Chapter One:
Brisingamen

SOMEWHERE IN NORDAUSLANDET, SVALBARD NORWAY
1935

There were moments when Ezra Standish thought deeply about his life and the choices he made to reach the present day. He wondered if the spiral had begun after his discharge from the military or by his ill-conceived notions of living a normal existence. Living the life of John Q Public had always been a pipe dream Ezra nursed after spending so many years being dragged by Maude cross country in pursuit of the perfect grift or the even more elusive big-score. Yet upon achieving it, Ezra felt as if he had slipped on a skin that did not quite fit. Being a Wall Street broker never felt right to him, even when he achieved some measure of success.

Perhaps the course of his life was decided when he chose to join the army like a boy running away to the circus. Suffering traumas he would tell no one, not even his best friend, Ezra fled to the waiting arms of the recruitment office to get back at Maude whose schemes had inadvertently sacrificed his innocence for her own checkered choices. Yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, Ezra dismissed it. He would never regret joining the army.

As terrible as the Great War had been, being a soldier led him to the men who would become his family, who like himself were misplaced in the world and found brotherhood in the trenches of France. They embraced everything he was and brought out the very best in him, making use of the heart most people thought was cold and mercenary. Together, they had saved the world and Ezra would rather die than be anywhere else than standing alongside them in a fight.

Although this sentiment was the furthest thing from his mind since at this present moment he was hanging upside down over a pit of sharp stakes.

“This is entirely your fault,” Ezra complained as he stared down sharpened spikes, their piercing points staring right back at him with almost menacing glee.

Nathan Jackson who was suspended right next to him, arms tied behind his back and the rope around his ankles keeping him from certain death, let out an exasperated groan. “Am I gonna be listening to you bitch about this all the way to thePearly Gates?”

“Pearly Gates?” Ezra gave him a look. “I think you overestimate our chances of meeting St Peter. We are both more likely to be sipping vile vinegar with Satan.”

“Never gonna happen. I know I’m gonna go to Heaven.”

Despite their precarious situation, Ezra felt the need to query this line of reasoning.

“Mr Jackson, you have as much chance as getting past St Peter as I do. Aside from having no shame in your numerous attempts to deceive your best friend, you are as prone to excess as I am and do not think your ability to heal gets you in good standing with the Almighty. Your bedside manner is as comforting as sandpaper in an outhouse.”

“Don’t worry Ezra,” Nathan flashed him a grin. “I’ll vouch for ya.”

Ezra rolled his eyes wondering why he bothered with Nathan and then remembered, oh yes, he’s my best friend.

“You realise if we had simply followed my plan to cause a convenient explosion, there would have been no need for us to be dangling here like the titular damsel in the Perils of Pauline.”

Nathan was busy studying the darkened cavern they were in, trying to see the faces he knew were there in the shadows observing them with fascination and suspicion. “Hey, don’t be calling me no white woman named Pauline. By the way, is that the last time you went to a movie?”

“I believe the emergence of film will lead to the ruination of mankind,” Ezra said haughtily, realising now Nathan’s attention was elsewhere and trying to see what it was that captured the healer’s interest. “What is it that has captured your attention so completely Mr Jackson?”

Nathan saw the faces stepping into the light of the torches hanging against the cavern walls and noted the new arrivals were no longer staring at them as if he and Ezra were invaders that ought to be killed. In fact, their captors appeared fascinated rather than fearful. The healer was not entirely certain if this was a good thing.

“They’re coming back.”

“This does not bode well for our situation,” Ezra pointed out.

“You know, this is not the way I thought it was going to go if I ever ran into a village of women,” Nathan remarked as he continued his upside-down view of their captor’s approach. “Then again, I also pictured them all looking like Dorothy Lamour.”

“What is your fascination with women in grass skirts...Madam!” Ezra snapped when one of the women, prodded him in the ribs with the blunt end of her spear. “Kindly watch where you are jabbing me with that weapon. I do not wish to be punctured any sooner than I have to be.”

Unlike the lovely Miss Lamour, the women of this remote tribe Gunlod found in the depths of the wilderness that was Nordauslandet on one of the two Norwegian archipelagos were very much a product of their Nordic origins. With white gold hair and blue eyes, they were the purest example of Nordic stock and their appearance, despite their furs and weapons, were explanation enough of why Chris Larabee had made Buck Wilmington stay on the Darlin’ Millie.

In response to his demand, she jabbered something to her companion, also a goddess in gold, speaking in a language that flowed like Norweigian but bore no markers to anything he could understand. After a moment, her companion produced what resembled a fishing gaff to snag him by the belt so he could be pulled towards them, away from the pit.

“Mr Jackson,” Ezra said warily as the women drew him to them like a slab of meat they had selected for the butchering. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

So did Nathan but he was not about to tell Ezra that. Instead, he started working the ropes behind his back, attempting to unlock the mechanism concealed beneath his shirt sleeve. Having been inspired by the contraption Ezra had hidden beneath his sleeve for his derringer, Nathan thought it might be a good idea to have similar protection with his weapon of choice, a flick knife.

“Just stay calm,” Nathan warned, his tone devoid of its usual flippancy as he saw the women drag Ezra to them.

“I am unable to do anything else,” Ezra grumbled when suddenly, one of the ladies reached for his mouth and lifted his upper lift to examine his teeth. To his horror, the other lady in attendance removed her fur-lined mittens and began pawing him, first running her palms across his chest and then moving to a decidedly more intimate location which had Ezra tensing at her touch.

“Madam,” Ezra’s voice escaped him in a squeak. “I would ask you to refrain from squeezing those like fruit, they are as ripe as they are ever going to be.”

Nathan who realised now their intentions were towards his best friend, reminded himself this was not the time to laugh even as he worked to free his hands behind his back. However, he couldn’t help making at least one jibe at the gambler’s expense.

“Ezra, I think you just got engaged.”

“Who does he think he’s talking to? A goddamn teenager? Don’t tell me I’d lose my head in a colony of gorgeous ladies, all strong, athletic, blond, blue-eyed, who ain’t never seen a man before....”

Buck Wilmington paused a moment, a scene right out of some sybarite fantasy formed before his eyes. In his mind’s eye, the women were plentiful and waiting to be sampled, each of them, like fine wine. These blond angels would prance around him, dressed in furs, with luminescent skin, paying him the kind of attention you wouldn’t get even in the best house in the world (or France), with their sultry eyes and full lips...

What was he talking about again?

Shaking the fantasy out of his mind, Buck allowed it to evaporate into the glacial plains before him as a flock of penguins listened sympathetically as he sat on a snowbank, waiting for the others to return. As he did so, Buck lamented his fate, even though he was accustomed of being left behind to wait for their return, usually being chased by whomever they managed to piss off in the attempt to retrieve whatever object had been commissioned for return.

However, after learning the details surrounding the particular bauble they were commissioned to retrieve, Buck was more than willing to lend a hand. Especially after he learned the object’s guardians were an isolated tribe of women in the wilderness of Svalbard. Until Chris Larabee, his oldest friend, with whom he shared countless adventures, whose life he’d saved on numerous occasions, ordered him to stay behind.

“He doesn’t trust me!” Buck ranted to the Emperor penguin who appeared to cock his head as if he shared Buck’s incredulity. “He thinks I’m going to completely lose my head over a bunch of women. I mean sure, I’ll probably be a little distracted...”

The penguin’s expression was sceptical.

“Okay,” Buck threw up his hands. “A lot distracted. But if I’m distracted, it ain’t got nothing to do with a tribe full of sex-starved women. Actually,” Buck started to say when he paused and looked around to see no one in sight. The last thing he needed was any of his friends to listen in on what he was about to confide to the wingless confidantes before him. Fortunately, only the Millie sat behind him, already witness to more debauchery than any aircraft in existence, remained indifferent to anything he said.

“Actually, “ Buck resumed once he was certain the coast was clear. “There is this one gal I met recently. Prettiest face I ever saw and she does things to a guitar that’s practically indecent. It feels like each note she plays is a stroke against your skin. Now I know she likes me, she’s playing all hard to get in front of everyone, but we’ve got something special between us, I can feel it. Although for some crazy reason though, she’s fighting it. I suppose I can understand it, I mean she wouldn’t be the first gal whose life got turned upside down because of me. I mean you know what women are like don’t you?”

The penguin was in mid-nod when the diminutive bird and the rest of its flightless companions, quickly vacated the area. Their small bodies waddled across the snow and ice with far more speed than Buck gave credit to such a poorly designed organism.

“Hey, I thought we were talking!” Buck called out when suddenly, he heard a low growl behind him.

Turning around slowly, he gaped at the lumbering form of the snow-white polar bear who had heard his comments about Inez Recillos, the new owner of Paloma’s bar and appeared to be affronted on behalf of all of womankind. The beast’s head moved up and down, sizing him up as a potential meal and once again, Buck cursed Chris Larabee because he suspected this blond female covered in fur was not likely to be half as much fun as the tribe the others were encountering at this moment.

The Millie was within running distance and Buck hoped to high hell he could keep ahead of the behemoth who could crack his head with the ease of a peanut shell between those formidable looking jaws. As it was, the bear was eyeing him cautiously, uncertain what kind of creature he was. Buck supposed out here, in one of the most remote parts of the world, humans were scarce and it was very possible this bear had never seen a man before. It was this uncertainty that kept the beast from charging.

Slowly, he took a step back, aware he was going to have to carry out some fancy footwork to outrun this child of Ursus. The bear did not take Buck’s departure well and felt the need to further discuss the matter as its massive body sprung into action, moving with a great deal more speed than a creature its size ought to possess, to give the pilot chase.

“Aw shit!” Buck exclaimed as he started running, racing across the snow with six hundred pounds of fur and bone shattering teeth following him. As the pilot ran for his life, he was certain with the way his luck was, the bear was probably a woman too.

“Gotta say,” Vin Tanner remarked, watching Buck’s dance with the polar bear from his vantage point on top of a mountain glacier some two thousand yards away, “Buck can move when there’s a fire lit under his ass, or when the biggest dang bear I’ve ever seen is chasing him.”

Both he and Josiah were observing through their binoculars respectively, the progress of their comrade as he evaded the bear in pursuit. Buck was weaving through snow banks and trying not to slip on the icy ground as he navigated the area where the Millie had landed, attempting to reach the door to the aircraft. Despite their appearance of outward calm at their friend’s predicament, Vin’s free hand was already reaching for the M1 Garand rifle lying next to him.

From this distance, he could put down the critter easily enough but Vin was loathed to do that to any animal until there was no other recourse. Even though the thing was making Buck run like a frightened chicken, (something Vin intended to bring up with the pilot later), the sharpshooter could not deny how magnificent the beast looked. He’d run across brown bears and Kodiaks in his time and while they were pretty damn big, the thing chasing Buck was impressive.

“Think he’s gonna slip?” Vin inquired as he saw Buck’s ungainly step as the pilot jumped over a mound of snow.

“Nah,” Josiah shook his head, “the man has jumped out of more bedroom windows, shimmied down drain pipes and cleared houses in the dead of night without wearing a seat full of buckshot,” the one-time seminary student paused and flashed Vin a grin at that remark, “he can keep ahead of that critter.”

Vin uttered a short laugh before lowering the binoculars, replacing it with the sight of his rifle. “I better keep an eye on him just in case. Anything happens to Buck, we might get stranded here and I got plans with Alex next week. She’s got some vacation days from doctor school.”

Josiah suppressed a little smile, glad to see the young couple was making it work despite the distance between them. Since their meeting almost two months ago, Vin and Alexandra Styles had made an effort to keep in touch, turning the blazing passion of their affection towards each other into a slow burn stretching from one end of the country to the other. There were phone calls and letters exchanged and when the seven’s jobs gave them the opportunity to stopover in New York, the rest of the seven were accustomed to Vin disappearing to spend time with his doctor.

“True,” Josiah conceded the point. “JD’s been learning fast but I don’t think I trust him to take the Millie up in the air on his own if Buck gets eaten.”

While Vin’s attention was focussed on Buck’s immediate problem, Josiah spared a look in the opposite direction at the ladder bridge stretching across the chasm from the edge of the glacier they were presently occupying, to an even older formation on the other side of the drop. The harsh winds had shifted enough snow to cover their tracks, Josiah knew the path they had taken and followed it to the small fissure in the face of the mountain, providing them entry into the enclave where the prize they sought would be found.

There was no sign of Chris Larabee, JD Dunne, Ezra Standish or Nathan Jackson. All he could see was the brittle arctic wind sweeping across the mountaintop, making the snow on the ground shimmer like ripples across a pond. The wind was whistling in his ears and Josiah felt inordinately grateful for the thermal undergarments and cold weather gear protecting them from the sub-zero temperatures.

“How’s he doing?” Josiah turned back to Vin.

“Oh he’s doing alright,” Vin said squinting through the rifle sight, “he’s staying ahead of the critter, he even looks like he’s trying to talk it into leaving him alone.”

“He’s practising his charm for Inez,” Josiah could help but comment.

This drew another short laugh from Vin, who despite the levity was poised to put a bullet through the bear’s eye if it got any closer to Buck than he liked. As it stood, the big man was keeping ahead of the thing and the Darlin’ Millie’s main door was only a few feet away.

“Well, he’s having the same luck with this bear that he’s having with Inez.”

Since Inez Recillos had assumed control of Paloma’s, their favourite watering hole, following the death of her father Roberto, Buck had been smitten by the lovely Latin beauty who was one of the most stunning women the seven had ever seen. However, the lady was not only beautiful but had a fiery temperament that was more than a match for Buck’s smarmy charm. It also appeared she had met more than one Buck Wilmington in her time and as a result was completely prepared for all of Buck’s less than subtle advances. The lady’s stubbornness to yield had created an equally fierce desire on Buck to win her over and their verbal foreplay the last two month was more entertaining than that Bob Hope fella on the radio.

“Any sign of Chris and the others?” Vin inquired, still watching Buck. At this point, he would not be removing his finger from the trigger of his rifle until the pilot was inside the Millie.

“No,” Josiah remarked glancing at the fissure again. “But I can’t imagine it would be much longer now.”

The statue was carved out of ice but appeared more like diamond in the dim light of the torch.

It stood fifteen feet tall, a few feet from the cavern in which it was sculpted, a construct that could not exist anywhere but in this cold place. The carved image was definitely female, astride a boar. She was a majestic representation of all womankind, the preternatural mother of all. Her clothes what he could make out of it was of a regal bearing, a queen for the ages. This was the Norse goddess Freya, the patron deity of the women who lived on this island.

There was a good reason the tribe of Gunlod had remained isolated for so long. Like the Amazons, the society of women had started out as high-priestesses for the Norse goddess Freya. Some of the research JD Dunne had found while researching the artifact they were here to claim, implied this lost tribe of women were the inspiration for the famous Valkyries of legend. It made reasonable sense that Freya would entrust her sacred belongings to them to protect.

As Chris Larabee stared at it, he felt a certain amount of guilt at what he and JD were about to do but knew this was a necessary evil of the job. The Brisingamen or ‘the Brising necklace was hidden somewhere in this cavern and the seven had been charged by the Museum of Natural History at the University of Oslo, to recover the artifact before Nazi treasure hunters set their sights upon it. In the last two months, Chris had been hearing stories of German expeditions steamrolling competitors to acquire such treasures and the director of the museum, Oddvar Bjornstad, wanted the necklace in his possession before it disappeared into a vault at Berchtesgaden.

“Okay kid,” Chris turned to JD and saw the younger man aiming a camera in the direction of the statue. Lately, JD had taken to carrying around the Kodak 620, taking snapshots of some of the places they had been. He supposed on this occassion, capturing the moment served some purpose, considering what they were about to do.

JD took several shots of the statue, just as cognisant about their next action and felt the need to record the moment for posterity. Lowering the camera, he saw Chris waiting for him patiently and quickly apologised.

“Sorry Chris,” he said sheepishly.

“No problem,” Chris replied and reached into his pack, producing the cans of salt they would need for the work ahead.

JD put away the camera into his satchel and did the same, retrieving the cans of salt in his own backpack a second later. As they approached the sculpture and began scattering the salt across the ice, watching the substance quickly eat into the statue with the same effect as corrosive acid on flesh. The effect was instantaneous and they stood back to watch the statue of Freya, which stood for so many centuries, unaccosted, melt before their eyes.

“I hate doing this,” Chris grumbled. “This thing stood the test of time until we came along.”

As Freya’s features melted into sludge and then water, the floor of the cavern became soaked with the expanding puddle. The two men watched solemnly, the desecration they were committing, knowing if the Nazis became aware of the Brisingamen, they were likely to do a hell of a lot worse than simply melting the ice in this ancient ice sculpture.

It took only a few minutes for the sculpture to completely disintegrate, covering the floor with broken chunks of ice and slush, to say nothing about the brackish water seeping into the rough, icy ground to reveal the entrance to the underground chamber where the artifact was kept.

“There it is,” Chris gave JD a look of approval. “Just like you translated. The gateway to Freya’s Vault.”

JD felt a surge of pride that overcame the destruction of the sculpture, at Chris’s compliment. He always felt ten feet tall whenever the leader of the seven gave him his due.

“Thank God,” JD replied. “I would have hated to destroy the sculpture for nothing.”

“You and me both,” Chris agreed and took a step forward towards the entrance and the steps descending into the earth below. “Come on, let’s get this done.”

Chapter Two:
A Song of Rock and Ice

To this day, it often astonished Nathan Jackson to think his best friend in the world was a white man.

Not just a white man, but a southern boy who spoke like he strolled off some plantation from pre-civil war days, with his flowery speech and his tendency for verbal diarrhea. Considering the events that compelled Nathan to join the army, having a great deal to do with the bigotry he encountered in his youth, the last thing Nathan expected to find in the midst of so much carnage, was a friend for life. Yet that was exactly what Ezra Standish was to him.

They were both in their way, outcasts. On that battlefield in France, with Ezra’s lifeblood turning the muddy ground into red clay, they had struck up a friendship and recognised each other for what they were, kindred spirits who had run away from the world. Ezra was the only one who knew why he joined the army, and though Ezra had not confided in Nathan the same, it took no clairvoyance to know whatever it was that drove Ezra to enlist, was almost as terrible.

Even though he was part of the seven, it was Ezra whose friendship meant the most to him and even if he took delighted in bursting that over-inflated ego at times, the truth was, if anything happened to the fast-talking gambler, Nathan would be devastated.

Which was why Nathan was somewhat concerned when he saw what Ezra was being subjected to under the power of these Godlund females. While they removed Ezra from his precarious position suspended over the pit of ice spikes, the gambler was now under the intense scrutiny of the dozens or more women present. They were pawing at him as if they were inspecting the prized bull they were about to sacrifice to their pagan gods. For his part, Ezra was managing to maintain his calm, despite offering erudite protests at the assault to his dignity and Nathan could tell Ezra was reaching the limits of his southern manners and would soon react to the manhandling.

