The Seal of Solomon (Alfred Kropp 2)

“Don’t move,” Ashley whispered. “Don’t talk.”

The darkness under the tarp faded, or maybe I was getting used to it, because after a minute I could see her bright blue eyes darting back and forth. Ashley’s hand was white-knuckled on the CW3XD that lay across her lap, her index finger caressing the trigger. Ashley was afraid.

The tarp rippled and snapped around us as the gale worsened and sand popped against the material, making this strange hissing sound like gas escaping from a bottle. I could hear something else too, as if the wind was a curtain rippling as this sound passed behind it. Voices, or maybe not voices but somehow the echo of voices, and I started to shake as the tarp around us began to glow red.

It was very close now, whatever it was, and the closer it got, the more I shook. It was hot and stuffy under the covering and I was sweating, but I shivered like I had a fever. Op Nine’s warning echoed over and over in my head: Don’t look into their eyes! Don’t look into their eyes! My mind became like a slice of Swiss cheese, stretched thin, full of holes filled with darkness, and that darkness was full of horror.

Dimly, under the howling wind, I could hear someone screaming. She needs to be quiet, I thought. Ashley, be quiet! But it wasn’t Ashley screaming, of course; it was me.

Then, as if it shot through one of those holes in my mind, a hand reached for me in the darkness, soft and warm, and without thinking I pulled her into my arms.

19

“Alfred, it’s over.”

She pushed on my chest and I unfolded my arms. Every inch of me ached. In the half-light beneath the tarp, I saw her brush back a strand of hair from her forehead.

“What was that?” I whispered hoarsely. My throat ached from the screaming. “What the heck was that?”

I flipped back the edge of the tarp without asking for permission. Enough of this, I thought. I was testy now. I wanted some answers. Everybody seemed to know what we were getting into except one key person.

Sand fell into a heap where I lifted the tarp. The winds had piled the sand all around us, like a snowdrift. I stood up and my knees popped. Twelve mounds of desert sand now stood where the foils used to be. And these twelve mounds were the only feature left in the Sahara. The desert was as flat and featureless as an enormous tabletop; the rolling dunes were completely gone.

But the night had returned and, with it, the brilliant stars and the cool air.

The others had already emerged from their hiding places and gathered in a circle around Op Nine. He saw me crawl out and waved me over. I waited for Ashley. Her cheeks were wet and her eyes red.

I grabbed her hand. She pulled it away.

“I’m okay,” she said.

“I’m not,” I said, and I grabbed her hand again and this time she didn’t pull away.

We joined the other agents, who for some reason were kneeling in this circle, even Abby. Their eyes were downcast and their expressions somber, and I wondered why we were having a prayer meeting. Op Nine was the only one upright, standing in the center of the circle, arms folded over his chest, looking very grim. Even the big agent with the cocky, let’s-mow-’em-down attitude looked like somebody had gut-punched him.

They adjusted themselves to make room for Ashley and me. Op Nine motioned for us to kneel. I don’t know why, but I went down to my knees at once and so did Ashley. She pulled her hand free and this time I didn’t take it back.

Op Nine said, “The worst has come to pass: the Hyena has unlocked the Seal. Yet Fortune smiles upon us, for we have escaped his minions’ notice. We may assume he has divided his legions to search for us, thus exposing his position. A frontal assault will be the last thing he expects.” He took a deep breath. “So that is precisely what we shall give him.”

He reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit and pulled out a small metal flask. He walked up to Abigail and stopped. He opened the flask, tipped the opening against the pad of his thumb, and then traced the sign of the cross on her forehead, muttering something I couldn’t hear. He worked his way around the circle, wetting his thumb, muttering, making the sign.

Finally he came to me. He paused, staring down at me, and his dark eyes seemed even darker in the starlight.

“What?” I whispered.

“Domine, exaudi orationem meam,” Op Nine murmured, upending the flask. “Et clamor meus ad te veniat.” He pressed his thumb against my forehead and I felt the wetness there as he traced the cross. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”

He stepped over to Ashley and I watched him bless her too, as a single drop of holy water (I guessed it was holy water—what else could it be?) trickled down my nose.

He capped off the flask and slipped it into his pocket. Nobody said anything as we pulled the tarps off the foils and folded them up. Ashley would pause every now and then to pull back the strand of blond hair that had fallen from her bun. Her fingers were shaking. I helped her fold the tarp.

“Okay,” I said. “So what was that about?”

She shook her head, almost impatiently, like my question bordered on the cheeky.

“We’re too late,” she said. “Mike’s unlocked the Lesser Seal. They’re free.”

“Who’s free? What did Solomon keep in the Lesser Seal, Ashley? Why did Op Nine just bless us? Is he a priest or something?” I blurted out, though it was hard for me to imagine, a priest being an OIPEP agent. “What’s his deal anyway?”