Raven's Key: A Novel

by Siomonn Pulla

  George greeted Paul with a friendly handshake, motioning to his grandfather, who was still sitting down.

  “You have to excuse him. He’s not used to going so long without his pipe. Ever since these cities introduced their no-smoking laws, he gets grumpy and a little bit introverted whenever we travel to new places.”

  Iyash erupted with deep belly laughter.

  “Yea. I remember a time when I could smoke wherever and whenever I pleased. Oh how times have changed, eh grandson?”

  “That’s right Grandfather,” George replied, as if trying to shake a chill that seemed to have suddenly come over him. “But all hope is not lost.” Smiling, he directed his attention back to Susan. “You must excuse us. We have come a long way and are a bit travel weary.”

  “Of course. No Problem.” Susan glanced at Iyash. “ Perhaps you would like to come up to my office and have some time to catch your bearings before we get down to business.”

  After quickly considering this offer, George glanced at his Grandfather, a deep wrinkle appearing and then disappearing on his brow.

  “Thank-you for your kind offer but we really have traveled a long distance and would appreciate seeing the items we have come to examine.”

  “Of course, I completely understand,” Susan nodded to Paul. “It should only take Paul a few moments to retrieve the materials from the collections.”

  Iyash stared intently a Paul, making him a bit nervous.

  “Maybe I should go with him and make sure he knows what he’s looking for.” Iyash looked to Susan for agreement.

  “That’s a great idea Mr. Miskwaadesi. Paul could show you around the museum and you could help him retrieve the two items from the collections.”

  Susan was used to leading small tours of elders through the museum. At least twice a year, different groups came into the museum to feed some of the more sacred items in the collection. These visits usually lasted all day and were quite intensive. The morning’s elaborate prayers, pipe ceremonies, and smudging of objects with sage, sweetgrass and cedar, were followed in the afternoon by a good round of eating, laughing and storytelling.

  “Paul, once you and Mr. Miskwaadesi retrieve the two items, we’ll be waiting for you in examination room 2A. In the meanwhile, I’ll show our other guest around the Museum.” Susan turned towards George, “I hope this is ok with you.”

  “Yes, of course. No problem.” George shifted the small bag he was carrying on his back.

  “Great. Let’s meet up again in about a half hour or so in the collections room.” Susan led George down the stairs and out the main door towards the Museum’s public area.

  Chapter 7

  Will turned the rows of overhead fluorescents lights on in the collections room. The large expanse of metal shelve were stacked high up to the twenty-foot ceiling and connected by a network of paths. At the bottom of the shelves were large drawers, some of them deep enough to hold baskets or oversized items, while others were very shallow, made to hold textiles or parchments flat so their delicate fiber’s would not be damaged by wrinkles.

  Each shelf held a different array of tagged objects. There were blanket boxes and cradleboards, model canoes and long houses, carved narwhal tusks and beaded saddles. Bows, three pronged fish-spears and snow snakes were only some of the taller items hung along the end of each row.

  Will counted at least fifty rows of shelves and started going down each one row by row, shining his Maglite around the corners and under the shelves to secure the room.

  It was probably a mouse or a rat or something. Will thought to himself. This place is so big and those crates are shipped around the world you never know what you’re going to pick up along the way. Like that family of mice I found nesting in a box just the other night. They had made a nice home out of the wood shavings from the crates being unloaded downstairs for that mummy exhibit. Too bad I had to kill them.

  He was near the last row, which was roped off. The objects on the shelves were covered with red cloth, some were rolled in blankets and there was even one section of shelves covered completely from top to bottom.

  “Whatever you do don’t sneak a peek at those objects in the sacred, secret and ceremonial section,” Tom warned Will on his first week on the job. “Especially those Iroquois false face masks. The Curators told me you could lose your spirit if you look at one of those masks. And you could also lose your job. Museum regulations on that stuff are pretty strict. So no peeking ok?”

  Will was fine with the rules. He had no desire to look at objects that meant nothing to him anyways. He peered over the roped off section and shone his light down the corridors. As he suspected there was nothing there.

  “All clear in the collections room,” he called in on his radio.

  “Great. We need you down in the cafeteria. Some kid was caught trying to steal food,” replied Tom.

  “Ok. I’m heading down there.”

  Will clicked his radio off and headed back down the row of shelves toward the door. After switching the lights off, he heard a soft shuffling sound and what sounded like footsteps back in the sacred, secret and ceremonial section. He stood still for a few seconds to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. The sound didn’t stop.

  Great. Another batch of rodents.

  He decided not to switch the lights back on, just in case it scared them away.

  I think this time I’ll use my taser. Bludgeoning those mice with the end of my flashlight was too messy last time.

  The shuffling noise was coming from the roped off section.

  Shit. I’m not supposed to go past here.

  Will turned his radio on. His instincts told him he should radio this one in, but he could hear Tom’s voice teasing him.

  “Got scared by the ghost, eh Will. It’s ok, good thing you’re not working the night shift though. That’s when all the objects come alive – just like that movie.”

  I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll just shine my light in there and confirm it.