Nathan had a feeling it would be a fatal mistake.

Working harder to cut the ropes around his wrists, each stroke of the blade against the hessian fibres felt painfully slow even if it was necessary to keep from cutting himself, or worse yet, looking his grip of the weapon. He had no idea what he was going to do when his wrists were free or how he intended to rescue Ezra. Nevertheless, he decided to deal with one problem at a time and his most immediate concern right this minute, was to free himself and avoid plunging into the spikes below.

However, even as he worked diligently to cut the ropes binding his wrists, the manner in which Ezra was being scrutinized had an element of menace to it he could not define but feared nonetheless. While the situation the gambler found himself in might normally give Nathan fodder for amusement, right now, all he could feel was the urgent need to get his friend out of there. As he tried to keep his escape concealed, Nathan went over what they knew of this tribe.

Until their arrival in this wilderness in search of the Brisingamen or the Brising Necklace as it was better known, the Godlund was meant to be a myth. Of course, this was most likely because no one was foolish enough to venture into such an unforgiving wasteland to learn otherwise, but now that Nathan considered it, there could be a more insidious reason. The way the women were eyeing Ezra, Nathan began to think that perhaps the reason the Godlund had remained shrouded in secrecy was because no one who found them survive to tell anyone else about it.

Worse yet, from what Nathan was observing, the ages of these women ranged from young adults to middle-aged women. Since he was no believer in immaculate conception, there must have been contact with men to produce children. However, the way he and Ezra were being treated, Nathan guessed men in this community would not be tolerated for long and yet to maintain a healthy, robust population when there were so few males would require some husbandry and that meant...

Uh Oh.

“Ezra, we gotta get you out of here right now.”

The intensity in his voice made Ezra who was trying hard not to take a bite out of someone’s fingers, turn sharply to the dangling healer.

“Why?” Ezra was almost afraid to ask as he winced at a set of hands clamping over another intimate part of his body, examining it through his clothes as was determining its ability to perform. If it was at all possible to cross the language barrier, he would have told her everything was just working FINE. In any case, Ezra was going to be making certain Chris Larabee didn’t forget this incident any time soon.

“Because I think they want to use you to get knocked up,” Nathan replied and felt the ropes starting to give way as he cut the last remaining strands around his wrists.

“I had determined that much,” he frowned as one of the women started tugging at his jacket lapel, in what appeared to be an attempt to remove it. “Madam, please, you are stretching the fabric. I gather they are inspecting the merchandise to see who gets ownership.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s the plan. I think you’re the bull they’re about to let loose into the pasture.”

“Don’t be insane,” Ezra quipped. “They cannot possibly expect me to service ALL of them....” Ezra’s voice drifted off when Nathan’s silence became louder than a church bell. He stared at the expectant faces in front of him and realised that was exactly what was required of him.

“Now Ezra,” Nathan saw the ashen curtain lowering across the gambler’s face. “Don’t panic....”

“Don’t panic?” Ezra sputtered incredulously and then came to the firm conclusion that this farce had gone on long enough. Besides, what distraction they were able to provide Mr Larabee and Mr Dunne had surely served its purpose and it was time to extricate themselves from this situation. He had been biding his time, allowing this to go on for as long as it was necessary but if these women intended for him to play stud to all of them, not even Ezra’s patience was finite.

Just as one woman came at him again, Ezra reacted swiftly, reminding himself this was not the time to be thinking about chivalrous behaviour. Snapping his head forward, he slammed his forehead against the bridge of the woman’s nose, sending her reeling backwards in pain as he registered the crunching of bone. A flurry of movement appeared at the corner of his eye and he saw another woman attempting to subdue him with a spear. Before she could do so, he swatted the shaft away with his bound hands and planted the ball of his foot into the side of her knee, bringing her down in a cry of pain.

“Ezra! Duck!” Nathan shouted from his position over the spikes.

Ezra dropped to his knees at Nathan’s warning just as a spear sailed over his head and disappeared into the darkness of the pit. He threw out his leg and swept his would-be attacker off her feet. As he did so, he saw the stalactites hanging from the ceiling, sharp points of ice that would be quite deadly if one happened to be beneath them if they dislodged.

Despite his arms being bound, he had no choice but to activate the mechanism beneath his sleeve. The derringer slipped between him palms and Ezra needed to use both hands to take aim. The bullet, though small, produced a near deafening boom inside the cavern that had all the women crying out in fright, their hands covering their ears at the unfamiliar alien boom. The roar of that single bullet shuddered through the walls of the cavern, shaking loose snow and pieces of ice. Fissures began to run through the hanging formations, sending alarm through everyone present.

Meanwhile, Nathan succeeded in freeing his hands and somehow managed to reach his ankles, performing a feat of acrobatics he didn’t think he’d be able to manage since his youth. In any case, in reaching his ankles, he was able to cut them free and use the remains of the rope to swing to the ledge where Ezra was presently doing battle with a bunch of angry women. He swung to the ledge like Tarzan except his Jane was a southern gambler about to be set upon by a group of fur covered angry women.

Nathan had to take a second to fully appreciate the absurdity of that statement.

Ezra was doing a pretty decent job of fending off the angry females who fortunately were only armed with knives and spears. However, their parkas of animal skin and furs made movement difficult and Ezra who was dressed in the finest outdoor wear provided by Abercrombie and Fitch, moved with surprising speed and agility when his life, not to mention his virtue, was at stake was fighting them off well.

Like most men of his time, Nathan felt uncomfortable about striking a woman, let alone a white one, but when he saw one of them charging at him, he had no choice but to defend himself. Sidestepping as she attempted to run him through with a spear, Nathan who stood almost a head taller than the female warrior, grabbed the weapon and tore it from her in one swift movement before tossing it into the pit. She rushed at him but he managed to shove her into another approaching opponent.

“Ezra, you got another bullet in that thing?” Nathan demanded as he threw a punch that connected with one of the women’s jaw and winced when he saw her stagger back.

“Yes!” Ezra shouted, snapping his head back and connecting with the warrior approaching him from behind. Despite their attacks, Ezra knew they were trying not to hurt him too badly, especially if they required him for procreation.

“Well, what are you saving it for? Your virginity?” Nathan barked. “Shoot it into the ceiling!”

Ezra raised his eyes to the ceiling just as another warrior ran at him. “Mr Jackson, I’ve already destabilised the formations above us quite a bit. Another bullet might cause a cave in.”

“Ezra, do you plan on being a stud for the next year?”

“I take your point,” Ezra fired the last bullet in the derringer.

The bullet struck the stalactites above and the effect was immediate. Even though the bullet did very little damage, the shockwave throughout the cavern was enough. The small, compact bullet was capable of making a hell of a noise and the first chunk of ice that broke free and began hurtling to the ground sent the Godlund into a panic. Forgetting about the man in their midst, they started to scatter as more and more of the deadly icicles began to descend on them.

“Show me your hands!” Nathan ordered as the two men remained behind in the cavern, painfully aware of the icicles smashing perilously against the rocky ground around them.

Ezra raised his hands and Nathan quickly cut through the ropes, just in time for the gambler to yank him forward when another icicle plunged towards the ground near him. It shattered spectacularly, sending shards of ice and water in all directions. Nathan looked up to see more of the formations breaking free, now that Ezra had begun a chain reaction with the derringer.

“I think we’ve caused enough of a distraction!” Nathan stated. “I say we get the hell out of here!”

“Mr Jackson, I heartily concur!”

Unaware of what predicament two of their number were currently facing, Chris and JD descended into the dark depths of the newly uncovered tomb after melting down the ice sculpture of Freya standing guard over it for so many centuries. Lighting their way with torches, the passage was carved through rock and the thin layer of ice blunted the rough-hewn walls. Small clouds of hot breath punctuated their progress up the narrow tunnel as Chris took the lead as always, with JD consulting the texts they studied to bring them here.

“It says to reach Freya’s gift, we must free Fenrir from his burden so he may devour the moon.”

Chris shot JD a look. “Fenrir? As in the big wolf who brings on Ragnarok?”

JD looked up from his notebook, where the ancient piece of scroll that was their guide to the Brisingamen was kept in its pages, nodding.” That’s the one.”

Once again, the younger man was impressed by his leader’s knowledge of mythology even though Chris had no formal training or education in the subject. What the leader of the Seven knew about the ancient world, he learned through his own interest and private research. He often wondered what a success Chris might have been in the field of archaeology and anthropology if the man had the credentials behind his name.

“Don’t know about you, but that sounds kind of ominous.” Chris pointed out and rightly so.

Anything attached to the wolf was usually world-ending, especially in Norse folklore. With this in mind, Chris decided to be extra careful as they reached the end of the tunnel which emptied into what appeared to be a larger chamber. As the light reached its darkened walls, the illumination provided the two men with a view of what lay inside and Chris had to admit, it did appear rather apt in the context of what JD had just read.

The head of the chamber was host to what looked like a doorway, except this one was barred with jagged stalactites and stalagmites of ice on the ground and from the ceiling directly above it. It resembled, most aptly, like the clenched teeth of a great canine and would take nothing less than dynamite to break through. However, on each wall flanking the doorway, was what appeared to be the hilt of a sword, protruding from the rock, as if Arthur Pendragon himself was required to draw it from the stone.

The hilts of both weapons were ornate and beautiful. The pommel of one sword was shaped like a bird and Chris immediately thought of Josiah’s crows, although in this case, it was probably one of Odin’s ravens. The other was in the image of a thick knot, one that was just tight enough to bind a god until the end of the world if he remembered the legends about Loki’s fate correctly.

“I think we gotta draw the swords out,” JD stated the obvious while he looked at Chris with an expression of little boy excitement on his face. Why not? What kid didn’t want to draw the sword from the stone like King Arthur? Chris could not deny sharing a hint of that same enthusiasm, although he was more masked about it than JD.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Chris warned, knowing from experience that if it looked easy, it usually meant it was the prelude to some attempt to murder you in some gruesome yet colourful way. As it stood, the symbolism around the weapons was painfully obvious. According to the legend, the great wolf Fenrir was chained to a boulder, with a sword placed in his formidable jaws to hold them open. While these jaws were hardly open, the presence of the swords told Chris, the architects of this shrine to Freya might have taken the story into consideration during construction.

The leader of the Seven raised his eyes and studied the cavern they were in. While the passage was narrow, the walls were high, with the silhouette of stalactites poised over their heads ready to fall. Chris could see them across the ceiling of the chamber, their frosted points gleaming in the darkness. Shining his torch at them did little to reveal the secrets hidden in the shadows and Chris knew they had scant time to linger. They needed to get this done because it was only so long before the Godlund became aware of their trespassing.

“There’s two of them so I’m thinking they may need to be drawn together. You get that one, and I’ll take this one.” Chris instructed, regarding the sword with the raven pommel while JD crossed in front of Fenrir’s jaws to stand in front of the other weapon. “We do it together.”

“Sure Chris,” JD replied eager to put his hands on the ancient weapon, but not so enthused as to ignore Chris’s warnings about any possible danger. After almost a year working alongside the leader of the team, JD trusted the former Army captain’s instincts more than any man alive. Those instincts saved them on more occasions than he could count and while JD considered Buck Wilmington a surrogate father, it was Chris whom JD admired the most.

Chris took in a deep breath, aware this was nowhere as benign as it appeared. There was no doubt in his mind, they were about to activate some unseen mechanism that had been waiting centuries for someone to make the attempt. Placing his hands on the hilt of the weapon, his palm covered the avian features of the raven before his grip tightened around it. Raising his eyes to JD, Chris saw his junior companion had also done the same. Both men stood side by side, with only Fenrir’s jaws between them.

“On the count of three,” Chris spoke up. “Draw it out slowly.”

“You think it’s going to do something?” JD asked, having been on too many of these expeditions with Chris to expect anything else.

“Oh I’m sure of it,” he stated before begining the countdown. “One....two....three.”

The swords wedged into place for so long did not give immediately and required the application of some force to dislodge the blade from the grip of icy rock. When they finally shifted, it was followed by the soft, teeth chattering sound of metal dragging against rock, as both men withdrew the weapons from their slots. Withdrawing the swords from their place in the wall, Chris was conscious of everything around them. The expectation of something being triggered was high and his gut was clenched in anticipation at what form this activation would take.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Pulling the sword out of the rock, the blade was double-edged and bore the rounded point favoured by Viking swordsmiths. Along the blade were battle scars and the striations of repeated sharpenings by whoever had wielded it. Until the sword’s honorarium here, this had been someone’s weapon of choice. The metalwork was rough by contemporary standards but Chris couldn’t feel some affection for the weapon, as more than just the trigger for some unseen mechanism. Glancing at JD, Chris saw him admiring his blade in the same fashion.

Reaching into the backpack slung over his shoulder, Chris retrieved a roll of buckskin leather cloth Vin presented to him as a birthday present a few years ago. The sharpshooter had given him the gift to wrap up some of the items they were commissioned to find, so they could be stored without damage. Quickly wrapping the sword in the soft leather, he secured it in his backpack about the same time the sudden screech of grinding metal tore through the silence of the chamber. It was loud enough to make both JD and Chris wince in unison.

“What was that?” JD asked, still holding the other sword in his hand.

“The other shoe,” Chris deadpanned and listened closely.

It didn’t take him long to identify what those metallic shrieks were trying to convey; the shifting of great chains into motion. Suddenly the walls began to shudder and as Chris looked up, he saw the deadly points of stalactites overhead beginning shake where they were hanging. It took no clairvoyance to guess what was coming next and Chris sought immediately a place to ride out the impending barrage. Unfortunately, it appeared the only way to escape whatever trap had just been sprung was to retreat the way they came. Considering his attachment to his skin, Chris decided this was the prudent course of action until they knew what was coming at them.

“Come on!” Chris motioned JD to follow as the first stalactite broke loose and plunged into the ground. It shattered across the stone floor spectacularly, sending shards of rock and ice in all directions. JD threw up his arms to shield his eyes, before collecting himself enough to follow Chris towards the exit of the chamber.

They had taken no more than a few steps when the grinding sounds stopped and was followed by an even more alarming one. As they continued running, sidestepping all the barrage of deadly icicles falling to earth down around their ears, they heard the loud rumbling that soon eclipsed the noise of the smashing formations of ice. Suddenly Chris saw something that was more than just icicles moving through the shadows of the ceiling above. Not only that, but it appeared to be the source of the approaching calamity.

Giant boulders landed one after the other against the hard floor, cracking the ice on impact. Almost as tall as him, the boulders rolled towards them, making Chris feel he and JD were caught on a pool table just after someone had made a good break. The things were made of solid granite, each the same size as the men sharing the floor with them and rumbled forward with little care for the flesh and blood obstacles in front of them. As they rolled forward at a juggernaut pace, Chris grabbed JD as the two men zigzagged past the rolling balls of rock, trying to return the entrance of the chamber again.

Somehow Chris and JD managed to weave through the stone titans before they smashed spectacularly into the walls housing the slots previously holding the twin blades. The third and final boulder, however, thundered loudly towards the jagged rows of icicles representing Fenrir’s formidable jaws. It smashed into them at full force, obliterating the formations utterly, turning the fearsome looking stone jaws into crushed rubble. When the dust cleared, Fenrir, appeared humbled, a toothless beast with its jaws agape with defeat.

Both men stepped forward, hoping this was the end of the obstacles between them and their prize. As they walked over the debris strewn across the ground and navigated the large boulders and broken fragments of ice and stone, they saw something glimmering through the dissipating cloud of dust. It was faint at first, struggling to get through the shroud of dust and darkness but when Chris shone a torch on it, the object revealed itself in all its stunning glory.

“There it is,” Chris flashed JD a grin, “the Brisingamen.”

Hanging off the neck of an ice sculpture carved in the shape of a woman, presumably the goddess Freya, the Brising Necklace was a gold filigree with tiny emeralds on each leaf. It was almost 1500 years old and one of the most treasured artifacts of Norse mythology. It deserved to be appreciated by its people and better yet, saved from Nazi vaults if Hitler’s scavengers had their way.

“It’s beautiful,” JD whispered, awed by the sight of it.

“It is,” Chris agreed. “Alright, let’s grab it and get out of here.”

No sooner than Chris reached for the thing, the echo of a gunshot rang throughout the cavern, making the remaining icicles still attached to the roof shudder precariously.

Chris and JD exchanged glances before exclaiming in unison. “Ezra and Nathan!”

Chapter Three:
Avalanche

While Vin Tanner kept a close eye on Buck Wilmington and his current difficulties with the Norwegian carnivoran drawn to his ‘animal magnetism’, Josiah Sanchez’s attention remained fixed on the mouth of the cavern the rest of the seven had entered some time ago. The entrance which was no more than a fissure in the side of the mostly ice and sandstone mountains was barely large enough for a man to fit through but Josiah suspected this was probably why the Godlund was able to remain isolated for so long.

The descent from the fissure was a sharp incline covered with thick snow that came to a halt at the edge of a crevasse. Chris and the others had crossed using a bridge over the gap, constructed by the lashing together of two ladders with rock climbing rope, anchored by spikes driven into the ice. As usual, Vin and Josiah played lookout, mostly because both men were silent types and Chris knew they wouldn’t annoy each other if they were forced to sit in place for hours. Buck and Ezra alone were enough to test the patience of anyone because neither man could stand silence. JD tended to fidget if he sat still too long and Nathan was often needed to rein in Ezra.

When the crack of a gunshot was heard, muffled as it was through the wind, Josiah knew Chris and the others would soon be making an appearance. His gun was already poised and ready to fire, though the snow covering the mountain tops gave him reason for caution. The snowfall had been building up since they arrived adding layers of several feet over the already existing snowpack. At the sound of the gunshot, Josiah’s eyes sparked at the sudden shift in a section of ice. The slide was brief, but it was telling.

“I think we may have a problem.”

Vin, who had been observing Buck’s situation, looked over his shoulder at the remark. Facing front briefly, he was satisfied Buck had made it back to the Darlin’ Millie before he regarded Josiah again. “Well, I ain’t surprised that they would have to get out shooting. Them women weren’t going to be too happy about us invading their home. Hell, Alex gets ornery if I even look inside her purse.”

Josiah managed a little smile at that. “That’s not the problem.”

“What?” Vin turned around fully now. “What’s wrong?” He crawled over to Josiah from where he had been sitting.

“The snow’s shifting,” Josiah pointed out. “We start shooting and I’m not sure the snowpack will hold.”

Vin's blue eyes widened. “You mean an avalanche?”

