Chapter 2: Ancient Lore

Arkham Police Station. Tuesday, July 6, 1976.

Diana dropped her ballpoint pen onto the legal pad in front of her. "You three make quite a team. Connecting with Charlene through Tolkien was a slick maneuver."

"Sara suggested it," Henry said. "She believed if Charlene thought of what happened to her as a scene from The Lord of the Rings, she wouldn't be so shattered."

Charlene wasn't the only one who'd been the subject of a SCAGR team strategy. Henry was also a beneficiary.

Neal and Sara pressed him to take the lead when they met with Diana after the interview. Henry viewed this as a chance to demonstrate he could be a team player. If he could win the police detective over, she could be the gateway to future joint investigations, and they would speed up the approval process for his PI license.

Henry gave a concise summary of the long, rambling discussion with Charlene. "Golunov was advising her on a paper about Russian folklore. She'd been meeting with him for the past month. On Monday evening, she arrived for a previously scheduled meeting. She recalls him showing her some antiques he'd purchased during a trip to the Soviet Union at the end of May, and then her memories went south."

Diana drummed her fingers on the table for a moment. "Charlene heard a voice in her head telling her she needed to kill Golunov, but she doesn't remember how she got the knife nor what Golunov was doing when she began the attack."

"It's like her memory consists of several short video clips," Henry clarified. "I've had experience with brainwashing techniques. The way Charlene describes her recollection is similar."

Diana frowned. "Normally, I'd ignore the little fantasy you created about hypnosis as a harmless psychological tool to relax the victim, but after the bizarre occurrences of the past year"—she paused to nod at Neal—"I'm reluctant to dismiss anything out of hand. Could Charlene have been infected by a zoog?"

Neal looked at her, shocked. "Theoretically, I suppose, although the only known wormhole in Arkham is closed, and I haven't seen any evidence of cult activities."

"Elizabeth can provide confirmation," Sara suggested. "Could you provide blood samples for her to test?"

"I'll authorize it," Diana promised. "Now it's even more essential that this conversation remain confidential."

"Let's assume for a moment there is a cult connection," Henry said, excited about the possibility. What had first appeared to be a simple crime was now anything but. "Then the murder committed by the dockworker could have been a trial run to test a new technique. You'd mentioned that you hadn't encountered anything similar before, and it's not the type of crime that has copycat possibilities. Determining the motive has to be paramount." Henry paused to give himself points for a word he'd heard Peter use. Diana had to be impressed with that. "Why was Golunov targeted?"

Diana shook her head. "It's a mystery. Captain Hughes is inclined to believe that Charlene suffered from temporary insanity. The house wasn't ransacked. Golunov lived alone. A housekeeper made weekly visits. We had her check this morning and she didn't notice anything missing."

"Is it okay if we take a look?" Neal asked. "Charlene mentioned Sasha had brought some items back from the Soviet Union. Perhaps one was particularly valuable or was significant in some other way. I'd also like to have Peter check them out."

"Go ahead," Diana agreed. "I'd appreciate his perspective on the events."

"We also want to question Charlene's friends," Sara said.

Diana nodded approval. "You're closer in age. You'll get further with them than I would. You mentioned the Fellowship of Galadriel. What's that?"

Sara told her about the Wicca-inspired group. "I've already interviewed some of the members," she explained.

Diana frowned. "Are there any known cult associations with Wicca?"

"No dangerous ones," Sara said. "It reminds me more of a belief system for a way of life than a religion. During my assignment for the International Herald Tribune, we researched links between various cults and criminal activity. One of the investigators checked on Wicca. It's much more popular in the U.K than in the States. No connections to cult activity or crimes were found."

Diana arched a skeptical eyebrow. "They're just a bunch of harmless witches? I grant you, the Starry Wisdom cult has colored my thinking, but tread carefully. If you find any evidence—no matter how slim—of psychological hanky-panky, notify me right away."

Henry appreciated the detective's dilemma. Diana knew she didn't have the authority to stop them from asking questions, and both he and Sara were professionals. He was happy to leave the antique research to the scholars of their group. That was their specialty, and the work was less dangerous.

#

When they left the police station, Neal suggested they regroup at June's. Sara had prepared lists of members of the two clubs Charlene belonged to—Middle-earth and the Fellowship of Galadriel. She'd identified her closest friends after Sara gently pointed out that they too could be in danger.

Neal knew many of the members since they'd been his students. His Anglo-Saxon class last spring had attracted several Tolkien enthusiasts.

When they arrived at June's, they found her in the kitchen with Tracy. Jack's girlfriend was a struggling artist and self-taught cook. When Jack first hired her, she made pizza and desserts for the coffeehouse. He soon discovered she had a talent for organization and asked her to help him with bookkeeping. Henry hoped she'd eventually co-manage the brewpub.

