The Dragon's Wing Enigma: The Arkana Mysteries, #3

By N. S. Wikarski

During the untold millennia before patriarchy was conceived, the world was a very different place…

THE ARKANA SERIES
A myth-shattering treasure hunt that spans continents, centuries, and lost civilizations, pitting a secret society against a ruthless fundamentalist cult. The prize is a cache of hidden artifacts that could rewrite history or end it completely. With the world hanging in the balance, only one faction can win. More importantly, only one can survive.

Volume 3 - The Dragon's Wing Enigma
In THE DRAGON'S WING ENIGMA, agents of the Arkana and the Nephilim leave no stone unturned on the island of Malta in their search for lost artifacts. The Arkana team frantically scavenges for clues among the ruined temples of the archipelago before their foes arrive to comb the same terrain. A new crisis erupts on the home front when a runaway bride seeks refuge with the Arkana. The girl is the youngest wife of the Nephilim's polygamous leader, and she may have accidentally led the Nephilim straight to the Arkana's cache of matristic artifacts. Matters come to a head in an isolated mountaintop cave when the relic hunters learn that their prize can only be discovered if they "keep true to the dragon's wing." With Nephilim operatives blocking their escape route, they may not live long enough to solve the riddle. More than treasure is at stake this time around.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Northgate Press
• Release date: Jan 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223442103

N. S. Wikarski

Nancy Wikarski is a fugitive from academia. After earning her Ph.D. from the University of Chicago, she worked in corporate America for two decades before becoming a historical fiction author. Her books primarily highlight the unknown elements of women's history. In her Arkana series, she foregrounds the latest archaeological discoveries about pre-patriarchal cultures around the planet and weaves these facts into fictional treasure hunt mysteries. Her Gilded Age Chicago books depict the real issues of first-wave feminism while following the fictional adventures of two amateur sleuths. Both her series have been award-nominated and have ranked on Amazon's bestseller lists. The author is a member of ALLi, Mystery Writers of America, the Society of Midland Authors, and has served as vice president of Sisters in Crime-Twin Cities and on the programming board of the Chicago chapter. Her short stories have appeared in Futures Magazine and DIME Anthology, while her book reviews and essays have been featured in Murder: Past Tense, Deadly Pleasures, and Mystery Readers Journal. She is currently writing an Arkana spinoff series called The Trove Chronicles that will continue to feature discoveries about global pre-patriarchal cultures. More mysteries from the casebook of Gilded Age detectives Evangeline LeClair and Freddie Simpson are also in the works.

Book preview

The Dragon's Wing Enigma

The Arkana Mysteries, Volume 3

N. S. Wikarski

Published by Northgate Press, 2024.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE DRAGON'S WING ENIGMA

First edition. January 25, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 N. S. Wikarski.

ISBN: 979-8223442103

Written by N. S. Wikarski.

Also by N. S. Wikarski

Gilded Age Chicago Mysteries

The Fall of White City

Shrouded in Thought

The Black Widow's Prey

The Arkana Mysteries

The Granite Key

The Mountain Mother Cipher

The Dragon's Wing Enigma

Riddle of the Diamond Dove

Into the Jaws of the Lion

Secrets of the Serpent's Heart

The Sage Stone Prophecy

The Trove Chronicles

Lucifer's Triangle

Watch for more at N. S. Wikarski’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By N. S. Wikarski

Chapter 1—Look Out

Chapter 2—Hard Labor Day

Chapter 3—The Wait Staff

Chapter 4—Leavers’ Tryst

Chapter 5—Defensive Play

Chapter 6—Wifely Demotion

Chapter 7—All Up in the Air

Chapter 8—Freedom Rider

Chapter 9—Fugitive Thoughts

Chapter 10—Shopping for Information

Chapter 11—Head ‘Em Up, Move ‘Em Out

Chapter 12—Friend or Faux?

