From the Beginning: Uncommon Bonds, #3

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FROM THE BEGINNING

Uncommon Bonds – Book 3

Copyright © 2023 William E. Noland

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ISBN (EPUB Version): 1622537181

ISBN-13 (EPUB Version): 978-1-62253-718-1

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Editor: Lane Diamond

Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Interior Designer: Lane Diamond

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PUBLISHER’S NOTE:

At the end of this novel of approximately 117,919 words, you will find two Special Sneak Previews: 1) DAY OF JUDGMENT by William E. Noland, the next installment (Book 4) of the Uncommon Bonds series of supernatural thrillers, and; 2) DEVIL’S DANCE by Jeff Altabef, the second novel in the multiple award-winning A Nephilim Thriller series of religious fantasy thrillers. We think you’ll enjoy these books, too, and provide these previews as a FREE extra service, which you should in no way consider a part of the price you paid for this book. We hope you will both appreciate and enjoy the opportunity. Thank you.

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eBook License Notes:

You may not use, reproduce or transmit in any manner, any part of this book without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews, or in accordance with federal Fair Use laws. All rights are reserved.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

Books by William E. Noland

UNCOMMON BONDS

Book 1: Playing with Fire

Book 2: Hammer to Fall

Book 3: From the Beginning

Book 4: Day of Judgment [Fall 2023]

Books 5-6 in planning and development.

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William E. Noland’s Website

What Others Are Saying About This Series

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PLAYING WITH FIRE (Book 1):

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"Playing with Fire by William E. Noland is a fascinating and exciting story that has depth and different cultural references. This shows how much effort the author put into the story and added to the already amazing writing and plot. I really loved how the narrative switches between Lotte and Eric to the creature, as we don’t often see the perspective of the monster in novels. It gives the story a unique edge and helped with the progression of the plot overall. The characters were also so well described, each with a distinct personality, but with plenty of room to grow. This was a fantastic story and I enjoyed it very much. I would definitely recommend this book to any fans of the fantasy genre." ~ Readers’ Favorite Book Reviews, Miche Arendse (5 STARS)

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"I seldom read a book and start laughing out loud, but with Playing with Fire... this happened more than once. If you like adventure and humor, you will love Playing with Fire by William E. Noland. The vivid descriptions of the characters in the plot make it easy to imagine everything; I really could see the monster before me. Eric’s inner monologue is extremely amusing and made it possible for me to feel a deep connection with this character. Eric also grew as a character immensely throughout the book and it was exciting to see who he became as a person later on. Waiting for the next book is going to feel like an eternity. I can’t wait to read more about these characters who later on felt like friends." ~ Readers’ Favorite Book Reviews, Antoinette Wessels (5 STARS)

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"Playing with Fire by William E. Noland started with the entity talking and, I must be honest, I was confused and also immediately intrigued. I wanted to know more about this entity. I just kept turning the pages and could not put it down. The chapters alternated between Lotte and Eric, and the entity, and flowed naturally into each other. The story was fast-paced and very interesting and kept me on the edge of my seat... I enjoyed reading Playing with Fire and recommend it to readers who love supernatural thrillers. You are not going to stop after this one; you are also going to want to read the other stories in the series." ~ Readers’ Favorite Book Reviews, Alma Boucher (5 STARS)

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This is hard to put down. You just keep wanting to know what will happen next. An unlikely friendship develops into a story that keeps evolving as it goes along. Very imaginative and interesting writing. Somehow Mr. Noland seamlessly connects the past and present for an adventure that will keep you wanting more. A mixture of history, myth and fantasy that stands with any fiction writer today. ~ Rick Moser

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This was my first time reading something in this genre, and I really enjoyed it! Excellent writing, fast-paced action and great character development. Can’t wait for the next one! ~ Robyn R. T.