“Could be.” Josiah nodded. “If Chris and the others come out of there hot, us giving them cover might bring one on.”

“Hell Josiah,” Vin cursed. “You know they’ve pissed off the women already. I’m pretty sure that was Ezra’s derringer. Damn thing’s small but loud.”

Josiah knew Vin was right and did not like the situation any more than the younger man. If Chris and the others emerged with the Godlund in pursuit, a very real possibility now Ezra’s derringer was discharged, they would be in no position to help. Opening fire with their guns would almost certainly bring on an avalanche, but they couldn’t stand by and do nothing either. The Godlund may be women, but they were also savages who killed to maintain their anonymity.

For what Chris and the others were taking from their sacred temple, the Godlund would not be that merciful.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Josiah eyed the sharpshooter.

Vin took a deep breath and glanced at his backpack lying against the snow. The ‘solution’ could be seen poking out beneath the canvas flap. Although Vin’s weapon of choice was a rifle, what he carried in the backpack was useful when stealth was necessary. However, he was nowhere as confident of his skills using the weapon as he was when he got behind the sight of a gun.

“I got one,” he volunteered.

Josiah followed his gaze and caught on quickly. “You mean Clara?”

“Stop calling it that, it ain’t respectful,” Vin growled and cursed Buck for coming up with the name as he stood up and went to the backpack. He was fairly certain his foster father Kojay, who gifted him the Navajo bow would not be impressed to hearing its new title. Despite a rifle being his preferred weapon, the bow held a great deal of sentimental value to Vin and he carried it with him, out of respect to the Navajo Chief who welcomed him into the reservation and saved him from the orphanage, following the end of the war.

“Sorry,” Josiah remarked, watching Vin returning, clutching the bow crafted with leather and wood, with multi-coloured bands of fabric flanking the grip and a quiver of arrows. Strips of leather dangled from each end and even though it was 1935, the bow looked as if it could have been fashioned in another century. “Have you seen Kojay recently?”

“Yeah,” Vin nodded, settling down next to Josiah and arming the bow in readiness for when Chris and the others made their eventual return. “I took Alex to the reservation to see him and Chanu the last time she was up.”

“Must be serious,” Josiah teased, “taking her up to meet the folks.”

“Something like that,” Vin grunted.

Josiah couldn’t help but chuckle. Even after nearly two months together, Vin had trouble talking about his relationship with Alex, even though it was clear to the rest of the seven just how smitten he was. To them, he would always be that mud covered child in the trenches of France, stuffed into an oversized uniform but revealing himself to be an absolute prodigy when he had a rifle in his hands.

They made it their business to ensure he survived the war to become the capable young man he was today who had met the love of his life who was just as enamoured by him. While young love made them all envious, Josiah had to wonder if maybe they were all jaded on the subject. Except for JD of course, who like Vin, hoped to meet Miss Right someday.

Josiah himself had given up hope on that subject.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the low rumble of voices reaching crescendo as they neared the fissure. Ezra and Nathan emerged first, running for dear life through the opening. Both men were panting hard as they stumbled through the narrow passage. Nathan who had gone in armed appeared to have been stripped of his gun, which was just as well Josiah thought. If the healer fired the Remington, the results could be catastrophic.

Both men were having a great deal of trouble moving at speed in the heavy weather clothes they were wearing, a difficulty not limiting their pursuers. The women of the Godlund who wore fur parkas and breeches while carrying spears and short swords they were waving threateningly at the two men, were accustomed to moving in such cumbersome clothes. In fact, they were closing the distance to their prey, making Josiah twitch in response as he fought the urge to reach for his gun.

Fortunately, Vin was already pulling back the sinewy drawstring of his bow and letting the first arrow fly. It crossed the space between himself and the Godlund in seconds and the air was shattered by the high-pitched cry of a female warrior struck in the knee. She went down hard, sinking into the snow as the pain and shock overtook her. Her cry froze everyone in their tracks, even Ezra and Nathan, who quickly shot a look in his direction to confirm the source of their deliverance.

The moment remained frozen for only a second because no sooner after the scream faded away, it was followed by the outraged howls of the women who resumed running after their prey. Nathan and Ezra were descending the steep hill awkwardly, their legs digging into the snow like cement blocks dragging at their feet. Behind them, the Godlund increased their pace like a pack of dogs chasing down a fox. Vin fired another arrow, still feeling uncomfortable about shooting women, even if they were savages. It flew across the distance and pierced another warrior in the shoulder, downing her across the snow immediately. One of the women stopped short to help her fallen comrade while the others remained in pursuit.

“Damnit Josiah,” Vin cursed. “This ain’t going to get it done. Ezra and Nathan are never going to make it across the bridge with those women chasing them the way they are.”

The former seminary student had to agree. It was more likely the moment the two men used the bridge to make their way across the chasm, the Godlund would either be right behind them or worse yet, dislodge the ladders That would effectively trap JD and Chris, who had yet to make their appearance, on the other side of the wide gulf. However, if either he or Vin used their guns, then they were going to almost certainly cause an avalanche that would not only endanger the Godlund but Nathan and Ezra too.

Chris and JD stood at the entrance of the Godlund domain and their sacred shrine, observing the situation. The party of female warriors were presently closing in on Ezra and Nathan who were trying to reach the bridge to make it across the chasm. Seeing Vin Tanner use arrows instead of bullets made Chris wonder what the sharpshooter was trying to avoid by using Clara instead of his rifle. As he raised his eyes to the mountain top, he understood why.

“What are we going to do Chris?” JD asked, seeing the formidable force about to close in on the gambler and healer, to say nothing about being caught between them and the bridge at the edge of the mountain. There was no way they could get through those enraged women without using force and like all men of their day, the idea of shooting women, even warrior ones, was abhorrent.

The leader of the Seven weighed his options and had an idea how this was going to go, even though it was dangerous as hell and could get them killed. Still, they didn’t have much of a choice. They needed to get to the bridge and the Godlund needed to be halted in their tracks, right this minute. Since he had no intention of shooting women, that left only one solution. Without saying another word, Chris promptly pulled out his Colt and fired into the air.

The explosion of sound caught everyone’s immediate attention. The Godlund stopped running and quickly looked over their shoulder at the unexpected source of the gunshot. Nathan and Ezra paused only briefly because they knew an opening when they saw it. Chris didn’t think the two men could spot him and JD through the bodies of the Godlund standing between them, but they were certainly astute enough to guess what was happening.

“Chris, is that such a good idea?” JD asked once the echo of the gunshot faded away.

“No,” Chris shook his head. “But its the only one we got.”

The first bullet was meant to get the Godlund’s attention, the next was not. Unlike Ezra’s derringer, the bullets Chris fired next, were for a 45 calibre weapon and did not need the help of an echo chamber to seem louder than it was. The rounds Chris fired felt like claps of thunder that shuddered through the air as it dissipated. By the time he squeezed off the third shot, making everyone who heard it jump a little in reaction, the outcome Chris intended was well on its way to being realised.

The rumble was soft at first but unmistakable, like the coming of the Visigoths over the Seven Hills at the fall of the Roman Empire. However, the sound was unmistakable to the Godlund who recognised it for what it was. The thunderous noise of bullets shook the snow perched on its precarious platform, as large chunks of ice dislodged itself from where it had been barely hanging on to begin the swift descent down the mountain.

“RUN!” Chris barked and JD didn’t have to be told twice before he was racing down the hill.

For their part, the Godlund forgot about the intruders, gaping at the descending snow and assessing the situation enough to know what they had to do attack. If they did not get indoors immediately, they would be barred from their underground homes or swept off the edge of the mountain, whichever came first. Either way, the invading men were the least of their problems. The leader among them uttered a cry in their ancient Norse tongue, calling for retreat. Receding up the mountain, they were confronted by the two men, whose presence had gone unseen, until now.

Panic and fear were momentarily forgotten as one of the female warriors prepared to strike down the men nearing them. She raised her spear high enough to hurl it at them when she was struck in the shoulder from behind. The arrow drove itself through her parka and she uttered a cry, stumbling forward in pain and forgetting all about the duo running towards her.

As she stumbled, Chris knew even with a bow and arrow, Vin had his back. Meanwhile, the rumble had grown so loud it masked the outraged voices of the Godlund who were not only furious by their trespassing but their precipitation of the calamity about to befall them. Overhead, he could see birds flying away from the mountain, driven to flight to escape the deluge of snow about to thunder down its slopes. No doubt other animals were also fleeing the area and Chris felt a pang of guilt at causing this to happen.

Chris, JD and the Godlund confronted each other in what had to be the most uneven clash of forces in all of history. Yet instead of fighting, they passed each other like ships in the night with the avalanche descending upon them all. Any retaliation the isolated tribe might choose to inflict on him and JD was overridden by their need to return to their mountain hideaway before they were trapped outside of it.

Meanwhile, Ezra and Nathan reached the edge of the chasm, thanks to the opening Chris had given them. Ezra paused and looked up at the peak of the mountain and saw the snow rapidly building momentum as it flowed toward them. The sluff was picking up speed and ferocity, the faster it progressed towards the glacial plain that stretched to the edge of the chasm. The Godlund was trying to reach the village beneath the rock before the wave reached the fissure, or be swept away or worse yet, off the edge. Somewhere in that deluge of bodies were Chris and JD.

“We have to help Mr Larabee and Mr Dunne!” Ezra shouted over the roar of the avalanche. They were next to the bridge, held back from crossing because neither could bring themselves to leave when their number was incomplete. Yet as they saw the descending wall of ice, it was becoming increasingly clear they had to move and they had to do it now.

“We have to go!” Nathan shouted back, unhappy at having to say it first, even though it was the obvious course of action. “Not all of us are going to be able to use the bridge at the same time. Get going, Ezra!” Nathan grabbed him by the arm and shoved him towards the ladder. It was being secured to this side of the crevasse by a thick camping spike driven into the rock, but Nathan was absolutely certain, it would not be able to withstand the force of the avalanche when it finally reached them.

“But...” Ezra stared at his best friend, refusing to abandon him even though logic was telling him it was necessary to do so.

“You gotta get to the other side and secure the ladder! If any of us are on it when that avalanche reaches us...”

Damn, Ezra cursed not needing him to finish that sentence. Nathan was right. The bridge was the only way off this mountain and it was a dangerous one at that. While they had done their best to secure it over the gulf, it would not take much to cause the construction to collapse, with enough weight and wind currents assaulting it.

“You better be behind me!” Ezra snapped back at Nathan before he started towards the edge. As he looked across the bridge, he saw Josiah emerging from his vantage point and was presently nearing the other side of the bridge. No doubt to secure it while they made their crossing. Vin was still keeping a vigil on any Godlund warrior who tried to prevent Chris and JD from reaching the edge.

“You can bet your ass I will!” Nathan waved him away.

“I never bet with anything that irreplaceable,” Ezra retorted before stepping onto the ladder and dropping to his hands and knees to crawl across the chasm.

As he did so, he tried not to look down at the certain death he would suffer if he should fall. The bottom of the crevasse could not be seen as it was shrouded in shadows and Ezra was grateful for that small consolation. The bulky outdoor clothing made movement difficult, even if it afforded him some respite from the harsh and bitterly icy winds threatening to sweep him off the wooden rungs.

Squinting to keep the snow and dirt born on the wind from blinding him, Ezra saw Josiah crouching down on the other end of the ladder. The would-be preacher was pressing his weight against it, holding it steady as Ezra crossed. Sparing a glance behind him, he saw Nathan waiting for him to reach Josiah before making the attempt himself. Knowing his progress was the only thing keeping Nathan from safety made Ezra crawl faster.

Like Ezra, Nathan’s mind was preoccupied with where Chris and JD were. He could see the Godlund climbing up the side of the mountain, desperately trying to reach the entrance before the avalanche made it impossible. They were no longer paying any attention to the trespassers and were scrambling up the bank, fighting the wind and snow. The vibrations caused by the descending ice had shaken more snow loose, adding to the force of the avalanche already racing towards them.

Suddenly, through the snow and wind, Chris Larabee’s black hat pierced through the glaring white landscape, like a beam of light in his eye. Nathan’s chest flooded with relief as Chris and JD finally appeared, leaving behind the Godlund warriors who had larger concerns on their minds. The warriors had reached the mouth of the cavern and were trying to cram into the fissure at once, creating a bottleneck that reminded Nathan of ants scrambling back to their anthill.

“NATHAN GET MOVING!” Chris shouted over the sound of the roar of ice catching up to them.

Nathan lingered just long enough to see the snowy curtain come down over the fissure and the Godlund before he turned around and started his own trek across the ladder. Ezra had already reached the other side and was now taking up position with Josiah, adding his weight against the ladder to hold it in place. He hoped the women had managed to return to their remote village and not too many of them were caught in the avalanche. Moving fast, he kept his eyes trained on the friends in front of him, instead of the doom below. The exposed part of his face was suffering ice burn and the gloves the Godlund took from him during his captivity, was very much missed right now as his fingers ached with cold.

Chris saw Nathan reach the other side and knew their time to get across was running out.

“GO!”

JD like Ezra earlier felt the same hesitation at leaving Chris behind, but the wall of snow coming at them gave the youngest member of the seven little room for argument. Nodding wildly, he quickly crossed the distance and dropped to his hands and knees before begining the journey across the bridge. The ropes holding the ladders in place was starting to loosen under his weight and JD moved as quickly as he could to reach the other side so Chris could make the attempt.

Chris saw the avalanche reaching the glacial plain and knew his chances of getting across without incident had just dwindled to nothingness. Shifting his eyes towards their makeshift bridge, he saw JD moving fast and knew he had no choice, he had to make the attempt while the kid was still on it or he wouldn’t be making the trip at all. The tide of snow was seconds away from sweeping him off the edge into the chasm below.

Taking a deep breath, he scrambled onto the ladder, just as JD was a third of the way. The world was drained of all sound except for the thunderous roar of the snowy juggernaut closing the distance between itself and the edge of the crevasse. The cloud of snow and wind created a miniature blizzard adding to the chaos of the situation. Chris started crawling, refusing to look behind him any further because it would serve no purpose other than to distract him and waste precious seconds he did not have.

As he made his way across the wooden ladder, he felt the bridge beneath him starting to give way at the strain against the ropes holding the ladders in place. The constant bombardment by the hard, icy wind had shaken the knots loose and though they were holding for now, Chris knew they would not hold when the avalanche and all those tonnes of ice poured into the crevasse.

“HURRY CHRIS!” JD shouted as soon as he reached Josiah and the others.

The instant Chris saw the kid on the other side of the crevasse, with the bridge only needing to deal with his weight upon it, he moved faster. Feeling relief when he left the first half of the ladder bridge behind him, Chris was now on the second one being held down by Josiah and Ezra.

Chris knew the instant the avalanche reached the edge.

The bridge shook violently and Chris grabbed the rungs just as the entire construction collapsed. The snow snapped the first half of the ladder behind him and Chris cursed as the second ladder swung downwards before slamming against the wall of the crevasse. Through the roar of the snowy cascade, he heard JD shouting at him, telling him to hold on while JD, Ezra and Nathan held onto the ladder, refusing to let go.

“CLIMB UP!” JD shouted. “CLIMB UP CHRIS!”

Chris didn’t argue with that order and started the slow climb up the rungs while his friends maintained their grip of the ladder, using all the strength they could muster to keep it in place while he made the ascent to safety. Vin had now appeared, looking down at Chris in worry, as he waited in anticipation like the rest of the seven for Chris to reach them. It took a few arduous minutes but finally, Chris arrived at the top of the crevasse. Both JD and Vin grabbed him by the arm and jacket to haul him the rest of the way.

As soon as he was safe, Josiah, Nathan and Ezra released their grip of the wooden ladder and let it tumbled down the chasm to its fate at the foot of that drop. They did not hear the wood crumble at the impact, but they could imagine it well enough. All six men sank into the snow, taking a moment to catch their breaths after their exertions. The avalanche continued to empty into the crevasse and for a few seconds, they appreciated the majesty of the snowy white cascade, now they were removed from its dangers.

There was no sign of the Godlund and Chris assumed they were now huddled back in their underground cavern, nursing their wounds and no doubt raging at the desecration of Freya’s shrine.

“Mr Larabee,” Ezra sighed, “do you think we could pick a more hospitable venue for our next venture?”

“We go where the job is Ezra,” Chris sighed, thinking this argument from the gambler was like clockwork. Every job seemed to end with Ezra making the same complaint.

“Look I just want to get back to the plane right now,” Nathan complained. “I got things frozen that ain’t meant to be iced up ever.”

“Amen to that,” Josiah was sensitive to the man’s problem himself. “I take it our venture was successful?”

“Yeah, we got it,” JD nodded with a grin. “It was there, just like Doctor Bjornstad said it would be.”

“Well,” Chris started to stand. “I’m with Nathan, I want to get out of this cold. Let’s get back to Buck and the Millie.”

“Oh yeah about that,” Vin exchanged a glance with Josiah. “We might have a slight problem with a bear...”

Chapter Four:
The Rattle of Sabers

TWO WEEKS LATER...

The world was changing.

The metamorphosis had begun less than twenty years earlier after the guns had fallen silent with the survivors taking stock of their losses and burying their dead. In the aftermath of the carnage, there was little to do but feel horror at what was wrought during the previous four years. When it began, it was all so simple. Pride and nationalism drove men who believed the old traditions were inviolate, that it would follow them into the new century. Yet the new millennium was like none that had come before it.

The 20th century was born in the machinery of industry where craft was discarded for mechanisation. Man no longer created, he mass-produced.

And he did this no better when it came to weapons of war. Stockpiling became the order of the day and with each country’s growing arsenal, came the proportional rise of arrogance at their invincibility. Borders became lined with guns, voices barked at each other from across wire fences and the familiar rattle of sabres was heard from high offices. Those wanting to fight the Great War only needed an excuse and it came in the form of the assassination of an Archduke in Sarajevo.

Tipping the first domino, the assassination began the chain reaction that ultimately led to four years of carnage across Europe, seeding the nascent stirrings of America’s international role in the world and toppling once and for all, the sick man of Europe, the Ottoman Empire. Germany was crushed underfoot for being the primary antagonist in the war, its people humiliated and made to pay for a war everyone had a part in. Moderate voices warned restraint by the victorious Allied forces in their dealings with the defeated German state but the shock of a war where the casualties numbered in the millions, left little room for compassion.

Julia Annabelle Pemberton was raised by one of these voices.

His name was Sean Boswell and when he married her mother Eleanor, Julia was nine years old. It would be years before Julia would discover why her mother fled America to the arms of their English family in Hertfordshire but once arrived, they discarded her father Donald Avery’s name for the sake of their continued survival. Eleanor, ever independent, a trait she instilled in her daughter, remained at Hertfordshire briefly before making her way to London where they lived modestly on what Donald left them following his death.