Chapter 13—Rumors and Board

Chapter 14—A Change in the Wind

Chapter 15—The Dating Game

Chapter 16—Bad News Travels Last

Chapter 17—Fishing with Dynamite

Chapter 18—Deep Cover Girl

Chapter 19—Man Trampled by Nightmare

Chapter 20—Feast of the Epiphany

Chapter 21—Tactical Oversight

Chapter 22—The Maltese Owl

Chapter 23—Touch and Go

Chapter 24—Motor Mouth

Chapter 25—In Plane Sight

Chapter 26—Bask in the Culture

Chapter 27—Boozin’ Buddies

Chapter 28—Hex Marks the Spot

Chapter 29—Doubtful Beliefs

Chapter 30—Witch Way?

Chapter 31—Aye, Spy

Chapter 32—Bee Line

Chapter 33—Son Rise

Chapter 34—Hic Sunt Dracones!

Chapter 35—Sleeper

Chapter 36—The X Factor

Chapter 37—What’s in a Name?

Chapter 38—Tipped Off

Chapter 39—Lost and Found

Chapter 40—Double Vision

Chapter 41—A Gifted Friend

Chapter 42—Grudging Assistants

Chapter 43—Summit Meeting

Chapter 44—Hard Time

Chapter 45—A Visit from the Reaper

Chapter 46—Asylum

Chapter 47—Locked Down

Chapter 48—Driving Progress

Chapter 49—Spirited and Lively

Chapter 50—Flight Plan

Names You Should Know

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About the Author

Chapter 1—Look Out

A Long Time Ago in a Land Far Away

THEY SAT AT THE ENTRANCE to the cave watching the light fade over the peaks. There were two of them—a man and a boy. They didn’t speak but merely watched the sky and the valley floor below them falling into shadow. They could see smoke rising from the hills beyond. They didn't know how many had perished, but more deaths were sure to follow. Torches dotted the green pastures beneath their perch—evenly spaced—all climbing a single trail up the mountain.  Fire in the sky and fire below. The torches grew ever brighter as the sky grew ever darker. Soon the lights would reach even this most secret of hiding places. The men who carried them lived for no other purpose—to ferret out what was hidden in order to destroy it.

The man sighed heavily and considered his options. The thought of leaving this refuge was painful, breaking a chain whose links had remained strong through more years than he could count. He had delayed until the last possible moment, hoping beyond all reason that the torch bearers might forget this place. The flames winding ever upward told him clearly that they had not forgotten. The world belonged to them now, and they were implacable in their determination to purge it of all contradiction.

There was no help for it. He stood decisively and tied up his small sack of belongings.

The boy regarded him gravely. He was no more than eight. Are you going now? he asked.

The man nodded.

The boy leaped to his feet. He plucked at the man’s sleeve.  Take me with you. Please!

You know I can’t, came the sad reply. And you know why.

The boy looked at the ground, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes.

Someone has to stay behind and say what happened. The man crouched down and tilted the boy’s chin up. Do you remember the words I told you?

The boy nodded silently, a tear sliding down his cheek.

The ghosts of all those who came before me are depending on you. You must not fail them nor me. He wiped the tear from the boy’s cheek and tousled his hair.

The man straightened up and slung the bundle over his shoulder. He took a final wistful look at his sanctuary and at the boy he was leaving behind. Before the last rays of the sun failed completely, he slipped out of the cave and into the gathering night.

Chapter 2—Hard Labor Day

CASSIE PULLED HER CAR up beside the other vehicles already parked in the driveway of Faye's suburban farmhouse. She felt rested and ready for anything. The luxury of several weeks away from the Arkana and the relic hunt had given her a fresh perspective. After all, a girl could only endure so many threats on her life before needing to take a break for a pedicure. As she let herself in the front door, she could hear laughter and conversation coming from the back of the house.

Hello? she called tentatively. Anybody home?

Everybody's already here, an assertive female voice bounced down the hall.

Without needing to identify the source, Cassie responded, Hi, Maddie.

The pythia entered the kitchen where her teammates were lounging while their fearless leader Faye handed around serving dishes.

The tiny grey-haired woman smiled warmly at her latest guest. Hello, my dear. We're just about to set up a feast in the garden. Would you mind carrying? She held a bowl of potato salad out to Cassie. Turning in the other direction, she gave a platter of fried chicken to the lanky young man hovering at her shoulder. Griffin dear, take this please.