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I really enjoyed reading this book. It’s one of those novels that keeps you up past your bedtime because you can’t wait to find out what's going to happen next! The characters are rich and well rounded, and Eric’s internal dialogue often had me laughing out loud. I found myself really growing attached to Eric and Lotte, and even sympathizing with the monster. Overall, a great read. Looking forward to Book 2! ~ J. V. Francescato

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The story is split between today and a dark time in the past. I love Lotte. She is her own person. It is interesting to watch her transformations and how they affect Eric. He wonders throughout the story whether he is in love, or is it just a friendship. Either way, the author keeps you guessing because it always takes two to tango. Does Lotte feel the same way? The question should be CAN Lotte feel love? The storyline builds suspense and it is a mystery to the reader, you just know the two worlds eventually collide. And when they do! WATCH OUT. ~ Michael N. Ruggiero

BONUS CONTENT

We’re pleased to offer you not one, but two Special Sneak Previews at the end of this book.

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In the first preview, you’ll enjoy the first chapter of DAY OF JUDGMENT by William E. Noland, the next installment (Book 4) of the Uncommon Bonds series of supernatural thrillers.

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Coming Fall 2023

FIND LINKS TO YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER HERE:

UNCOMMON BONDS Series at Evolved Publishing

In the second preview, you’ll enjoy the First 4 Chapters of DEVIL’S DANCE by Jeff Altabef, the second novel in the multiple award-winning A Nephilim Thriller series of religious fantasy thrillers.

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GOLD MEDAL WINNER:

Readers’ Favorite Book Award - Fiction - Christian - Fantasy/Sci-Fi

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OR GRAB THE FULL EBOOK TODAY!

FIND LINKS TO YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER HERE:

A NEPHILIM THRILLER Series at Evolved Publishing

Table of Contents

Copyright

Books by William E. Noland

What Others Are Saying About This Series

BONUS CONTENT

Table of Contents

Dedication

FROM THE BEGINNING

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Special Sneak Preview: DAY OF JUDGMENT by William E. Noland

Acknowledgements

About the Author

More from William E. Noland

More from Evolved Publishing

Special Sneak Preview: DEVIL’S DANCE by Jeff Altabef

Dedication

To Nick, Sharon, Chris, Valerie, and Tess, and to bonds reborn.

Prologue

I am fleet as feather, fierce as flesh, staunch as stone.

Forged by a god, then gifted to his son, who became my master, I served both with savage loyalty. By their decree, thousands died.

Countless more knelt before our unyielding might. But fortunes change more rapidly than the surging eddies of the Southern Winds. When my master became imprisoned for his perceived avarice, all for me went still and silent... until now.

Once again, I am fleet as feather, fierce as flesh, staunch as stone.

This night, I am reborn.

Chapter 1

Radicofani, Italy (roughly eight miles west of Sarteano), August 2015

Try to hold it steady! You’re wiggling it around too much! Lotte’s words resounded like the sound of dumpsters being loudly emptied by spiteful trash collectors at 4:00 a.m.

Eric took an extremely deep breath. This was not going as planned, but then very little had gone as planned so far on this, his and Lotte’s first big vacation together. He froze in place and glared at her where she crouched by the laptop and the rack of data collection equipment.

He struggled mightily to maintain his composure. Can you remind me what this contraption is called?

It’s the WHG, Eric. You know this. With her German pronunciation, WHG sounded like vey-ha-gay.

Yeah, I do, but humor me. What does WHG stand for again?

She heaved a great sigh of frustration. She was already covered with sweat, and it wasn’t even noon.

Under the Tuscan sun, indeed!

After three days of this, she looked like a boiled lobster. Even copious sunblock and an oversized Aussie safari hat couldn’t save her pale skin from the fierce solar bombardment, and it definitely wasn’t improving her mood.

"Alter! It’s the Werner Hand Gehalten! I’ve told you this before. Can you please just hold it steady? And remember, take exactly equal steps... one second each... and keep the sensor about six inches from the ground. Scheiße! We have to start this pass again!"

