Quicksilver

by Dean Koontz

Panthea looked each of us in the eyes, nodding as if confirming our identity by some sixth sense. “Quinn, Bridget, Silas who calls himself Sparky. I knew you would come. The squad is now complete.” “Squad?” I said. “One squad of many but no less important than the others. Each of us is an aluf shel halakha, with a great responsibility.” “We’re on a quest,” I said. “It’s nothing as simple as a quest,” Bridget said. “Isn’t it a quest?” I asked Panthea the seer. “Perhaps a quest, but not only a quest.” I was having none of that. “We find the equivalent of the Holy Grail, the Ark of the Covenant, the elephants’ graveyard, and then it’s done.” Sparky said, “What does that mean—aluf whatever?” “When you know why you are,” Panthea Ching said, “you will know what those words mean.” “Why I am? My mom and dad wanted a baby. That’s why I am. Now, please, Ms. Ching, what does aluf shell halibut mean?” “It means nothing to you now. In time it will.”