Faye pulled her chair closer to Cassie. “Your sister was very good at authenticating our finds. I wonder if you would give it a try.”
She held the bowl toward Cassie.
The girl made no move to take it. “I’m not a trained archaeologist.”
Faye smiled. “I’m not asking for anything specific. Just hold it in your hands and tell me what you observe.” She nudged the bowl closer.
Cassie reached out with both hands. The second she touched the rim something very strange happened.
She felt dizzy as if she were falling down a deep, black well. Eventually, she landed. She found herself in a cavern. An underground vaulted chamber of some sort. There was a woman perched on a high stool.
No, that was wrong. Cassie had become the woman perched on a high stool. At least that’s where her consciousness was. She felt that she had somehow merged with this person.
She was dressed in a long white linen robe. In her left hand, she held a branch with leaves on it. In her right, she held a bowl. The same kind Faye had given her. Only now it contained a clear liquid. She was looking into it as if it were a crystal ball. In front of her stool, on the floor of the cavern, there was a crack in the ground. Strange-smelling vapors were drifting upward from that spot. The scent made Cassie feel light-headed.
There was also a man wrapped in a toga who was standing in the chamber in front of her. A large man with heavy muscles. He had a stern, almost cruel, expression on his face. He seemed to be hanging on every word she said. Cassie didn’t know how she could understand the language much less speak it, but she felt herself telling the man he was about to win a decisive victory over his enemies.
The next thing Cassie knew she was back in the garden, sitting in a wrought-iron chair. Faye had lifted the bowl out of her hands.
“I think that’s quite sufficient for one day.” The old woman smiled. “Tell me what you saw.”
Cassie was startled, disoriented. “What the freak was that!” she demanded.
“Just tell me what you saw,” Faye prompted gently.
“It was bizarre. I fell into another place. Another time. I felt like I’d actually become someone else. I was a woman sitting in a cave telling the future to some king who wanted to win a major battle.” Cassie’s heart was hammering. She looked at her glass suspiciously. “You must have put something in my lemonade!”
“I did no such thing, my dear, and I think you know that. You’ve had unusual experiences like this before, haven’t you.” Faye sounded as if she was stating a fact, not asking a question.
Cassie shook her head violently. “No, never. Or… maybe… but only once. Only the night Sybil died. I dreamed it before it happened. Every detail. It was like I was right there. The man in the cowboy hat was there too. The one who stole the stone ruler. He wanted Sybil to tell him where the key was.”
“You say he was looking for a key of some sort?” Faye sounded surprised.
“Yeah, a stupid key. And my sister is dead because of it. I watched it happen.”
“Sometimes the gift first appears when there has been an emotional trauma. Your sister had her first experience right after your parents died.”
“After… after my… What!” Cassie felt as if Faye had just punched her in the stomach.
The old woman reached across the table to touch the girl’s arm. “Forgive me, my dear. It’s a lot to take in at one time, but I had to be certain.”
Cassie recoiled. “Be certain of what?”
“That you were meant to take your sister’s place. It is your destiny to be our new pythia.”
Jumping out of her chair, Cassie cried, “Destiny? I don’t have a destiny! This is insane! I don’t care what Sybil did for you, or why, but leave me out of it!” She backed away from Faye. “I have to go. Now!”
She ran from the garden and out of the house.
***
Off in the distance, Faye could hear her tires squeal as Cassie pulled out of the driveway and raced away.
The old woman smiled to herself. “We have found our new pythia,” she murmured.
Chapter 12 – Power Tools
It was late afternoon when Abraham decided to allow himself the indulgence of half an hour in the treasury. It was a secret room concealed behind a panel in his office wall. Only a few trusted followers knew of its existence. The room’s contents were too precious to become common knowledge.
He typed a code into the keypad next to the steel door. It swung open on noiseless hinges and then shut behind him. The design of the interior resembled a bank safe. A windowless space with rows of small metal doors lining the walls. Individual security keypads were mounted on each one. A fluorescent fixture glared down from the ceiling on a bare table standing in the center of the room.
Abraham walked up to one of the small metal doors and typed a code into its keypad. When the door swung open, he withdrew the most recent addition to his collection and placed the object on the table. It was a small round shield that a warrior would strap to his forearm. More properly, it would be called a buckler. This one was green. At its center were painted five small blue shields arranged in the shape of a cross. Each shield was decorated with five gold circles. The monetary worth of the buckler was negligible. It wasn’t made of gold or adorned with precious gems, but its value lay in its miraculous history. In that regard it was priceless.
During the Middle Ages, Portugal was overrun by Moors who wished to convert the population to Islam at the point of a sword. Christians
