Grave Phantoms
Page 27
Lowe whistled.
“Fascinating,” Hadley agreed. “I felt the vibration of it when you walked in.”
Lowe slowly lifted his hand away. “What kind of vibration?”
“Velma didn’t feel any magic,” Astrid argued.
Her sister-in-law shook her head. “Not magic, exactly. Just some sort of energy.”
Hadley’s ability to feel strange energies stemmed from something bigger. Hadley’s mother, a former archaeologist, had contracted a dark Egyptian curse that she passed along to Hadley. Mori specters—Sheuts. Shadowy hounds of hell that materialized when Hadley became upset. Few could see them, apparently. Lowe couldn’t, but he claimed Hadley’s specters had nearly killed him “a hundred times”—which was, of course, an exaggeration, like everything else out of her brother’s mouth. Even it were partially true, he likely deserved whatever he got, and it certainly hadn’t deterred him from marrying Hadley . . . or keeping his hands off of her in public places.
Hadley now lifted her head and squinted at Astrid. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Now that I’m listening for it, I think perhaps the energy is coming from you—not the idol.”
“Rats!” Astrid said. “Can you see a shadow on my aura?”
“I don’t see auras,” she said. “Ask Aida.”
“I already did. She only sees ghosts.”
“We like our women bizarre and dangerous, eh, Bo?” Lowe mumbled.
Bo stilled. Just for a moment. No one seemed to notice but Astrid. And Lowe was already muttering something else about ancient turquoise mines in California and Mexico. But all Astrid could think was: did Lowe know something about Bo’s feelings toward her? She remembered Bo’s letter this fall that made her so angry: Teachers should not be staying in hotels with students. Lowe, being a professor himself, agrees with me.
Or maybe she was being irrational. Lowe might be making small talk.
But then, why would Bo react like that?
Like that, and like this, now, which was to ask a question instead of answering Lowe. “Can you identify what sort of culture the idol comes from?”
“Aztec, I’d say. And it looks genuine. Hadley?”
“Aztec,” she confirmed. “Not solid turquoise. It’s a mosaic. Small chips of turquoise carefully fitted together and polished.”
“Really? I thought it was just cracked,” Bo said. “Except on the back, see?”
“Yes, now that is a solid piece,” Hadley said. “Someone has altered the engraving. What a shame.”
Lowe carried it to a nearby table. They all crowded behind him as he sat down and studied it more carefully under magnification. “The gold inlay on the eyes and the disk is real, though it looks odd. Times like this, I wish Adam was still around,” he mumbled. His best friend, and Stella’s father. Adam died almost a year ago.
Hadley squeezed his shoulder. He patted her hand. And Astrid was once again envious of their bond. She glanced at Bo, but quickly lowered her eyes when she found him already looking at her. Stars, there were too many emotions floating around. Or maybe she was overly sensitive. She did her best to brush it all aside and concentrate on the idol.
“Definitely altered,” Lowe said when he looked closer. “The flat space has been chiseled down and the word ‘NANCE’ engraved with modern tools. I can see traces of another engraving beneath it. Another word, perhaps. But it’s too fragmented to be able to tell what it was.”
“Is it a replica?” Astrid asked.
“Your brother would know nothing at all about treasure forgery,” Hadley said with heavy sarcasm.
Lowe let out a nervous laugh and scratched his chin. “Yes, well. That’s all in the past. Much like this idol, which seems to be genuine, if I had to guess.”
“My straight-and-narrow husband is correct. It does appear to be authentic,” Hadley said, giving Lowe the barest of smiles.
“And now the million-dollar question,” Bo said. “What purpose does it serve?”
Lowe sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hell if I know. It’s not fertility, and I have no idea about this symbol on the front. I know turquoise was prized by the Aztecs and often used in ritual items. They traded with the Pueblo people, who mined it in the Southwest states. But beyond that, I’ve got no clue.”
Astrid and Bo looked at Hadley. “Hate to say it, but I don’t know, either. This isn’t inside our wheelhouse. I can identify some of the major Aztec gods, like Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent, for example. But this—”
Bo stopped her. “Hold on a second. Did you say feathered serpent? Would that be the same as a plumed serpent?”
“Why, yes.”
Bo looked at Astrid. “The yacht’s name. That’s a mighty big coincidence.”
“Too big. I’d wager that yacht owner, Mrs. Cushing, knows something about the ritual,” Astrid said. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”
“Whatever it is, stay out of it,” Lowe said, handing Bo the idol back. “I’m speaking from experience. Tell them, Hadley.”
She nodded. “It’s true. You should probably just put this back where you found it. But, in the meantime, if you want to find out more about the symbolism and design—”
Lowe sighed heavily.
Hadley ignored him. “—then the person in town you need to talk to is Dr. Maria Navarro.”
