I Do Not Trust You: A Novel Read online

  By the time he caught up with Memphis, she was halfway back to their hotel. “Where are we going next?”

  She grinned. “Norway.”

  M: Mike, help me figure out the Norway site.

  MIKE: Where are you? I looked into that Ashwin guy. He has a record.

  M: I’m fine. We found a piece!!!!!!!

  MIKE: Shut up.

  M: In St. Stephen’s. We went thru catacombs. There’s a ton of work to be done there, BTW. Pottery from old pagan temple. Possible remains of actual St. Stephen.

  MIKE: Too many questions for a text …

  M: Sorry. Next time I see you!

  M: Anyway, the piece!!! It’s an animal. I have the arms. Can’t tell what it’s made of. Looks like obsidian but it’s not.

  MIKE: So these cultists are right?

  M: Right that it exists, anyway. Ash looked like Gollum staring at the Ring.

  MIKE: Do you think he would use violence to get it? Please let me call the police, sweetie.

  M: No! Ash is totally fine. And I can handle myself! Anyway, we’re going after another piece. I’m most confident in the Norway translation b/c Dad helped us with that one.

  MIKE: But you’re looking for another signpost.

  M: Right. Assuming they moved all the pieces last time. Ash said that’s the Eye’s MO.

  MIKE: What’s the Eye?

  M: Horus cult.

  MIKE: I really don’t like this.

  M: Focus. We had a phonogram for Norway and glyphs for old woman, young woman, tomb, and ship. Wasn’t there another one?

  MIKE: Tree.

  M: Tree! Dad thought it was that burial boat. Viking ship. Where was that?

  MIKE: Oseberg farm near Tønsberg. Sending map.

  M: Thanks. What about the tree? We said a large sacred tree, but left it at that. I need to find the tree.

  MIKE: Our map is more than 1,100 years old. Whatever tree it refers to would likely be dead and gone.

  M: Can you research? Getting on a plane from Paris. Ash coming back from ticket counter, must erase convo.

  MIKE: I hate this.

  MIKE: M?

  MIKE: M?

  MIKE: I really hate this.

  CHAPTER 10

  “A tree?” Ash sounded skeptical. “I thought you said there was a Viking ship.”

  “That was in Tønsberg, which is where I originally expected to go,” M said as they hiked. “But Mike texted me about this old oak, and it makes more sense. With the code.” Dad had thought the tree glyph referred to some kind of Viking ritual. But they’d never gotten around to researching it before he died. Was taken, she corrected herself. “Mike says the tree we’re looking for is more than a thousand years old. It’s supposed to have been sacred back then. Norse gods were worshipped outside, in nature, not in buildings. It should be close.”

  “I don’t see the Eye hiding a piece of Set in a tree,” Ash argued. “Trees die. They fall. They’re chopped down. It’s not a safe hiding place.”

  “You’re forgetting we’re in Norway, and it was a long time ago. Oaks were considered sacred to Thor, immune to lightning strikes,” M told him. “It probably seemed much safer to your crazy cultmates back then than you think.”

  “You do realize you’re talking about my religion,” he commented. His voice was strained.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Sorry. You’re right.”

  His astonished expression didn’t escape her.

  “I don’t question anyone’s religious beliefs,” she said. “And I don’t question the ancient Egyptian belief in Horus, or Set. So I shouldn’t be dismissive of you still believing it even though it sounds bananapants to me.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said drily.

  “I’d be nicer if you’d help me find my father,” she added. “I mean, that does color my behavior a little. Just saying.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Anyway, we don’t know if the old tree is the actual hiding spot,” she went on after a minute. “If it’s a sacred tree there may be a bog nearby. Bogs were used for sacrifices—human and animal. Or there could be a rune stone. Or it could be buried beneath the tree. Or nearby if there are meaningful plants around.”

  Ash stopped walking. “I think that’s your tree.”

  The tree was enormous, as if several trunks had grown together. Up and down the bark were blackened lines—old injuries from lightning. Yet the tree itself still stood, healthy and defiant.

