The two men appeared crestfallen at the news.
The priestess patted them both on the back consolingly. “This is not a day for sadness. You should rejoice that we have completed our sacred charge at long last. Come, take the torches and let us leave this place.”
The three emerged from the cave and collected their scattered belongings, preparing to depart.
“We can’t return home.” The metalworker’s tone was resigned. “Those savages from the north will have overrun all of Minoa by now.”
“Yes, I imagine that is true,” the priestess agreed.
“Then where are we to go?” the stonemason asked plaintively.
“There remain a few corners of this world which have not forsaken the old ways and the Mother of All. We shall live out our days in exile among such folk.”
“I don’t suppose these folk you mention know how to make wine, do they?” the metalworker asked testily. “I haven’t had a drop in months.”
“Indeed, they do,” the priestess countered slyly. “For I see both wine and women in your future.”
The metalworker chuckled, nudging his cousin in the ribs. “I knew there was a reason why I volunteered for this mission.”
The stonemason regarded the priestess glumly. “That’s all well and good for him, but I want to settle down.”
“Fear not. I foresee that your wish shall be granted as well.”
The stonemason perked up immediately. “In that case, what are we waiting for?” He hoisted his bundle of tools to his shoulder. “Lead us to our new home, lady.”
The metalworker glanced back toward the cave entrance and shrugged. “We’ve done all we can to protect it. I suppose the future of the Oracle Stone is up to chance now.”
“No, my son,” the priestess murmured softly. “Not chance. Its future now rests in the hands of destiny.”
Chapter 2—Truce or Dare
The Arkana Vault – Chicago Suburbs – Present Day
Thirty-two shadowy forms sat in council at the great round table in the schoolhouse. The dim pendant lamp suspended above them cast a pall over their features. The governing body of the Arkana had just reached a momentous decision which would determine the future course of the secret society for years to come. Not surprisingly, no one felt like talking anymore.
Zhang Jun, the Hongshan trove keeper, eventually broke the silence. “It would appear that the Circle has unanimously defeated the chatelaine’s proposal to declare a blackout for the Arkana.” With a slight smile, he turned toward the pythia and the scrivener. “Now what?”
“You’re asking us?” Cassie retorted in a shocked tone.
“You just gave this assembly some very compelling reasons for battling the Nephilim rather than going into hiding,” Michel Khatabi, the Berber trove keeper, remarked. “How do you propose we do that?”
“Ummm,” the pythia hedged.
“You said it was our duty to rescue the diviner’s runaway bride, recover the Sage Stone, and shut the Nephilim down for good.” This helpful reminder came from Grace Littlefield, the Haudenosaunee trove keeper. “And we agreed. So, let’s hear your next steps.”
“Ummm,” Cassie repeated, glancing imploringly at Griffin to bail her out.
“Well, obviously it will take us some time to map out a strategy,” the scrivener equivocated.
“The key!” the pythia blurted out.
Everyone, including Griffin, looked at her in surprise.
She popped out of her chair and began to pace around the table—her mind rapidly forging connections.
Craning his neck to track her movements, Aydin Ozgur, the Anatolian trove keeper, asked, “Do you mean the granite key?”
“No.” Cassie frowned. Deep in concentration, she never broke stride. “I mean the fifth artifact. The one we just nabbed in China.”
“Oh, I see,” Griffin said, though his tone hardly indicated that he understood his partner’s thought process. Addressing the group at large he explained, “We collected a golden labrys overseas. Cassie was able to discern that the base was a key of some sort. We speculated that it might unlock the Sage Stone’s hiding place.”
The pythia paused and wheeled about triumphantly. “And the Nephilim don’t have it!”
The other members of the Circle continued to regard her with skepticism.
“I’ll go out on a limb and say it’s a good thing that they don’t have it,” Grace observed.
“But we can offer to give it to them,” Cassie concluded brightly.
The expressions on her listeners’ faces turned from doubt to disbelief.
“Cassie, perhaps we should discuss the specifics of our strategy at another time,” Griffin suggested tactfully. He obviously wanted her to stop digging them both a deeper grave with her tongue.
“Don’t you get it?” She stamped her foot. “That key is our best chance of rescuing Hannah. We tried tackling the problem head-on by breaking into the compound. You all know how well that turned out.” She eyed her listeners briefly. “Maybe we should start our war against the Nephilim with a truce. We can negotiate an exchange—Hannah for the key.”
“If you do that, you’re basically offering the Sage Stone to Abraham Metcalf on a silver platter,” Grace objected.
Everybody started talking at once—mostly to protest the insanity of the pythia’s suggestion.
“Hold on!” Cassie objected above the general uproar. “That came out wrong. I meant we should dangle the key as bait. Metcalf and his crew will have to cooperate once they know they’re missing part of the puzzle.”
“Yes, it just might work.” Griffin smiled with relief, at last understanding the pythia’s strategy. “In fact, it might serve two purposes if we were to offer to find the Sage Stone in exchange for Hannah.”
“What?” Now it was Cassie’s turn to look askance at her partner.
“As the old adage says, ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies closer,’” Griffin hinted.
“Ah, of course.” Jun nodded sagely. “The Nephilim will not interfere with your quest if they think you are searching for the Sage Stone on their behalf.”
“Exactly so,” the scrivener agreed. “In addition, such an offer would provide the added