Eleanor met Sean Boswell shortly after she began work as a typist at a shipping company situated in Vauxhall. Wheel-chair bound after an injury in the service, Sean was kind, charming and had great stories to tell. Unlike most men of his time, he respected his new wife’s ability to fend for herself and her young daughter by not objecting to her continued desire to work. In fact, he rather encouraged it.

Julia adored him.

The family lived in the Boswell family home where Sean had lived alone with his Siamese manservant Narong. Sean who had more or less given up on having children loved Julia equally and they shared a close relationship from the moment she entered his life. He told her stories of the world and the people beyond England and encouraged her to always look outside the norm to find her answers.

“Being a woman should be no reason to give yourself limits,” he often said and Julia took that simple order as gospel.

Throughout her childhood, Sean treated her like the son he always wanted but Julia took no offence in this because his love for her was real. Besides in comparison to her friends, who were expected to do nothing with their lives except become mothers and wives, Julia considered herself fortunate her father, and to her, Sean was her father, instilled in her greater ambitions outside those traditional roles.

During their hunting trips, he taught her how to shoot. Having been one of the best snipers in the service it was a skill he was happy to pass down to her, though at the time, she did not understand why. He encouraged her to learn languages and by the time Julia was sixteen, she was fluent in French, German, Spanish, Italian and Arabic. He encouraged her to read, usually about history and geography, telling her the key to understanding people and their reactions was learning about where they came from and how they lived.

At the age of nine, Sean encouraged her to join Narong when the manservant performed his morning exercises. Julia never minded because the Siamese man’s movements were graceful and beautiful. She practised with him for an hour every morning before school and then again before tea. It was almost two years later, she learned these exercises were for a traditional form of fighting in Narong’s native country called Muay Boran. By the time she went away to boarding school, Julia knew how to protect herself against attackers.

Julia was often puzzled why Eleanor never objected to these rather unladylike pursuits until Sean explained how her biological father, Donald Avery, had been murdered by an apocalyptic cult that even now sought to find her and her mother. The Children of Erran had plans for Julia Pemberton and aware he could not protect her all the time, Sean, with Eleanor’s permission, made certain Julia could do it herself. So far, her greatest protection had been her anonymity but someday that could change and he did not wish her to be vulnerable simply because she was a woman.

Following the outbreak of the Great War, Julia learned both her parents were not in fact employees of Messrs Rasen, Falcon Limited, a fairly ordinary shipping company in Vauxhall but rather the Foreign Branch of the Secret Service Bureau or the SIS as it was better known. Sean had served with Mansfield Cumming in Military Intelligence and was one of its most senior members. Eleanor had met Sean when she worked as Cumming’s secretary and had served the Crown in the intelligence community ever since.

Almost all of the friends visiting their Kensington home, including Albert Lansing whose body she would view years later, were apart of the service. It seemed almost natural Julia would become one of them when she was old enough. Despite societal views of women at the time, the truth was, the SIS valued its female operatives because they were able to infiltrate places men were incapable of going. By the time she was a fully fledged operative, Julia had seen almost as much combat as any soldier in the war before and the one to come.

For years after the armistice, Sean had decried the heavy-handed approach the Allies were taking with the Germans, claiming that people under the boot resorted to extremism to survive and he was right. The continued persecution of a once proud German nation had driven its disillusioned and humiliated citizens into the open arms of Adolf Hitler. Intelligence agencies across the world watched in growing alarm as Germany improved its fortunes and once again, the rattling of sabres could be heard.

War was coming. It was inevitable.

However, unlike the last war, the weapons of this one, would be vastly different and make the carnage in the trenches of Europe seem almost trivial. Hitler wanted weapons that would more than just win, he wanted the power to conquer the world.

HASSAN TOWER, RABAT

She stared at it for a long time, trying to imagine how it could do what it was designed for. It was no larger than her palm, crafted with the meandering design favoured by the ancient Greeks into a circlet of aging bronze. It was pressed into the wall of the temple, one of a dozen such artifacts adorning the incomplete shrine once meant to be a monument to the empire that built it. The ambitions of the tower were never realised and though the precious items collected to decorate it still remained in place, the structure itself was never completed.

Julia Pemberton eyed the object again as she stood alone in the Mausoleum where the artifact was found. At this time of the day, which was almost evening, the tourists had bled away, with only the guards left behind waiting for the last of the visitors to depart so they could close the doors. In the background, she could hear Riley talking to the guards protecting this chamber, engaging him in conversation about the history of the tower, leaving her free to do what was necessary.

She had entered the place wearing the traditional garb of an Arabian woman, her copper coloured hair concealed beneath a headdress while her petite shape was similarly covered in robes. The only thing that gave her away were her emerald coloured eyes but the only way to hide them was to wear sunglasses which would defeat the purpose. In any case, no one questioned her when she arrived at the Tower and made her way into the mausoleum where Mohammad the Fifth was entombed. It was a splendid chamber paved with black marble, gilded gold walls and glazed zellige tiles that made it look like an exercise in opulence, a fitting resting place for a descendant of the Great Prophet.

Glancing about furtively, Julia stepped up to the wall where the artifact, referred to by Albert Lansing as the Circlet of Almathea, was used as a minor piece in a wall sculpture the ancient Moslems crafted to display their mastery over pagan religions. Julia could see the Circlet stood out among the other pieces whose origins she guessed were from the ancient civilisations of Asia Minor. Riley continued his chatter with the guards, giving Julia the opening she needed as she retrieved a flat headed screwdriver from her robes and proceeded to prise the thing from the sandstone wall.

It came away from the rock easily, snapping off once she applied a little pressure. Before it could fall against the hard, marble floor, possibly creating enough noise to attract the attention of the guards, Julia caught it with one hand and quickly hid it back in the folds of her robe. Discarding the screwdriver behind one of the statues standing guard over the white, marble coffin in the centre of the room, Julia departed with an almost casual air. As she walked through the doorway and nodded slightly at the guards in respect, she showed no sign of having committed the crime whose punishment would most likely mean the loss of a hand.

Riley did not pay attention to her departure, continuing to speak a little longer.

The Circlet was small enough for its absence to not be immediately noticed so Julia figured she had a little time as she strolled out of their sight. As she stepped into the stairwell, the rays of the setting sun had turned the space into a rainbow of colours thanks to the stained glass on the arched windows. It wouldn’t be long before it was dark and even Riley’s conversational distraction would run its course when the guards ushered him out. If they chose to make a survey of the mausoleum walls before they closed up for the night, they might discover her act of thievery.

Julia intended to be out of the Tower before that happened.

Hurrying down the steps, she discarded the costume she was wearing and revealed beneath them, the perfect picture of an English woman travelling abroad, bearing little resemblance to the Arabian female who entered the place. As she emerged into the open air, she heard footsteps behind her and felt her stomach tense. Clutching her purse, which incidentally contained her gun, she snapped it open and slid her fingers past the clasp to make contact with the stainless steel finish.

“Do you have it, Miss?” Francis Riley asked quietly as he came up alongside her and they continued walking briskly to the exit.

“Mr Riley,” she gave him a little smile. “Did you ever doubt it?”

“Of course not,” he grinned as they approached the sentries at the main gates, wearing their impressive looking uniforms and red felt fezzes. “Just didn’t want all that success to go to your head.”

Julia uttered a laugh as they passed by the oblivious guards, casting a glance over her shoulder just long enough to see the tower standing proudly against the sapphire sky. She wished she had a chance to visit the place like a tourist. It was really quite breathtaking. Facing front again, she saw the empty dirt parking lot where their car, a black Wosely Wasp waited patiently for them.

“Where to now MIss?” Riley asked, wishing to get out of this hot, arid climate and head somewhere cold and rainy.

“America,” she said firmly. “We have the Circlet, but it’s only the beginning of this little hunt. According to Lansing, there are inscriptions on it that might lead to the whereabouts of the item Hitler is after. “

“We don’t even know what the ‘item’ is,” Riley pointed out as they climbed into the car.

“True,” she nodded, “but I think its time we enlist the assistance of someone who can help us find out.”

 As one who was constantly opposed to change, for he preferred it when things remained in stasis once they reached a state of perfection, Ezra Standish had to confess he rather liked the improvements instituted at Palomas since it came under new management.

Roberto’s feisty daughter, Inez had swept in from their native Val Verde where she had lived most of her life until her inheritance brought her to Albuquerque. Since taking stewardship over the bar, she’d made subtle changes Ezra would have baulked at if suggested to him first. Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately, depending on one’s perspective, Inez had controlling interest in Paloma’s management and was able to make her improvements without his permission.

Which was just as well because the changes had boosted clientele. Not only because the woman behind the bar was one of the most beautiful Ezra had ever seen, but also because she brought some life and colour to an establishment that had become somewhat stagnant after years under the same hand. The changes were not sweeping, but enough to bring in new customers who previously considered the place a watering hole for old men.

Pleasant aromas wafted from the kitchen, dusted out of apathy, with a new cook who presented Mexican as well as contemporary fare, while in the background, a four-piece jazz band played a few sets, sometimes with Inez joining them and on other occasions, on her own. Whatever the combination, the addition proved popular and while their favourite haunt was a little livelier than usual, Ezra had to admit, Palomas suddenly became a fun place to be, especially when it attracted women to the place.

Enjoying his glass of cognac, Ezra glanced across the floor at the small space reserved for dancers and saw JD engaged in the lindy with one of the young women who now came to the place to listen to the music. Nathan, on the other hand, was leaning against the bar, talking to one of Inez’s barmaids, a pretty Spanish young lady named Maria. He raised his glass, waving over Josiah Sanchez to their usual table when he saw the hulking man enter the establishment. The man’s brow was furrowed as if he was unhappy but surveying the room for a few seconds, bled away whatever unpleasantness he had encountered.

As Josiah weaved through the crowd, he glanced at the bar where Buck Wilmington was following Inez across the floor, no doubt making another futile attempt to score a date with the woman. Since her arrival, Inez had fast become Buck’s holy grail and his pursuit of her after her numerous rejections made Ezra wondered whether his determination to win her hand was motivated by more than just his usual womanising impulses.

“He at it again?” Josiah asked when he reached the table.

“I am afraid so,” Ezra replied, allowing the instrumental rendition of Shoo Shoo Baby to soak into his psyche. “I think Mr Wilmington has more than met his match.”

As Josiah watch Inez completely ignore Buck while she served a customer his drink before returning to the counter, the older man wondered if Buck knew the Sisyphean trial he was embarking on with this relentless pursuit. “I think she may be a little more than that.”

Ezra allowed a dimpled grin to spread across his face before he regarded Josiah. “And you Sir? You arrived with a decidedly dark cloud hanging over your head.”

“Oh,” Josiah bristled, remembering his irritation of the incident now that Ezra reminded him of it again. “Just some crazy dame almost running me off the road.”

Ezra sat up straighter at that statement. “Run you off the road? Pray tell what happened?”

“Nothing too serious,” Josiah assured him. “Woman drove her car like she was racing for the Indy 500. Almost ran me off the road on the way here. Worst yet, she had a child in the car, I’m sure.”

“Women are not their best in automobiles,” Ezra remarked, aware he was being somewhat chauvinistic, but he stood by his comment. “I hope she did not harm your vehicle.”

“No,” Josiah said flagging a waitress to get him his usual. “But she’s lucky we didn’t exchange words or I would have impressed upon her that the maker will eventually gather us to his bosom, there’s no need for her to rush her journey there or take a child with her.”

“I’m sure she would have taken that advice in the spirit it was given,” Ezra held a perfect poker face at that comment.

“I’m sure,” Josiah was aware that it would not have been. “Where are Chris and Vin?” His quick study of the floor earlier had told him their number was missing their leader and their sharpshooter.

“I believe Mr Larabee is meeting the Professor about a potential new venture and Mr Tanner was collecting Miss Styles from the train station.”

“That’s right,” Josiah nodded. “He did mention she was on break from school.”

“Yes, I also believe she intends to pursue a medical internship in the area during this visit.” Ezra pointed out, having heard the discussion the last time Alex was in town. “Hopefully with the Professor’s endorsement and her father’s standing in the community, the position will not be difficult to secure.”

“Hello Josiah,” Inez greeted, arriving at the table with Buck following her like a puppy, while she carried the tray that held Josiah’s mug of beer.

“Hello Inez,” Josiah greeted, tipping his hat at her, in politeness.

The lady flashed him a radiant smile, always grateful for the courtesies he saw fit to bestow upon her whenever she encountered him. After a day on her feet, serving customers, such consideration went a long way to securing her affection. Besides, Josiah and his friend were favourite customers of her father’s, and when Roberto had talked about her taking over the bar someday, he made sure she knew which ones to pay special consideration to.

“Here you go Senor,” she lowered the frosty mug on the table.

“Hey Josiah,” Buck greeted quickly before returning to his efforts to secure Inez’s company this evening. “Come on Inez, I promise you, you’ll love what I got planned. I’ll take you up in the Millie. We’ll fly to the coast for a little dinner, be back by dawn after dancing under the stars by the beach.”

Ezra and Josiah exchanged a glance, knowing full well Chris would turn positively apoplectic if he thought Buck was wasting fuel on such a frivolous journey. There was still a Depression on and the cost of fueling the Millie was not insignificant. However, neither man voiced this comment since they were both fairly certain Buck would never have the chance to go on such a date.

“Buck,” Inez glared at him with impatience. “I am too busy for this today! We have a full house and I do not have time for your usual....” her words drifted off as her gaze shifted to the entrance of the tavern.

The three men’s eyes followed the direction of Inez’s pointed stare and realised she was looking at a woman in her mid-forties, sporting a head of dark gold that hung around her in wild, crazy curls. She wore her age well, dressed in a pair of dark, wide-legged slacks, a crisp white shirt and a lavender cardigan. However, as fetching as she appeared, it was the boy standing next to her that was of most interest to them and to Inez.

He could not have been any more than seven, with dusky skin and familiar eyes. He was wearing the uniform of a Menaul School student, one of the few interracial educational facilities in town. The boy was sporting a black eye and a split lip, both of which had been tended to. As the woman surveyed the room and sighted Inez, she began ushering the boy forward while Inez closed the distance to meet her.

“Who is that?” Buck had to ask as he watched Inez stomp away.

“BERNARDO ROBERTO RECILLOS! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

With a sanguine smile, Ezra answered. “Her son.”

Chapter Five:
The Quest of Perseus

Life could sometimes be surreal.

It was not that long ago, the doom of Orin Travis’s life, the Tablet of Destiny threatened all their lives. His childhood friends had died at the hands of the Erran, a death cult intending on unmaking the world and it appeared their daughters would be similarly sacrificed to meet that apocalyptic end. Alexandra Styles, the only child of his best friend, William, was nearly taken as an unwilling host to the ancient goddess Tiamat, while his own daughter Mary, was threatened with death or worst yet, slavery.

If there was any consolation to be had in the whole miserable affair, it was knowing at least Hank Conley’s daughter, Sarah was out of their reach due to her untimely death in a fire. By the same token, Donald Avery’s daughter, Julia had also escaped the Erran’s clutches when she was taken across the Atlantic as an infant to begin a new life in obscurity. Her mother Eleanor, had no intention of losing her child the way she had lost her husband, by remaining close to his friends in America. Throughout the entire incident with the Erran, Julia Pemberton was the one piece of the puzzle that remained elusive, thus guaranteeing her safety.

Until now.

The woman who sat across the desk in his office at the University of Albuquerque was not the ginger-haired tot with the striking green eyes he had last seen at her christening. Instead, she was a dazzling titian-haired beauty, impeccably dressed in a white silk blouse, a tweed blazer and wide-cut pants, no doubt inspired by the fashions of Katherine Hepburn. Meanwhile, her distinct copper coloured hair, inherited from her mother Eleanor since her eyes were all Donnie’s, was styled with pin curls that was the trend of the day among the ladies.

When his secretary had told him the identity of his appointment this morning, Orin had almost fallen out of his chair. After Eleanor’s abrupt departure from England, there had been almost no contact between them with Orin respecting the lady’s desire for distance. Considering what danger the Erran represented to her and her child, it was rather prudent. However, Julia’s emergence so soon after the Erran were dealt with once and for all, seemed too fortuitous to be coincidental, especially when she requested Chris Larabee attend the same meeting.

Somehow, Julia Pemberton knew of his close personal and professional relationship with Chris, enough so to be confident he would be aware of when Chris and the rest of the seven were in town. Even when the seven were not procuring specifically for the University or the Museum which he played curator for, Chris always checked in when he returned to Albuquerque. It was a gesture of friendship between two men who had survived a war together and saved each other in more ways than one.

Chris had arrived shortly before her and was as equally surprised by the sudden emergence of Julia Pemberton in the aftermath of the Erran affair. They had assumed Julia had been left out of the whole business because the Erran had been unable to find her but it appeared she was closer than they knew by this sudden appearance.

She arrived at his office alone, revealing herself to be a picture of poised elegance, speaking with the accent of a high-born English woman, oozing with culture and refinement. Chris had to admit she was a looker as they got past the greetings and small talk. Like Orin, he was burning with curiosity to have an explanation for this sudden appearance and his summons to this meeting.

“So you work for a shipping company?” Orin inquired once they got down to business.

Chris watched her closely, turning his high powered perception in her direction and realising she was a pretty cool customer for a dame. She studied everything with her cat-like green eyes with as much scrutiny as he did, giving nothing away at the same time. It was a trait he employed himself.

“Yes, that is correct. My employer is responsible for the transportation of high-value merchandise and part of the service we provide to our clients, includes valuation and authentication, particularly for insurance purposes. We ensure the provenance of the more exotic artifacts are in order and investigate when they are not. Recently, something came into our possession that made us question its origins and its provenance.”

“Really?” Orin sat up in interest, understanding why she might have sought him out although she was a long way from England and it did not explain why she would ask for Chris to be present. She had asked for him, implying she knew what he and the seven did for a living. “Do you have it here?”

“Yes,” she nodded, reaching into the alligator purse she carried with her. “I thought you might wish to look at it.”

Julia produced an object wrapped in a velvet pouch no larger than her palm and handed it to him. Orin promptly unfastened the cord holding it close and emptied the object onto the felt covered table in front of them.

Chris immediately sat up in his chair and leaned forward, wanting to see the object for himself. Its circular configuration made him think immediately of a bracelet or choker but he dismissed it immediately. The hollow made it too narrow for a neck and too wide for a wrist. The edges were smoothed, but not enough for anyone to wear it comfortably. If anything, the cut along the meandering pattern on its outer ring made him think this was no piece of jewellery at all, but something more cryptic.

