" Cardinal Eric Krotalia shouted as it bumped the walls, leaving a chip off the stone. But he could do nothing to widen the tight tunnel and he waved the men on, standing back as they continued down.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, more from anxiety than physical exertion, since Samael's men were the ones doing all the work. Samael himself was at the head of the group, directing the sacred object towards the chamber. His man Krait heaved at his side, and the woman he had brought, Lilith, slid sinuously ahead of them. She wore a green silk robe, hood covering her face, but he thought he glimpsed scales on her skin and a flash of green eyes in the torchlight.