Ark of Fire

CHAPTER 65

Stunned, the six of them stood rooted in place.

“What the fuck happened?” Braxton muttered, expressing what everyone in the group was no doubt thinking. All that remained of the Priory of the Blessed Virgin Mary was three stone walls punctuated with arched windows; tangled strands of dead ivy cascaded from the glassless openings.

“It looks like it was hit by mortar fire.” This came from MacFarlane, his leathery cheeks flushed with what Edie assumed to be barely contained rage.

“My guess is that the Priory of the Blessed Virgin Mary was destroyed during the Tudor reign,” Caedmon quietly remarked. “In 1538, Parliament, at the behest of Henry the Eighth, issued an official edict known as the Dissolution of the Monasteries. The new law enabled Henry to confiscate all property owned by the monastic orders. Aided by an overzealous population who hoped that church riches would trickle into their greedy hands, the king’s men demolished many a monastic building; the lead in the roofs was removed and the stone reused for secular building projects.”

Edie stared at the eerie remains: the gouged Gothic shell that opened heavenward, the sheaves of ice-laden grass, shimmering jewel-like. Perhaps it was the early-morning mist, but she could have sworn that a ghostly imprint of incense and candles and prayerful chants still lingered.

She turned and glanced at Caedmon, conveying a silent question: What if the next clue had been embedded in a piece of stained glass that had been smashed to smithereens centuries ago?

With an almost imperceptible shake of the head, he warned her against voicing the query aloud. He then pointedly glanced at Stanford MacFarlane.

Edie got the message, loud and clear. If MacFarlane thought the game was over, she and Caedmon would be killed on the spot. No matter what, they had to maintain the pretext that it was still “game on.”

Startled by a sudden screech, Edie reflexively turned her head.

There, perched on the branch of a leafless tree was a raven, loudly cawing.

Although not a superstitious person by nature, she considered the raven a very bad omen.