Into The Jaws Of The Lion (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 5)
* * *
INTO THE JAWS OF THE LION
by
N. S. Wikarski
Into the Jaws Of The Lion
Book Five Of Seven—The Arkana Mystery Series
http://www.mythofhistory.com
Copyright © 2014 by N. S. Wikarski
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 – Knot Good
Chapter 2 – Malled By A Tiger
Chapter 3 – Shop Talk
Chapter 4 – Rare Collectibles
Chapter 5 – Toasted Breadcrumbs
Chapter 6 – Good For What Ales You
Chapter 7 – Special Delivery
Chapter 8 – An Overview Of India
Chapter 9 – Ferry Tales
Chapter 10 – Monkey Around
Chapter 11 – A Moving Site
Chapter 12 – Club Rules
Chapter 13 – Daddy Day Care
Chapter 14 – Urban Decay
Chapter 15 – The Pen Is Mightier Than The Truth
Chapter 16 – The Benefit Of A Doubt
Chapter 17 – Hunt For Prey
Chapter 18 – Right Of Passage
Chapter 19 – Final Dissent
Chapter 20 – Burning Questions
Chapter 21 – Say It With Flowers
Chapter 22 – Sexual Disorientation
Chapter 23 – Steak Out
Chapter 24 – Fireworks
Chapter 25 – Follow The Sun
Chapter 26 – Unstrung
Chapter 27 – Snow Fun
Chapter 28 – Timing Is Everything
Chapter 29 – Distress Call
Chapter 30 – Come Spy With Me
Chapter 31 – An Immodest Proposal
Chapter 32 – Three Little Words
Chapter 33 – Silent Night
Chapter 34 – False Gods
Chapter 35 – Baggage Transfer
Chapter 36 – Hannah Montana
Chapter 37 – Doubleheader
Chapter 38 – Brotherly Love
Chapter 39 – Simply Breathtaking
Chapter 40 – Triple Play
Chapter 41 – Native Son
Chapter 42 – Divinest Sense
Chapter 43 – Observations
Chapter 44 – Witch Doctor
Chapter 45 – Dead-End Street
Chapter 46 – Azrael’s Apprentice
Chapter 47 – Shrine Circus
Chapter 48 – Murphy’s Codicil Of Optical Occlusion
Chapter 49 – A Flawless Plan
Chapter 50 – Relatively True
Chapter 51 – Hitting Home
Chapter 52 – Tempests ‘n’ Teapots
Chapter 53 – A Hard River To Find
Chapter 54 – Regression Analysis
Names You Should Know
Author Bio
Books By N. S. Wikarski
Useful Info
FOR READERS NEW TO THE SERIES
A list of Names You Should Know is appended to the end of this book.
Chapter 1 —Knot Good
In A Foreign Land – Long Past Midnight
“Watch out!” The Pythia’s warning came too late.
Several dark figures swarmed from behind the boulders lining the trail, jumping Cassie and Griffin. Before the pair knew what was happening, they were body-slammed to the ground.
Half a dozen voices were talking at once, demanding answers in a language Cassie didn’t understand. She blinked as half a dozen flashlights pointed their intrusive beams in her face.
“What’s going on?” she asked dazedly. “Does anybody here speak English?”
More voices joined the hostile chorus. Rough hands reached out to drag her toward some unknown destination. She stumbled up a rock-strewn path and was thrust inside a small tent. Griffin was propelled in after her. Two of their assailants followed and forced them to sit back-to-back against the central tent pole, tethering their hands to the stake with thick hemp rope.
Without a word of explanation, their attackers left and shut the tent flap behind them. The voices outside continued to angrily debate some unknown topic.
Cassie tried to twist around but couldn’t. “Griffin?” she called anxiously. “Are you alright?” She felt the reassuring pressure of his fingers looping through hers.
“I’m fine, all things considered. And you?”
“Other than a few bruises, I’m OK too,” she answered.
The two of them sat back-to-back in silence for several moments, listening to the bellowing match outside.
The Scrivener shrugged philosophically. “On the whole, this night might have gone worse. Whoever they are, at least they didn’t kill us.”
“The night’s not over yet,” Cassie remarked ominously.
Chapter 2 —Malled By A Tiger
Chicago Suburbs – A Few Months Earlier
Faye sank gratefully into a plastic chair at the Gurnee Mills Food Court. Her feet were killing her after so many hours of walking through the gigantic mall. It had been half a century since she’d experienced the annual ritual of back-to-school shopping. She’d never before had to provision a runaway teenager raised by a fundamentalist religious cult for her first year at a public high school. Hannah dropped a pile of shopping bags on the floor next to the table, all the while balancing a tray containing burgers, fries and soft drinks for both of them.
She set the food down and served Faye’s portion before pulling out a chair for herself.
The two of them unwrapped their sandwiches and fell to eating. A few bites later, Faye sighed with satisfaction. “Ahhh, that’s better. In my day, we didn’t have malls that were the size of a small city. A morning of shopping in a place like this can work up quite an appetite, don’t you think?”
