The Prophecy (Daughters of the People Series Book 1) (6 page)

James left two
days after the looting. He would’ve liked to stay longer, but duty called him
back to the States. As it was, he’d made not even a small dent in identifying
all of the scripts used in the fragments Dr. Lindberg had been so anxious for
him to see, but he had digital copies of the photographs to work with and a few
prints. Indigo’s keen eye for detail had not only saved some of the texts from
the looter. It had also made the photographic evidence more complete.

He’d fully
intended to work from the physical prints during the flight home. His thoughts
were caught instead by the three women so tightly bound to one another. What
were the real relationships between Maya, Dani, and Indigo? They seemed too
close, too respectful even, to be teacher and students. The fact that the three
women appeared nearly identical in age was also a puzzler, yet there was no
question that Maya was older than Dani and Indigo. The deference both paid her
was obvious, and Maya’s poise was well beyond that of a woman in her early to
mid-twenties, as he’d assumed her to be.

Maya commanded
respect with little effort, regardless of the people she interacted with. Even
the Lindbergs had deferred to her judgment. James had no doubt that right at
that moment, she was sweet-talking Olaf into handing all of the remaining
burial-related artifacts over to the IECS. The permits needed to get them out
of the country would be a piece of cake by comparison.

On the other
hand, the IECS was undoubtedly the best place for the artifacts to be. Their
facilities were, by reputation, some of the best in the world, and their campus
was rumored to be one of the most secure. Somebody had targeted those
artifacts. Even if the IECS wasn’t the best facility for conservation or
restoration, the level of security they had would at least deter further
attempts at theft.

He hoped so,
anyway.

With the
artifacts almost certainly on their way to the IECS in the next few weeks, the
only question remaining was whether or not he’d join them. He could easily
continue working on identifying the scripts and possibly translating the texts
from photographs during his free time back home, but would he be satisfied with
that, knowing the documents could literally be in his grasp if he’d only accept
Maya’s offer?

He shifted in
his seat, stirring the forgotten photographs resting on his lap, and stared
blankly at the seat in front of him. Thinking of Maya led him to a completely
different set of problems. She was an attractive woman. He closed his eyes and
an image popped into his head, of her at the bar the night they’d met. The dim
lighting had turned her hair into a dark halo of wild curls and her eyes had
glowed with the mysterious secrets only women knew.

He wanted to get
to know her better, maybe spend time with her and see if the attraction was
mutual. The thought surprised him. Had another woman ever tempted him this
much? Of course, he could never act on that temptation. His life was in
Connecticut with Amelia and his job, hers was in Georgia at the IECS, and ne’er
the twain shall meet.

Unless he took
Maya up on her offer.

James blew out a
sigh. His mind was going around in unproductive circles, like a puppy chasing
its tail. That’s about what he felt like right then, a puppy with an intriguing
new toy dangling just out of its reach.

The realization
that he might want the toy didn’t really help bring it into his grasp.

He shook his
head clear and focused on the photographs in his lap. This, at least, he
understood. Women? Never. Dead languages in forgotten scripts were far easier
to deal with.

* * *

Maya spent
nearly three frustrating weeks gaining permission to take the artifacts out of
Sweden. The attempted theft of all, and the actual theft of some, had set the
entire heritage bureaucracy on its collective ear. It seemed every bureaucrat
and politician in the country wanted a say in how the remaining artifacts would
be handled. She certainly felt as if she’d spoken to all of them, personally or
by phone, or if not them, then a myriad array of receptionists, secretaries,
assistants, and junior bureaucrats.

With Dr.
Lindberg’s backing and the sterling reputation of the IECS behind her, it was
difficult for resistance to her request to linger, even among those insisting
the artifacts should remain in Sweden. With permission gained at last, she
personally oversaw packaging and ensured that the whole was shipped directly to
the IECS via a trusted private courier. No chances would be taken with those
precious items.

The Lindbergs
were sorry to see her go, they assured her, and made her promise to visit
again, with “that lovely girl, Dani.” Maya had grown fond of them as well and
made a note in her calendar to plan a future trip with Dierdre. Her daughter
would love the countryside, and maybe they could spend time exploring and just
hanging out.

Maya’s plane
touched down in Atlanta on what felt like the most sweltering day of the year.
She pushed her way through security, avoided the groping hands of a lothario
disguised as a TSA agent, and climbed gratefully into her garaged car for the
trip home.

It wasn’t a bad
drive in spite of the heavy traffic, all of which seemed to be going northeast
with her. Halfway home, the sky opened up and a thunderstorm burst out. The
rain slowed the traffic down only slightly. Cars continued to whiz by her at
upwards of eighty miles per hour, weaving in and out of traffic without the use
of turn signals or apparently any concern for the proximity to other vehicles.

Driving in the
Greater Atlanta area wasn’t for sissies.

The IECS
compound was located more than two hours from the airport by car. The Daughters
had settled in the area during the French and Indian War, living among the
native tribes in relative harmony and even fighting alongside them on occasion.
No one loved a good fight like the Daughters.

The natives had
eventually been driven out. Most of the Daughters had remained on the land,
gaining legal title to it under new governments as they rose, and adopting an
outward face that was compatible with the social mores of each passing era.
Underneath, though, they were still the proud, fierce warrior women the
Cherokees had befriended.

The compound
itself had been built over time. What had begun as a pre-Revolutionary War
village had developed into a small town serving as a gateway to the IECS
campus. The inhabitants were largely Daughters and Sons, with exceptions
granted rarely. Property was never sold or bequeathed to anyone outside of
family. Outsiders posed too big of a security risk, for one, and too many
immortal Daughters lived and worked in or around the compound. Mortal humans
tended to notice when someone didn’t age as she should. The Daughters had learned
how to deal with that long ago, but it was nice to have a place where it wasn’t
such a worry.

