11
Toledo, Spain.
It was dusk by the time Morgan and Martin left the synagogue and headed toward the house marked with a hamsa upon the map.
The old city was quiet away from the throng of tourists. There were few street lamps, but Morgan was happy to walk in the shadows, where memories of those driven out still haunted the stones in layers of bloody history. She clutched the key in her hand, ready to enter the old house as a representative of a Jewish family beyond the grave. But more than that, she was curious to see what the relic room held.
Morgan wasn't actually Jewish – her mother had been a Christian – but she was raised in Israel with her father, a Kabbalist Jew. The Catholic faith still puzzled her with its extravagant images of saints with the faces of the dead instead of an i