  He peered over the rope and shined his light down the rows of shelves.

  See, nothing.

  But on the second scan his light reflected off something at the end of the row.

  Fuck. That’s gotta be one big rat.

  The glint of animal eyes winked back at him in the dark.

  I better deal with this one.

  He unfastened the rope and made his way towards the back of the row with his taser ready. As he got closer, the shadow seemed to grow. It now looked more like the size of man and not a rat.  Will could feel his heartbeat increasing.

  What if it actually is a ghost?

  “Show yourself. I’m armed and don’t want to hurt you.”

  Will decided he should give whatever it was a chance to come peacefully before he stuck it with a thousand searing volts of electricity.

  “We can deal with this peacefully.”

  There was no response. Will stepped closer. His light seemed to fade into the darkness, as if it was being swallowed by something. He could make out the figure of a man crouched in the corner, clutching something to his chest.

  “Ok, I see you now. I repeat, I don’t want to hurt you. Come out with your hands above your head.”

  I really should radio this in now. Will thought as he came closer to the dark figure crouched in the corner.

  He steadied the light in one hand and went for his radio, but something hit him straight on, knocking him over.  He could feel a sharp point, like a knife, on his face and instinctively shot both hands up to protect himself.  His flashlight rolled on the ground beside him, and he could make out a mass of feathers hovering inches above his face.

  A bird! Jesus Christ. How did a bird get in here?

  “Caawwwww caw caww.” The bird confirmed what Will thought.

  “What the hell are you doing in here bird?” Will felt more relaxed now knowing it was only a bird but could feel the heat on his face where the bird had scratched him with is claws.

  “Caww caww caw
,” replied the bird.

  Will went for his taser but the bird flew high up into the collections and perched itself on the top of a totem pole in the far corner.

  I’ll never be able to shoot it with this thing. Better just deal with it. Make amends for killing those mice last week.

  “Ok Bird, it’s your luck day, I’m not going to kill you.” Will grabbed his flashlight and put the radio back into his belt. “There’s an emergency exit across the hall. But that means we’ve got to get you out of here first.” Will couldn’t believe he was talking to a bird like it was one of his kids.

  “Caww caww.”

  “Ok so you agree. Follow me then.”

  He opened the door of the collections hall and the bird flew out into the corridor. The emergency exit was on the other side of the corridor. Will swiped his security pass and opened the door. The bird flew out gracefully, soaring high up into the sky and disappearing.

  “Well that sure was weird,” Will said out loud to himself.

  “You ok?” Tom’s voice on the radio startled Will. “They’re waiting for you down in the cafeteria. You coming down or what?”

  “On my way.” Will wasn’t ever going to mention this incident to Tom. He’d never believe me, Will thought as he made for the elevator, calculating the fastest way to the cafeteria.

  Chapter 8

  Paul inserted his ID card into the security panel by the door leading into the museum’s main collections. He swiped his thumb through the reader and there was a brief whirr and then a click, as the blue light from the thumb scanner confirmed that it was indeed Paul Saya trying to access the secure wing of the building.

  He led Iyash through the open door, into the corridor.

  “How do you like this new security system? Pretty high-tech eh?”

  Paul found that small talk was a good way to make him feel more at ease with new people.

  “This is the museum’s way of trying to deal with an internal problem. Over the last few years, items have been disappearing from the collections. Nobody could figure it out. They even fired a guy who they thought was stealing the artifacts. But it turned out that he was totally innocent. So the museum had to pay him off and put hundreds of thousands of dollars into the installation of this new security system.”

  The two of them continued down the hall towards the collections room.

  “It’s a waste of money, if you ask me,” continued Paul. “If anyone is going to steal something from the museum, it’s going to be an internal job. The thief will be able to carry the items right out through this new security system. No questions asked. I think that they just got the wrong guy. Although, since they installed the new system a couple of months ago, the items have stopped disappearing.”

  “Did the police ever think about investigating outside the museum?” asked Iyash.

  “I can’t see how it could be somebody from the outside. All visitors have to log in, their bags are checked coming in and going out. Besides, how can you hide a large mask or fish-spear, or even a medicine bundle in a purse or a tote-bag?”

  A security guard was coming down the corridor towards them.  Paul noticed that he had a large bleeding scratch on his face.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Paul nodded at the guard as he passed in the corridor.

  “Umm. Yea. Sorry. I’ve got a call to get to. Some kid was caught stealing food in the cafeteria. He’s with a class tour from out of town and the teachers are pretty upset.” The guard adjusted his belt and scratched his head. He seemed a little bit disoriented.

  “Looks like you cut yourself shaving this morning,” joked Paul.

  “I don’ think so.” The guard brought his hand to his face. “Oh that. Bumped into something in the collections room. Had to go check out something that tripped the sensors. Turned out to be nothing.”

  “That’s good. We’re heading in there right now to check some stuff out.”

  “It’s all clear Sir.” The guard smiled at Paul and Iyash. “Best be on my way now.” The guard made off in a hurry towards the elevator.