Not wishing to make the situation worse, he restrained a bitter laugh and backtracked to the starting point. "Well, reviewing our joyous German lessons, I seem to recall that Hand Gehalten means ‘hand-held,’ right? Last time I checked, hands tend to move around, particularly when you’re walking over rough terrain. In other words, I’m holding the damn thing as steady as I can while I help you get all these readings... sweetheart."

Her tone changed to one of dismay as she fiddled with the settings on the computer. Oh, I know! I’m sorry. This is all such a disaster. We were supposed to have plenty of time, but that ridiculous train strike threw everything off schedule. Stupid Italians!

On this, she’s right. Well, about the train strike, anyway.

Eric had found the Italians to be lovely people, and he knew she was just venting. The WHG, however, was supposed to have arrived in Florence from Berlin five days ago. The plan had been to drive up from Murlo, near Poggio Civitate, where they were staying, get the device in Florence, and then go on to Sarteano.

The Werner Institut was sponsoring Lotte to give a talk at the upcoming WIA Conference in October, which would feature their new portable data collection technology. She got to pick the spot to survey, which was really too good to be true. Overtly, she chose Sarteano because of the ongoing digs around the Tomb of the Infernal Chariot, plus the fact that she and Eric had already planned a nice vacation in Italy. No matter that none of their intended program had included archaeological data collection, but that was a different issue.

Covertly, of course, this presented a perfect opportunity to survey the area around where Mason and Emilia had found Charun’s portal. Despite eating a good chunk of their vacation time, Lotte couldn’t pass up the chance. Even Eric had eventually agreed, if a bit begrudgingly, though he kept that to himself. Unfortunately, with the train strike, their schedule had been totally messed up. Things had gotten pushed back, and what was supposed to be done over four days had to be squashed into barely three, with only one day to get all the data around the once-buried temple.

The Sarteano samples for Werner had been collected over the past two days. Jose, who had taken over for Mason two years ago as Dig Supervisor, and some of his dig team helped out. All of them stood to benefit greatly if Lotte found anything.

Eric mostly just sat around and watched, sweltering in the intense heat.

Hey, if there were tents to set up, I’d have set them up.

Now, however, his services were required. They both worked secretly and frantically near the overlook that had washed into the river two years ago, hoping to find some indication where another nearby temple, presumably Vanth’s, might be buried, before the Werner equipment had to be packed up and shipped back.

I know you’re frustrated, he said, trying to calm both of them, but this thing isn’t so easy to use, and we’ve been at this for hours. I’m getting tired. I really am doing the best I can.

The WHG looked like a large metal detector, a square sensor about two feet on each side attached to a long pole with handles. The device was deceptively light, and an arm attached to a shoulder harness helped the operator with additional support, but it was still a tricky piece of equipment to wield manually. It could be mounted to a small chassis with four large wheels, but that only worked on pavement or extremely smooth terrain.

The WHG was essentially a feature-packed ground penetrating radar, or GPR, unit. It used triple-frequency stepped ultra-wideband electromagnetic pulses in the microwave band of the radio spectrum to map subsurface objects and structures up to almost fifty feet deep, depending on soil and other conditions.

Its sensors combined the advantages of pulse and stepped frequency radar, along with a magnetometer to measure concentrations of magnetic materials that might disrupt the radar readings, such as fine-grained clays and silts whose high electrical conductivity caused loss of signal strength, or dense, rocky, and heterogeneous sediments that scattered and weakened the GPR signal while increasing extraneous noise.

The device transmitted the data it collected to a nearby receiver, which was stored in a rack-case along with an amplifier, a specialized band-pass and spatial filtering module, and a spot for the removable laptop, with proprietary software that recorded the processed signals. The final scans would later be uploaded via an encrypted link to Werner’s mainframe in Berlin, for deep analysis by sophisticated artificial intelligence programs, and from which 3D stratigraphic models of the subsurface could be interpolated.