Right you are, he replied with alacrity.

Late, as usual, toots! Came a voice from a corner of the room.

Without batting an eye, Cassie replied, I've got an image to uphold, dude. It's called being fashionably late.

Erik grinned. Sounds about the same as being annoyingly tardy to me.

Maddie unceremoniously shoved a tray with a pitcher and glasses into his arms.

Here, make yourself useful, she ordered.

Yes, ma’am. Erik's voice held only the slightest hint of sarcasm. 

The group filed out into Faye's immense backyard with its ancient trees and assorted flower and vegetable plots. It was a postcard-perfect autumn afternoon: the sun shining in a cloudless blue sky, a slight breeze stirring gold-tinged leaves. The little band clustered around a long table set up under a canopy.

You really went all out, Cassie commented, stealing a radish from a bowl Maddie had just set down.

Well, I thought something special was in order to welcome our intrepid crew back to work, Faye replied.

Welcome them back from what? the operations director snorted. Partying too hard? I've been busting my hump for the past six weeks while they've been cavorting.

You did say we'd earned a couple of days off, chief, Erik reminded her.

Maddie flounced into a chair and lit a cigarette, apparently winded by the effort of fetching and carrying. A few days? she repeated pointedly. Six weeks is your definition of a few days?

So maybe it was more than a few, Erik relented, but I needed some serious downtime. I mean I risked my life on that last recovery.

Maddie blew a smoke ring, unimpressed. Uh huh.

So where did you go? Cassie asked, eyeing her newly tanned teammate curiously.

Beaches. He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, savoring the memory. Lots and lots of beaches.

The pythia rolled her eyes, imagining how much female company he'd collected on those beaches. Transferring her attention to her other teammate, she asked, What about you, Griffin? Please tell me you got out of the vault for at least a couple of days.

The Brit smiled self-consciously. A few, yes. I went to visit my parents in London.

Erik turned his head to size up his colleague. Sure doesn't look like you got any sun while you were there.

Cassie noted that while both she and Erik had managed to achieve a healthy glow, Griffin was as pale as ever.

It rained, he said simply. He seemed eager to shift the conversation away from himself. What about you, Cassie?

Pedicure. She wiggled her sandal-clad toes.

Erik sat up in his chair and stared at her. Really, that's it?

No, that's not all of it. Cassie cleared her throat uncomfortably. I finally got a chance to sort through the rest of Sybil's stuff. Given how long we've been away hunting down artifacts, it was the first real chance I had since...

She trailed off. No one wanted to finish the sentence ...since Sybil was killed.

Sorry, toots, Erik said in a low voice. I didn't mean to—

It's OK. She cut him short. I'm getting used to the idea. Brightening a bit, she added, The apartment is starting to feel like my home now. That's new. I never had a place that belonged to me before.

Don't get too cozy, Maddie cautioned. You're gonna hit the road again pretty soon.

At that moment, Faye shuffled over bearing a plate of homemade biscuits. She set them down and took the chair at the head of the table. Maddie, let them enjoy one more day to relax, she remonstrated gently.

I'd say they've had plenty of rest, the operations director grumped one last time before grinding out her cigarette and reaching for a drumstick.

Following her lead, the others dove into the feast laid out before them.

Faye smiled benevolently on them all as she passed around platters of fried chicken, corn on the cob, and cole slaw.

Griffin handed the memory guardian a tumbler of iced tea. It's rather an interesting coincidence that we're launching our endeavor on your American holiday of Labor Day.

Labor Day, Cassie echoed. That’s always meant it was time for me to go back to school.

Yeah, Erik added. Except that now you’re enrolled in the school of hard knocks.

Our Nephilim foes certainly haven't made it easy for us, Griffin concurred. Turning to Maddie, he asked, Have you heard any news about our adversaries while we've been away?

The operations director stopped gnawing on an ear of corn to consider. It’s been tough getting any kind of information from inside the compound lately. Monitoring Leroy Hunt’s calls was our best source for crazy cult news, but it seems like they put him on furlough ever since that last relic was brought back.

