“Oh yes, quite right.”
Abraham’s concerns seemed alleviated. He once more incorrectly assumed his son would spend some of that time in conjugal visits. Daniel was content not to contradict him.
The old man stood up and walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “I’ll get in contact with Mr. Hunt again and alert him to these new developments.”
Daniel swallowed hard at the sound of the name. Leroy Hunt. A mercenary his father had employed in the early stages of the project. A man who seemed to delight in violence. In his nightmares, Daniel still saw Hunt herding three innocent people into a cave, ready to shoot them at point blank range. He would have done so without remorse if an unexpected rockslide hadn’t buried them alive first. He shuddered at the memory.
“Father, must we involve Mr. Hunt again?” Daniel deliberately kept a detached tone. He didn’t want to sound recalcitrant.
His father turned from the window to regard him with surprise. “Do you have an objection to his participation in this great work?”
Grasping at straws, Daniel said, “But he isn’t one of us. He isn’t a Nephilim.”
Taking his son’s protest seriously, Abraham sighed. “Yes, I know Daniel. It’s unfortunate that for the type of work required, we have no one in the brotherhood who has the necessary skills.”
The necessary skills to commit murder? Daniel remained silent and let his father continue.
“I intend to correct that deficiency very soon.”
The young man wasn’t quite sure what his father meant by that cryptic statement, and Abraham didn’t elaborate.
“Mr. Hunt has shown himself to be an invaluable ally even if he is a worldly man and one of the Fallen. He is the strong right arm of the Lord.”
“As you wish, Father,” Daniel murmured. If Leroy Hunt was the price he had to pay for a temporary respite from domestic tension, then so be it. He rose to go, but the old man stopped him at the door.
Abraham placed his hand on his son’s shoulder in an awkward gesture of affection. Patting him on the back, he added, “I’m very glad you have entered so wholeheartedly into doing God’s work.”
Daniel nodded but said nothing as he closed the door behind him. Apparently, theft and murder were now a part of God’s work. It had been a long time since his heart felt whole. He doubted it ever would be again.
Chapter 9 – A Room with a View of the Past
Cassie woke from a deep, dreamless sleep to hear an insistent tapping on her hotel room door. She shook her head to clear away the cobwebs. What time was it? What day was it? The flight from Chicago to Istanbul had taken almost eleven hours. The minute she got to her hotel room, she’d thrown her duffle bag on the floor and passed out on the bed. She never slept well on airplanes. Twenty winks had apparently turned into sixty.
She stood on tiptoe to check the peep hole in the door. A globular face was staring back at her.
“Oh jeez!” She jumped back, startled. Then she fumbled with the lock.
“Hey, toots.”
“My name’s not…” she trailed off. “Oh, never mind. Come on in.”
Erik sauntered past her, hands dug deeply into his jeans pockets. Looking around at the suite assigned to Cassie, he said, “Guess now we know who Maddie’s favorite is.”
“What? You guys don’t have rooms this nice?”
He shrugged. “I can’t speak for Griffin, but mine’s a broom closet.” He scratched his head. “I think she’s still ticked at me.”
“Why?” Cassie scurried to the foyer mirror to comb her bed head back into shape.
“We have what you might call a complicated relationship.”
Cassie paused to look in the mirror toward Erik’s reflection. “You mean she doesn’t like you either?” Her tone was teasing.
“Love—hate. Depends on the day.” His eyes swept the sitting room again. “Right now, I’d say accent is on the hate. There was an alleged incident where a hotel room in Venice might have gotten set on fire while I was retrieving an artifact. The Arkana was stuck with the bill. In case you didn’t know, Maddie hates writing big checks.”
“Alleged?”
“That’s the way I remember it.” Erik folded his arms across his chest, refusing to offer any further information.
Cassie’s brain still felt fuzzy. She went to the sink in the luxurious marble bathroom and began splashing cold water on her face. “How long have you been here?” she burbled through the water.
Leaning against the door, Erik replied, “Since yesterday. I had to get a few things squared away on another project. As long as I was here, I decided to kill two birds. Thought I’d give you a couple of hours to get some sleep before swinging by.”
Cassie reached for a towel. “What time is it anyway?” She patted her face dry and moved back into the sitting area.
He checked his watch. “Around five PM local time.”
“Feels more like four AM to me after being out all night.” She rubbed her head. “I think I need an aspirin.” She dove into her duffle bag in search of the tiny green bottle. “When’s Griffin supposed to arrive?”
“Last I heard, he caught the flight after yours. Should be here any time now.”
As if on cue, someone knocked tentatively on the door.
Erik went to answer while Cassie downed two aspirin and a glass of water.
“Hello all,” Griffin chirped brightly. Apparently, he was one of those lucky people who could sleep on airplanes. He looked around Cassie’s suite. “I must say Maddie outdid herself in arranging our accommodations this time. Absolutely first rate.”
“You too, huh?” Erik asked glumly.
To Griffin’s puzzled look, Cassie replied, “He’s bent out of shape because he got assigned a broom closet.”
“Ah, I see,” the scrivener nodded sagely. “She still must be upset about the Boetian vase incident.”
“Guess so,” Erik replied sourly. “I wonder how long it’s gonna take her to forget about it.”
“I
