The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 6: Mayfly (Part 1 of 11)

Fresh from the shower, Barbara moved through the sprawling place in her bathrobe with a leisureliness, which someone who didn't know her might have taken for enjoyment.

In the kitchen, she searched out something to eat that wouldn't require cooking. The entire room was glacial white with the only hint of color existing in the long slabs of counter top. Tiny blue veins crawled over the surface making it look like a cheese—or a corpse. Every appliance was hidden away behind lacquered cabinet doors and the massive side-by-side refrigerators turned up nothing, unless she wanted to munch on bok choy or leftover crab bisque. It must have been the maid's grocery day.

A button caused a panel to open, revealing a coffee station with a brass machine that would put most cafes in Italy to shame.

It seemed that every design decision for this condo followed the philosophy that it wasn't worth buying unless it was the most expensive.

It was like being on an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Terrible.

There was, however, a plate of fresh Danishes next to the coffee machine. Barbara brushed strands of her damp hair out of her face and took one that had a sunny dollop of lemon curd in the center.

Walt had left before she woke up. Barbara wasn't normally a late riser but she had a lot of sleep to catch up on. And it suited her to wake up in an empty bed.

She had flown back to Manhattan with Palmer the day before and landed at JFK just before lunch. He had to run off to SBI for his false briefing with his boss. Barbara kept away. Once he was done with Palmer, Walt would have other meetings that would keep him busy all day. And it might seem like too much of a coincidence if his head of security and Barbara showed up in town at the same time. Walt wasn't someone who believed in coincidences.

So instead of pressing him for information, Barbara used the time to research the medallion.

Unfortunately, there was no book in the library with a convenient picture of the bejeweled disk with a detailed article explaining where it had come from. The internet may have been quicker and more useful but once she started typing in search parameters on the Web, she might as well just tell Walt she had it and ask him what it was. No doubt, he had tech trolls keeping an eye out for anything that concerned his sacred mission.

The only concrete piece of info she was able to gather was on the gem. It was a moonstone.

Typical, Barbara thought. When she located it in a chart of gems it felt like the punchline to a bad joke. Werewolves and moonstones—how stupid and typical.

Otherwise, Barbara only left the New York Public Library knowing what the amulet wasn't. Despite being found in a Viking village and supposedly carried with the settlers from Scandinavia, it hadn't been crafted by Walt's ancestors. None of the faded marking matched anything in the glossaries of Viking runes she had dug up. They seemed simpler—older. More like cuneiform scratching than the bold figures used by the Norse, but it didn't match the Sumerian language either.

When she finally called Walt and told him she was in town, he sounded ecstatic and invited her over for dinner, but she doubted that his enthusiasm was anything more than a distracted attempt at charm.

They ate in the upstairs dining room that formed part of his private suite, along with a bedroom, office, and gym. It was more intimate than the grand dining room on the main floor. The small space would have felt stuffy with heavy, dark antique furnishings if it weren't for the seamless wall of windows. Only the reflection of the candle light broke the illusion that they were floating above the city.

Despite his usual lavishness, dinner was a simple grilled trout with endive salad.

"You really surprised me," he said as though admonishing a naughty but delightful child. "I would have had Krieger prepare something more luxuriant if I knew you were coming."