“The Physiologus mentioned an enemy of the hart. In fact, both animals were enemies of each other. When the hart saw its enemy, it retreated to the stream. And when the enemy saw the hart, it turned to its hiding place high above in the rocks.”

“You mean the wolf?”

August smiled. The connection was right there. And he’d almost missed it. “No,” he said. “The enemy of the hart was the dragon.”

Xandria shivered. “But what about the wolf?”

“The wolf is not the true enemy,” August said. “I think the wolf represents the idea that evil will lurk in the craftiest of ways. The wolf was sly, an enemy to both the hart and the dragon.”

Janice came back. She was frowning.

“Done!” August said, shutting the laptop off. He shot his best grin and waited for Janice to huff and move on.

“Time’s up,” Xandria said. She handed August the Gutenberg Bible. “You did an amazing job. No one has been able to dig underneath the illuminations like that.”

“Glad to hear you say it, because now you can call your goons off my family,” August said.

“As soon as we land.”

“Call now.”

“No electronic devices while landing,” Xandria said. “You’ll just have to wait.”

August knew she was right. He shuffled back through his notes, reading through the nine images:

One—Two White Dogs Chasing Fox and Hare
Two—King with Golden Globe
Three—Split-Bearded Man with Sword
Four—Blue Man and Swan
Five—Eagle with Banner
Six—The Lions’ Den
Seven—Knight in Green Cape with Sword
Eight—Ox with Banner
Nine—Creation

He shook his head. “It still doesn’t add up to me.”

“It’s like I said before,” Xandria said. “You think too hard. You don’t understand what to do with what you’ve seen.”

August struggled to understand. “You said there was a tenth image, and I’m guessing that’s the string that ties everything together. So what is it?”

Over the loudspeaker, the pilot announced they would be landing in just a few moments. He apologized again for the weather, making some joke about his control over it, or lack thereof. No one seemed very amused.

“The tenth image?” August inquired again.

“After we land,” Xandria said. The lights flickered overhead as the cabin trembled. “That is, if we don’t crash first.”

Twenty

twenty

April pleaded her case once more to the woman behind the ticket counter. Brandy, her tag said. She could tell the smile Brandy wore was beginning to wear thin.

“Ma’am, that flight leaves in thirty minutes. You won’t even make it through security.”

“You don’t understand,” April said. “This is a matter of life and death. Literally life and death.”

“Overreacting isn’t going to make me help you,” Brandy said, scolding with a teacher’s tone.

“I’m not overreacting,” April said, her fuse an inch from detonating emotional dynamite.