Bloodstone (26 page)

by Ivy Geraghty

Entry #17

So they moved me to the crapper and I managed to take off the blind fold. I hear whispers behind the door, but it is barricaded. As my senses return, muffled sounds of shuffling this and that filter through the door. The voices are low and I cannot determine the nature of the conversation, but I hear the word Professor. There is more than one voice, man and woman. The window is old and I manage to pry it open an inch, then two, but cannot fit through. I search and call for Moonlight, for my sister.

No one comes.

-Ivy Geraghty, Prisoner of War

SIXTY-SIX

“Birdie, are you telling me that the secret we are supposed to be protecting is a map that leads to the location of the Ark that Noah built?”

She grinned.

“You’re serious? Noah’s actual Ark. It’s not like a replica built by some Irishman who hit the Absinthe a little too hard or anything, is it?”

She smirked at me, crossed her arms and said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, give me a minute here, Birdie. I am trying to wrap my brain around the fact that you—that anyone—would want to keep hidden one of the most significant artifacts of the ancient world.” I started pacing, trying to catch up with the laps my mind was running. “I mean, think of the importance of this. Of the value it would bring to people. Especially the country where it’s located.” I stopped, looked at her. “Do you know where it is?”

She ignored the question.

“Birdie, it belongs to history, to scholars, to archeologists. To the people who will preserve and truly protect it.”

Birdie crossed over to the fireplace and it erupted in flames. I didn’t see her strike a match.

I said, “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Ah,” she said, her back to me. “And I suppose you know what is right for the entire globe? For generations to come and generations past?” She turned to face me, draped her arms out wide. Her cloak caught a spark, but with a snap of her fingers, it was extinguished.

Okay, now she was freaking me out.

“Would you just tell me already? Why isn’t it a good idea to present it to the world?”

She paused for a time, lifted her head skyward as if I asked these silly questions just to torture her.

Then she spoke. “Fifty years before Christ, the people and the government of Rome worshiped an ancient pantheon of deities. The empire was growing, spreading across Europe and other continents as the Romans conquered more and more land and people. Societies were expected to fall in sync with the laws of their new rulers. They were expected to forego their own belief systems and instead blend into the Roman way of life.”

“When faiths collide, blood is shed,” said Fiona

“Which is what happened when sects of Jewish people practicing what they called Christianity were discovered under the new empire.”

Fiona said, “Power may strengthen armies, but it weakens minds.”

Birdie nodded in agreement. “As the empire stretched further and further, infrastructures were built, connecting people who would not encounter each other otherwise. People who had heard Christ preach relayed his message to their new neighbors. When Constantine conquered both the East and West banks of Greece, he discovered that many social powerhouses were Christians. He needed their support so he decided it would be in the best interest of the empire to claim one religion and declare it the law of the land.”

“I recall studying that. It was 313 AD. Right?” I asked.

Birdie smiled. “Yes. It was also the beginning of a new way to govern—the integration of church and state. The first order of business was to persecute those identified as dualistic Christians—Gnostic Christians, Mithraism Christians and so on.”

“Then the pagans became the persecuted,” said Fiona.

“So what does this all have to do with the Ark?” I asked.

Birdie sat down on the settee. “The Ark is a legend known across many faiths. Judaism, Islam, Christianity, each claiming the story, each still fighting wars in the name of their god.” Birdie looked at me steadily. “It was agreed long ago that until the bloodshed ends—until people and governments cease to fight in the name of any deity—the Ark is to remain lost to the ages.”

I sunk into a chair. It was hard to recall a time during the last ten years when the words ‘holy war’ weren’t mentioned in the news. What she was saying made sense. Although, I wasn’t sure it was the answer. People have been slaughtering each other in the name of faith for thousands of years. What would change by keeping this secret?

Then again, what would happen if it were discovered?

Suddenly a sharp pain pierced my forehead and images slammed through my mind, one after the other. Billowing clouds of black smoke choking the sky, exploding glass and people screaming, running, firefighters caked with debris and dust, babies crying, women leaping off high rise buildings.

“Maegan, stop,” I whispered.

I knew what she was showing me—knew the date, the day, the time.

When I looked up, my grandmother and my aunt were carefully reading my face. They were right. The world wasn’t ready.

“I just have one question,” I said. “Is this King Arthur’s round table?”

Fiona said, “We bought that when the Renaissance restaurant closed, dear.”

Fair enough.

SIXTY-SEVEN

I left Thor sleeping on the bed on my way back to the dining room. Lolly was wearing a long orange sequined ball gown that looked like it was designed by Elton John. A fuchsia shrug covered her shoulders and she was wiping down the table.

“Lolly, where is Mr. Sayer? I mean Mr. Mahoney.”

She smiled at me with all her teeth and said, “He stepped outside for a cigarette.” Then she held up a bottle and said, “Champagne?”

“No thanks.”

I went to the front door and swung it open. Didn’t see him, but Moonlight was there on the porch. I walked all around the property, but still there was no sign of Mahoney. Moonlight was close on my heels. Finally, he jumped on my shoulder and screeched loudly in my ear.

“Okay. Guess we’ll need to do this without him.”

The white cat followed me all the way to the hotel. I was banking on the fact that the knife in my boot and the map in my pocket would be enough to end this. After all, that’s what they were after, not me, not Ivy. They wanted the book to decode the page, but I had something even better—I had what appeared to be—the actual map.

My phone buzzed just as I got to the entrance. It was Gladys. “I try and try, but you don’t answer phone.”

“Sorry Gladys. What have you got for me?”