There's no need for haste, Griffin reminded her. The clues indicate we won't be able to find the location of the next artifact for another six months.

But the Nephilim probably don't know that, Erik corrected. No matter how good their resident expert Daniel is, I'd be really surprised if he cracked that line of code before you do. If anything, he’s going to ignore it, and they’ll be on the road before we are.

It might be a good idea to get our act together soon, Cassie agreed. I mean, if we wait too long, they could stumble across the right spot ahead of us. Then what? They think we're all dead.

Let's recap what we know thus far, Faye suggested helpfully. Could one of you remind me of the riddle that's to lead to our next artifact?

In unison, the trio of relic hunters recited: "Let Eurus fill the sails twelve days, then follow Eberos where it climbs to the sky. Set your course three bees from the dragon’s wing to the sea. When the bull turns the season, mark where the goat grazes the spinner’s peak. There lies the second of five you seek."

Startled by their ready response, Faye said, Oh, my.

Been thinking about that riddle much? Maddie asked archly.

Not just thinking about it, dreaming about it, Cassie said ruefully.

We all have, toots, Erik concurred. It’s been nagging at us because we still don’t know what the hell any of it means. He turned to the Brit. Griffin?

Sorry to disappoint but nothing occurs to me as yet. All we know with any certainty is that the bull is a reference to the vernal equinox, hence my observation that we won’t be able to find the relic until the beginning of spring. I also believe I made a slight error in translating the phrase ‘three bees.’ It should be ‘four bees’ actually. As for the rest of it, I’ll have to immerse myself in research for a while.

Great. Until Griffin has one of his usual brainstorms, that means we’re left twiddling our thumbs, said Erik.

Your thumbs will be busy sorting through the stack of paperwork that’s been piling up on your desk, Maddie told him.

Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.

I have another idea for a way to keep Erik busy while our Chief scrivener is hitting the books, Cassie offered.

Erik turned to regard her suspiciously. You do, do you?

Yup, the pythia answered. You need to train me.

In what? he demanded.

Self-defense.

The security coordinator laughed. Considering how you slammed that Turkish thief on our last junket, I’d say you know plenty about how to defend yourself.

No, I mean real self-defense, Cassie insisted. Like what’s the quickest way to knock somebody out cold. Where’s the best place to shoot somebody to do maximum damage without killing them.

Erik stared open-mouthed at the pythia.

The others laughed at his shocked reaction.

Our pythia has a point, Maddie agreed. Cassie should be able to defend herself in case of trouble.

You never made me train Sybil when she was the pythia, Erik objected.

That’s because nobody was trying to kill Sibyl every time she went on a field mission, Maddie countered. Being pythia was always a risky occupation, but mortal danger wasn’t part of the job description until Cassie came along.

Lucky, lucky me, the pythia murmured.

I still don’t—

Maddie cut him off. Being in mortal danger is now part of her job description. You know what’s in your job description? As security coordinator for the pythia, you’re supposed to keep her safe. That includes teaching her how to keep herself safe, too.

Erik held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. OK, I give.

While the others were debating, Faye had slipped from the table and gone into the house. She now returned bearing an apple pie in her hands.

Dessert, anyone? she asked sweetly.

The nefarious schemes of the Blessed Nephilim and the unsolved riddle of the Bones of the Mother flew out of everyone’s heads at the mention of pie.

Chapter 3—The Wait Staff

DR. RAFI ABOUD, IMPECCABLY dressed in a twelve-hundred-dollar suit, stood in the middle of what had once been a cornfield. Beside him lay a large mound of dirt, an idle backhoe, and a gaping hole in the ground. He regarded his surroundings with deep exasperation. Glancing at his Rolex, the exasperation turned to impatience. He was waiting to meet his benefactor and had been waiting for twenty minutes in this desolate spot. He was on the point of storming off to confront the man at his compound when the doctor saw a dust cloud rising on the dirt road that bordered the field.