  M went to it, running her hand across a fresh wound, only a thin layer of woody bark grown over it. “My father always said myths begin in truth. This thing has weathered a lot of storms.”

  “Perhaps it is protected by a god after all,” Ash murmured.

  She forced herself not to roll her eyes. He seemed to think they were being helped by Horus every step of the way. “Or else it’s just really adaptable,” she said.

  Ash had circled around to the other side. “Are we looking for a bog?”

  “You do that. I’m going to climb,” she replied. She needed to find a signpost. And the Eye couldn’t very well leave a signpost inside a bog—which left a rune stone or the tree.

  Before she started up, she took a moment to make sure her pack was securely fastened. She had the piece wrapped in her underwear inside. Ash was too proper to go rummaging through her panties.

  She frowned. The low thrumming the piece was emitting had stopped. She’d gotten so used to it, she hadn’t noticed. She twisted around and urgently felt the pack. It was still there.

  Reassured, M found a foothold on a knot in the trunk and pulled herself up to the lowest branch. She had no idea when the Eye had last moved the pieces, but it had to be after Notre Dame was built back in the eleven hundreds and long enough ago for the locations to have become lost to the Horus cult. The tree had had a lot of growing time since then. The sign would be near the top.

  “I still don’t see how it could be up a tree,” Ash called from below. He was following her up. Not good. The less he knew about how she found his precious statue pieces, the more valuable she was to him. And the more valuable she was to the Set worshippers holding her father. As long as she, and only she, could find the statue, she had a bargaining chip.

  “I told you it could be buried at the base,” she replied. “Climb down and look—maybe there’s a marker of some sort.” Ash grumbled, but to her relief, he shimmied back down the tree. She put him out of her mind and focused on climbing.

  Another branch, a handhold or foothold on the massive trunk, another branch. She lost all sense of time, looking only at the tree, its knots and bumps, its spring-green leaves and occasional squirrels. She didn’t notice the rain until a huge droplet landed on her hand. A quick glance down revealed that the base of the trunk was lost in shadow, and its top was just as murky. The sky had gone dark all around her.

  “Memphis!” Ash’s voice sounded distant, as if he were yelling through a thick cloth. “Come down!”

  An ominous rumble rolled through her, long and low. Thunder.

  M bit her lip and squinted through the leaves. Up the tallest tree around was not a good place to be in a thunderstorm. A fork of lightning split the blackened sky. She gulped.

  But she was already much closer to the top than the bottom. And who knew how long the storm would last? It could be over in two minutes.

  “Memphis!” Ash’s voice was a mix of anger and worry. She knew she was being an idiot for staying in the tree—it obviously got hit by lightning all the time. There wasn’t a whole lot of choice, now, though. She couldn’t just jump down, she had to climb, and that would take a while. She’d be in danger the whole time. So why not climb up instead? She reached for the branch above her and pulled herself onto it. The limbs were thinner here, and this one swayed under her weight. The wind had picked up, whipping her hair into her eyes.

  “Get down here!” Ash was even harder to hear now. The rain and wind roared in her ears. The thunder came again, a sharp, loud crack.

/>   M searched for another handhold. Just a few boughs to go. She needed to start looking for a signpost. She’d been so preoccupied by the storm she had stopped paying attention.

  Her right foot slipped on the slick bark and she fell backward.

  Far below, she heard Ash cry out.

  M hooked a branch with her legs, jerking herself to a stop so abruptly that she spun around like she was on the uneven bars. On the way back up, she grabbed on to the next limb and held on. She sat on the branch to catch her breath. Another flash of lightning illuminated Ash coming after her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Get out of the tree!” she yelled.

  “Come down! This is dangerous!” His expression was obscured by the darkness, but it couldn’t hide the terror in his voice.

  “I know, so stop!” She resumed her climb, moving quickly as though to outrun the storm. The next flash of lightning arced from the sky, illuminating everything in an eerie blue light, and a peal of thunder followed immediately. The storm was right on top of them. This was a terrible idea.