At least, that’s what Lotte had said. Eric didn’t pay too much attention to all the techno-geek talk.

Train strikes notwithstanding, the WHG was far cheaper and easier to employ than having to arrange aerial scans. The drawbacks were the relatively small effective range, due to the amount of data the device collected, and the fact that particularly rough areas might need many passes to get a steady and complete reading of the area. This made using the device somewhat tedious, but for taking detailed scans in the field, the WHG really was a revolutionary, reasonably portable, and imminently affordable apparatus. Werner had more powerful systems that operated on helicopters or drones, but they were vastly more expensive to set up and operate—not to mention less... well... secret.

I know, she replied. I’m tired too. This is all I’ve done for the past two days. Thankfully, Jose and the others helped out so I could take breaks. You’re doing fine, and I really do appreciate it. I’m just so wound up.

No shit.

She continued as she typed on the laptop. You’re supposed to be able to make multiple passes to get a larger sample size, which Werner’s AI modeling can use to create the most accurate image. With all the delays, though, we just don’t have time. We’ve already cancelled Siena, and we have to be in Florence tomorrow. All you’ve done for days is sit in Sarteano and wait. I’m ruining everything for you!

Eric halted once again. "Say what? What do you mean you’re ruining everything for me?"

She flashed him a look as though he was an idiot. I mean this isn’t what we planned. It was already bad enough that Werner cut into our time, but this delay has been awful. If Alberto and I hadn’t driven to Milan to get the stupid WHG, we’d probably still be waiting. That was a whole day lost, and you had nothing to do, on top of the past two while you were just sitting around.

Well, I basically knew it was gonna be like this. I’d have helped you and Jose if anyone had asked, but apparently you all had it under control. If you recall, I also offered to go to Milan. I’d have even driven. We have the car.

I know, she moaned, but Alberto knew the way and how to avoid all those ridiculous speed traps so we could move fast. Plus, he knew who to talk to at the station, and how. It just seemed silly to have you stuck in the car for eight hours, plus all that insane running around trying to find what train the WHG was trapped in. I thought you’d be happier here. Really, it was quite hopeless either way.

Perhaps. Alternatively, maybe you were just enjoying a little alone time with Alberto.

Even Eric had to admit this guy was pretty easy on the eyes, and he doted on Lotte as if she were the Queen of Tuscany.

Which, of course, she is, but Lotte’s ego doesn’t need that kind of stroking. Or does it? She seemed to be having a fine time when Alberto was around, laughing and smiling—no sign of the stress case she turns into when we’re alone together.

Eric wasn’t quite certain where all this was going. Leaving aside what was probably just petty jealousy, lately, it seemed things often followed this pattern—Lotte finding herself overcommitted, under stress, and feeling bad for neglecting him, and him feeling bad for asserting his minimal desires on a continuously overextended Lotte. It wasn’t always awful. In fact, it wasn’t really awful at all. It just felt like things had settled into something of a rut.

Those first months after Lotte relocated from Berlin, when they moved in together, had been amazing.

They don’t call it the honeymoon period for nothing. Yeah, it was crazy, buying stuff for the apartment, her getting set up at school, me finishing Margot’s training and then transitioning to a new Schneider project. But it felt like an adventure, and that we were in it together... like we were a team, and the strengths of our differing perspectives and temperaments always seemed to produce a mutually satisfying solution.

With so much emotional baggage seemingly behind them, they had finally been able to express the genuine joy they had in each other’s companionship, which they did—frequently— and to their great and mutual satisfaction. For Eric, it had been validation of what he’d come to realize: that this was who he was, and who he wanted to be, and that he’d been right not to equivocate or compromise, despite the potential for problems.

Unfortunately, all honeymoons eventually end, and all too soon, some of those potential problems started to manifest, especially as Lotte became increasingly involved with her program. It could have been worse. Her Master’s of Research degree was largely independent, and her focus on computational archaeology involving data analysis, geophysics, and geoinformation meant she didn’t need to spend as much time in the field.