Hannah nodded mutely in agreement, her mouth full.
“I believe we’ve gotten everything on your list,” the old woman ventured.
Hannah drew a piece of notepaper out of her pants pocket and consulted it. “Yes, I think you’re right, Granny Faye.”
She’d taken to calling the old woman by that affectionate title after confessing that Faye felt like kin to her. Hannah had declined the suggestion to use the title of “Gamma” since that was Zachary’s special name so they’d settled on “Granny” or “Granny Faye” as being sufficiently familial.
Faye checked her wrist watch. “Didn’t Zachary say he would meet us here at one-thirty?”
Hannah’s face beamed. “He did and there he is.”
Faye’s great-great-something-or-other grandson made a beeline for their table the moment he spotted them. Trying not to show disdain for their carnivorous meal, the young vegan said, “I’ll get something from the potato bar. Be back in a few.”
Faye and Hannah continued eating in a companionable silence until he returned.
Yanking out a chair and plopping down unceremoniously, he asked, “What’s up?”
Hannah looked briefly puzzled. “What’s up where?” Catching herself, she hastened to add, “Oh, that was slang, wasn’t it? If you meant to ask what we’ve been doing, we’ve gotten most of
my school clothes and supplies.”
“Yeah, I figured as much,” the boy replied, diving into his baked potato covered in tomato-vegetable sauce. “That’s why I wanted to skip the shopping trip this morning. The idea of hanging around stores while chicks try on clothes and ask my fashion opinion really creeps me out.”
“Very chivalrous of you,” Faye chided gently.
“Yeah, well...” he trailed off and changed the subject. “Did her school paperwork check out OK?”
“Everything went smoothly,” Faye replied. “Our Hannah has been enrolled as a sophomore student at Emerson High School.”
“What line did you give the principal?” Zach asked, stuffing an oversized chunk of potato into his mouth.
“My people were able to create records showing that Hannah is an orphan. I’m her grandmother and legal guardian. Of course, her name isn’t Hannah. As far as the school is concerned, her name is Ashley Smith. I took your advice, Zachary, and combined the most popular girl’s name with the most common surname in America. Let the Nephilim find her, if they can. There are three other Ashley Smiths at her school alone.”
“I don’t know who these people of yours are,” Hannah piped up. “But they must be very clever.”
Faye and Zach exchanged guilty glances. For Hannah’s own protection it was critical that she know as little about the Arkana as possible, much less Faye’s role as the secret organization’s leader.
Zach leaped in with an explanation. “‘Her people.’ That’s just an expression we have out here in the world. You know, more slang.” He hastily returned to the main topic of conversation. “So does the principal think she’s a transfer student from someplace else?”
“No, dear.” Faye took a sip of cola. “The records show she’s been home-schooled until now though, thanks to your tutelage, she easily passed the school’s admission test.”
“That’s good.” The boy sounded relieved but then scowled as a new thought crossed his mind. “Emerson, huh. My school plays the Emerson varsity teams—football, basketball. You gotta watch out for those guys.”
Hannah’s eyes grew round with alarm. “Are they dangerous?”
“You bet they are. They’re all on the make.”
“What do they make?” the girl asked cautiously.
“Girls, that’s what.” Zach pushed his tray to the side and leaned his elbows on the table.
“Girls,” Hannah repeated dubiously. “You mean they manufacture girls like in that old movie we watched about the lady monster with the streaky hair?”
Zach stared at her in perplexity for a few seconds before understanding dawned. “No, I don’t mean like the Bride Of Frankenstein. I mean Emerson guys are on the make. They’re out to get chicks.”
“I really don’t think your explanation is helping, Zachary,” his ancestor observed dryly. “Let me try.” Turning toward the girl, she said, “My descendent is cautioning you against becoming too familiar with the young men at your new school since they may be overly amorous.”
Hannah gasped. “Oh, my!”
“However, I feel compelled to add that Zach is clearly overstating the problem. All boys at that age get carried away in the presence of pretty girls.”
The girl blushed. “You think I’m pretty? I mean... uh... among the Nephilim I was considered pretty. Even though vanity is a sin, the Diviner himself told me I was. But out here in the Fallen world, I didn’t think... That is...”
Faye smiled quietly to herself. Hannah was indeed a looker, as the young people might say. She was now quite at ease wearing the fashions of the outside world but still seemed oblivious to the effect she had on the opposite sex.
Zach snorted in disbelief. “Like you don’t know you’re a total shorty!”
“Shorty?” Hannah repeated. “I always thought I was considered tall for a girl.”
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Zach said, “It’s a slang expression. It means you’re really good-looking.”
Flustered, she stood up abruptly. “I have to... um... powder my nose.” She bolted for the ladies’ room.
Zach’s eyes trailed her. “Gamma, she’s smarter than any teenager I know. Aced every quiz and test I gave her. But when it comes to slang, she’s strictly Special Ed. She takes everything people say literally. I don’t get why it’s so hard for her.”
Faye followed the direction of his gaze. “It’s really quite simple. Slang comes from spontaneity and a playful use of language. It isn’t something that can be studied. The poor child has experienced precious little spontaneity or playfulness in her young life.”