“Claudia Honeycut is army soldier.”

“Is she deployed?”

“What is this?”

“I mean is she fighting now? Is she overseas?”

“Oh. No.”

I thanked her, disconnected the call and stepped into the lobby. It was an old building, one of the oldest hotels in the state. The lobby was wallpapered in a floral Victorian era print, the carpet a rich burgundy pattern. Past the tea cart loaded down with coffee and cookies was a wide, walnut, winding staircase that led to the rooms upstairs. To the right of the lobby was a lounge, Ye Old Time Saloon. I poked my head in and saw Derek sitting at the bar next to a gorgeous woman who actually did have a Beyonce thing going on. I debated whether or not to interrupt his date. Chose not to.

To the left was the grand ballroom. The lights were dimmed in there and it looked as if the dinner was winding down. A DJ announced that the staff was about to spread the tables apart for dancing and that guests were invited to enjoy cocktails and live music. I could hear the clang of drum cymbals as band members set up on the backstage.

I walked up to the young desk clerk who was reading a magazine and asked if there was a message for me. Gave him my name and said I was meeting a friend who was a guest. There wasn’t. He asked me the name of the party and I hesitated.

Which name should I give?

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Moonlight flick his tail, I turned to catch him running up the stairs.

I told the clerk that I just remembered the room number and he shrugged and went back to reading. Then I followed the cat. My wristbands started itching again and I shook my hands for relief. They vibrated, then tingled as did the boots.

I bumped into Mahoney drinking a beer at the top of the staircase.

“Hey, where you been?” he asked.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, pointing to the bottle in his hand.

He looked at the beer. “It calms my nerves.”

“Where the hell did you go?”

He shrugged. “I had to take a leak.”

I didn’t even bother explaining that there was indoor plumbing at the house. I just called him an idiot.

“So this is where we’re supposed to get the Warrior? Which room is it?”

I frowned. “I don’t know.” It was a quarter to ten. Time to make an executive decision, since clearly I was now the captain of this ship of fools.

“Go downstairs and ask which room the Honeycuts are staying in.”

Brian from the bank had said an old guy visited his former manager. It didn’t make a lot of sense and certainly a man in his eighties (or so he had appeared) couldn’t have been chasing me down on the highway while shooting at us, but it was worth a shot. He was the last of the guests that could have slipped Mahoney the zombie powder.

Unless his wife did.

Mahoney turned, trekked down the stairs and I searched for Moonlight. I spotted him at the end of the long corridor, just turning a corner.

I chased him down and up ahead, there was Mr. Honeycut, ambling along, a bucket of ice in his hands.

Then the vision flashed again. A woman tied to a bed.

That clinched it. If I was wrong, I would most likely be headed for prison, but when you’re the Seeker of Justice and your mother is being held captive goddess knows where, your sister is no longer your sister, but she’s still in danger and the only backup is in the form of a sweaty, pot-bellied bozo with all the intelligence of your average houseplant, you have to make swift choices.

It took two strides to reach him. I grabbed the dagger with my left hand, stuck it to his back and horse-shoed my right arm around his throat.

He squeaked, dropped the ice bucket and I said, “Where is she?”

“The Seeker, I presume?”

“Listen to me, you son of a bitch. I have not had a good day. I wrecked two cars, ran in three inch heels through a damp forest, got shot at and I’m pretty sure I’m in the throes of PMS. Just take me to Ivy or I swear to god, I’ll stab you in both kidneys.”

He tensed. “You got shot at?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Take me to the girl or lose a lung. Your choice.”

Honeycut slipped a keycard into the door we were standing in front of and it popped open.

I told him to turn the lights on and he did.

Mrs. Honeycut was sitting on the sofa knitting. She looked up and greeted her husband. Then she turned to me, scowled and said, “I don’t see a book.”

I said, “Do you see the six-inch blade in my hand? Kind of changes the dynamic of the situation. Put the knitting needles on the table, Mrs. Honeycut.”

She did.

“Now,” I patted Mr. Honeycut down and found no weapons. “Where is the gun?”

I wouldn’t call for Ivy until I knew she was out of danger. If she was even here, although I suspect the chair propped under the door across the room was a good indication she was.

Mrs. Honeycut furrowed her brow together. “What gun?”

Mr. Honeycut said, “She said someone shot at her, Cece.”

“Who would do such a thing?” she asked, incredulous.

I said, “I’m going out on a wild limb here, but I’d say people who kidnap a defenseless child might not be gun shy.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Honeycut said and stood up. “We don’t believe in guns. And the child is fine.”

Mr. Honeycut spoke then. “She’s telling the truth. We may dabble in poisons, but never firearms.”

“We’re scientists,” Mrs. Honeycut explained as if that made everything okay.

Someone knocked then and I heard Mahoney’s voice just as the band started to play. The music was so loud, the floor shook. I ordered Mrs. Honeycut to open the door, still holding the knife to her husband’s back. She did and Mahoney entered eating a Snicker’s bar.

I directed Mrs. Honeycut to lie on the bed.

Mahoney said, “These are the Hunters? Ma and Pa Kettle?”

Mr. Honeycut extended his hand and Mahoney was just about to shake it when I said, “Don’t do that.”

He gave a curious look then said, “Oh yeah. Which one of you slipped me the goofy juice?”

Mr. Honeycut said, “Your ID fell out when you opened your wallet to pay at check in. Remember, Mr. Mahoney?”

“Okay, I need some answers,” I said. “First, who are you and how do you know about us?” I told him to sit next to his wife.