On breaks and during the summer, Lotte did travel to Europe, where quantitative archaeological techniques seemed to be more prevalent, though Harvard was trying to change that by taking her on as a star student. She’d spent most of this past June in Berlin at Werner, which was hard on both of them. With the vacation to Italy coming up, they’d both managed through it, but pressures on her time were increasing, and Lotte did plan to participate in more fieldwork, focusing on data collection, during the upcoming PhD portion of her program.

In some sense, it felt to Eric like this was the natural push and pull of a developing relationship, coupled with the stress of super-busy schedules.

Well, one super-busy schedule, anyway. Mine is more manageable.

Given that they had plenty of time to figure things out, he wasn’t in a panic about it. Just as his father had warned him, however, it was no picnic either, despite the fact that today they’d brought a lovely picnic lunch.

You really couldn’t miss with the food in Italy, and Eric had enjoyed his share. In truth, the day Lotte and Alberto went to Milan, Signora Nocenzi, who ran the B&B where they were staying, took pity on him and produced a wonderful lunch, which she drafted Eric into helping her prepare. Her English was spotty, but she got her points across with a few prods from a rolling pin, exhortations to various saints for patience and serenity, and no small amount of red wine. It was Eric’s best day in Italy so far, and he’d barely seen Lotte at all.

I think I’ll just keep that to myself, though. Especially since I had a little bit of Signora Nocenzi’s wine. Well, maybe more than a little bit.

He wished Lotte would just calm down, but that seemed to be against her nature, though not totally. Eventually, she would always crash, and they’d have a quiet day or two where she largely couldn’t get off the couch, or out of bed.

No problems with that!

In such moments, Eric became everything to her again. Those interludes sustained him, but he felt they were both struggling to solve the riddle of much of their other time together. Problems weren’t unanticipated pairing a tortoise with a hare, but the devil is always in the details, and how the specific patterns of their relationship would unfold were just now, after two years of living together, becoming apparent.

Eric lowered the sensor of the WHG to the ground. "Lotte, if you think you’re ruining everything for me because we missed Siena and I spent a couple of days sitting in Sarteano, you’re wrong. I think you care about all that stuff more than I do. You planned the whole itinerary anyway. Not that I had a problem with any of it, but you were more upset than I was when we had to move things around after Werner contacted you. Do you not get that all I want is to be with you? All I want is for us to have fun together. I don’t care if that means seeing the Uffizi or sitting all day in the sweltering sun watching you walk in corn-rows with your archaeology buddies. So, if you want to stay here longer to collect your data, the hell with Florence. I just want to be with you, but I want you to be happy while we’re together, not stressed-out ‘Fraulein Kommandantin Bossy Pants!’ Does that make any sense?"

She froze and squinted intimidatingly. Without taking her eyes from Eric, she removed her Aussie safari hat and wiped her brow. Eric, she said in a menacing tone, put down the WHG.

Umm, why?

"Because I’m going to kill you!" she squealed as she tossed her hat aside and launched to her feet.

Uh, oh! he yelped, as he quickly unhooked the handle from the harness and gently laid it in the grass before he skedaddled. Even with the delay, he had a bit of a head start, and he was taller and faster... but that was all theory. In practice, he could never outrun Lotte. By sheer force of will, she always caught up, and sure enough, he soon heard the pounding of her Euro-style Adidas close behind, then felt a tug at the back of his shirt. She pulled, and he surrendered into her arms, feeling the tight squeeze as she locked her hands around his stomach.

Eric, do you mean it? She pressed her head into his left shoulder, awakening memories of the pain from his battle with Charun, which only now was beginning to give way to near normalcy. Can we really stay another day, or two?