  Just as she decided it was time to bail, another fork of lightning hit right at the tip of the oak, sparking and sizzling. A strange electrical smell filled the air, and the branch above M’s head snapped clean off the tree. She only had time to flatten herself against the trunk and hope not to get hit. As the smoking wood fell past her, she spotted something glowing in the space left behind. Thin lines on the tree trunk … going against the grain. Or else her eyes, dazzled by lightning, were playing tricks on her.

  “Memphis! Are you all right?” Ash’s voice sounded closer now. The lunatic wasn’t still coming up after her, was he?

  “Fine!” She was already climbing, her gaze fixed on the spot where the strange lines had been. “I’m coming down. You get down first!”

  She hauled herself onto the closest tree limb, studying the rough bark just above the missing branch. There was something there, thin strokes of silver, too delicate to make out in the gloom.

  Lightning flashed again, a sheet of brilliant blue that turned the entire tree into a blacklit funhouse. The silver lines blazed out, glowing incandescently in the illumination.

  “Holy snakes!” M fumbled for her cell, snapping photos without even aiming, hoping to get a shot before the lightning ended. She was too late.

  But the delicate silver lines were still aglow, as if the lightning had activated them somehow. Eyes wide, she raised her phone again, taking as many pictures as she could before they faded.

  When Ash pulled himself up onto the branch next to her, they were gone, invisible again in the gloom of the storm. “I told you to go down,” she said.

  “And I told you to go down,” he retorted. “What’s going on?”

  “The lightning struck a branch off and I was holding on so I didn’t get knocked off by it,” she lied. “Let’s go before it hits again.”

  The thunder rumbled threateningly. Ash didn’t move.

  “Fine, jeez. I’m going.” M lowered herself onto the tree limb below. “Stay close. It’s dangerous up here.”

  “No kidding,” he said sarcastically. “Why do you think I’ve been yelling at you?”

  “I’m a better climber than you are. It’s worse for you to be up here.” He was following her now, moving away from the silver before it lit up again.

  “You are not!” Ash shot back.

  “Of course I am,” she said. “I grew up climbing and digging and doing martial arts. You grew up rich and went to art school.”

  “I told you I never went to art school,” he grumbled, sliding a bit on the branches as they moved lower.

  “Baptiste did. You told me you went to university for archeology. Which is true?” she asked.

  “You told me I studied archeology. I just didn’t correct you,” he pointed out. “For all you know, I’ve been climbing and digging and all that too.”

  She jumped the last few feet to the ground. He jumped a moment later and slipped on the mud below, falling on his butt. M laughed. “I can see for myself that’s not true.”

  “Look,” he said. “The sky.”

  She glanced up and saw nothing but blue. No clouds, no rain. No storm. “What the hell?”

  “The storm ended as soon as we left the tree. And it started when you began to climb.” Ash stood and brushed himself off.

  “We just didn’t notice it moving past, that’s all,” M replied. “It blew in fast and blew out fast.”

  “Or else the god of thunder didn’t want us in his tree,” Ash said.

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re done here,” M told him. “I know where to find the next piece.”

  M: It’s Elder Futhark.

  MIKE: Not my best language.

  M: I’m pretty good at it. Dad wanted me to learn something he didn’t know. But I’m not getting the location.

  MIKE: The top two are for the goddess Ostara. I know that.

  M: Yes. Then runes for cattle and mother. But they’re all in the circle together. The only rune outside the circle is temple.

  MIKE: Is it like the clue for the Seine? The curved line depicted the river.

  M: Don’t think so. Those were glyphs written on a curve. This is just a circle around 4 runes. On the map, circles were used to denote a single idea made of several glyphs.

  MIKE: Right. But none of the map was in Elder Futhark. How do we know this is related?

  M: Look at the phonogram at the bottom.

  MIKE: Nile.

  M: An Egyptian marker in a hiding spot referenced on a map made by the cult of Horus. Prob not a coincidence.

  MIKE: But this is a different language. Makes no sense.

  M: I think it’s the same language written in a different alphabet. Like using English words but writing them in Cyrillic. The pieces are moved at the same time, so it’s different people moving the pieces in each place.

