Ancient Illusions

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Oxford, England

Thunder shook the bedroom window.

Ceinwen Davies opened her eyes as lightning flashed, illuminating the dormitory room with its two beds, two bureaus, two desks, and one tiny closet. The room was yellow, with a sheer white curtain covering the lone window. Beyond that, everything was tasteless and utilitarian.

Her roommate, Rachel Gooding, tossed more vigorously with each peal of thunder. It wouldn’t be long now, Ceinwen thought.

“No!” Rachel awoke and sat bolt upright in her bed.

Ceinwen let out the breath she’d been holding. Right on time. “Are you okay, Rachel?” She asked as she switched on a bedside lamp.

Rachel had clamped both hands over her mouth as if she hoped to belatedly silence her cries. Her eyes were wide, frightened. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, lowering her hands. “It was a nightmare. Another stupid nightmare.”

“It’s okay. Everything will be all right. The storm will abate soon. It may have already.”

Rachel drank some water, then lay back in the bed. “I hope so.” Her voice was tiny. She rolled over to face the wall, but Ceinwen knew it would be at least an hour before the girl settled down enough to go back to sleep.

Ceinwen looked around the spartan space before shutting the light and lying down again, wondering for the umpteenth time what she should do, if anything, about this situation.

She was Welsh, something she never grew tired of pointing out to people who tried to pronounce her name “Sign-win” or some other such oddity. “Kane-when” was as close as most people could get to the real pronunciation. Tall and attractive, with lush dark auburn hair and large eyes the color of jade, she had grown up in Cardiff where her father owned a pub, and her two older brothers were trying to make a living by running one of the few remaining textile mills in Wales. They nearly went bankrupt a few years back, but an uptick in the economy that brought a public willing to spend big bucks on quality, handmade Welsh woolens saved them. Ceinwen had no idea why her brothers found such a life fulfilling.

She didn’t. After attending the University of Cardiff, one of the top schools for journalism in the UK, she left home with her degree and never returned except for holidays, funerals, and weddings. That was eleven years ago.

Her dream was to see the world. She first went to Copenhagen where she found a job with the UK’s Daily Mail. To her surprise, her editor discovered she had an extraordinary ability to ferret out unexplained, potentially paranormal happenings. As a result, he sent her to cover stories about the supernatural throughout Europe. She could often provide her readers with plausible explanations to debunk claims being made. The most common explanation had to do with an overabundance of liquor, and once, with a secret test being conducted by a government entity.

She soon began scouting the globe for other strange phenomena. One of the most interesting, unfortunately too far from her territory for the newspaper to send her to investigate, was a bizarre occurrence that took place in the United States – hardly an area known for paranormal happenings.

Two years earlier, eight students and teachers from Boise State University in Idaho, led by a well-respected visiting professor of anthropology named Dr. Lionel Rempart, traveled to the interior of the state and disappeared. While conducting a massive search, an elite search party also vanished. Not until several months later did the few survivors, three members of the university group and three of the searchers, make their way back to civilization.

That so many individuals could vanish caused rampant speculation among paranormal experts. Their curiosity worsened when none of the survivors would talk about what had happened while they were missing.

Ceinwen wanted to know their story and periodically checked to see if any new information was available. She even set up news alerts on her phone. She knew that the sheriff who led the search had returned to his job, but the others had dropped from the public’s radar.

Then, eight months earlier, while at her desk in Copenhagen, an alert sounded directing Ceinwen to a small article in an Idaho newspaper mentioning that Rachel Gooding, one of the survivors, had been awarded a full scholarship to Oxford University’s graduate program in archeology … or archaeology, as the British spelled it.

Ceinwen could hardly believe her luck. One of the people she most wanted to speak to would be in her own backyard.

She requested permission to audit some of Oxford’s archeology classes. When the request was denied, she pulled every string she could think of, and was finally given approval to sit in on some lectures. The newspaper granted her request for a year’s leave of absence to conduct and develop this undercover research.

Once at Oxford, she tracked down Rachel Gooding. The girl was shy and awkward, but frighteningly brilliant. It was no mystery why the school awarded her a full scholarship. Also, it was the first time she’d traveled outside the US. She appreciated Ceinwen’s friendly attention since most of the other students found her somewhat odd.

To Ceinwen, Rachel’s background was almost as fascinating as her lost-in-the-wilderness experience. She had grown up on a farm in Eastern Idaho, near Utah, and was a member of the Church of Latter-Day Saints. Ceinwen once saw Book of Mormon in a London theater, but other than that, the religious group was a complete mystery to her.

Rachel willingly talked to Ceinwen about her home and religion, but whenever the topic of her disappearance came up, she said she couldn’t discuss it. Ceinwen explained to Rachel that she had been a journalist whose work mainly involved paranormal phenomena, and because of that she knew of Rachel’s experience in Idaho. Rachel had been amazed that anyone in England would have heard of it. Ceinwen then added a “white lie” to the story. She told Rachel she was tired of being a reporter, and since archeology interested her, she had returned to study it.

Ceinwen soon grew fond of the reserved young woman, and when she learned how little money Rachel had, she offered to room with her to cut expenses. It wasn’t complete altruism, of course. Rooming together gave more chance for Rachel to let something slip about her Idaho experience. Ceinwen was still waiting.

Ironically, Ceinwen believed she, more than Rachel, had been the one most affected by their friendship. Most people Ceinwen had dealt with over her years as a reporter had a devious streak a mile wide. Rachel helped her remember how likable and innocent people could be. She made Ceinwen feel like a cynic and a fraud, and had Ceinwen thinking journalism might not be the right field for her to be in.

But then, about three weeks earlier, Rachel began having terrible nightmares. At first, just a few, but now they hit every night. Although Rachel wouldn’t say what she was dreaming about, it was clear to Ceinwen that the dreams were growing increasingly violent. It now had reached the point that Rachel was afraid to go to sleep, and once awakened by a nightmare, often remained awake the rest of the night. Her professors noticed her exhaustion and increasingly unhealthy pallor.

The last few days, Rachel began taking sleeping pills. They did nothing to stop the nightmares. Ceinwen feared it wouldn’t be long before Rachel increased the dose and started on the path to dependency.