Of course, I mean it, he emphatically replied, even though the thought of potentially two more days of this made him grimace inwardly. If it makes you happy, it makes me happy. Florence will be there. We can come back. We have all the time in the world. Does this make you happy?

Yes, this makes me happy, and much calmer. Thank you so much. You know how much this means to me. She squeezed even more forcefully, and he had to tighten his abs to avoid having all the air crushed from his lungs. But now— She giggled. —what did you call me, you little shit?

Umm, I can’t remember. Running makes me forget stuff. Who are you again?

"Apparently, I’m Fraulein Kommandantin Bossy Pants! Are you going to take that back, or will I need to kill you after all?"

Hey, I just work here. You’ll need to take that up with the union.

The union? She seemed genuinely intrigued. You’re in a union?

Yeah, the IBLM. That’s my union.

Oh, this will be good, I’m sure. What does IBLM stand for?

The International Brotherhood of Lotte’s Minions. Proudly serving Lotte since 2005.

She gave a little whoop of a laugh and then whirled him around to face her. "Alter! 2005! That’s ten years this year. Can you believe we’ve known each other for that long?"

Only ten years? Feels like way more. Wow, you’re right. Pretty unbelievable. What will we do to celebrate?

Well, she said with a sly look, we have our picnic, and it’s getting close to lunch. How about we run down to the river to cool off before we eat?

Kuuuul off. Umm, I don’t think I brought my bathing suit, he sheepishly replied.

Neither did I, she said with a seductive grin, then turned and ran for the water.

As always, Eric followed.

Chapter 2

Somerville, Massachusetts, Saturday, October 10, 2015

Eric opened his eyes and glanced at the clock: 8:30 a.m.

Under normal circumstances, this would be cause for alarm, exactly why they had an alarm, typically set for 6:30. Today being Saturday, there was none of the usual rush to get anywhere. He planned to have lunch with Margot and Jessica, who were spending the day in Boston, and he had to pick up Lotte at the airport around 6:00 p.m. Otherwise, it was an unusually quiet day, and he spent a few more minutes lounging in bed before jumping in the shower.

When he emerged, the familiar strains of opera drifted up from the first floor. Obviously, Mrs. Binson was up and about, which reminded him he had some books of hers to return. He’d do that in a bit. Now, he needed coffee, though it never tasted as good when Lotte didn’t make it, even with the fancy new French press they’d bought recently in Boston’s North End. While the coffee steeped, he fed Langsam some berries. He’d take her out later if the weather cleared. Right now, it was lightly raining.

Don’t give me that look, he said to his turtle. I know you’d love going out in the rain, but I just got out of the shower. I don’t want to have to clean up again. Langsam just stared at him, non-plussed as ever.

He gazed out the window into the little backyard while he drank his coffee and ate his yogurt and Alpen with honey. The rain made things still, which he liked. Only the opera below broke the silence, a small price to pay for an unbelievably great living situation.

Gloria Binson’s husband, George, died in early 2013. An English professor at Tufts University, he’d only been in his early sixties when he suffered a fatal stroke. As it happened, the Binsons had already converted part of their second floor into an in-law apartment with a small kitchen when Gloria’s mother had lived with them. So, not wanting to move, Gloria decided to rent the upper floor, as much for company as income.

Mrs. Binson also volunteered at the Museum of Fine Arts, and knew Carolyn Booth, Mr. Schwarz’s girlfriend. When Lotte told her father she needed a place to stay near Harvard—and oh, by the way, that Eric would be living with her as well, which thankfully was A-Okay—Mr. Schwarz talked to Carolyn, Carolyn talked to Gloria, and that was pretty much that. The house on Rodgers Avenue was only a ten-minute bike ride to Harvard, and only a fifteen-minute walk to the Davis Square T stop, though Eric usually drove Lotte in when the weather was awful.

