The matron fell to her knees and whispered a prayer for guidance. This was a grave matter, and she was nothing more than a corrupt daughter of Eve herself. Almost immediately, an answer came from beyond. God was mightily offended with his diviner. His wrath could only be averted if a fit sacrifice was offered. Mother Rachel cast about in her mind to understand what the Lord would consider an appropriate offering.
Absently, she raised her eyes to the cross affixed to the chapel wall. Another revelation struck her. When mankind had offended God in olden times, the Lord’s own son shed His blood that all sins might be forgiven. Of course, it made perfect sense. A sin as great as Abraham’s could only be washed away with blood atonement. That was surely what the Lord wanted her to do. At first, she recoiled from the idea until she remembered another Abraham ready to slaughter his son Isaac at the Lord’s decree.
She bowed her head over her hands. “Lord, I am your faithful handmaiden. I hear and obey.”
Mother Rachel rose from her knees and walked slowly toward the back of the chapel. She had been given clear instructions what to do next. If she shrank from her duty at this critical moment, then she was no better than the Fallen who roasted in hell. God’s will was obvious. She must perform the sacrifice with her own hand. Perhaps if enough blood flowed, the Lord would forget his wrath against the Blessed Nephilim. It was up to her to save them all.
Chapter 27—Ritual Slaughter
The following afternoon, rested and as clean as a train without showers would allow, Cassie and Olga entered the Trans-Siberian’s wood-paneled dining car to meet their teammates for lunch. The opulent decor carried a hint of the glory days of rail travel. The car’s luxurious interior and high prices also discouraged the presence of boisterous third-class passengers who preferred to buy their provisions from station vendors.
Cassie scanned the length of the car to see if the men had already arrived. She spied Griffin signaling her from a table in the middle of the carriage. Daniel didn’t look up at their approach. He was immersed in his menu.
“Did you sleep well?” Olga asked solicitously as she and Cassie took seats opposite their colleagues.
“Absolutely,” the scrivener assured her. “Thank you so much for arranging our passage.”
“I was happy to be of help on such an important mission,” the scout replied.
A waitress arrived with a silver carafe of coffee and poured four cups while everyone surveyed the bill of fare.
“Even with the English translations, I’m not sure what to order.” The scion eyed Olga helplessly.
“If I can suggest,” the scout began. “The menu is big, but they run out of things all the time. It is best to choose the most popular dishes because they stock more of them. If you want a light meal, borscht is a traditional Russian soup made with cabbage and beets. If you want something that combines breakfast and lunch, the thin pancakes stuffed with smoked salmon are very good. They’re like... What is the word?”
“Blintzes?” Griffin offered helpfully.
Olga shook her head. “No, crepes. Or if you prefer, there is always the traditional Russian breakfast of fried eggs and ham.”
Cassie chuckled. “That’s a traditional American breakfast too.”
It didn’t take much arm-twisting for everyone to fall in line with one or another of the scout’s recommendations.
Olga gave their order in Russian to the waitress. As an aside to her companions, she said, “Some people think that all we eat here is caviar and that we drink vodka all the time.” She laughed ruefully. “Maybe the vodka part is true but only because water used to be unsafe in many places. Be careful if somebody offers you a glass of vodka. It is very impolite to refuse. Before you know it, you are drunk.”
Daniel appeared horrified by the possibility.
“No need for alarm.” Griffin’s tone was droll. “Simply avoid eye contact with Russians carrying vodka bottles.”
The scion gave a thin smile. Transferring his attention to the countryside beyond the train window, he changed the subject. “Where are we, exactly?”
Olga consulted her watch. “Right now, we are traveling north toward Khabarovsk. After we get there, the train will turn west and follow the Amur River.”
“Good,” Cassie said. “Once we’re close to the river, I might be able to get a bead on the Minoans.” She swallowed an entire cup of coffee in three gulps and turned to signal the waitress to bring more.
Olga gaped at her in surprise.
“Our pythia finds long-distance travel very disorienting,” Griffin explained. “Coffee helps her stay alert.”
“Yes, yes.” The scout nodded sagely. “It must be hard for a person who travels in unseen worlds as well as this one. Very easy to lose the way.” She motioned the waitress over and said a few words in Russian.
The waitress fetched a fresh carafe and poured Cassie a second cup. Then, with a knowing smile, she left the pot in the middle of the table.
“She will bring more if you need it,” Olga said.
Everyone laughed at the pythia’s stunned expression. “If I drink all that, I’ll run laps around the train.”
“Then allow us to help you.” Griffin topped off his cup and the other two. Directing his attention to Olga, he said, “The Jomon trove keeper told us that Lake Baikal is the source of three hundred rivers. I’m wondering if it also holds some spiritual significance which might have appealed to the Minoans.”
“There is no holier place in all of Siberia than Lake Baikal,” the scout informed