"Henry, can I steal you away for a few minutes?" Tracy asked. "I need your approval to pay some invoices." She turned to the others. "I promise I won't keep him for long, and when he returns, he'll have a plate of chocolate peanut butter cupcakes."

"Assuming I haven't eaten them all," Henry said with a grin.

"You better not," Sara warned. "Not if you want my notes."

Henry gave a slow sigh. "You strike a hard bargain, but I accept your terms."

Tracy snorted at their banter. "You're both full of it. Come on, Henry."

"I have last year's college yearbook in the loft," Neal told Sara. "It has a photo of the Middle-earth club. We can use it to match names with faces for Henry."

He was glad Sara offered to go upstairs with him as he wanted to talk to her where they'd be undisturbed.

When they entered the loft, Neal said, "Let's sit down a moment," and guided her to the couch.

Sara's eyes sparkled. "I like the effect crime-solving has on you." She slid next to him and stroked the nape of his neck.

"Aren't you worried about those cupcakes disappearing?" Neal teased. "Actually, that wasn't what I had in mind," he added hurriedly before she tempted him further. His body was already telling him necking would be so much more pleasurable. Sara was such a good actress, he could have misread her, but he sensed her playfulness was only a cover. She might not want to talk about her fears, but he remembered how much it had helped him.

"Questioning Charlene raised some ghosts from the past for me," he ventured, hoping he was handling it correctly. "The more I think about how someone like her could believe she killed a man, the more convinced I am that alien forces are at work."

Sara's expression also turned serious. "I agree."

"I sympathize with how she's feeling," Neal continued. "After Sornoth attacked me, the uncertainty over what he might have done made focusing on anything else almost impossible." He let his words trail off.

Sara took a breath. "I try not to dwell on what Yidhra could have done to me, but it's always there. "

He clasped her hand. "You've gone through all the tests El and Lavinia could think of, and nothing's turned up."

She nodded. "But, as you know, that doesn't mean much. What if Yidhra somehow linked to me? That's what Raquel said would occur. For all I know, it could have happened without me being aware of it. I could be a sleeper minion, forced to do their bidding. What if they—"

Neal placed his index finger on her lips to quiet her. "Don't torture yourself about it. Whatever happens, we'll figure out a way to make things right. I won't try to convince you your fears are unfounded. We know they're not, but that trip to the wormhole may have zapped whatever was planted. And if not, we'll get through it together."

"You promise?"

He brushed her lips with a kiss. "I promise."

"Please don't tell the others. I don't want them to think I'm going around wringing my hands."

"Hardly likely," he scoffed. "Not Sara Pabodie, investigative journalist extraordinaire. But don't shut me out, okay?"

"I won't," she said softly.

"I love you. Together we can conquer anything thrown at us." His words of reassurance were as much for himself as for Sara. Until they discovered the truth about Sasha's death, neither one of them would sleep easy.

#

Detective Jones accompanied Peter and Neal to Golunov's apartment. He volunteered to stay with them while they searched.

Sasha had lived simply in a two-bedroom apartment. He'd converted the main bedroom into a large office and slept in the smaller bedroom. The exuberance of items in his office more than made up for the spartan appearance of the rest of the rooms.

Jones scratched his head as he looked at the cluttered bookcases and cabinets. "Where do you plan to start?"

Peter sympathized with Jones's gloom. "With what I know best, and that's Sasha's interest in early Russian cultures."

"I'll tackle his notes and journals," Neal offered.

"I can probably help with that," Jones said. "Unless they're in . . .?"

The corners of Neal's mouth drooped in sympathy. "Russian? I'm afraid so."

"But here's something that would be a big help," Peter said. "Sasha took a trip to the Soviet Union in late May. Could you check with the State Department and consulates to piece together an itinerary? If Sasha was targeted, that trip may be the key to solving the mystery."

"Glad to help," Jones said, looking relieved. "I'll need to do the work at the office. If I'm not back by the time you're done, give me a call and I'll come back and lock up."

Peter breathed easier when Jones left. If they found evidence of alien agents at work in Arkham, he'd rather discuss it with Neal before getting the police involved.

Neal sat down at the desk and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a worn journal and began thumbing through the pages. "Sasha kept a diary. This may help. Charlene told us she was working on a paper about Baba Yaga. Do the tales of the Russian witch have any connection to Slavic early cultures?"

"I've never seen any supporting evidence, but Sasha believed Baba Yaga could be traced back to the Scythians." The Scythians were ancient nomads who as far back as the eleventh century BC ranged throughout Central Eurasia. They were known to the ancient Greeks and Romans.

Neal frowned. "I wonder why Sasha believed in the Scythian link. To my knowledge, no examples of their writing have ever been found although a few Greek accounts hint of a written language. Some linguists believe Old Persian could have derived from Scythian, but at this point, it's only speculation."

