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“His ultimate role is to act as nature’s consort, to maintain societal order while communing with the sacred feminine around us to ensure the prosperity of his clan. That’s why six brides are needed. There are numerous explanations for why the number six is significant. It’s one of the most commonly used numbers in symbology and is considered a ‘sacred number’ by mystics of various religions. But the pagans were pretty literal in their sacrifices. If they were requesting the gods’ favor in an upcoming battle, they filled a wicker structure with a bunch of enemy prisoners and burned it. For a big rebirth, you need a bunch of brides and to call on all the gods to bless the ceremony.”
“So it’s an ancient secret society instead of the typical cult that preys on disaffected youth and outcasts,” Nelson summarized, but Nox shrugged as he chewed and swallowed a bite of his burger. It was gloriously greasy and cheesy.
“I’m gonna guess that it’s both. An ancient secret society can’t survive without foot soldiers to spread the word and keep the faith, right? And a high priest isn’t kidnapping his own brides. He’s too busy and too important to risk exposing so he’d have to rely on his most fanatical acolytes. This faux ancient cult needs a regular, run-of-the-mill brainwashed cult to thrive and it has one. We’ve found proof of that today.”
“Jesus,” Nelson whispered.
“Not this time!” Nox corrected. “This cult is older than that and they’re riding hard for the Dagda.”
“I’m still confused about whether they’re worshiping the Dagda or a druid priest who thinks he can become the Dagda.”
“He’s kind of like the Dalai Lama as far as I can tell,” Nox explained. “Or the Avatar if you’re cool and watch cartoons,” he attempted, raising his brows at Nelson hopefully. He blinked back at Nox, silently waiting for him to continue. “Anyways,” Nox said with a disappointed sigh. “This would have been so much easier to explain. The Tuath Dé had an equivalent to the Pope or the Dalai Lama and they are traditionally descended from one line. I…” Nox’s eyes flicked upwards as he checked his conscience. “I strongly doubt that the current leader could be a descendant of that ancient and extinct line. But whoever it is, he wants his followers to believe he is the Dagda’s representative and can physically channel or become the vessel of the Dagda, bringing about the end of mankind and saving the earth.”
There was a long silence before Nelson let out a hard snort. “I think we can safely assume this guy isn’t destined to be the vessel of a god.”
“That’s a pretty safe assumption,” Nox concurred, surprised and rather satisfied as he dragged a fry through a glob of ketchup. Nelson was handling the news well and was taking Nox seriously.
“And whoever has abducted these girls is going to be a fanatic but expendable,” Nelson said, clutching his stomach in distress even though he hadn’t had more than two toast triangles.
“I would say that’s a pretty safe assumption as well. This person can easily select victims who fit into an extremely rare category. Do you know how uncommon natural redheads are? How do you find seven of similar age, height, and build so quickly and within a small radius? We’re talking about three or four states, but how easy is that to pull off around the Beltway?”
“It would be easy to jump from state to state to delay detection and ensure the FBI’s attention when you wanted it.” Nelson was quiet for several moments before shaking his head. “This is way too big. There’s no way Felton doesn’t set me on fire and shut this whole thing down. Unless he decides it’s a chance for the bureau to shine. Then, he’ll give it to whoever his favorites are at the moment.”
Nelson’s weary certainty and the defeated look in his eyes sparked Nox’s generally dormant temper. Nox had heard the rumors about himself and had put up with the cynicism and mockery at the FBI because he didn’t believe in burning bridges. And he thought it was all rather funny and harmless. But Nox had powerful connections and some serious people owed him favors. It was time to call on those friends and throw his family’s weight around because Nelson’s suffering had gone on long enough.
“Nope,” Nox stated firmly, sitting back and folding his arms over his chest. “Felton doesn’t get to choose if the FBI cares about seven girls. They’re about to care a hell of a lot and they won’t be able to do this without me. And I’m not working with anyone else but you,” he added with a defiant nod.
Nelson’s brows jumped. “Is that so?”
“Unless you’d rather go back to whatever it was you were doing yesterday, Agent,” Nox challenged and Nelson didn’t hesitate.
“I want in,” he replied, his tone doing little to convey enthusiasm. “You could probably call me Nelson. Everyone does.”
“You don’t go by Grady?”
There was a soft grunt and Nelson’s hand pressed against his stomach again. “That’s my father. My mother would now and then, but even she called me son or Nelson most of the time.”
“She’s passed?” Nox asked gently, earning a tight nod in return. “I’m sorry, Nelson. I lost my mom when I was twelve and my dad died in an accident five years ago.” He didn’t smother the catch in his throat or blink away the tears blurring his eyes, letting Nelson see how much he understood his grief.
He nodded a bit more loosely, but Nox sensed that Nelson was studying him, more than sympathizing with him. “We weren’t that close but she was a good woman and she loved me. Both of your parents were anthropologists and specialized in iconography and the occult.”
“Is that in your notepad or did it ‘stick’ as well?” Nox asked, not at all facetiously.
For a moment back in the forest, there had been something far more fascinating than the crime scene. Nox hoped he had what it took to solve the evil riddle tied to the tree. He had caught a couple of noteworthy cases involving cults and proved that a few killers were frauds when they claimed to be possessed by ancient demons. Nox had never encountered anything as big and as densely iconic as this, though. Within every symbol was a breadcrumb that Nox could miss. But he had the best shot out of any of his peers or anyone else on the bureau’s payroll.
From the moment Nelson walked into Nox’s lecture he had presented a very different and delightfully vexing riddle. The breadcrumbs led Nox to a staggeringly efficient mind and it was luminous. For Nox, the sedate agent radiated enough burning curiosity and intelligence to light up the entire crime scene and forest.
“Can I ask you something?” Nox whispered, leaning over his plate. He hoped that was enough to convey his curiosity but Nelson continued his silent blinking. “What are you…into?” His hand rolled vaguely.
“Into?”
Nox cleared his throat and wiggled his brows suggestively. “I can usually tell but there are no vibes coming from you,” he explained. “And you’re as neutral as your basic suits and standard issue high and tight.”
The furrow had made its return to Nelson’s brow. “How is that relevant to the investigation?”
“You just said this was going to be big. That means we’ll be working together for…weeks. Maybe months,” Nox said and Nelson made another pained sound. “I can’t get much of a read off of you and I want an idea of what I’m getting into. Seems like I should find out more since you’ve obviously memorized everything about me,” he pointed out with a loaded look. “That wasn’t exactly relevant to the investigation.”
“It was relevant to your credibility as an expert and I like to know who I’m taking responsibility for when I vouch for them at crime scenes.”