Much as it rankled her, Lotte owed one to Carolyn for hooking them up with such a nice place. For her part, Mr. Schwarz’s girlfriend was absolutely lovely, just as Lotte had said. Even ten years on, though, she still frequently brought up Dr. Esfahani, whom she’d known quite well. That always cast a bit of a shadow over otherwise enjoyable gatherings.

Eric had figured Carolyn would bring up the subject when he first met her, which she did. He was, after all, with Lotte at the MFA the last time Dr. Esfahani was seen.

Well, the last time that anyone knows about.

Somehow, the matter seemed to creep into many conversations, as if Carolyn felt a bond with Lotte and Eric over the loss of a mutual friend. He began to see why Lotte had been so annoyed by it two years ago, but they both simply had to endure, obviously more so now that they were in Boston and saw her father more frequently.

Big aria coming up.

When that was over, he planned to bring down Gloria’s books. He’d enjoyed Amy Chua’s Day of Empire about the correlation between tolerance along racial, ethnic, or religious dimensions during the rise of a hyperpower, and increasing intolerance as the hyperpower declined. Of course, no mention of Afrits or other supposedly mythical monsters in the rise and fall of the empires in the first place, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise. History definitely took a different slant for Eric, knowing what he knew.

He also found it interesting to re-read Freud’s Civilization and its Discontents ten years after Mr. Schwarz had loaned it to him. The key point that civilization exacted suffering on the individual by repressing aggressive instincts still came through, but Eric caught more this time, particularly the pervasive anti-religious sentiment, which hadn’t made such an impression when he read the book as a teenager. He found it ironic, because civilization had its birth in a society centered around religion, where the temples wielded both political and economic authority.

Perhaps more troubling, though, was Freud’s idea that humans are torn between Eros and Thanatos, the desire to live and the wish to die. Eric couldn’t really understand this, and frankly sort of found it to be bunk. Put more politely, perhaps, he felt this concept was simply too much a reflection of the pessimism of a man who had lived through a horrible war, saw the signs of another one likely rising, and who suffered with excruciating pain from the mouth cancer that would eventually push him to take his own life.

In any case, Eric still found some resonance with the idea that the benefits of civilization often came at a price.

Is Lotte really better off for her super-specialized intellectual pursuits? Is she happier for all this? Is she really even happy at all?

Eric could easily imagine himself living in a primordial paradise, lying around until hunt time, chasing down some game, then lying around again before the great feast. Not a lot of decisions to be made there. That would suit him perfectly, and as he’d learned, hunter gatherers had far more leisure time than people in the modern, industrialized world.

Why do we bend ourselves into pretzels like this, causing at minimum neuroses, and at worst psychoses? What the hell are we doing all this for? Flush toilets and smart phones? I’d happily kiss that shit goodbye, but at this point, it seems like it’s just too late to go back.

As good as it sounded, Eric knew he’d simply starve. He didn’t have the knowledge to live off the land in some small, nomadic band. Nor did the vast majority of others. That ship had sailed.

How the hell did we get started down this path in the first place?

Of course, greater minds than his probably didn’t know the answer either. So, he did what everybody else did and went with the seemingly inevitable flow. He did, however, find it interesting to ponder.

The aria ended, so Eric gathered the books and proceeded downstairs. The bathroom, kitchen, living room, and one bedroom of their apartment were at the back of the house behind a single door in the upstairs hallway. Gloria had happily let Lotte have the other upstairs bedroom, which faced the street for her study. It used to be the Binson’s daughter Melinda’s room, and its perfect location afforded quiet in the evenings when Eric was also home.

Well, perfect for Lotte anyway.

She spent countless hours in her little lair, sequestered behind the two doors that she now habitually closed for quiet. Eric often wished her study were better integrated with the rest of the apartment. He didn’t really have a place there, not even anywhere to sit down, and he felt it created a certain distance between them. Of course, this was all temporary while she was so busy in school, but school for her was like a lifetime—possibly up to ten years depending on how things went.

Two down, eight more to go? Yikes!