"Sasha told me he'd interviewed locals in rural villages. He was documenting their oral traditions. They're probably the source. Sasha discovered some still believe in witchcraft."

"Do any of them live in huts on chicken legs?" Neal asked with a grin.

Peter chuckled. "Like Baba Yaga? If Sasha found any, he didn't tell me about them. The Scythians had a distinctive ornamental style featuring animals. Panthers, lions, bears, and deer are particularly common. Many of the pieces are in gold or bronze and still in remarkably good condition." He nodded toward a large display cabinet on one wall. "Sasha collected copies of Scythian artifacts. One of his favorite theories was that the Scythian animals were later incorporated into Russian folklore."

"Sasha appeared to be making an inventory of his latest purchases," Neal said, his eyes focused on the journal. "He was jubilant over a dagger he'd found in a market in Kyiv."

"Several Scythian digs are in the region south of Kyiv. Did Sasha describe the dagger? I don't see it in the cabinet."

Neal skimmed the page. "He said it appeared to be made of bronze . . . The grip was engraved on one side with a lion and the other with a dog. They're entwined by a snake. The blade was also engraved. Sasha wrote a note that he wanted to ask you about it. He added a sketch. It looks a little like a spinning wheel with five spokes." Neal handed the journal to him. "Does this mean anything to you?"

Peter's excitement mounted when he saw the design. "It's a strophalos— also called Hecate's wheel. What Sasha drew is an early version of the symbol. I've seen it in Mycenean and Scythian artifacts. The Greeks later modified it to more clearly represent the trinity aspect of the goddess Hecate."

Neal looked at him in surprise. "Isn't she a goddess of witchcraft?"

"And sorcery," Peter said thoughtfully, considering the implications. "A possible connection to Charlene's Wicca group? The animals on the grip could also refer to Hecate."

"I don't follow you."

"Hecate is usually depicted as three figures who are holding hands around a column. Various animals are linked to her, including the lion, dog, and snake. The sword Sasha purchased could be a ceremonial dagger. Does Sasha mention anything about a witch in his description?"

"He only scribbled a few notes about it, unless . . ." Neal paused to study the journal once more. "On the top of the page, he wrote Baba Yaga. I assumed that was a reference to something else, but perhaps he was trying to link Hecate to the Russian equivalent."

Peter sat back, sorting through the bits of information. Neal had called the design spokes in a wheel. A spinning wheel . . . hooks. "That's it!" he exclaimed, slapping his thigh in his excitement.

"What is? Don't tell me Baba Yaga is working for the Ymar," Neal joked.

"If I'm right, you're not that far off. Look at this design again. Does it remind you of something else we've seen recently?" When Neal didn't respond immediately, Peter added, "Like in China and, before that, the barrow in Wiltshire?"

Neal's eyes widened. "Yidhra's symbol?" He absently brushed his hair off his forehead as he continued to study the image.

Peter nodded. "If my hunch is right, the Hecate symbol is simply a variant of an earlier symbol that we first found at that Neolithic site in England. The hooks on the spokes are suggestive of the tadpole tails on Elnath starfish."

"And of the Elnath species. We know the Ymar appropriated the Elnath script for themselves. Our trip to Kublai Khan's court established that Yidhra was using the symbol we found in the barrow for herself."

"Not only that. She either established or usurped an existing Chinese cult. We have evidence of two instances where Yidhra cloaked herself in the guise of legendary witches—Isis in ancient Egypt, Chang'e in China. Hecate could be yet another manifestation."

Neal swallowed audibly. "Sara saw how Yidhra could take advantage of humans, possessing their bodies at will in her lagoon on Tirelia."

"She could have established the worship of Hecate in ancient Greece as well as sparked legends for Baba Yaga. Sasha told me in the earliest versions of folklore, Baba Yaga was depicted as a beautiful enchantress. It was only later that she was commonly depicted as a wizened hag."

"How does this relate to Sasha's murder?" Neal asked.

"Look at the facts. Charlene's working on a paper on Baba Yaga. She recently joined a coven. The Fellowship of Galadriel doesn't sound like anything threatening, but that could make it the perfect cover for Yidhra's most recent incarnation."

Neal shot him a distressed look. "Could Sara be involved?"

Peter hesitated, wishing he had a better answer. "We're forced to consider the possibility. She was held by Yidhra only a few weeks ago. Is it a coincidence that just around that time the fellowship was formed in Arkham?"

"But the Ymar have known where we are for a long time," Neal objected, his gaze directed to his hands. Peter suspected he was debating with himself. "Sara shouldn't worry that she betrayed anything."

