The old woman didn’t comment immediately. She glanced at the sunset now coloring the sky at the far edge of her garden. Finally, she said, “My dear, I believe you’ve just had an epiphany.”
“If by ‘epiphany’ you mean I finally saw the big picture, then yeah. Let’s call it an epiphany.”
“I find it interesting that your first impulse was to put yourself in Hannah’s place—to experience the world from her perspective.”
Cassie shrugged. “I did what anybody else would have done.”
“You did what only an empath would do, my dear young friend. While the ability to view the world from another’s perspective is a trait that all pythias possess to some degree, it’s far from instinctive in the general population.” Faye’s eyes twinkled in the dusky light. “It amazes me that for one gifted with the second sight, you so often fail to see your own uniqueness.”
Cassie blushed at the observation. “Maybe because things that should be as plain as the nose on your face are just as hard to see.” She grinned. “Thanks for being my mirror.”
The conversation was cut short when Hannah emerged from the house bearing a tray in her hands.
“I thought you might like some apple cobbler. I made it myself,” she offered hopefully.
“Then it’s bound to be good.” Cassie took one of the plates from the tray. “See that was another compliment. You’re supposed to reply with ‘thank you’ and accept it when people say nice things to you.”
The girl drew up a chair. “I have so much to learn.”
“That’s what makes life intriguing,” Faye observed, casting a sly glance at the pythia. “There’s always some new insight waiting to pop out at you when you least expect it.”
Cassie smiled wryly at the memory guardian and then dove into her cobbler.
Chapter 21 – Tactical Oversight
Chopper Bowdeen had been sitting in the airport waiting for his flight to Munich to be announced when he received a call from somebody who sounded like he wore a black suit. Obviously a Nephilim emissary, the man politely asked him leave the terminal, climb into a waiting limo and head back to the compound. It seemed the diviner had other ideas for Chopper’s next mission.
Bowdeen did as instructed, but he wasn’t thrilled at the change in his itinerary. He had been looking forward to a trip overseas—out of reach of those cozy face-to-face chats that Metcalf seemed to enjoy so much. Never mind that he had been on his way to train yet another batch of fanatical foot soldiers. The less direct contact Chopper had with the diviner, the better he liked it, even at the price of furthering the hidden agenda of a lunatic.
As he gazed vacantly out the tinted limo windows, the mercenary asked himself for the thousandth time why he was cooperating at all with the Nephilim’s plans. Why not just take the money and run? Two compelling reasons—fear and greed. Chopper knew that if he bailed on Metcalf’s scheme now, there was no chance the old coot would let him live. Bowdeen had seen too much of the inner workings of the organization—far more than most Fallen. Jesus Christ! Even in his own head, he was talking about the outer world using Nephilim terminology. He didn’t like the way their crazy notions were seeping into his brain. All the more reason to run, but he knew that no matter where he hid they would find him. The brotherhood had a global reach that would have made the mafia jealous. No, escape was out of the question.
Deep down, Chopper knew that fear of capture wasn’t his biggest motivator anyway. As long as he worked for the Nephilim, money grew on trees. For the first time in his life, he had cash to burn. Literally. Just last week, he’d lit a cigar with a hundred-dollar bill even though he’d quit smoking years before. These days he could buy anything he wanted or anybody for that matter. To a dirt-poor kid from Alabama, it was quite a rush. Chopper decided he enjoyed the feeling. So, there it was. Greed trumped everything else—right down to the last scrap of moral compunction he had left. He didn’t like himself very much at the moment, but conscience was a luxury he figured he could afford to live without.
The limo slowed as it passed through the gates of the compound. Much to his surprise, the vehicle came to a complete stop, and the driver signaled him to get out. He stood hesitating by the car door for a few seconds when a voice called from on high. “Up here, Mr. Bowdeen!”
He followed the sound of the voice to the top of one of the sentry towers that flanked the iron gates. Metcalf was standing on the catwalk and motioned for him to ascend. Chopper shrugged and started climbing.
“I’m very glad Brother Samuel reached you before your flight left,” the diviner said. “In here, please.” He indicated the interior of the guard room.
Bowdeen noted that Metcalf appeared more gaunt and haggard than the last time he had seen him, even though it had only been a matter of weeks. The purple circles under the diviner’s eyes meant that he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately either.
Chopper transferred his attention from the preacher to the room itself. The design was octagonal with windows fitted into the upper half of each wall. This would allow the occupant a 360-degree view of everything going on