He walked by the open door across the hall and saw her desk piled high with books and papers, surrounded by similarly stuffed shelves. Even the floor had accumulated substantial piles of folders and notebooks. He wondered how the heck she found anything in this mess, but didn’t dare try to clean up.

That would really freak her out.

The door to Gloria’s apartment lay on the left at the bottom of the stairs, next to the main exit that led to the front porch. She rarely locked it, and often just left it standing open, encouraging Lotte and Eric to visit whenever they liked. Right now, it was closed, more likely to dampen the sound of the music than for any concern for privacy. Eric lightly knocked.

Come on in, it’s open!

He entered and found Gloria where he figured she’d be, sitting on the living room couch near the big front window, reading a magazine.

He smiled. Good morning. I wanted to return these books. Thanks for letting me borrow them. The Amy Chua was really good, like you said.

She smiled in return. Oh, it’s my pleasure. Have a seat. Do you want anything to drink? I hope the music wasn’t bothering you.

No, I’m good. I just had coffee. And the music was fine. I was in the shower when you started, so you didn’t wake me up.

Oh, good. You two are so quiet, I can’t believe it. Sometimes I forget you’re up there. Don’t you ever listen to music?

He laughed. Well, Lotte does. She has a lot of old vinyl records of bands that I think are weird. She listens to them wearing headphones in the rare instances she has time. I’m not much of a music fan, and the little I like is pretty mellow. So, the loudest sounds you’re likely to get from us is Lotte, furiously typing.

She really is a go-getter. Where is she? I thought I saw you two leave in the car yesterday and she had a bag with her.

Yeah, I took her to the airport. She had to go down to the University of North Carolina for a couple of days.

Didn’t they have that big storm down there? Hurricane Joaquin that we got some rain from on Wednesday?

Yeah, I don’t think it hit the Raleigh area that bad. It was more South Carolina and the coast that got nailed. Anyway, they didn’t cancel the conference, and I got a text from her last night saying she got in fine.

Well, that’s good. So, she’s attending a conference down there?

Actually, she’s the featured speaker today, giving a big presentation this morning, probably starting right around now. She’s presenting the results of the Werner data we collected when we were in Italy a couple of months ago.

Incredible! That’s so exciting. Did you find anything?

No, not really, he glumly replied.

They’d sent the results back to Berlin for AI scrutiny, and the Sarteano samples had come up negative. Even more disappointing was that the data from the river Lotte had quietly slipped to her friend Jürgen for some surreptitious after-hours analysis had also produced nothing. The site had clearly been occupied. There was evidence of a narrow road or path leading up the hill on the north side, and the WHG had detected some small items buried in the soil. But if Vanth had an underground portal chamber like Charun’s, its location would remain a mystery for now.

It’s okay, though. She still had plenty to talk about in terms of the process of data collection and technical analytics. That’s what the lecture was really about.

Gloria seemed impressed. I’ll bet she did. I’ll bet they’re all buzzing about the big robbery too.

What are you talking about? I haven’t had the TV on this morning.

Oh, my, there was a big robbery at the Louvre in Paris. Actually, it seems like they did more damage than steal things. Somebody broke a display case, and it looks like they only took one thing, some kind of old stone mace.

Eric shuddered slightly, thinking of Charun’s hammer. But Charun is gone... right?

The incredible thing, though, Gloria continued, was that they somehow got out through a glass ceiling in some covered courtyard. Nobody knows how they got up there, or why they chose that way to get out, but there was broken glass everywhere. Apparently, they used some kind of electrical pulse that disabled all the power and security cameras in that wing of the building, so there’s no video. I guess a guard heard the noise and triggered something manually in another part of the building. The whole complex was going off like a thousand car alarms for two hours.

When did this happen? he asked, utterly amazed and secretly somewhat concerned about what it might mean.

It would have been about three a.m. their time, so about nine last night ours.

"Wow. I was in bed finishing that