The thunderstorm
petered out during the drive and ended completely by the time Maya rolled past
the city limit sign for Tellowee and parked in the still-damp driveway of her
two-and-a-half story American Queen Anne style home. The previous owners had
maintained it in close to its original condition, expanding and modernizing it
over time, sticking to the original style whenever possible. She’d fallen in
love with the intricate design, with the two round towers, the sweeping
staircase leading to a rounded side porch, and the crenellated eaves, and with
the interior rooms that were by turns spacious or cramped, depending on the
function and exterior design. The house had an almost haphazard feel to it that
most people never associated with her reserved personality, but it suited her
family’s needs well. When she’d bought it a few months prior to Dierdre’s
birth, it had seemed like the perfect home. She still felt that way, even after
a grueling month overseas dealing with red tape.

Maya spotted a
section of loose shingling and cursed inwardly. Well, it was
mostly
perfect.

Dierdre ran out
of the house, all gangly arms and legs. Maya opened the car door and stepped
into a full-bodied hug, holding her youngest daughter close for a long moment.

At last Dierdre
stepped back. Maya caught her hands and held them out so she could look her
fill. “You’ve grown. Again! Look at you.” She smoothed a hand over her
daughter’s curls, far tamer than her own kinky brown mass.

“Well, geez,
Mom. You were gone forever.”

“Hardly, sweet
girl.” Maya squeezed Dierdre’s hands and turned toward the trunk of her car. “It
feels like it, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Dierdre
heaved the kind of heartfelt sigh only a fourteen-year-old girl could make. “I
hate it when you have to leave.”

“Me, too,
Squiggles.”

They emptied Maya’s
baggage out of the trunk and walked slowly into the house and up the stairs to
Maya’s bedroom where they dropped the entire load. Dierdre chattered on about
all the latest happenings, who was dating whom, which teachers were on the outs
with the students, the A+ she’d received on her end-of-year history essay.

The fact that
Johnny Linton had tried to sneak a kiss from her after their mixed martial arts
class.

Maya made a
mental note to speak to Johnny’s parents. Her eyes narrowed to slits. No, she’d
speak to Johnny himself. Nothing like a centuries-old warrior to dampen a young
man’s hormones.

Her daughter had
plopped onto the bed and was still chatting away. Maya realized she’d lost part
of the conversation with her motherly thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?”

Dierdre rolled
her eyes skyward. “I said, then I put him on his hiney ‘cause he didn’t ask.”

“Johnny?”

“Yes, Johnny,”
Dierdre repeated patiently. “Honestly.”

Maya leveled a
steady look on her daughter. “Be respectful of the old woman.”

Dierdre hid her
grin behind one hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So you took him
down for kissing you. Then what?”

 Dierdre
casually buffed her nails against her shirt, then flicked her fingers outward.
“I hauled him back up and laid a big one on him.”

Maya scowled.
“Whatever for?”

“’Cause I wanted
to. Why else do you kiss a boy? Geez, Mom, are you feeling ok? Like, maybe you
left part of your brain in Sweden or something?”

“Very funny,
young lady.”

Dierdre grinned,
bounced off the bed, and threw her arms around Maya. “I just love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too.”
Maya drew back and slid her hands over her daughter’s shoulders. “Movie night
later or do you have homework?”

“Just a little.
Should I start supper?”

“Homework
first.”

Dierdre nodded,
not questioning the priority. Self-discipline was taught at an early age to the
children of Daughters, usually by necessity. It rarely failed to blossom.

“I have to talk
with Director Upton first, but that shouldn’t take long,” Maya said. “Will you
stay the night here or at the dorm?”

Dierdre grimaced.
“At the dorm. We’ve got a hike first thing in the morning and I don’t want to
miss it, not with the exhibition coming up.”

Maya stifled her
disappointment. A month-long absence wasn’t enough to justify skipping planned
activities no matter how much she’d missed her daughter. “An early night, then.
Maybe we can make up for it with a little extra family time this weekend.”

Dierdre lightly
hit the side of her head and cupped a hand behind one ear. “I’m sorry. Maybe I
didn’t hear you right. What was that you said about taking me to the mall on
Sunday?”

Maya laughed and
shooed the giggling teenager into her bedroom and the homework awaiting her
daughter’s attention.

* * *

Half an hour later,
Maya knocked on the door leading into Director Upton’s office.

“Come in,” a
muffled voice called.

Maya entered and
closed the door behind herself. Rebecca was seated behind her desk talking on
the phone. Maya looked politely away, giving the director at least the
appearance of privacy.

The room was
spacious and richly appointed, a testament to the wealth and power the
Daughters had accumulated over time. An antique settee and two matching chairs
were artfully arranged on top of an antique rug to one side. Rumor had it the
rug had been gifted to a previous director by an infatuated foreign dignitary,
and that the man had pursued the Daughter over the ends of the Earth.

The truth was
probably far less romantic, but even the most pragmatic Daughter sighed over
the tale, true or not. Maya preferred the romance, even as she chastised her
soft heart.

Late afternoon
sunlight filtered through the curtained windows, showcasing the sitting area.
She’d be out in the sunshine tomorrow, maybe on a nice winding trip through the
forest surrounding the IECS along one of the dedicated bike trails. The chain
on her bicycle had probably rusted from disuse. She could do a thorough check on
it that night after the movie, unless Dierdre changed her mind about staying
home.