A vehicle emerged from the dust—a late model limousine that pulled over to the shoulder of the road and parked. The driver scurried out to assist his passenger—an old man dressed all in black with a mane of silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His name was Abraham Metcalf. Aboud recalled that the old man’s followers referred to him as The diviner. In addition to being the head of a strange cult called the Blessed Nephilim, the old man was also a prophet of sorts. It was said that he spoke directly to God—like Mohammed had done.

Aboud allowed himself a brief smile at the fanciful notion. God, if he existed at all, spoke only through science. That was the sort of religion which Aboud could respect. Facts could be proved or disproved. Nothing was left to chance or the sloppy sentimentality of belief.

The diviner picked his way carefully through the furrows and ruts left by the backhoe. It was surprising that for a man in his seventies his gait still resembled a military march.

Aboud made no move to greet his visitor.

Metcalf held out his hand. Doctor Aboud.

Aboud did not take it. He merely gave a stiff little bow in return. Mr. Metcalf.

The diviner looked around the field with an unaccountable expression of satisfaction. Our work is progressing well, he observed.

Aboud stared at him is disbelief. You consider this progress? A hole in the ground?

Metcalf drew himself up in wounded dignity. I do indeed. You have no idea how difficult it was to arrange the manpower for this project without attracting attention.

Two months have gone by and all I see here is a hole.

You need to have faith, the old man countered.

I need to see results, Aboud shot back. You promised me a staff of laboratory assistants. Of course, it is no matter that you have not produced them since there is no laboratory in which they can work.

Metcalf’s face turned purple. Clearly, he was not used to being challenged. You seem to forget your place, sir.

Aboud was not going to be intimidated. I do not forget the promises you made that brought me to this country.

Those promises are being fulfilled even as we speak. The diviner stepped in closer. He was several inches taller than the doctor and apparently thought that this action would intimidate him.

Aboud merely raised a skeptical eyebrow. I respect only facts, Mr. Metcalf. All else is illusion.

Metcalf seemed taken aback when his bluster had no effect on the foreign man. He moderated his approach. The construction crew will be out here tomorrow to continue excavation. Is that fact enough for you, doctor?

Aboud gave a slight nod. Yes, that is a sign of progress. He paused to consider his next words. Mr. Metcalf, you should be aware I have had other offers for my expertise.

What! the diviner stormed. You would dare to shop your wares in the public marketplace when we already have an agreement?

I have not shopped my wares like a common street merchant, Aboud countered. A man with my skills does not go unnoticed wherever he travels. Some very powerful organizations found me.

And what did you tell them? There was no mistaking the menace in the old man’s tone.

The doctor shrugged. Nothing. I said that I was unavailable.

Metcalf relaxed slightly. Then no harm has been done.

However, the status of my availability could change if my laboratory continues to be no more than a hole in the ground.

Metcalf gave a cold smile. Holes in the ground have many uses. Sometimes they turn into laboratories. He paused and leaned in again. And sometimes they turn into graves.

The doctor felt his own temper flare. Is that a threat?

Oh, yes. And a promise should you fail to keep your end of the bargain. The diviner glanced briefly at the pit in the earth and then back at Aboud. Excavation will continue tomorrow, doctor. The use to which the cavity will be put remains entirely up to you.

CHOPPER BOWDEEN WASN’T given to fits of the jitters. He prided himself on projecting a stoical calm in the face of life’s many storms. That said, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from pacing back and forth like a carnival duck in his now empty shooting range. He had dismissed his pack of trainees early and was waiting tensely for one final interview with the man who had hired him—the man who had built a state of the art weapons training facility out in the middle of nowhere for a purpose Bowdeen could only guess at. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Metcalf should have been here by now.

Whipping these guppies into shape had been an aggravating ordeal. At least in the military, you were dealing with kids who had grown up around guns. These bible thumpers didn’t seem to know which end to load and which end to shoot. But you couldn’t fault their enthusiasm. They were on a mission—their mission being to do whatever crazy ass thing their diviner told them to do. That thought gave Bowdeen the willies. The whole reason he’d quit taking assignments in the Middle East was to get away from religious zealots. From what he’d seen in the past couple of months, these Nephilim boys could give Al-Qaeda a run for its money in the Suicide for God game.

