“Do not take them across Paso del Diablo,” Ochanda cautioned her nephew.
“Whoa, even I know enough Spanish to figure that one out!” Cassie exclaimed. “No way am I climbing something called ‘the devil’s pass.’”
Ortzi laughed. “We do not have to go that way. We will follow the trail from Arrazola. It will take three hours to climb to the top.”
“Perhaps we should move our base of operations a bit closer than Bilbao,” Griffin suggested.
“You are welcome to stay here,” Ochanda offered.
Before the others could speak, Griffin interposed. “We wouldn’t think of inconveniencing you. There must be a nearby hotel where we could stay.”
“In Durango,” Ortzi said. “There are several, and it is not far from here.”
“Very well then. If Ortzi wouldn’t mind driving us back to Bilbao, we can sort out our accommodations,” Griffin concluded.
“We should probably rent a car too, so nobody has to come get us,” Erik added.
Cassie scarcely registered the plans the others were making. Her head was filled with images of witch goddesses with goat’s feet and mountain ridges so steep that only the devil would cross them. She glanced anxiously out the window at the peak of Anboto one more time.
As if sensing her foreboding, Ochanda had walked up behind her and slipped something onto her wrist.
It was a bangle bracelet with a repeating design. The symbol was a four-armed cross, something like a swastika but without the sharp edges. Each arm of the cross looked like a curved teardrop instead.
“What’s this?” the pythia asked.
“It is a very ancient sign. We call it the lauburu. It will protect you from harm and bring you luck.”
“I can’t accept this,’ Cassie said. “It must be a family heirloom.”
The etxekoandre squeezed her wrist reassuringly. “Then I will lend it to you. You must wear it while you are here, and you can give it back to me after you find what you seek.”
“For luck then,” Cassie agreed and gave the matriarch a grateful smile. She gazed out at the mountain peak again and thought to herself, “Something tells me we’re really gonna need it!”
Chapter 29 – Doubtful Beliefs
Faye was in the kitchen kneading bread dough when her cell phone rang—the special phone she kept in the cutlery drawer which was meant to be used for Arkana communication only. Wiping her flour-coated hands on her apron, she bustled over to answer it.
“Faye,” the voice on the other end said flatly. It was Maddie.
“Yes, dear.” The old woman gave a furtive look toward the dining room. “What is it?”
“Can you talk?”
“Just a moment.” Faye shuffled to the doorway and listened intently for any sounds from overhead then walked back to the kitchen table and sat down. “Hannah is upstairs taking a nap. We’ve had a busy morning of lessons, and the poor child looked a bit under the weather, so I told her to lie down for a while. Do you have news from our intrepid relic hunters?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Faye could visualize Maddie taking a long drag on her cigarette before replying. “That’s what I called about. It seems like they finally caught a break. The Basque trove keeper has an aunt who knows a lot of local history. She was able to crack a few more lines of the riddle. Turns out the artifact might be hidden in a mountain cave in northern Spain. They’re going to check it out tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful news!” Faye enthused. “I know they were becoming a bit demoralized when—”
Her words were cut short at the sound of a crash coming from the other room.
“Hold on, dear. Something’s happened.” She laid the phone down on the counter and scurried toward the living room. There at the bottom of the stairs lay Hannah.
“Oh, my goodness!” Faye bent down beside her. The girl’s face was ashen. When the old woman felt her forehead, it was cold and clammy.
Hannah’s eyes fluttered open. “I... I got dizzy and fell.” She clutched her abdomen. “My stomach hurts.”
Faye rose as quickly as her aged limbs allowed and hastened back to the kitchen. Clutching the phone, she said, “Maddie, I need you to send a medical team to my house immediately. There’s something wrong with Hannah!”
***
Several hours later, Faye sat quietly in a hospital room reading a magazine.
Her young charge was asleep in the bed beside her chair. “Asleep” might be the wrong word. Considering what had just occurred, “sedated” might be a better description.
“Where am I?” a drowsy voice inquired.
Faye looked up from her magazine. She rose to stand beside the bed and placed her hand reassuringly on the girl’s arm. “You got very sick, so we had to bring you to a hospital.”
“Hospital?” the girl murmured, still under the effects of medication.
“Yes, you remember. I told you that when people get sick, we have to take them to places where doctors can help them. That’s where you are now.”
Hannah struggled to sit up. Faye readjusted her pillows and helped her lean back on them.
“What happened to me?”
“Oh, my dear.” Faye’s voice held a sad note. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, but you’ve lost the baby.”
“Lost?” The girl was still having difficulty focusing. “Where did it go?”
“It’s an unfortunate euphemism we use in the outside world to describe something that’s very painful to put into words. To be brutally blunt, you had a miscarriage, and your baby died.”
For a moment, Hannah said nothing. She simply stared off into space. “Could the doctor tell whether it was a boy or a girl?”
“It was a baby boy.”
Hannah wrapped her arms around her body and made a quick rocking motion. Then she began to laugh—a high-pitched hysterical sound.
Faye grew alarmed. She tried to stop the girl from rocking. “Hannah, Hannah! Listen to me.”
“It’s the judgment of God,” the girl murmured softly. “The diviner was right. It’s the judgment of God. I’ve been damned after all. I kept telling myself that