“I didn’t think about that.” Zach appeared embarrassed by the observation. “Being raised by religious Nazis would stifle any kid’s sense of fun.”
“She’ll be alright,” Faye consoled. “Once she’s been around more young people her own age, she’ll absorb it as a matter of course.”
“I hope you’re right,” the boy commented worriedly. “They’ll think she’s a real weirdo if she keeps talking the way she does now.”
“Do keep in mind that her principal thinks she’s been home-schooled by her aged grandmother. Once that story trickles down to her peers, any oddities in her social behavior will be attributed to my influence.”
“Smart move, Gamma.” Zach nodded appreciatively. “She might not get a seat at the cheerleader table but at least they won’t think she’s mental.”
By this time, Hannah was threading her way back through the tables in the Food Court.
A youth blocked her path. He wore a letterman jacket sporting a fierce feline and the words “Emerson Tigers.” Smiling at her appreciatively, he asked, “How you doin’?”
“How am I doing what?” The girl looked lost.
Zach sprang out of his chair. “Hey, buddy. Don’t you have an elsewhere to be?”
The letterman towered over his competition and gave him a contemptuous glance. Turning once more to address Hannah, he added, “See you around,” before sauntering off.
The girl blushed in confusion. “I’ve never seen him before in my life. What did he mean? See me around what?” She sat down, flummoxed by the encounter.
Zach resumed his seat, all the while staring at the retreating jock. Incensed, he turned to Faye, “Did you see that? He’s wearing an Emerson varsity jacket. It’s like I told you. Those Emerson guys are all hormonal time bombs.”
“Time bombs,” Hannah repeated, growing even more disturbed.
“And I suppose you’re not?” Faye cocked an amused eyebrow.
“Me! I’m a perfect gentleman. No funny business,” Zach countered.
“He is, you know,” Hannah hastened to his defense. “When we go to the movies together, he always treats me nicely.”
“And I’m sure the Emerson boys would do the same,” the old woman retorted.
“I can’t believe you, Gamma!” Zach sounded appalled. “Do you want her going out with every guy at school? You’re a bad influence.”
Faye chuckled. “It sounds to me as if you’re worried about a little rivalry, dear. After all, you’ve had Hannah to yourself lo these many months. It’s time for her to get a taste of the wider world.”
“A taste, sure. But she doesn’t have to chow down at the boyfriend buffet. You need to keep an eye on her.”
“Zachary, what are you getting so upset about?” Hannah remonstrated.
He stood up again. “I can’t do this right now!”
“Do what?” the girl countered.
“Have this conversation with you two. I’ll catch up with you later. I have to do some shopping of my own.”
“Oh?” Faye inquired mildly. “What do you intend to buy?”
“Pepper spray!” Zach shot back over his shoulder. “It’s not for me. It’s for Hannah. She’s gonna need it!”
Hannah leaned over and whispered in Faye’s ear. “I don’t understand. Why does he want to buy me seasonings?”
The old woman patted her young charge on the arm reassuringly. “Never
mind, my dear. Before you start school, let’s put in a little more time honing your understanding of slang, shall we?”
Chapter 3—Shop Talk
Doctor Rafi Aboud paused on the threshold of the bar at the Peninsula Hotel. After so many months sequestered in an underground lab in the countryside, he took a moment to savor the luxury of his surroundings. Dark wood, leather upholstery, an Art Deco-inspired design. Everything he saw exuded grace and elegance. He loved grace and elegance as much as he loved the wealth which could buy both. Soon, if all went as he hoped, he would have enough money to surround himself with an endless supply of the finer things of life.
He walked through the open doorway. It was mid-afternoon and there were few patrons at the bar. That suited his purposes well. He scanned the faces of the clientele to be sure his contact hadn’t arrived yet. Satisfied that he was the first on the scene, he motioned to the bartender. Placing his order, Aboud then strolled to the upholstered sofas flanking the fireplace at the far end of the room and took a seat where he could keep his eyes on the door. Aside from his desire to immerse himself in opulence, however fleetingly, he’d chosen this particular venue for another reason. He could easily tell if he’d been followed. There was an off-chance that Abraham Metcalf might have sent one of his minions to spy on the good doctor.
Metcalf’s stubborn insistence on sartorial conformity among the Blessed Nephilim held an unexpected advantage for Aboud. The brotherhood’s regulation garb of white shirt, black suit and tie looked as anachronistic as a CIA operative circa 1960. Aboud had seen no such oddity dogging his footsteps among the beau monde strolling down Chicago’s Magnificent Mile. He settled back and took a slow sip of the twenty-five year old Scotch the waitress has just set down on the table before him.
The warmth spread through his limbs. He gave a relaxed sigh and drowsily watched the fire leaping in the hearth. Although the weather was hardly chilly for early September, he enjoyed the play of the flames. A few minutes later, his attention was drawn to the sight of an exceptionally tall, muscular man entering the bar. The newcomer spotted Aboud immediately.