“Fascinating,” Hadley agreed. “I felt the vibration of it when you walked in.”
Lowe slowly lifted his hand away. “What kind of vibration?”
“Velma didn’t feel any magic,” Astrid argued.
Her sister-in-law shook her head. “Not magic, exactly. Just some sort of energy.”
Hadley’s ability to feel strange energies stemmed from something bigger. Hadley’s mother, a former archaeologist, had contracted a dark Egyptian curse that she passed along to Hadley. Mori specters—Sheuts. Shadowy hounds of hell that materialized when Hadley became upset. Few could see them, apparently. Lowe couldn’t, but he claimed Hadley’s specters had nearly killed him “a hundred times”—which was, of course, an exaggeration, like everything else out of her brother’s mouth. Even it were partially true, he likely deserved whatever he got, and it certainly hadn’t deterred him from marrying Hadley . . . or keeping his hands off of her in public places.
Hadley now lifted her head and squinted at Astrid. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Now that I’m listening for it, I think perhaps the energy is coming from you—not the idol.”
“Rats!” Astrid said. “Can you see a shadow on my aura?”
“I don’t see auras,” she said. “Ask Aida.”
“I already did. She only sees ghosts.”
“We like our women bizarre and dangerous, eh, Bo?” Lowe mumbled.
Bo stilled. Just for a moment. No one seemed to notice but Astrid. And Lowe was already muttering something else about ancient turquoise mines in California and Mexico. But all Astrid could think was: did Lowe know something about Bo’s feelings toward her? She remembered Bo’s letter this fall that made her so angry: Teachers should not be staying in hotels with students. Lowe, being a professor himself, agrees with me.
Or maybe she was being irrational. Lowe might be making small talk.
But then, why would Bo react like that?
Like that, and like this, now, which was to ask a question instead of answering Lowe. “Can you identify what sort of culture the idol comes from?”
“Aztec, I’d say. And it looks genuine. Hadley?”
“Aztec,” she confirmed. “Not solid turquoise. It’s a mosaic. Small chips of turquoise carefully fitted together and polished.”
“Really? I thought it was just cracked,” Bo said. “Except on the back, see?”
“Yes, now that is a solid piece,” Hadley said. “Someone has altered the engraving. What a shame.”
Lowe carried it to a nearby table. They all crowded behind him as he sat down and studied it more carefully under magnification. “The gold inlay on the eyes and the disk is real, though it looks odd. Times like this, I wish Adam was still around,” he mumbled. His best friend, and Stella’s father. Adam died almost a year ago.
Hadley squeezed his shoulder. He patted her hand. And Astrid was once again envious of their bond. She glanced at Bo, but quickly lowered her eyes when she found him already looking at her. Stars, there were too many emotions floating around. Or maybe she was overly sensitive. She did her best to brush it all aside and concentrate on the idol.
“Definitely altered,” Lowe said when he looked closer. “The flat space has been chiseled down and the word ‘NANCE’ engraved with modern tools. I can see traces of another engraving beneath it. Another word, perhaps. But it’s too fragmented to be able to tell what it was.”
“Is it a replica?” Astrid asked.
“Your brother would know nothing at all about treasure forgery,” Hadley said with heavy sarcasm.
Lowe let out a nervous laugh and scratched his chin. “Yes, well. That’s all in the past. Much like this idol, which seems to be genuine, if I had to guess.”
“My straight-and-narrow husband is correct. It does appear to be authentic,” Hadley said, giving Lowe the barest of smiles.
“And now the million-dollar question,” Bo said. “What purpose does it serve?”
Lowe sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hell if I know. It’s not fertility, and I have no idea about this symbol on the front. I know turquoise was prized by the Aztecs and often used in ritual items. They traded with the Pueblo people, who mined it in the Southwest states. But beyond that, I’ve got no clue.”
Astrid and Bo looked at Hadley. “Hate to say it, but I don’t know, either. This isn’t inside our wheelhouse. I can identify some of the major Aztec gods, like Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent, for example. But this—”
Bo stopped her. “Hold on a second. Did you say feathered serpent? Would that be the same as a plumed serpent?”
“Why, yes.”
Bo looked at Astrid. “The yacht’s name. That’s a mighty big coincidence.”
“Too big. I’d wager that yacht owner, Mrs. Cushing, knows something about the ritual,” Astrid said. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”
“Whatever it is, stay out of it,” Lowe said, handing Bo the idol back. “I’m speaking from experience. Tell them, Hadley.”
She nodded. “It’s true. You should probably just put this back where you found it. But, in the meantime, if you want to find out more about the symbolism and design—”
Lowe sighed heavily.
Hadley ignored him. “—then the person in town you need to talk to is Dr. Maria Navarro.”