“It’s Greek” Orin who was the true expert, stated before Chris could.

He was right of course and Chris nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” he studied the meandering pattern. “Definitely Greek, early Minoan?”

“Possibly,” the Professor remarked and reached for the magnifying glass sitting in its tray on his desk, before picking up the artifact to make a closer examination.

“There appears to be some kind of inscription on the inside edge but we can’t decipher it,” Julia volunteered. She noted Orin’s brow arching in interest as he held it beneath the glass.

“So why am I here Miss Pemberton?” Chris asked her while Orin conducted his analysis. “The Professor mentioned you asked for me.”

She turned that aloof expression on him once again and Chris realised that as attractive and beautiful as this woman was, there was something about her that put him on edge. His instincts for trouble had saved him on more occasions than he could count and right now, Julia was setting off all kinds of alarm bells in his head. There was more to her than she was letting on, of this he was convinced. He just didn’t know if it was dangerous.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr Larabee,” she offered her well-practised explanation with ease. “You’re known in antiquities circles as a man who is able to acquire items often considered out of reach and more importantly, keeping them from those who exploit them. I am sure you are aware the Nazis have been scouring the globe lately, acquiring objects that supposedly have supernatural properties. Hitler is a believer in the occult.”

Chris and Orin exchanged glances before he responded. “I’ve heard.”

“My employers would prefer the nature of this particular piece be investigated by someone reliable who isn’t likely to sell it off to private collectors. I’m led to believe that is you.”

There was a double meaning in almost everything she said and while his instincts did not warn him of danger, at least from her, there was no doubt in his mind whatsoever she had an agenda she was keeping secret. Despite her attempt to flatter him however, Chris also detected a faint hint of sincerity in her words but still, there was something about her that bothered him.

“I’m no grave robber or double-crosser Miss Pemberton, but me and my men aren’t charities either. We have a living to make.”

“Of course,” she nodded expecting the issue of money to come up eventually. “We are willing to pay you very well.”

It was at that moment Chris realised she knew exactly what it was she handed to Orin.

“Oh my God,” Orin Travis exclaimed almost on cue.

Chris shot her a look of suspicion, while she wore one of smug satisfaction. Who the hell was Julia Pemberton, he asked himself silently before turning to Orin who had lowered the artifact to the table, an expression of wonder on his face. “This is the Circlet of Amalthea?”

“It is what was my employers were led to believe when we acquired it.”

“The Circlet of Amalthea?” Chris stared at Orin. He knew of the classical reference to Amalthea of course. In Greek mythology, she was either a goddess or a she-goat, depending on which text one read, who nursed the Olympian Zeus as a baby and protected the future ruler of the gods from his father Cronus, who already committed infanticide by swallowing his other siblings.

“Yes,” Orin nodded. “The Circlet of Amalthea is one of the key pieces needed to finding the Aegis of Zeus.”

Now that was something Chris did recognise. “You mean the one carried by Perseus? The shield?”

“It’s more than just a shield,’ Orin elaborated. “According to legend, was covered with Amalthea's hide and immune to all weapons. He who carried the shield couldn’t be defeated in battle but there’s more to it than that. The shield was given to Perseus by Athena. When he was done with his quest to kill the Gorgon, he returned it and Medusa’s head to Athena who mounted it on the face of the shield. As a result, was the shield not just invulnerable, it became capable of turning armies into stone.”

Something flashed in Julia Pemberton’s eyes. It was so subtle Orin hadn’t seen it but Chris who was a master at reading body language caught it immediately. The Professor’s final statement had the effect of something prodding her in the ribs and Chris wondered why it bothered her so much. Suspecting she would not explain herself even if he asked, Chris set aside the observation for the present and returned his attention to Orin.

“And the circlet?” Chris was fascinated by the story even if it was just a legend and then again, he thought almost on reflex, his ability to accept the supernatural was a little more flexible after what took place in Eridu.

“Well according to this inscription, which is written in a form of proto-Koine, that’s an ancient Greek dialect,” Orin raised his eyes to Julia in explanation before continuing.” Only a man of courage may pass through the test of Cetus to claim the Skin of the Goat in the House of the Cursed.”

“Well that sounds decidedly ominous,” Julia frowned. “What is the test of Cetus?”

“If I remember right, Cetus is a sea monster,” Chris remarked. “The skin of the goat is obviously the Aegis but what’s the House of the cursed?”

“I have no idea,” Orin leaned back into his chair. “However, I can tell you how we could find out.”

Both Chris and Julia stared at him but it was Chris who spoke first. “How?”

“Heinrich Schliemann wrote in a paper a few years before his death, that a Greek artisan named Kephalon was reputed to have created a mosaic mural of the Aegis’s journey from Olympus to Sarpedon and a final resting place that is not named, but is somewhere beyond the Atlas Mountains.”

“Where is it?” Julia inquired, realising she was becoming caught up in this nonsense but then again, remembered how real this ‘nonsense’ was to Hitler. If the bastard thought he might have an edge on his enemies by supernatural means, there was no halting his ambitions of conquest.

“The Serapheum of Alexandria.”

“Shit,” Chris swore under his breath and eased back into his chair. He knew precisely where it was and while it was not impossible to reach, it would be an arduous journey nonetheless.

“The Serapheum?” Julia stared at both men, finding her lack of knowledge in the subject galling. She was accustomed to having a handle on most things and making herself proficient in the subject she was not. In this conversation, she was learning just how far out of depth she was. “What is that?”

“It’s an annex of the library of Alexandria.”

Julia’s eyes widened. “You mean the ancient Great Library? The one in ancient Alexandria?”

“The same,” Chris confirmed. “Unfortunately, it sank under the sea about a thousand years ago and is under a hundred feet of water.”

“Bloody hell,” she cursed.

“The Serapheum itself is intact so the mosaic is probably still there. Depending on the glazing techniques, the tiles should be in good shape. We would need diving equipment but not those clunky suits. A Frenchmen developed a new kind of suit recently,” Chris mused.

“You mean the Le Prieur breathing apparatus?” Julia stared at him, starting to see where he was going with this. “You want to make the attempt using his equipment?”

“If it’s the only way of finding this thing, yeah,” Chris nodded, not realising he had planned to go after this artifact until the idea of breaching the Serapheum entered his head.

Orin on the other hand never had any doubt Chris Larabee and his team would be embarking on retrieving the Aegis. The man was a natural explorer and there was enough mystery around the Aegis to prompt his interest. Not for the first time, Orin was glad to have helped Chris on the path to his true calling. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that perhaps we ought to take a trip down to Egypt,” he grinned.

This could not have worked out better if she had planned it. As expected the man had taken up the challenge because that was what was at the heart of him and to be honest, hunting ancient treasure in the service of king and country was not unattractive to her as well.

“In that case,” Julia smiled, “I believe my employers will be willing to agree to engage your services to retrieve the Aegis, with the understanding it will be donated to the National Archaeological Museum of Athens after sufficient study is conducted. I am authorised to pay you the going rate and any expenses you might incur.”

Somehow, he had a feeling it was always her plan to do so but made no comment on this. Whatever her agenda, he would go along with it for the moment because a job was a job and this one was pretty exciting.

“Miss Pemberton,” Chris returned her smile with a faint one of his own. “You have a deal.”

“You!”

“You!”

The two words were spoken together with the percussive effect of two cymbals slamming against each other. Josiah Sanchez was on his feet, glaring accusingly at the woman who just accompanied young Master Recillos to his mother. The lady with her wild blond curls had recognised Josiah just as instantly as Josiah had identified her as the crazy dame who nearly ran him off the road a short time ago.

“Where did you learn to drive!” Josiah demanded, furious that not only had she almost killed him with her reckless behaviour, but she was also driving Inez’s son at the same time. In the two months since they had come to know the lady, Josiah had decided he liked Inez very much and felt obligated to look out for her the way Roberto, his old friend, would have done if he still lived.

“Where did I learn to drive?” She stared back at him indignantly, “where did you learn to drive? A convent? I’ve seen nuns who walk faster than you drive!”

Meanwhile oblivious to the argument Josiah was engaged in, Buck Wilmington was still reeling from the bombshell that was just dropped on him by the appearance of the young boy who was looking rather contritely at his mama at the moment.
“You knew?” He glared at Ezra who was rather enjoying the human drama playing out before him. “When did you know and how come you didn’t tell me?”

Ezra took a sip of his cognac and broke into his trademark dimpled grin, complete with gold tooth gleaming. “Now what fun would that have been? I much rather enjoy the manner in which the truth was revealed to you just a moment ago. I do not believe I have seen you so stupefied with shock since you discovered Marlena, the songstress at that cabaret in Montmartre was a female impersonator. What was his name...?”

“Marvin,” Nathan chimed in, approaching the two and joining in Ezra’s laughter as Buck turned a shade redder. “What’s going on?”

The gambler glanced in the direction of Inez who was apparently reading the riot act to her young son who was taking his mother’s scolding with his head hung low in penitence. “Oh, that’s Inez’s boy?”

“You knew?” Buck straightened up, wondering if every one of his friends knew the object of his affections these last two months came with an accessory no one had seen fit to tell him about.

Nathan pulled up his seat and cast a glance in the direction of Josiah who was having a rather heated argument with a pretty blond woman with curls so wild, they bounced each time she moved her head to talk. “Sure, I did. That’s what happens when you have a conversation with a woman that doesn’t involve you trying to get a date. You learn things.”

He flashed Buck his most shit-eating grin as Buck joined them at the table looking quite stunned by this turn of events.

“Ms Recillos is a widow Buck,” Ezra pointed out. “Her husband, the late Mr Recillos died in an accident some years ago, leaving Inez to raise young Bernado on her own. He joined her in Albuquerque only a few weeks ago and it appears he is having some difficulty making the adjustment.”

Inez had ceased berating her son and was now hugging him close, a gesture that drove away the sombre expression on his face and replaced it with a happy smile instead. Clearly, his mood was lifted by his mother’s embrace indicating all was well between them again. The lady looked up and noted the argument still taking place between Josiah and the woman who brought Bernado to her, deciding in an instant she wasn’t getting into the crosshairs of that mess and approached Ezra and the others at their table.

“Everyone, this is my son Bernado,” she introduced. “Bernado, say hello to pappy’s favourite customers. That is Ezra, Nathan and Buck.”

“Greetings Master Recillos, how are you this day?”

The boy seemed a little shy but he answered. “Okay.”

“Hey there little fella,” Buck smiled warmly, understanding now why Inez had rebuffed him the way she had. She probably didn’t want to scare him off if he knew she had a kid.

Not that such a thing was possible anyway. Buck liked children and he had adored Adam, Chris’s son. He had mourned the child after the fire, not as much as Chris had mourned of course, but it had hurt Buck to know that sweet little boy who ran after him and called him ‘Uncle Buck’ was no more. Now that he knew the truth about Inez’s situation, all it would take to win the lady’s favour was to charm the son.

It was the perfect plan.

“She’s insane!” Josiah returned to the table in the huff, the woman following him closely.

“Don’t blame me if you drive like an old lady!” She bit back.

“You ought to know!”

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to sputter her outrage when Inez wisely stepped in. “Audrey, thank you for bringing Bernado here, I swear he’ll never do that again.”

The woman glared at Josiah once more, before facing Inez, trying to forget the unpleasant encounter with this boor of a man and focus on the child she had brought to his mother. “Well,” she collected herself, her cheeks still flushed with ire. “It’s not that I don’t mind Bernado’s entrepreneurial spirit but playing marbles to win lunches is not proper behaviour.”

With the exception of Josiah who was still seething at the woman, all three men had to bite down to stifle their laughter. As Inez continued to discuss the situation with his teacher, Ezra leaned over to Bernado and whispered quietly. “Young man, I think you and I will get along famously.”

Chapter Six:
Pursuit

Surrounded by the Spanish-styled architecture of the Alvarado Train Station, Vin Tanner held the bouquet of roses surrounded by baby’s breath as he waited at the platform for the train to pull in. It was approaching late afternoon and the platform was busy with travellers getting ready for their journeys to begin. They checked their watches, counted their luggage and like him, repeatedly looked up to see the progress of the train’s arrival at the platform. The silver coloured Zephyr had come into sight, gleaming under the bright New Mexico sun.

As Vin bounced impatiently on his heels, waiting for the locomotive completing the final leg of its journey from the East, he tried to temper his impatience at how long it was taking, aware he only got this way when Alexandra Styles came to visit.

It had only been a few weeks since he last saw her, when the Millie had to make a refuelling stop in New York, giving him the opportunity to drive up to her college to see her. They’d spent the whole day together, finally consummating their relationship in a wonderful night where he discovered she was made for him because in her arms was where he was meant to be. Vin was the first for Alex so he was gentle, ensuring she had no reason to regret the decision to be with him because, at the core of him, he knew she was the love of his life.

As the train announced its approach followed by the screech and hiss of its brakes when it came to a complete stop, Vin retrieved the piece of paper from his favourite leather jacket and examined the travel details he’d jotted down during their last phone call. As soon as he read the number of the train car, he started walking along the platform, becoming lost in the bodies beginning to disembark from the locomotive. Brushing past the initial rush of travellers, Vin navigated the sea of passengers including women tugging unruly children, men rushing past with rolled up newspapers under their arms or clutching cases and the tourists who were gaping at everything as if they were on some wild adventure in the desert. Vin paid little attention to any of these travellers, interested in only one person.

“Vin!”

She was still perched on the step of the train, holding on to the handrail and waving at him from her elevated position, her face showing that radiant smile possessing so much power over him. Seeing her, Vin broke into a grin himself and quickly hurried forward as Alex stepped onto the platform and made her way to him, ignoring the frowns she was getting when she brushed too close to people for their liking. She was wearing a pretty pink dress with white gloves and a sun hat, looking utterly radiant as always. They met halfway, greeting each other in a passionate kiss that had Vin sweeping her off her feet and twirling her around once, much to the amusement and reproach of those walking by.

For a few seconds, the world melted away and Vin soaked in her perfume, the touch of her full lips against his and the heat of her body against him. He wondered how he managed to get through the past weeks without her. Ever since they met, he had felt this connection to her, like she was the love of his life in any lifetime, and there was some cosmic pull to each other that transcended all reasonable sense.

“How are you doing Darling?” He asked once he set her down again, realising they needed to behave a little better in public, not like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

“I’m good but I missed you,” she admitted smiling at him, still able to taste him on her lips. While they had disengaged from each other’s embrace, Vin’s hand remained coiled around her waist.

“Well I guess I missed you too,” he joked even though the flowers said otherwise. “Here, I got you these.”

Noticing the bouquet for the first time because she had eyes only for him, Alex accepted the floral arrangement with delight, especially when roses were her favourite. “Vin, they’re beautiful. Thank you.” She leaned forward and sealed her gratitude with a kiss.

“You’re such a romantic Vin,” Mary Travis announced herself as she appeared behind the couple, having fallen behind just enough to allow the duo to have their passionate and heartfelt reunion. The cynical, blond journalist had to admit she was smiling at their affectionate greeting and almost felt a little jealous if not for how happy the two looked to be in each other’s company again.

“Hey Mary,” Vin greeted the woman, trying not to be embarrassed by her observation. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d gotten you something too.”

Although Vin thought devilishly, he might risk the punch in the jaw and make the suggestion to Chris. His best friend’s behaviour around this woman was often more entertaining than tickets to a movie. Chris’s steadfast denials he had no interest in the fair Miss Travis had been a source of great amusement to the rest of the seven. For some reason, the blond journalist was capable of getting under Chris’s skin like no one alive.

Mary uttered a short laugh at the thought. “It’s alright,” she said pleasantly. “I wasn’t meeting my fella so I didn’t really expect it.”

Exchanging a sly glance at Vin, Alex asked with perfect innocence. “So what is Chris up to today?”

Vin barely managed to restrain his laugh and Mary shot Alex a glare that could have incinerated her on the spot.

“Probably tossing small puppies off a cliff,” she snorted, lifting her chin up as a show of feigned indifference.

“Nah, he only do that on holidays,” Vin winked at Mary, drawing a giggle from Alex. “Actually I think he may be at your pa’s this morning. He said something about the Professor wanting to see him.”

Now that did prompt Mary’s interest. “Oh?”

Vin realised he probably should not have let that slip and had an idea Chris would not be happy to learn he let Mary in on the fact they might have a new job to undertake. Ever since they met, the blond had been trying to finagle her way onto one of their trips, something Chris had no intention of letting happen ever. What they got themselves into sometimes, was simply too dangerous for a woman, no matter how capable she might think she was. In fact, Vin was rather grateful Alex had no interest to tag along on their jobs because he’d spend too much time worrying about her and not on what he was doing.

“Yeah,” he sighed, deciding he had gone too far to shut up now. “Not sure what though.”

Not wishing to put Vin in an uncomfortable position, Mary did not press him. “It’s alright, I’ll find out from my father later.”

Oh yeah, Vin thought silently, Chris is going to just love that.

Chris Larabee left the Professor’s office deep in thought.

After agreeing to take up the job of going after the Aegis and ironing out the details related to the acceptance of th new commission, Chris left the university. Heading towards Paloma’s to tell the others they had a new job, he let Miss Pemberton and the Professor to catch up. Fortunately, the woman had left it entirely up to him to retrieve the artifact and return it to the university without any demands to join them. Her employers whom she was careful not to name, had no desire to keep the Aegis for themselves, only wishing for it to be kept from the reach of unscrupulous hands.

Running the laundry list of things they had to do in his head before they left for Morocco, Chris wanted to get a head start as soon as possible. As always, with everything they went after, they needed to conduct research. Furthermore, Julia had warned their competitors for the Aegis might be Nazis and they should take caution if they ran into the bastards. Despite her seemingly accommodating manner, Chris wondered about Julia Pemberton. Dames, on the whole, were easy to read. He usually got a handle on them pretty fast but Julia was a cipher. Instinct told him she was concealing much but he also sensed no danger from her.

Still, there was something about her.

During that incident, the one true unknown, other than the Tablet itself, was the whereabouts of Donald Avery’s daughter. They had wondered who and where she was since the daughters of Orin Travis, William Styles, Hank Conley and Donnie Avery were all endangered by the cult’s obsession. Julia was the only element that remained a mystery and her sudden emergence now seemed more than just coincidence. As it was, she made no mention of encountering the Erran or knowing anything about the Tablet. Then again, considering how badly the thing had almost ended for not just Alexandra Styles but also his own daughter Mary, Chris could not blame the Professor for not bringing it up.

Chris was heading back to his black Oldsmobile parked in the lot when he spotted them.

