“You’re not going to ask the time?” Griffin protested in mock surprise.
“I know it’s eight AM here, but between twenty-seven hours of flight time and crossing the international dateline, I’ve lost track of the day.”
Griffin glanced up at the numerous clocks ranged behind the reception desk, all intended to reorient international travelers. “Friday,” he informed her.
“Thanks.” Cassie yawned expressively and blinked as she tried to bring her surroundings into focus. The open doors on either end of the lobby created a breezeway between the pool on one side and the porte-cochere on the other. The pythia judged the outside temperature to be a balmy seventy-five degrees. It was a perfect sunny summer morning. Only it wasn’t summer.
“Isn’t June supposed to be winter in these parts?” she asked suspiciously.
“It is, but you must remember that Australia is warmer in the north and colder in the south. Darwin is only twelve degrees away from the equator which makes its climate tropical. The region basically has two seasons. The winters are warm and dry while the summers are warm and wet. Conversely, southern Australia is closer to Antarctica making it somewhat chillier in winter though still not what we might consider cold. However, there are ski resorts in the mountains of New South Wales and Victoria.”
Cassie leaned forward and rubbed her temples. “I definitely need more coffee to process those factoids. Let’s recap, shall we? In Australia, summer is winter and winter is summer. It’s colder in the south and warmer in the north.”
“Exactly so,” Griffin agreed brightly. Seemingly from out of nowhere, the scrivener produced a To Go cup of coffee and handed it to his partner.
“When did you...?” she trailed off in surprise. “Never mind.” She gratefully accepted the proffered drink, sipping the hot black brew cautiously. “What would I do without you?”
Griffin seemed flustered by the remark because he cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Our contact should be here at any moment.”
“So should Daniel,” Cassie added. The extra jolt of caffeine was helping her scrape off another layer of jetlag. “He said he’d meet us in the lobby at eight.”
The scrivener’s attention was caught by a woman striding purposefully toward them. “Ah, she’s here.”
They both rose for introductions.
“Cassie, allow me to present Alma Jones. She’s an anthropology professor at Darwin University who moonlights as a scout for the Arkana in this region.”
The pythia did a double-take. The utterly commonplace Anglo name of Alma Jones was borne by a dark-skinned aborigine with broad facial planes. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, of medium height and sturdy build, but it was her hair that fascinated Cassie most. The pythia had always disliked her own limp locks. Alma’s hair was bushy as a rhododendron and flared around her shoulders. She had made an attempt to subdue it with a colorful headband, but its energy refused to be confined.
“Pleased to meet you.” Cassie extended her hand.
“An honor to meet the new pythia,” Alma replied.
Cassie blinked again. Another contradiction. The scout’s intonation didn’t contain an exotic lilt. Her accent was outback Aussie. The pythia half expected Alma’s next words to be “G’day, mate.”
The scout exchanged a hug with Griffin. “Nice to see you out of the vault for a change.”
“Lately, it seems I’m never in it,” he retorted.
At that moment, the elevator doors parted to reveal Daniel. He immediately spied the trio standing in the middle of the lobby and headed toward them. He was dressed in a silk camp-shirt and linen trousers with a cotton sweater draped casually over one shoulder.
Griffin performed the introductions, but Alma seemed less than enthusiastic to meet the newcomer.
“Is that what you’re planning to wear today?” she asked cautiously.
Daniel apparently noted for the first time that his three colleagues were all dressed in t-shirts, khaki shorts, and hiking boots. His eyes widened in alarm. “Is there a problem?”
“You look like you just stepped out of an Armani ad,” Cassie remarked gently. She glanced at the scion’s Italian tassel loafers. “You’ll never make it in those shoes.”
“We’ll be doing some rock-climbing today over rugged terrain,” Alma informed him. “It’s going to be hot. Shorts and a cotton shirt might serve you better.”
“I... uh... I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” He cast a panicky look back toward the elevator. “I’ll go and change immediately.”
“Bring a hat if you have one,” Alma called after him. “For the sun.”
The three watched his retreat in silence.
Once the doors shut again, the scout turned to Griffin. “He’s the one you told me about? A Nephilim?”
The scrivener nodded.
“Poor guy,” Cassie murmured sympathetically. “I guess he wanted to show that he knows how to blend in with the Fallen, but it backfired.”
Alma shook her head ominously. “A bad idea to partner with demons.”
“He’s different,” the pythia interjected. “Daniel’s been sort of an ally.”
The scout seemed unconvinced of his trustworthiness. “How much does he know about the Arkana?”
“He knows what our mission is,” the scrivener explained. “He agreed to help us find the Sage Stone. We’re sharing relevant facts related to the search. However, I would caution you to avoid disclosing details about our organizational structure—how many agents we have, the location of the troves, and so forth.”
“Understood,” Alma affirmed. “But are you sure you can trust him?”
“As far as the recovery of the artifact goes, yes,” Cassie said. “Beyond that...” She shrugged. “Who knows?”
The elevator doors parted again, and Daniel rushed out. As instructed, he’d donned hiking shoes, shorts, a T-shirt, and a floppy hat. He was also carrying a backpack. “I brought extra water