Chopper wanted out. He was just here to collect his pay and get as far away from the compound as possible. After that, he’d look up his old army buddy, Leroy Hunt, and punch him in the nose for recommending him for this gig. How that jackass ever got mixed up with this bunch of weirdos was beyond his comprehension. He just hoped that Hunt had gotten shed of them by now as he hoped to do shortly himself.

Mr. Bowdeen. A commanding voice addressed him.

The hair on the back of Chopper’s neck stood on end. He hadn’t realized somebody just walked up behind him. That’s how jangled he was. Pausing to arrange his facial muscles, as much as the scar across his lip would allow, he turned to greet his visitor. Mr. Metcalf, how are you, sir?

The old man seemed disgruntled about something. I’ve had better mornings but nothing that need concern you. You wished to speak to me?

Bowdeen clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from twitching. That I did, sir. Your boys have been trained per your instructions, and I wanted to clear accounts and be on my way.

The old man looked perplexed. Be on your way? he repeated.

Yes, sir. The job’s done.

The puzzled look didn’t change. To be sure part of the job is done, Mr. Bowdeen, but not the entire job.

Sir?

Don’t mistake me. You’ve succeeded admirably in training my chosen security force in the compound, and you will be compensated immediately for services rendered. But there’s much more to do.

I... I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir. Bowdeen could feel a cold chill running up his spine.

The old man scowled in perplexity. Surely, Mr. Hunt must have told you what the job entailed?

No sir, he didn’t though I would like to thank him personally for the opportunity you all have given me.

Well, we must set the record straight immediately then, mustn’t we?

Chopper could only offer a mute nod of assent.

Please have a seat. Metcalf claimed one of the folding chairs at the back of the range and indicated that Bowdeen should take the other.

Once again, the mercenary mutely obliged.

When I engaged you for this assignment, it was to provide weapons training for my entire organization.

Yes, sir. I’ve done exactly that.

Metcalf gave a thin smile. I’m afraid you’ve only scratched the surface. You must be aware that the Blessed Nephilim is a global brotherhood with compounds stretching around the world.

Bowdeen could feel the color draining from his face. G... global? he managed to stammer.

Yes, that’s right. The old man regarded him with the pitying look of a man trying to explain algebra to a cretin. Global.

Chopper was grasping at straws now. But, sir, that’s a mighty big order.

Metcalf sighed expressively. You agreed to provide training for my entire concern. Considering the enormous sum of money that I will be paying for your services, I’m at a loss to understand your objection. Are you disturbed at the thought of becoming a very rich man?

Bowdeen racked his brain for a good pretext to quit, but there wasn’t any easy way out of this. He’d made a deal. An incredibly lucrative deal that he’d be a fool to back out of. More than that, he couldn’t point to a single logical reason for not upholding his end of the bargain—just a gnawing sensation in the pit of his gut. That was all. He commanded his gut to keep still. He was a professional, and he had a reputation to maintain. He couldn’t have word getting around that he was a quitter. Sir, can I ask why you need all these boys to receive such extensive military training?

Metcalf hesitated a second in framing a response. For our peace of mind, Mr. Bowdeen. Why else? As you may have noticed, the world isn’t a very safe place these days.

Chopper’s conscience whispered that he had just done his part to make it a little less safe. He ignored the inner voice. What do you want me to do next, sir?

The diviner rose to go. Wait for further orders. I’ll be in touch shortly with your next assignment.

LEROY HUNT PULLED UP to the entrance to the Nephilim compound out in the sticks where Jesus would’ve lost his sandals if he’d ever had a mind to visit these nut jobs in the first place. Abraham Metcalf’s gun-for-hire had come out here often enough that the sentry in the guard shack waved him through on sight. Hunt waited for the ten-foot iron gates to part. He never could figure out why they had a P with an X through it set right into the middle of each gate. Why not a BN for Blessed Nephilim or maybe CA for "Crazy Abe