They were trying their best to remain unseen, but a trio of men in their thirties, wearing non-descript grey suits that made them look oddly interchangeable, stood out against the backdrop of teenagers. With wide brim Fedoras perched on their heads, their eyes followed him from across the campus lawn. Chris who was more than accustomed to being kept under surveillance, feigned ignorance as he headed towards his car and saw them emerging from their hiding places in pursuit.

Aware they would not make any overt moves towards him until he was alone, Chris was able to reach his car without much difficulty. As soon as he was inside the vehicle, the leader of the Seven opened his glove box to retrieve the Colt peacemaker he kept there, leaving it on the seat within easy reach before starting the engine. In the rearview mirror, he saw them hurrying to their own car, a dark Buick. Aside from the three who had been keeping him under surveillance, there was a fourth man seated in the backseat awaiting the other’s return.

If these were Nazis as Julia claimed, then he had to get out of here as quickly as possible. The woman was still on campus and distancing them from her was Chris’s priority. Mysterious or not, she was still the client and he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her. Pulling out of the parking lot, he kept his gaze fixed on the rear view mirror as they followed him out, leaving a small gap of time to make their pursuit discreet.

Taking the turn into Campus Boulevarde so he could take the familiar journey down Route 47 to Paloma’s, Chris maintained a leisurely speed, not letting on he was aware he was being followed. As he drove along the streets flanked by businesses forming a cottage industry of sorts to service students and alumni from the campus, he saw bookstores, malt shops, laundrymats, five and dimes and coffee houses. Breaking up the urban sprawl were the parks where teenagers lounged on the grass or on benches, alone or together, their faces buried in books or enjoying the friendships that came when one was young and everything was new. Chris missed that feeling.

It was clear his pursuers weren’t about to make their move while he was in a populated area and Chris knew as soon as he left the city behind and moved to the outskirts were Palomas’s was situated, that would change.

He was right

As soon as he turned down Route 47 and the procession of cars in traffic fell away, leaving him alone on the desert highway with only the tumbleweeds and cactus for company, watching on indifferently, they sped up to catch up to him. Chris had more or less expected this and jammed his foot against the accelerator.

The Oldsmobile lurched forward like a racehorse finally let out of the gate. The car surge forward with a finely tuned roar, tearing down the bitumen while the car behind them, caught somewhat by surprise, did the same. The few seconds Chris had managed to speed up gave him enough of a headstart to make catching up to him no easy affair. Not that they didn’t try to slow him down. What came next was almost predictable and Chris retrieved the gun occupying the passenger seat and sat it in his lap.

Even over the sound of engines roaring, Chris heard the discharge of a bullet and immediately turned the wheel sharply, rendering the bullet’s trajectory harmless as it kept going forward, where it would either run out of steam or strike another target. Chris hoped it was the former. As he sped up, the gunmen continued to fire. He could see their weapons and arms leaning out of the Buick’s window, squeezing off multiple rounds.

The leader of the Seven cursed when he heard the shattering of a backlight and the sound of metal being breached. Josiah was going to be pissed. Josiah considered it his sacred duty to maintain all their vehicles and Chris knew any harm coming to them was going to annoy him to no end. Chris continued to weave across the tar road, trying to avoid the shots but knew eventually, one of those bullets would meet its mark. As if taking up the challenge of this possibility, a loud crack was heard as his back windscreen shattered

Suddenly, Chris saw another car approaching them ahead, coming from the opposite direction. As the Red Ford convertible neared, it took the brunt of the gunfire. Chris saw bullets striking the radiator grill while another punctured the hood. The windscreen caught a shell, causing a spidery vein of cracks to form across the glass. The driver, a woman with wild curly blond hair, cried out in fright and as the Oldsmobile and the Red Ford passed each other and Chris, realised she had lost control of the car. The vehicle veered sharply off the road, hitting the embankment hard and kept going, no doubt shaking her good in her seat.

Chris cursed out loud, unable to do anything to help her until he dealt with the men in pursuit. Looking ahead, he saw no other cars approaching down the next stretch of the flat road and realised he was going to have to act fast. Slowing down, even as more bullets ruined the rear of his car and riddled the interior with holes, Chris saw the Buick closing the distance. It crossed over the unbroken lines splitting the road to come alongside him.

Window to window, Chris caught a glimpse of the men so determined to drive him off the road.

“PULL UP HERR LARABEE!”

The order came from none of the men who had tailed at the campus. Instead, it came from the man waiting in the car. Wearing a black leather coat, a black hat and dark eyes that made Chris think of a weasel, The double SS bolts on his collar pin told Chris exactly what he was. With hollow cheeks and a nose that looked like a hooked beak, his unimpressive physical characteristics implied a man who had always been weak, finally given power he used to lord over others.

Chris ignored him. Instead, the leader of the seven picked up the gun he had been cradling in his lap and opened fire. The Buick’s window shattered and Chris who did not believe in taking random shots nailed his target on the first try. The man in the front passenger seat jerked once before the window next to him splattered red. The car veered sharply away, as the driver tried to avoid a face full of lead. With that distraction delivered, Chris jammed the brakes hard and brought the Oldsmobile to a screeching halt, leaving burnt tire trails along the road.

The Buick kept going but now it was Chris in pursuit. While keeping one hand on the wheel, Chris used the other to continue shooting. One bullet struck the trunk of the car, the second took out the rear mirror, forcing the men inside it to quickly hit the deck to avoid being sprayed by glass fragments or being shot. As they disappeared briefly from view, Chris took aim carefully, his shooting hand as steady as the one on the steering wheel. This time when he squeezed the trigger, the deafening din of the gunshot was followed by the explosive burst of a tyre.

The car veered sharply as the tyre deflated, tilting the body to one side as it was forced onto its rim and the metal ground against the tar road. Pieces of rubber were shredded away as it continued forward, leaving a trail of sparks behind. Chris watched it swerved towards the embankment, flipping over to its side when it went down the steep slope, before landing on its back like a turtle on its belly. As it floundered against the desert sand, wheels spinning with smoke rising steadily from its upended engine, Chris tossed his gun back on the passenger seat and made an abrupt U-turn, causing his tyres to screech as he retreated back the way he came.

It did not take him long to find the woman who had been caught up in their gun battle on the road. He had to get to her before the men in the Buick regrouped, possibly even getting their vehicle back on the road to come after him again. The cherry coloured Ford had ended up in a ditch, smoke exuding from beneath the hood. The car’s driver had stumbled out of the open door and was leaning against the trunk, clutching what was a bloodied handkerchief against her forehead. This appeared to be the most serious of her injuries because there were other smaller cuts on her arms and neck. She appeared dazed and understandably shaken.

At the sight of him, she turned pale, recognising him and his car as one of those responsible for her current circumstances. She looked ready to run when Chris quickly spoke out, understanding her panic but not having the time to chase her if those Nazi bastards got on the road again, or worse yet, had friends.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” Chris called out to her, trying not to appear intimidating as he approached her even though Buck had told him enough times he could scare the shit out of anyone by just staring at them wrong.

“What do you want?” She demanded, not prepared to trust him.

“Just to see if you’re okay,” he held out his hands in a gesture of calm.

“I’m not fine!” She snapped. “I just got shot at and run off the road! I’m many things right now! Fine is not one of them!”

Chris supposed he couldn’t blame her for her indignation. “Look, Miss....”

“King,” she returned haughtily. “Audrey King.”

“Look, Miss King,” Chris decided not to mince words because he simply didn’t have time for it and he had no skill charming women the way Buck and Ezra did. “The fact of the matter is, the other men in the car were Nazis and we need to get out of here before they come back and kill us.”

She stared at him wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like someone who has a sense of humour?”

The woman stared at him for a moment before replying. “You have a point. God what a day I’m having! First, I have to deal with some grouch who can’t drive, who had the nerve to tell me I’m the one who can’t drive, then I get shot at and ran off the road!”

He supposed that did sound like a bit of an eventful morning as he closed the distance to her and extended his hand to help her steady herself. Once she took it, Chris led her back up the embankment to his Oldsmobile. The smoke from the Buick was still in the air, which told Chris the car had not gotten back on the road but that did not mean the men who were driving it wouldn’t be heading back in this direction on foot. Audrey was even more unsteady as they climbed up to the road again and Chris had a feeling she might have suffered a mild concussion. His first instinct was to get her to a hospital, and then realised Palomas would be better.

Especially if there were Nazis hunting them.

Reaching the road again, Chris surveyed the area and saw the coast was clear for the moment. However, there was also nothing to stop the men from hijacking any car that happened along the freeway so it was best to make themselves scarce.

“Get inside,” he said opening the front passenger door for her to get into the vehicle.

“Is that a gun?” She stared at him after sighting the Colt lying against the upholstery.

“Yeah,” Chris retorted, taking the weapon and tucking it in his coat pocket when suddenly the window shattered next to Audrey who uttered a squeal of fright.

“GET IN!”

The trio had made good time, using the cover of the steep embankment to approach unseen on foot. They were using the slope as cover and determined to shoot them down before he and the woman could leave. Chris retrieved his gun and fired a series of shots, driving them back behind the slope as he ushered Audrey into the Oldsmobile. Audrey, properly alert by adrenalin, climbed into the car as Chris continued to empty his remaining bullets in the direction of the enemy as he ran towards the driver’s seat.

Jumping into the car, he tossed the gun into Audrey’s lap. “Hold this!”

Audrey uttered another frightened cry as more bullets were fired and Chris started the engines to get them out of them before any of them hit flesh. The enemy was still sending a barrage of ammunition their away when the car started, speeding.

All the while Audrey continued to curse at how much worse her day could get.

Chapter Seven:
The Den

It was amazing how quickly a place could change.

Two months ago, the space presently occupied by Ezra and his companions was home to out of date menus, broken and dilapidated furniture Roberto intended on repairing but never did, and an impressive collection of cobwebs and spiders. The veneer of dust that covered the place made it appear like the inside of an ancient mausoleum, not a suite of rooms above a rather popular eatery and bar.

While Inez had done little to Paloma’s itself, other than improving the cuisine and hiring musical entertainment for the evenings, she used a considerable amount of her inheritance turning the forgotten upstairs floor which in Paloma’s unsavoury past had been used as a bordello, into a residence for her and her young son. Even so, the floor space was comparable to the bar below and the cost to fully renovate the upstairs area, even with her inheritance, exceeded her means. However, leaving the other half of the area unattended was not an option when there was a small child roaming the area.

Ezra who was wiser with his investments these days had offered her a solution by offering to renovate the remaining space into a private suite for him and his compatriots to use. Palomas was their favourite watering hole but it was hardly the place to discuss business now that the establishment was seeing more patronage. The arrangement suited Inez who only had one stipulation which under the circumstances was reasonable, and that was the prohibition of entertaining of female company in a less than proper manner. She did not wish her son exposed to that kind of behaviour. Ezra concurred.

The result of their agreement was a suite painted in neutral colours, its oak panelling revitalised and new carpets laid. The fixtures were replaced with brass fittings and an old style western chandelier hung in the centre of the ceiling, providing a warm glow when fully lit. With studded leather wing chairs and sofas, a large table surrounded by stools and a small bar in the corner, Ezra thought it made for a rather nice cigar lounge, though none of the seven were cigar smokers if the truth were known.

It provided them with a quiet place to discuss matters and on this occasion, a place to treat the woman Chris Larabee had rescued a short time ago after her car had been run off the road by Nazis. The same woman, who had left Palomas earlier, after delivering Inez’s son Bernado from school and putting Josiah in a mood so foul, they had not seen its like since the war. While the lady was not badly hurt, she was rather annoyed by the fact she was forced to return to this place after leaving it in such a disagreeable cloud.

“I can’t believe I’m back here again,” Audrey shook her head in disbelief as she sat on one of the leather lounges in what the seven had taken to calling the ‘Den’ over Palomas. “I just left here!”

Nathan Jackson was presently treating the woman’s cuts from her accident earlier with the rest of the seven, except for Vin, who was at the train station picking up Alex, close by. Most of her injuries were superficial but thanks to the well-supplied first aid kit Nathan insisted on keeping on the premises, the former army medic was able to treat them.

“Here ma’am,” JD set down a saucer and cup of tea on the small side table near her. “Miss Inez says its chamomile.”

“Oh thank you,” Audrey flashed the young man a grateful smile.

“Who is she?” Chris asked, surprised to learn this was the woman’s second visit to Paloma’s today.

“Bernado’s school teacher,” Buck explained and then added. “Did you know Inez has a kid? I didn’t know she had a kid. Those two,” he shot Ezra and Nathan a look of accusation, still smarting from that morsel of information being kept from him, “knew all about it and didn’t tell me.”

“I knew about it,” Chris stared at him in puzzlement. “It’s no secret. I knew the first week she got here.”

“The first week?” Buck’s indignant exclamation made his voice rise a notch higher. “How come I didn’t know about it?”

“Did you stop hitting on her long enough to listen to anything she said?” Chris returned, rolling his eyes and wondering why he was still debating the matter with Buck when there were more important things to discuss. “Look, we have a new job and the competition plays rough.”

“Rough enough to run a schoolteacher off the road?” Josiah frowned. While he thought she deserved some poetic justice for her behaviour on the highway with him earlier, Josiah had no wish to see the lady harmed, especially not after discovering when she wasn’t yelling at him, was rather attractive with those wild, golden curls.

“Nazis.”

The word made Josiah forget all about curls and turn immediately to Chris. Buck, Ezra, JD and even Nathan who was tending to his patient, reacted in more or less the same way, turning sharply to their leader.

“Nazis? Here? In America?” Buck asked, no longer sounding like the happy-go-lucky pilot they all knew, and more like the ace pilot who spent much of the war in the air against Richthofen's Circus.

“If the accent of the guy who told me to pull over was any indication,” Chris replied, recalling the weasley faced man with the cruel eyes wearing the twin bolts on his collar. “Yeah.”

“They’ve been showing up a lot lately,” Josiah remarked. “Argentina, Italy, Madagascar and now here. Can’t figure out why they’re showing such an interest.”

“I am certain none of us will like the answer when it is revealed,” Ezra’s dislike for the regime showing clearly on his face. “The news I have been receiving from my acquaintances in Europe regarding their activities in the Fatherland is alarming, to say the least. There is currently an exodus from Germany due to the rising anti-semitism there. I do not like what this may mean for the future.”

All of them had been through a war and yet there was something about these Nazis that told them there may be a bloody future ahead if the regime’s nationalistic views were allowed to escalate. Sabre rattling like this had led to the last war. For those of them who had seen the carnage of the Western Front, who remembered the faces of the fallen who never came home, it was not something they wanted to see repeated.

“So what is this new job, Chris?” JD inquired, deciding to propel his friends past the moment. The youngest member of the seven had come to recognise the shadow that fell upon his older companions at times and knew changing the subject was the only way to combat it and not let them linger in what must be awful memories.

“The Aegis of Zeus.”

JD’s eyes widened in excitement at that revelation. “The actual Aegis of Zeus? The one carried by Perseus when he was riding Pegasus to go kill the gorgon? That one?”

“You know it then Mr Dunne,” Ezra deadpanned.

“Hell yeah!” JD nodded enthusiastically and immediately launched into an explanation. “It’s a shield, supposedly made from the skin of a she-goat that belonged to Amalthea the goddess who protected Zeus when he was a baby. It’s supposed to be invulnerable and was what Perseus used to fight Medusa.”

“That’s the lady with the snakes in her hair right?” Buck looked to JD and then Chris. Mythology was never his strong suit, but that much he knew.

“That’s her,” JD confirmed. “This is great! I can’t believe we’re gonna get to go after this thing!”

From where he was treating Audrey King, who was no longer lamenting her condition but listening to these strange men with interest, Nathan asked the most obvious question. “Why in the hell would the Nazis want with a shield?” Nathan asked from where he was seated.

“Well they have scoured the globe collecting artifacts lately,” Ezra reminded them.

In the last year, particularly in the circles they travelled, they had heard stories of how the Nazis were rigorously pursuing all supernatural and mystical objects. The more steeped in the occult, the more determined they were to acquire the artifact in question. Why, however, was still a mystery since the Nazis didn’t appear to be collectors or aficionados of mythology.

“Because the shield can turn armies into stone.”

Audrey looked up from her cup of tea, taking a sip after her declaration to see the men in the room suddenly staring at her.

“It does?” JD eyed her with interest, no longer viewing the woman as just an innocent bystander who wandered into their business unwittingly.

“Yes,” Audrey nodded, having some knowledge of classical history from her days in college. “According to Duris of Samos, he’s one of the more obscure Greek historians,” she explained as if this was common knowledge. “After Perseus used the Gorgon’s head to kill Cetus the monster, Athena mounted the head onto the shield and made it apart of the Aegis. The reason it’s invincible is because the shield behaves the way the Medusa does. All anyone has to do is to flash it at someone and they turn to stone.”

“That’s a bunch of hooey,” Buck snorted, but then again, what he saw when they were dealing with the Tablet of Destiny was enough to make Buck remember not everything was explainable.

“Of course it is,” Audrey rolled her eyes. “But if you’re wondering why the Nazis would want the thing, that’s a pretty good reason. A shield that can turn any army into stone, that’s a hell of a weapon to have.”

“The lady does have a point,” Josiah turned to Audrey, seeing her in a new light other than the annoying dame who couldn’t drive.

“Why thank you,” Audrey started to give him a look of sarcasm but it was blunted by the rather thoughtful gleam in his eyes which made the further acerbic remark wither in her throat.

It made sense, Chris realised and recalled the expression on Julia Pemberton’s face when they were discussing the reason for the Nazis interest in such an artifact. She had reached the same conclusion as this stranger in their midst. Realising what was at stake even if it was superstitious nonsense, Chris decided it was time to act. “JD, you and Josiah take Miss King back to her car when Nathan’s done with her and see her home. If it’s still there that is.”

“Still there?” Audrey’s expression became dismayed at the idea that her beloved convertible might be gone.
“It means,” Chris explained in a gentler tone than he was accustomed to using because Audrey had been thrust into this situation through no fault of her own. “Those men who were shooting at us might have taken your car to get back to town. If not and it’s still there, you might need help to get it running again. That was a pretty nasty stop you made after you were run off the road.”

Audrey frowned, unable to disagree with that point. Besides, she did feel still a little shaky and would appreciate the escort home and if in the meantime, she could question the boy about what these men did for a living, all the better. Besides, when he wasn’t accusing her of driving him off the road like some crazed roadster, she realised she rather liked Josiah’s low, rumble of a voice that glided across the skin like silk.

“What about us?” Buck inquired, knowing Chris enough to guess his old friend would have mapped a course of action by now.

“You get the Millie ready and get us clearance for Egypt. We need to go to Alexandria.”