"True, but Yidhra's involvement—if she is here—is a recent development. Let's not go overboard though" Peter added, trying to ratchet down Neal's anxiety. "So far all we have is a missing dagger that potentially has a connection to Yidhra. Our first order of business is to learn more about the Fellowship of Galadriel." He clasped Neal's shoulder. "Sara wouldn't want us to lose our objectivity. The odds of Charlene being manipulated now look significantly higher. The murder could have been planned as a distraction to keep us from investigating the true objective which was the recovery of the dagger."

Neal nodded, appearing marginally calmer. "It may play a significant role in some rite. Sasha thought it might be a genuine relic since he'd never seen it written up. Perhaps he was correct. Since we're discussing Ymar involvement, the dagger itself could have an alien power."

"Like the rings of power in Tolkien?" Peter thought about the idea for a moment. "We shouldn't reject any possibility out of hand."

Was that dagger the cause of Sasha's death? He and Neal spent the next hour in a fruitless search for the artifact. The disappearance alone was enough to set off alarm bells.

#

El was working with Lavinia, Mozzie, and Cyrus in Mozzie's lab when Henry arrived. They'd received samples of Charlene and Golunov's blood that had been drawn for the initial toxicology analysis. Charlene agreed to have additional blood drawn this morning.

Henry took one look at them hunched over their microscopes and alien equipment and said, "Tell me you found something."

"All right, I will," Cyrus said. "Although it may not provide much comfort. We found a trace amount of algolnium in Charlene's blood. Golunov's sample is free of any detectable alien material."

Henry nodded grimly. "I figured the Ymar were involved. Do Neal and Peter know?"

"We just contacted them," Mozzie said.

"The algolnium was bound to a molecule commonly associated with plants," Lavinia said. "A botanical origin is most likely."

"So it could have been in something she'd eaten," Henry speculated.

"Or drunk," El said. "For instance, herbal tea."

Henry made a face. "The fellowship drinks herbal tea during each meeting. Vile stuff. There will be no herbal tea served at the brewpub."

"Do you have a name for the place yet?" El asked.

"We're working on it. Suggestions are welcome."

"Don't forget to pass your decision by the university," Cyrus cautioned. "Since the brewpub is a co-op venture, you'll need to obtain their permission. But I wouldn't be too concerned. The president has agreed to the brewpub's steering committee members, and I think you'll be pleased."

"Anyone I know?" Henry asked hopefully.

Cyrus smiled. "Yours truly, along with June, Peter, Mozzie, and Lavinia."

Lavinia paused to give Henry what El called her dagger eyes. They were sufficiently intimidating to strike fear in any undergrad. "But don't think we'll give you a pass on whatever crazy notion you come up with."

Henry oozed charm as he smiled at her. "And I wouldn't want you to compromise your high standards."

"Have you tasted the fellowship's tea?" Mozzie asked, bringing them back to the matter at hand.

"No, I was speaking in general terms. I spent the morning questioning some of Charlene's friends. Not surprisingly, they're all members of the fellowship. The meetings sound like a real bore. They sit around and discuss references to witchcraft in Tolkien." Henry's expression grew serious. "It's likely that one of the members is a double-agent."

Sara entered the lab as Henry was speaking. "Who's a double-agent?"

"Someone in the fellowship," El told her and described the results of the blood test.

Sara perched on a lab stool as El reviewed the findings.

"The way I see it," Henry said. "We're left with two possibilities. Either Charlene is an unconscious host to an alien presence or is being influenced by some other means."

"She's not infected by a zoog," Cyrus amended. "Charlene doesn't contain any trace of the rare selenium compound that is a marker for zoog parasitism."

"I'm glad we can scratch off that possibility," Henry said. "Based on Sara's experience, Charlene could have been influenced by a piece of jewelry, or she might have been temporarily possessed."

"No matter which it was, at least one alien, possibly more, has infiltrated Arkham for reasons unknown," Lavinia said.

Mozzie took off his glasses to wipe them with a handkerchief. "I find it hard to believe the dagger is the only objective unless it contains a special power."

Sara had remained unusually silent during the discussion but when Lavinia mentioned the need to infiltrate the fellowship, she spoke up. "Henry and I have both questioned members about Charlene. Any alien would be suspicious of us."

"That's true," Mozzie agreed. "But I won't have that problem. The fellowship will welcome my desire to join them."

El tried to picture the astrophysicist in a Wicca coven and failed utterly.

"Don't you think you'll have a difficult time explaining your interest?" Sara ventured.

Mozzie shook his head. "Not at all. Astronomy plays an important role in The Lord of the Rings, especially in Tolkien's cosmology. Besides, they need an Elrond figure. I fit the bill nicely," he added complacently.

Notes: In Chapter 3, the investigation is complicated by an attack on campus, and Henry wonders if an old foe has returned.