  MIKE: So you think local ppl moved them and left the signposts.

  M: Explains why the runes are different.

  MIKE: Did Ash see these?

  M: No. He thinks I’m looking at nude pics you sent.

  MIKE: EXCUSE ME?

  M: Kidding. Maybe. He just knows I have pics, am texting with you, and not letting him see.

  MIKE: None of this is okay with me.

  M: He does the same thing—secret texting. Thinks I don’t notice.

  MIKE: Repeat, none of this is okay with me.

  M: Focus. Ostara is in the circle with mother and cattle. So if it’s a single idea made of different glyphs … it makes no sense. Ostara is a maiden goddess, not a mother. Her sacred symbols are a hen and eggs, not cattle.

  MIKE: OK. Thinking.

  M: Does she have another incarnation? An obscure mother form we don’t know?

  MIKE: Lemme ask my friend at U of Iceland.

  M: Jafet? I thought he moved to Chicago?

  MIKE: No, Rafney. You don’t know her.

  M: I know everyone you know.

  MIKE: Not anymore. Jealous?

  M: Yes.

  MIKE: ☺

  M sighed and stretched, then lay back on the bed. Ash had gotten a room with two this time, an improvement. She cradled her pack against her. The piece was back to producing the low tone that was as much vibration as sound. She liked the constant reminder it was there, that she was making progress.

  “Are you done?” he asked from his bed. “Can we turn off the lights?”

  “You can. I’m waiting for Mike,” she replied. She made sure her cell was still angled away from him as she deleted her last conversation.

  Ash groaned. “You’ve been texting for an hour. Why don’t you just call and talk for five minutes instead? Then we could get some sleep.”

  “Mike’s not allowed to get calls,” she said.

  “But he’s allowed to text?”

  She shrugged. “Go to sleep if you want.”

  “The light from your phone keeps me up,” he grumbled. “I’m not used to sharing a room.”


  “I’d be totally happy to have my own room if you prefer,” M said sweetly. “Just give me your credit card and I’ll go down to the desk and ask.”

  “Not bloody likely,” he said, clicking off the light. “Just … I don’t know. Hide under the blanket or something.” He put the pillow over his head, and M snorted. Light sleepers had no place being on a treasure hunt. Dad always said that was the difference between people who taught archeology and those who preferred fieldwork—professors were light sleepers.

  MIKE: Heard back. Ostara is always a maiden. No cattle.

  M: Damn.

  MIKE: But I was thinking about the rune problem. If you were using a Nordic alphabet but an Egyptian language, you wouldn’t always have the right runes to use.

  M: Right. Probably why they use several together for one idea. That’s how the Horus language works even on the map—the circled words are different than what the individual ones mean.

  MIKE: And far fewer people were able to write in the past—their ability was limited. So if you’re a medieval Horus devotee in Norway and you’re writing a fast signpost for later followers, you don’t necessarily have the ability to write the hieroglyph for the specific goddess you mean.

  M: So you use the goddess you’re familiar with and add other runes to describe her!

  MIKE: YUUUUUUP!

  M: You’re a genius. OK, Ostara is goddess who represents renewal/spring/rebirth.

  MIKE: Like Proserpina or Inanna. Who else?

  M: Brigit. Freya. Hare Ke. Lada. Olwin. Sita.

  MIKE: But the rune for mother. Could be we want a mother goddess. One who also represents spring or rebirth?

  M: There are a lot of those. Haumea. Ala. Lakshmi. Plus several in the Asian mythologies. And Hera.

  MIKE: And Isis.

  M: MOTHER OF HORUS!!

  MIKE: Depicted as a woman with the horns of a cow! CATTLE!

  M sat back against the headboard, stunned. It was so obvious, so absolutely perfect. Mother, cattle, Nile, temple …

  “Isis temple in the Nile,” she breathed. “Philae.”

  Her phone lit up with another message.

  MIKE: Philae.

  M: It has to be.

  MIKE: But M, it was moved.

  M: I know. Relocated in the 1970s to Agilkia Island. They reconstructed it stone by stone.