“Right,” the pilot nodded in understanding. “Shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”

“The faster the better,” Chris added. “Something tells me these Nazis are going to be on us every step of the way. Ezra, I need you to go and find us some diving gear. The kind made by that Frenchman not long ago.”

“You mean the Le Prieur breathing apparatus?” Ezra nodded, having read the papers and had briefly considered investing in the technology until he came to his senses. Maude always said gold and the land was the best investment choices, not new fangled gimmicks that would drop in price as soon as the novelty wore off. “How many?”

“At least three.”

Ezra took out the small notebook with the leather cover, always concealed in his jacket and started jotting down notes as to where such devices would be acquired and more importantly how much it would cost.

“JD, Josiah,” Chris turned back to the duo. “After you drop Miss King off at her house, head to the university. The Professor has got the Circlet, which we’re going to need to find the Aegis. While you’re there JD, gather any research you can find on the Aegis, I want to know everything about it, every legend, every story, no matter how obscure. Now that I know why this thing is so important, real or not, the Nazis are going to go after it with everything they got.”

“You’re actually going after the Aegis?” Audrey could not remain silent any longer. Her initial annoyance about all this had dwindled into unmask awe.

“We hope so,” Chris flashed her a little smile, seeing the wonder in her eyes and warming to her because of it. “When Vin gets here, Nathan, we’ll go get supplies.”

By supplies, Nathan knew Chris meant guns.

“So if this thing is Greek, why are we heading towards Egypt?” Buck asked, having no knowledge of any of the lore. Buck lived in the moment and had very little interest in the past unless it was useful to know.

“That’s easy,” JD piped up before Chris could. “The Serapheum of Alexandria.”

Just as he made the statement, the door swung open and Mary Travis stepped into the room, catching the tail end of the conversation. Behind her was Vin and Alex. Raising a brow, she looked at Chris with interest. “You’re heading to Alexandria?”

Aw hell, Chris thought silently, suddenly he had a feeling this trip was about to get a lot more complicated.

Even though she had not intended to do so, Julia Pemberton found herself remaining in the company of Orin Travis, far longer than she expected. However, when the old scholar began to reminisce about her father, Julia was compelled to listen. Even though she had avenged him by killing Adashir Shah in Arabia, it did not erase the void left behind by Donald Avery’s absence. Her mother rarely spoke about him, mostly because Julia suspected the American Eleanor had married in her youth was the love of her life and she had no wish to upset her current husband, Sean, speaking of him.

Julia listened in fascination and some sadness about a young man who was a trusted and loyal friend, even if he was sometimes a little rigid in his ways and a stickler for detail. There was no doubting the affection and sorrow that still lingered in the Professor’s eyes as he spoke about her father and his other friends lost in time. When she finally left the university, leaving the Circlet in the Professor’s keeping since he had the security to ensure it remained safe until Chris Larabee came for it, she headed back to her lodgings at the Hotel Andaluz.

Stepping into the afternoon sun, she saw no sign of the Jerries who had tracked her here from Morocco, no doubt under the orders of Isabel Krauss who had no idea what to make of her yet. Julia knew there was every possibility her act of larceny from the Tower at Rabat had caught the eye of those interested in the Aegis. The Nazis were trained investigators and while they may not be able to prove she took the Circlet, they would have questioned those present the day the artifact had gone missing. All it would have taken was one person to remember her red hair and that would be enough for the Germans to track her down.

After all, a redhead in Morocco tended to stand out.

Judging by the tenacity of Nazi agents, she had no doubt they would have accessed customs records to narrow their search of British expatriates visiting the country to locate her. In the end, it did not matter if they had followed her to America because soon enough, they would have another target to focus their attention, one that would give them even more concern than a woman travelling alone. If they followed her to the university, then their first sight of Chris Larabee would have made them forget all about her.

When she appeared on the campus green and saw no sign of the men who had been following her, she knew her assumption was correct. They had gone after Larabee, recognising who he was. The relic hunter and his band of familiars had been traipsing around the globe for the last five years, building a solid reputation that was known throughout the antiquities world. Worse than that, they did not come from academic backgrounds but were military men who had retained their skills and that made them formidable indeed. The usual practice of overpowering bespectacled scholars would have to be abandoned when dealing with a cavalry officer who survived the Great War and kept his men alive to do the same.

Julia almost smiled at the reception Larabee and his friends would give those Jerry bastards the first time they met each other face to face. In any case, Julia was able to return to her hotel without incident.

Entering the suite she was sharing with Francis Riley, a loyal officer of the British Army who served her stepfather Sean Boswell and now did the same to her, with its Spanish style furniture and architecture, she had to admit, she rather liked the decor. There was something decidedly rustic as well as exotic about the style after growing up with the furnishings of the old world, with its Victorian chair or Edwardian desks or Parisian bidet etc, etc.

“Is it done, Miss?”

Riley was seated on one of the fabric wing chairs, reading the local paper when she entered. At the sight of her, he lowered the sheaf of papers and folded it back in place so he could set it down on the coffee table in front of him. He was a good twenty years older than her, with a solid build, dark curly hair thinning in places and wide cheekbones that made him look like a bull, though she would never insult him by voicing such a thing.

“Yes,” she nodded tossing her hat onto the table next to the paper, before flopping onto the sofa, shedding the poised, mercurial demeanour she wore for everyone else’s benefit. “Mr Larabee is now in the service of his Majesty’s government, though he doesn’t know it yet. As far as he is concerned, he is working for an insurance company.”

Riley almost chuckled at the thought, wondering if she knew that no one in their right mind would believe a woman of her elegance would be a secretary for an insurance firm, not with her manner. She risked of English nobility whether or not she liked to admit it even though she could brawl like a Yorkshire scruff when the mood took her. His old friend Sean had taught her well and though there were occasions when it was Riley who needed her help, he made it his lot in life to see her safe.

“I’m not sure these Yanks will like that much Miss,” he said with a little smile. “You know how they feel about the King.”

“About the same as the Irish I suspect,” she winked at him.

“True that,” he agreed. “What’s next then?”

“We’ll need to confer with our American cousins for some assistance. Fortunately, the fragmented nature of American Intelligence means they’ll provide what we need with little interest in what we’re doing. I’m certain they consider Hitler’s treasure collecting as little more than a lark, which is just as well. I rather their cooperation, than their interference. We’ll ask them to grant Wilmington’s request for flight clearance as quickly as possible. Knowing Larabee, he’ll want to leave as soon as he realises Jerry is onto him.”

“Are they?”

“They are,” she nodded. “They stopped following me the minute they recognised him.”

“Not surprising,” Riley shrugged. “He and his bunch of adventurers have developed quite the reputation.”

“They have indeed,” Julia agreed.

“So what was he like?” Riley inquired, having only seen the man from a distance.

“Capable,” she said without hesitation. “Very little gets past him. I am not entirely certain he believed my story. That is why we are remaining at a distance for the moment. We will observe for now, unless intervention becomes necessary.”

“As you wish Miss,” he nodded in understanding. “Have you met any of the others?”

Julia lapsed into silence for a moment, thinking about the man she had rescued from a mad cultist during the museum attack by the Erran months before.

“One of them. He was a dandy with a hell of a smile.”

Riley watched her for a moment as she mined the memory and wondered if she realised she was wearing one herself.

Chapter Eight:
Departures

“Not a chance in hell.”

“But why not?”

“Because we got a job to do without wasting time, nursemaiding a bunch of women!”

Alex who was next to Vin on the leather sofa watching Chris and Mary doing highlights from Burns and Allen, said sweetly. “Actually, I don’t want to go.”

“You don’t?” Vin said good-naturedly, mostly to distract Chris and Mary from going at it again.

“I’m trying to get an internship in this town, I’ve got appointments to keep,” Alex smiled at him. “Besides, I know how these things go, I have no intention of crawling through scorpions, being flushed out a death trap of some ancient burial chamber, attacked by mummified corpses or being chased out of a crumbling temple by a deluge of sand. I’m sure you’ll have a nice time chasing whatever it is you’re chasing and I’ll see you when you get back.”

“See,” Chris turned to Mary and straightened up. “A woman with sense.”

Mary glared at Alex. “You are dead to me.”

Alex shrugged. “But we’re still doing lunch tomorrow right?”

“Of course,” Mary gave her a look as if this was ever in doubt and turned back to Chris. “I’ll have you know you do not have to nursemaid me. You are going after an ancient artifact with Nazis involved. It’s a great story!”

“Which I’ll be happy to give you the details of when we get back,” Chris stated and then added almost as an afterthought, “over dinner.”

Mary’s eyes widened in surprise and almost smiled at the unexpected invitation, which even Chris Larabee was wondering why the hell he just made. However, the little glimmer of delight vanished in the face of her crusade. “Oh, so I’m good enough for a date but not to go off on one of your adventures?”

Chris threw up his hands in exasperation. “I need a drink,” he growled and headed towards the door leading to the main floor of Paloma’s.

Mary was not about to let him escape that easily and went after him, with everyone still in the Den staring at them after they left.

“I better get down there,” Nathan said rolling down the sleeves of his shirt as he volunteered to run defence so Chris didn’t end up drawing his gun. “Gotta say, the woman’s got moxie.”

“Yeah, good thing I got me a nice, obedient...OW!” Vin grunted at the feel of an elbow in the ribs. “That hurt!”

“But not undeserved,” Ezra pointed out, smiling at Alex’s reaction to Vin’s joke at her expense. “So am I to take it you will be moving to this locality in two months?”

“That’s right,” Alex nodded. “My father knew the sisters at Saint Joseph’s Hospital and I’m going to meet their hospital head to apply for an internship there. If all goes well after that meeting, I’ll be back here after graduation in two months.”

“And where will you be residing?” Ezra inquired, seeing the pleasure on Vin’s face at that news. Despite himself, it warmed the cynical gambler’s heart to see Vin happy.

Like the older members of the seven, Ezra would always remember Vin as that scrawny little boy who would sit by the fire of their campsite on the Western Front, listening to him talk about the adventures of Hercules and his twelve labours. Ezra never forgot it was Vin who saved his life after he and Chaucer had been hit with artillery fire. While Ezra had been forced to put a bullet in his beloved horse to end Chaucer’s suffering, Vin had run off into the battlefield to bring him back a medic, and a best friend.

“Well if I get the internship, I’ll be hunting for a flop in town.”

“Let me make a few inquiries on your behalf,” Ezra offered. “I am certain I can acquire you something that is comfortable and moderately priced.”

“Thank you, Ezra,” Alex flashed him a smile.

Vin gave Ezra a nod of thanks, knowing his role as chief procurer for the seven was nothing to underestimate. The man had contacts everywhere and Vin could be certain whatever place Ezra found Alex, it would be comfortable and safe. “You sure, you gonna be okay with me going for a few days?”

Like Alex, Vin had hoped to spend the next two weeks together, but his loyalty to the seven would make it unthinkable for him to sit out any job, no matter how much it stung not being with her. Chris and the others were not just his friends, they were his family and he could not let it down.

“Cowboy,” Alex touched his cheek. “It’s what you do. I’m fine. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I am guessing Mr Larabee wishes for your good fortune,” Ezra chuckled, wondering if Nathan required support in his efforts to keep the battling duo at bay. It did appear Vin and Alex needed as much time alone as possible until it was time for them to embark on their quest for the Aegis.

“Well, Mary’s a reporter, doing an even a tougher job than I have, in a man’s world. To be considered half as good, she needs to be twice as better as any man.” Alex explained, understanding Mary’s desire to go, even if she didn’t share it.

“Makes me happier you staying here anyway,” Vin admitted. “These Nazis are a nasty bunch. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

To that, Alex could not disagree.

As instructed by Chris, JD and Josiah escorted Audrey King back to her car, left abandoned on the side of the road after his encounter with those Nazi agents. Even though Audrey was clearly fascinated by what they did for a living, Josiah could appreciate Chris’s desire to keep some distance between the lady and their affairs. Aside from being an innocent bystander who became embroiled in this situation through no fault of her own, Chris did not want the enemy thinking Audrey had some importance to the seven that could be exploited.

Every one of the seven remembered what nearly happened to Alex and Mary during the mess with the Children of Erran and the Tablet of Destiny. The sight of Alex almost being sacrificed to some ancient goddess and the anguish on Vin’s face when they were helpless to stop it, was burned into their memories. Enough so that none of them wanted to experience its like again, especially because Audrey had the bad luck to be driving down the same stretch of road as Chris when he was being attacked by Nazis.

It made Josiah understand why Chris was so determined to keep Mary Travis from joining one of their jobs, even as an observer. The seven often ran afoul of some rather unpleasant characters, characters who would have no difficulty using them and the people close to them as leverage. As the only woman among seven men, she was an easy liability to exploit and Josiah suspected Chris’s affections for the woman (as much as he might grunt otherwise), would not permit that.

“This is a great car,” Audrey complimented, admiring the interior of the car from the back seat of Josiah’s Roadster as they drove down Route 47 back to her vehicle. Running her hand over the rich, well-maintained leather interior, it felt like velvet to the touch. “It’s one of the 60 series, isn’t it?”

JD who had been privy to the arguments between the pair when they first met, stifled a smile with his hand when he saw Josiah throw a glance of surprise over his shoulder at the woman before facing front again, feigning nonchalance.

“That’s right, it’s a roadster.”

“My ex-husband had one of these,” Audrey explained. “Unfortunately, he got ours in the divorce. I always liked the wider wheelbase. It made you feel as if you were stuck to the road and nothing but God’s own crowbar was going to get you off it.”

Once again, Josiah resisted the urge to look behind him but a tug of surprise pulled at one brow. “Sounds about right,” he nodded, hiding his own growing admiration beneath a short, gruff tone. “They only made two thousand of the 60 series with the 132-inch wheelbase. I like the big 6 cylinder motor myself,” he added, testing her knowledge.

“Does this car have the 3-speed transmission?” She returned, picking up the unseen gauntlet hurled at her feet.

“It does,” Josiah answered, satisfied she knew what she was talking about. “I wouldn’t have gotten it otherwise.”

“Well it’s a beautiful car,” Audrey complimented and then added. “You have good taste in cars, even if you do drive like an old lady.”

This time Josiah did turn to give her a look but when he did, he saw her flashing him a coy smile and realised she was teasing him. Next to him, JD who was riding shotgun covered his mouth discreetly with his knuckles so Josiah would not see the smirk that was stealing across his face.

“Spoken like a woman who's trying to outrun Liz Junek*,” Josiah managed a faint smile.

“I suppose I do deserve that,” she surprised Josiah by admitting. “I apologise, I was probably going a little fast and I certainly shouldn’t have been doing it with little Benny in the car. I do a little drag racing and sometimes, I forget what car I’m driving.”

“You drag race ma’am?” JD’s eyes widened, never expecting it of a school teacher, especially one who taught little kids.

“A little bit. My ex-husband loved his fast cars and I became used to driving them. When we were divorced, I got his Salmson Grand Sport and I’ve driven her at Ascot in California a few times.”

“Salmson Grand Sport?” Josiah exclaimed, knowing the car well. In its day, it was often raced at the Grand Prix, boasting state of the art automotive technology. While it might be a little dated these days, it was still an impressive vehicle. “Nice car, but that’s a dangerous hobby to have,” he pointed out, even though he did find he did not disapprove. Being in Mary Travis’s company had taught Josiah just what some women were capable of and it appeared, Audrey was shaping up to be of the same ilk.

“No more than what you men apparently do,” she pointed out. “Are you really going after the Aegis?”

“If that’s what our fearless leader says,” Josiah answered and fell silent when he saw the overturned car on the side of the road.

The dark chevy was lying on its side, the smoke exuding from the crash had exhausted itself and now it was just an abandoned, burnt out wreck discarded by those who owned it. Both JD and Josiah scanned the area, to see any signs of the Nazis who were forced to leave the vehicle behind but only saw the empty highway, creating mirages inthe hot afternoon sun

“Oh my,” Audrey exclaimed. “That’s the car belonging to the men who shot at us.”

“Any sign of them JD?” Josiah inquired, glancing sideways to see the younger man reaching in for the gun that was sitting in its holster beneath his coat. When Chris sent them out here, they took the precaution to be armed in case the enemy was still in the area.

“Oh God,” the woman shrunk further into the seat, not anticipating the men might still be around.

“Nothing,” JD replied after a moment scanning the embankment and the flat terrain surrounding the car as it drove by the wreck, leaving it behind to continue the journey to Audrey’s vehicle.

“I guess they didn’t care to stick around,” Josiah muttered, although why that was, would not at all please Audrey.

Approaching the site where the lady had left her car, they saw the burnt tyre marks across the hot tar road leading into the embankment. Beyond the tar, were the telltale grooves in the dirt, revealing the path the car had taken when it was forced off by bullets. “This is where you got run over?”

Audrey sat up straighter in the back seat and nodded.

Josiah directed the vehicle to the shoulder of the road and brought the Roadster to a stop, even though the engine continued to run. He had no intention of killing it until he knew the Nazis were gone. The last thing he wanted to do was get into a firefight with the fools while they had Audrey in the car, no matter how interesting a hobby she had.

Looking past the slope the Red Ford had gone, they saw evidence of oil smears in the patchy grass and on the dirt but there was no sign of the convertible Audrey had called her own. The second set of tyre marks against the dirt and the crushed foliage leading back to the road painted an obvious picture.

“I think they took your car,” Josiah said sympathetically.

Audrey groaned. “Damn it! I love that car.”

“They must have used it after their own was wrecked,” JD guessed. “Ma’am I’d file a police report. Chances are they’re gonna leave it as soon as they get to town.”

“Boy’s right,” Josiah agreed. “Once we get you back home, I’d call the police and report the car was stolen.”

“I suppose,” Audrey frowned and not for the first time that day, fell back into the upholstery of Josiah’s Roadster. “I can’t believe the day I’m having!”

The speed in which clearance was granted after Buck lodged the Darlin’ Millie’s flight plan to Arabia, was surprisingly swift and within twenty-four hours of Chris Larabee’s meeting with Julia Pemberton, the seven were ready to leave Albuquerque. Ezra had managed to get his hands on three of the diving devices Chris had asked for and had confessed enough fascination for them for Chris to believe Ezra would be taking the dive to the Serapheum right alongside him. JD would naturally be accompanying him to survey the ruins of the sunken library.

As the last minute preparations to leave Albuquerque got underway, with the seven loading up equipment and supplies, Chris spied Vin making his farewells to Alex and felt a little sorry, the job would take the younger man away from his lady for the next week. However, as Vin had said when Chris suggested he sit this one out, neither he nor Alex would feel right about that. The doctor to be understood how much being apart of the seven meant to Vin and would never interfere with that bond.