  “I don’t know about you, but I got the sneaking suspicion that guard wasn’t telling us the whole story about that cut on his face.”

  They arrived at the large door leading into the main collections. Paul slid his thumb onto the security panel and after a brief whir and click, the door opened and they stepped into the large, dark collections room.

  Chapter 9

  Maeve Finn was busy pricing the shipment of new tinctures that just arrived that morning.  She was amazed at how fast her stock was moving. Ever since her new bulk herb store and apothecary opened last month there had been a constant stream of clients coming in to buy tinctures, teas and bulk oils. 

  When she first pitched the idea to members of the community, most people told her the store would never survive in Wakefield. They told her there wasn’t enough of an interested clientele. The proof was in the history of stores like hers that already had come and gone over the years. All of Maeve’s friends knew, however, how tenacious she was; when Maeve had a dream she always found a way to manifest it.

  The store was a longstanding dream of hers. Lately, Maeve had been thinking a lot about all of those mystical mornings at herb school in the emerald valley, drinking tea with her close friend Jasmine, and sharing her vision of the store.  Even though Jasmine was extremely practical, she always supported Maeve’s dreamy enthusiasm of opening a store.

  “But why do you want to open it in Canada Maeve?” Jasmine always came back to this point. “I mean, if you stay in California you can hang a shingle, make your own medicines and follow the American dream! You’ll be a millionaire in five years, guaranteed. ”

  “You’re right Jasmine. The regulations are so stringent in Canada. But that just makes the final outcome much more sweeter.”

  “But what if the final outcome is being swamped by reams of bureaucratic paper work and years of waiting and waiting to be approved by the government before you can open your store?”

  “I’m confident Jasmine, you know me. When it comes to manifesting my dreams, I never take no for an answer.  As tempting as it is to stay here in the emerald valley, I just feel like I need to be back in Canada, closer to the little bit of family that I still have and know. It’s like I’m being drawn back there. It’s where I should be.”

  “Well I believe in you and I’m sure your store is going to be very successful Maeve. You have this amazing ability to make things happen!”

  After all of those years, Jasmine’s words of encouragement still brought a tear to Maeve’s eye. Jasmine was like the older sister Maeve never had.  Her good friends often stood in for the lack of closeness she had with her family.

  I’m so overdue for a visit with Jasmine and Dave. I haven’t even been to Vermont yet to see their new baby.

  Over a year ago, Jasmine and Dave had their third kid, Patrick. Maeve didn’t know how Jasmine could do it all. Looking after three kids and running her own hugely successful clinical herbalism practice, treating people for all sorts of ills and chills.  In fact Jasmine had just placed a huge order with Maeve for bulk herbs, which were a lot cheaper to buy in Canada.

  Even though this isn’t the Emerald Valley, Wakefield has its own magic.

  Some days in the morning the fog from the river twisted into various shapes of animals and fantastical creatures. This morning on her way to work, Maeve thought she saw two pairs of eyes staring at her through the mist, the small shapes of their bodies just barely outlined by the filtered dawn light.

  I can’t believe I’m seeing these shapes again. Maeve sat in her new store staring out the window at the river.  I haven’t see those since I was a kid. Although there was that one time with Jasmine at herb school in the garden, and we both saw them that morning, the glowing eyes and small human shapes.  But they felt friendly, protective even. I wonder why I’m seeing them again? Probably because I’ve just moved here. They always seem to appear when I move to a new place and am a
little stressed out. And the lack of sleep doesn’t help. Stress and exhaustion are a lethal combination.

  Lately Maeve had been having a hard time sleeping. Stressed out about the financial prospects of the store, she’d been staying up late crunching numbers and working out various scenarios. Even though all of her advisors and even the bank assured her that the store’s business plan provided a very strong five-year financial outlook, she needed to feel that internal reassurance at a gut level.

  Ever since she opened the store and the bills had been piling up, she was actually starting to wonder if she had made a mistake. It had even come to the point where Maeve considered selling her most prized possession, her mother’s old antique necklace.

  It was a large triple serial triskele carved out of single emerald, that apparently came from her great-great grandmother in Ireland and had been passed down through the line of women in Maeve’s family. She had inherited it when her mother died, and it was the only memento of her mother she owned. It was a gorgeous piece and some guy had actually come into the store the other day and offered her a very large sum of money for it. He told her it was a one of a kind, very rare and worth a lot of money on the antiquities market. It was a really tempting offer, but Maeve refused.

  Thank God for Jasmine’s order.

  Maeve took the emerald in her hand, and held it up to the window. The sun reflected a beautiful green pattern on the wall behind her.

  I don’t think I could’ve ever explained this one to dad. He never liked the idea of me opening up a store. Too financially risky. Selling mom’s necklace would have just fueled his lack of confidence in me. He would’ve been convinced that I’d never be able to make a decent living from this place.

  She put the necklace back on and tightened the clasp behind her neck.

  And besides, I absolutely adore this necklace. What was I thinking? Even if I was a little strapped for cash, I could never sell this. It’s the only real connection I still have with mom.

  Maeve still had the man’s business card laying on the counter by the cash register.