Chris rather respected her for that.

Mary Travis, of course, was nowhere to be seen and Chris imagined she was nursing an unholy snit somewhere in town, at his refusal to let her go on the trip. Despite her arguments to the contrary, Chris was absolute on the subject of her joining them for any reason. Firstly because if anything happened to her, he would never be able to face the Professor and secondly, he needed his mind clear and having to consider her safety on a job would do nothing but keep him from doing what was needed.

“I promise I won’t be gone long,” Vin said to Alex as they stood inside the hangar the Millie called home when she wasn’t flying the seven across the globe.

“Hey it's okay,” Alex assured him, unable to deny she would be disappointed by his absence but also understanding he was at his best when he was with these men and that would never change. She loved him enough to be able to share him with Chris Larabee and the rest of the seven. Besides, she had her own life to lead as well. When she became an intern, having a largely absent boyfriend would not be the worst thing if the horror stories she heard about an intern’s first year was at all true. “We’ll catch up when you get back. We can hole up someplace nice and order Chinese food.”

“Sounds good,” Buck couldn’t resist sticking his head behind Vin and grinning at Alex. “We’ll send a wheelchair after him if he’s gone for more than a week.” He winked at Alex and got elbowed in the gut by Vin for his trouble.

“Now, now,” Alex said slyly. “Try not to be jealous. I’m sure someday Inez might give you the time of day. Maybe after Bernado graduates from college.”

Buck straightened up and gave her a look as Vin started to chuckle. “That was plain low.”

“But not entirely untrue,” Ezra remarked as he walked by carrying the equipment for the dive including a number of small tanks of compressed air. “Mr Wilmington, do you plan on imposing on Mr Tanner’s farewell with his paramour or do you plan on assisting us with our preparations.?”

“Hey I fly the plane,” Buck objected to Ezra’s inference he wasn’t pulling his weight.

“BUCK, WILL YOU MOVE YOUR ASS AND HELP OUT!”

“Hark is that the sound of bluebirds or do I hear the voice of our fearless leader?” Ezra put his hand to his ear and grinned.

“You’re all a bunch of kooks,” Alex laughed and turned back to Vin. “You got lots to do, so I’m going to go.”

“Okay,” Vin conceded that much. There was a much to do before they go and Vin didn’t feel right not pitching in, even if he had to say goodbye to his girl. Lowering his lips to hers, he gave Alex a final farewell kiss and she returned it with just as much feeling. When she pulled away from him, Vin swore he could feel the ache right down to his toes. “Hey, when we get back, maybe we can go to a hop or something.”

Alex flashed him a smile as she turned to leave. “It’s a date, cowboy.”

As Alex walked past, JD who was carrying a stack of research materials and books, was close on Josiah’s heels as the once would-be priest was ferried a small crate of ammunition into the Millie’s cargo hold.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Josiah snapped hoping the kid would drop the idea that had entered his head since they dropped Audrey King at her place in town the day before.

“Oh come on Josiah,” JD insisted, recalling the chemistry he’d seen between the two. It was just like how he’d seen it in the movies with Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert or even Katherine Hepburn and Gary Cooper. “I think you ought to call her or even drop by. You know where she lives! I mean you could offer to fix her car when she gets it back, or maybe even ask to see her Salmson? You did say it was a nice car. I’m telling you, I think she likes you.”

“What’s going on?” Vin asked Buck as Josiah tried to flee JD’s insistent argument.

“I think the kid’s trying to play matchmaker,” Buck grinned, wondering if he ought to intervene before Josiah’s patience was exhausted and murder was committed. “Seems Josiah might have hit it off with Bernado’s school teacher.”

“I mean she’s a dish, for an older lady that is,” JD continued, not to be discouraged by Josiah’s denials of interest. “She likes cars, you like cars, it’s kismet!”

Josiah shot JD a glare, “Get away from me before I shoot you.”

* Elizabeth Junek (1900 - 1994) - The Greatest Female Driver of All Time

Chapter Nine:
Stowaway

After the Millie stopped in New York to refuel, it began the long journey across the North Atlantic and quickly encountered some turbulence as it left the Eastern Seaboard behind.

Fortunately after five years crisscrossing the globe, turbulence no longer affected the seven passengers as acutely as before and by now, they had become seasoned travellers who knew how to make use of the time to good effect. Half of the Millie still had bolted down seats but the other had been stripped down to be used for storage or to sling a few hammocks for the long haul flights. One area had been converted into a makeshift study for Chris, so the leader of team seven could conduct his research during flight.

As they left America behind, Chris was in the spot, pouring over the books and research materials studying the lore surrounding the Aegis. He was wearing the steel-rimmed glasses he used for the purpose, having given up trying to hide the fact he needed them at all. During the last year, JD usually joined him in the research although lately, the youngest member of his team had been riding shotgun in the cockpit, where Buck was teaching him how to pilot the Millie.

Meanwhile, Josiah’s snores were muffled by the drone of the plane's engines as he lazed comfortably in one of the hammocks, his face concealed by his hat while his half-read copy of Otto Spengler’s ‘Decline of Western Civilisation’ rested on his chest. Vin was seated next to the crates carrying their weapons, checking each gun to ensure it was functioning properly, while at the same time taking a sip from the flask he kept in his coat during air travel. While the sharpshooter accepted it was a necessary evil, the rest of the seven knew he preferred to stay close to the land.

Ezra and Nathan were engaged in their favourite inflight pastime, playing cards and arguing on just about everything. For those watching, the debate was usually lively and would end up drawing the others into its sphere. On this occasion, JD’s failed attempt to convince Josiah to call Audrey King for a date had prompted the two men into a discussion about the current state of their own love lives.

“Oh me and Kellie ain’t seen each other in weeks,” Nathan declared, shrugging off Ezra’s inquiry about the young lady he had been seeing casually some time ago. “Girl wants a commitment, like a man who’ll come home to her every day. With what we do? That ain’t gonna happen.”

“That is true,” Ezra conceded the point. “But correct me if I am wrong, I have heard you talking about raising a family someday. One does need a lady for that to happen.”

“Very funny,” Nathan made a face at him. “Truth is Ezra, I ain’t ready for that yet. What about you? You’re storing up more loot than Midas, ain’t you gonna want to share that with someone?”

“Believe me,” Ezra flashed Nathan his trademark grin, “when I meet the future Mrs Standish, she will be in better financial stead than I. After all,” Ezra couldn’t help but toss Vin a sly smirk on the cusp of his next comment. “We can’t all be as fortunate as Mr Tanner.”

Vin who was applying oil to one of their Remingtons raised his eyes to them in puzzlement. “What does that mean?”

“It means Alex is rich,” Nathan grinned, catching onto Ezra’s meaning and joining in the fun. “We can’t all land ourselves an heiress. You could end up marrying very well.”

Vin turned bright red, having never even considered the possibility. He knew Alex’s pa had left her money. The same expedition to Arabia that so blighted his life in the future, had also netted William Styles a considerable fortune which he further cultivated with good investments. As a result, Alex had more than enough money to see her comfortable for some time if she did not live extravagantly, even without her doctor’s salary.

In response to the duo’s statement, however, the sharpshooter raised his hand to offer a universally known salute involving a middle finger.

They were in the midst of laughter when suddenly a rather violent pocket of turbulent air rocked the plane violently, heaving the deck beneath their feet and causing enough chaos to tip over glasses, a tin canister of gun oil and a large crate which should have been better secured, slid down the aisle. As everyone cleared a path for it to barrel down the length of the plane, the runaway crate came to a halt when it finally hit the back of the still bolted on seats.

“OW!”

All men, including Chris who had emerged from the next compartment where he had been in deep study, stared at each other.

“Did that crate just say ow?” Josiah who roused from his sleep asked.

Chris’s face turned dark as he stomped towards the crate which was usually used to keep their life raft, saying nothing. As the rest of the men followed suit, Chris stood in front of the wooden box, staring at it for a moment in silent contemplation before he bent over and flipped it on its side. The lid, usually held in place with nails, fell flat against the floor and tumbling out after it, was Mary Travis.

“Aw hell,” Vin facepalmed.

As the rest of the men registered their surprise, Mary looked up into the face of Chris Larabee and tried to offer an adequate response to her act of deception.

“Now before you get mad, I have a perfectly good explanation for this?”

Chris leaned over and helped her to her feet, his expression nothing less than stormy as he took her by the hand and started leading her towards the rear of the plane. “Fine, you can tell it to me on the way to the parachutes.”

The rest of the seven knew better than to get in the crosshairs of their leader’s fury and stepped back as Mary was towed past them to the cargo hold where the parachutes were stored. While none of them believed for an instant that Chris would toss her off the plane, they were not about to incur his wrath with their interference.

“This is your fault you know.” Mary declared hotly.

Chris stopped in mid-step and spun around, glaring at her. “How is it my fault?” The words escaped him in a low growl.

“If you just let me come with you, I wouldn’t have had to stow away in that crate!”

“And I told you, no!” Chris bit back, unable to believe she had done this. If anything had happened to the plane, if they had crashed, or they had been delayed anywhere, she would have died without anyone ever knowing what happened to her. “We’re going to be running into Nazis! These people are goddamn fanatics and they’re ruthless! They don’t care who they kill to get what they want and while you’re with us, you’re a target!”

“I can take care of myself and it’s not your responsibility to keep me safe! This is what I do for a living!” Mary protested hotly, even though secretly, she knew he had a point but her natural obstinance refused to allow her to yield the position.

“And whose responsibility will it be to tell your father if anything happens to you? That would be mine!”

Mary cringed at the statement because she couldn’t refute him on that point but she was not about to say so either. “He understands the risks I have to take.”

“Not on my watch! Now let’s go!”

“Go where? You’re going to toss me out of the plane with a parachute? We’re over the North Atlantic!”

“Then you better pray when you climbed into that crate you didn’t throw out the life raft.”

After another half hour of yelling and threats of jettisoning their unexpected guest overboard, Chris came to the conclusion that setting the woman adrift in a life raft over the ocean, might not go down well with her father. However, he was not about to allow her to accompany them on this job either and swore the minute they hit England, he was putting her on the first slow boat back to New York, preferably bound and gagged.

As Chris forced a stiff drink down his throat, to calm his raging temper, Mary continued to extol the virtues of her presence among them. The noise alone was enough to make him risk Professor Travis’s wrath by locking her in the cargo hold until they got back to America. What was more infuriating however, the others seemed to have no problem with her being on the Millie, other than her effect on him. Finally, Chris decided there was nothing to be done until they return to land so it was best if he made peace with the situation for now.

“I honestly don’t know why you’re so upset,” Mary continued her efforts to convince him she could be of use, even as he stewed in his seat. “I can be useful.”

“Fine,” Chris sneered. “I’ll have my coffee with milk and no sugar.”

Mary shot him a positively murderous glare as an invisible facepalm rippled across the faces of the other men present. However, instead of rising to the bait, Mary ignored the taunt, aware he was just mad she got past him and was taking it out on her by being as infuriating as possible.

“Look,” she scowled at from her seat. “I have news contacts abroad. That can be useful especially if you have Nazis chasing after you.”

She did have a point but hell was going to freeze over before Chris Larabee admitted it.

Fortunately, Vin who was learning how to mediate the prize fights their interactions had become, was quick to voice the interest Chris would not. “Might not be a bad idea. If those Krauts are going to come after us, it might be a good idea to learn who they are to know what we’re dealing with.”

“We’ve got Ezra for that,” Chris pointed out, not about to concede defeat just yet.

“True,” Ezra cleared his throat, hating to get in the middle of all this but it appeared he had little choice in the matter now. “However, I am certain I do not have the resources Miss Travis has access to.” Like Vin, Ezra could see just how foul a mood Chris was in and was doing his best to point out any advantages that could be found with the lady being in their presence.

“Exactly,” Mary declared, not about to admit she had miscalculated the intensity of Chris’s anger when she had snuck on board the Millie. It was not for nothing she earned the nickname of ‘Mad Dog Mary’ in the newsroom due to her persistence chasing a story. Her course had seen so clear when she hid in that crate but in retrospect, wondered if she had been trying to prove something to him over the need for the story. However, it was too late now to reconsider her position and so she forged ahead, making the best out of a bad situation.

“For instance, what do you know about Julia Pemberton?”

“Not much. Your father’s word was good enough for me.”

Although now that he thought about it, her appearance after the mess with the Erran did appear fortuitous. Throughout that entire affair, the fate of Donald Avery’s daughter, the first one of Orin Travis’s friends to be murdered, remained a mystery. The Professor believed the girl’s mother had fled to England with her daughter after Donnie’s death and remarried. The Erran had come after Mary and Alex because of their ritual to end the world. Chris had to wonder why they did not attempt to reach Julia who was closer to the Middle East in England, then America.

“My father sees her through the lens of his old friendships,” Mary returned. “That may not be wise.”

“I trust the Professor’s judgement,” Chris defended the absent old scholar. He would do nothing else for the commander who had gotten him and his men out of the Western Front in one piece, and not dead like so many others in that terrible war. “She said she worked for a shipping company in London. Besides, I’m not too worried about who she is as long as her cheque clears.”

In their line of work, sometimes it was best not to ask too many questions of their clients, although truth be told, he’d never take a cheque from anyone. All accounts were settled in cash when the item being procured was handed over. Those were the terms Chris set at the begining and would never budge on. The rest of the seven knew this but were smart enough not to contradict their leader while he was engaging in his verbal fencing match with this woman.

“You should be interested,” she frowned, hating the fact she hadn’t prompted his curiosity more than that. “Miss Pemberton works for a small shipping company right? How many small operators have enough money to be able to finance this entire expedition?” Mary demanded determined to prove her worth to him by sheer determination.

“What are you suggesting Mary?” Josiah inquired.

“After my father told me about Julia, I did some checking,” she said eyeing Chris smugly, perfectly aware he would not have done the same. “And I did turn up something interesting.”

“Alright,” Chris let out a sigh, he’d bite just once. Besides, the light buzz of alcohol swirling around his system was making him a little more amenable to listen. “What have you got?”

Mary flashed him a radiant smile and even though he was still really mad at her, he couldn’t help but be affected by it. Damn her. Damn her and the topsy-turvy feelings he had in her presence. No good would come of it, he was sure.

“Well apparently there is a Julia Pemberton working at a shipping company in London,” Mary said leaning forward in her seat. “Vauxhall to be exact. She’s an employee of Messrs Rasen, Falcon Limited. Now other than the fact that it exists, with an office front, it barely manages an income.”

Ezra stiffened involuntarily and almost everyone in the cabin caught it.

“Did you say Vauxhall?” He asked, ignoring the eyes on him.

Mary nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“What is it Ezra?” Nathan nudged the gambler to explain.

“It is nothing really,” Ezra shrugged, hating to be the purveyor of misinformation especially when he was dubious about the credibility of the source. Not that it mattered now because Chris would want to know whether or not it was legitimate. Still, people tended to talk during poker and Ezra had enough experience to know when someone was lying or not. Even if the information was false, the person reporting it had believed its authenticity.

“Out with it,” Chris growled impatiently, deciding if they were going to discuss the subject, they might as well get it all out in the open.

When Chris Larabee used that tone of voice, Ezra knew not to argue and let out a sigh. “Alright then, bear in mind this is an unsubstantiated source, acquired during a rather intense game of poker, in which I was holding an inside flush...”

“Ezra!” Nathan groaned, swatting Ezra across the back and then getting nudged in the ribs in kind. The healer knew how to cut off his best friend before the man went on a tangent and ended up getting shot.

“Oh my God, you’re all children.” Mary shook her head as she stared at their juvenile behaviour and threw a quick glance at Chris to imply she included him in this observation.

“Welcome to my world,” Josiah smiled from his hammock.

“As I was saying,” Ezra scowled at Nathan. “ I was engaged in a card game where my opponent, an army intelligence officer was lamenting the failure of Roosevelt to consolidate our various intelligence communities in one organisation.”

“That’s true,” Mary nodded remembering reading about it in the news. “Congress voted him down on that.”

“Go on,” Chris urged, wanting to hear more, vaguely aware of the fact the President was in favour of consolidating their intelligence communities due to the growing unrest in Europe. The bill had gone to Congress and had not been passed

“Well the officer had claimed, he wished we were following the example set by our English cousins whose intelligence network was extremely successful, not to mention well organised. So much so, barely anyone knows they exist beyond the fact they are a branch of the Foreign Office, and they supposedly situated in Vauxhall.”

“That could just be a coincidence,” Vin pointed out.

“Agreed,” Ezra nodded, “however consider this. What better way for an intelligence agency and its operatives to remain anonymous than by impersonating an ordinary business, such as a shipping company?”

“You think this Julia is with British Intelligence?” Nathan stared at Ezra.

“It is possible although I would not consider my source on this subject to be entirely trustworthy. He claimed this was all rumour which I took with a grain of salt. However, considering our competitors in this matter....”

“You might be right,” Chris finally admitted. “She didn’t much care what happened to the Aegis, only that her so-called employers didn’t want the Nazis to get their hands on it.”

“So we’re working for British Intelligence?” Vin looked at Chris.

Chris did not answer for a moment. The truth was, he didn’t like working for any government mostly because what they did to acquire some of the artifacts they were commissioned to find, require trampling on laws that some bureaucrat might take exception to. Private collectors didn’t ask questions as long as they got what they wanted and universities knew they had little choice in the matter, save sending out their own scholars to hunt down the things. Chris knew of very few who did that, save one lunatic archaeology professor who spent very little time in his classroom, back in the East.

Now with the possibility of involvement of the British government, Chris recalled how quickly they had gotten flight clearance. Chris hadn’t expected to be in the air for another day or two, however, Buck had gotten it almost immediately which was surprising in itself. The pilot had believed he managed to sweet talk Louisa at Airspace Control into moving things along for him, but what if it had simply been because the British government had pulled some strings?

“What she like? This Miss Pemberton?” Vin asked Chris. “Could she be a spy?”

“She could be,” Chris nodded. When he met the woman, what struck him about her was the care she took to conceal her true feelings. Only once had that masked slipped when they had mentioned the possibility of the Aegis making armies invulnerable. If she was indeed a spy, that would be cause for concern. “Pretty enough.”

“Really?” Mary frowned, bristling at his description for some reason.

“Yeah,” he grinned, spotting her annoyance immediately. “Prettiest redhead I ever saw, with green eyes like emeralds.”

“Emeralds?” Once again Ezra paid attention, remembering a redhead who had come to his rescue during their first encounter with the Erran at the museum. She had come with the most alluring green eyes he had ever seen but was gone the second she concluded her heroics. It couldn’t be the same woman, could it?

Suddenly, Ezra was dying to find out.

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