by Jill Jones
“But where’s the girl?” the officer wanted to know, sniffing the air. Nick saw the policeman shoot a sly look at his partner and hid his own grin, knowing the man was probably feeling some of the effects of the perfume. The uniformed man opened the suitcase. On top of the rest of her things lay her slender handbag, the contents of which he dumped onto the bed. Among them were her passport, money, a Louisiana driver’s license, cosmetics and a scribbled upon scrap of paper. It was obvious to everyone that Simone Lefevre had not just run out to the store for some last minute things.
Nick’s already overwrought nerves stretched until they hummed in his ears. “I don’t know where she is.”
The officer gave him an appraising look. “You have my card, Rutledge. If she doesn’t show up in twenty-four hours, we’ll need to talk to you.”
“If she doesn’t show up in twenty-four hours, I’ll be on your doorstep demanding you do something to find her,” Nick replied, glowering at the detective. “In the meantime, I’ll search for her myself.”
When the policemen turned their backs to rouse and handcuff Dupuis, Nick replaced the items into Simone’s small handbag and slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat. She should know better than to leave her purse in the apartment where it could be stolen by an intruder. He gave a short, ironic laugh. An intruder like himself? But he took it only to keep it safe for her until her return.
On his way out of the building, Nick handed the doorman a large tip for not having had the Triumph towed away. Then he settled behind the wheel, trying to decide what to do next. Had Simone just gone out for a few moments? Would she be back momentarily? He drove around the block several times until a parking space on the street became available and he slid into it. He needed to think, but he could think and keep an eye on the building at the same time, just in case she returned home.
But Nick knew intuitively that Simone wasn’t coming home. At least not back to that flat. He didn’t know what Dupuis had done to her, but it must have been a terrible threat for her to have left without her suitcase and handbag. Either that, or…he took the perfume bottle from his pocket. He remembered Mary Rose’s claims, in both her letters and the diary, that she believed this potion had the power to transport a person physically into the dreamworld. Had she been right? Was that what had happened when John Rutledge and Mary Rose Hatcher had disappeared on the same night from their homes half a world apart, their bodies never to be found? Could any perfume have such power?
Nick knew that was ridiculous. Yet, in his own dreams, he himself had been transported into another realm that was so intensely physically real he was tempted to believe now that it was possible. Had Simone overused the perfume and been physically transported into that alternate reality? Was she there at the moment?
Rubbish! Nick did not believe in that sort of hocus-pocus.
But then, he recalled the voice from his dreams, warning him against using the perfume to supplant reality.
“There is grave danger of becoming lost here.”
That voice. It had said something about a doorway, and becoming imprisoned, and…
“Your lady love visits her dreams too often as well.”
Lady love. John Rutledge’s favorite term for Mary Rose. Nick closed his eyes and fought his overwhelming desire to laugh at the ridiculous train his thoughts were taking—that the voice was that of his ancestor, John Rutledge, and that like John and Mary Rose, Simone had experimented with the perfume too often and become imprisoned in her dreams.
Nick knew his fear for Simone’s safety was eroding his reason. There was a logical explanation for all this, and likely it had to do with the hallucinogenic properties of the mahja. Nick made a note to take a specimen to Dr. Wheatley at his earliest opportunity. Perhaps Simone had overused the perfume and was experiencing some kind of hallucination that had made her leave the flat and wander off somewhere.
That thought gave Nick no comfort whatsoever. What to do? What to do? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. If she had wandered, where would she go? He took out her purse and went through her personal items again. There, on the slip of paper, was written: “Esther Brown,” followed by a telephone number with the same prefix as Brierley Hall. Nick thought a minute. Simone had told him she’d gone to an inn in Redford when she left the cottage. Had it belonged to this Esther Brown? Redford. It was a long way for a hallucinating woman to travel, but it was the only place he knew to look.
He dialed Brenda on his cell phone and told her he was going to be away for a while on an emergency. Thank God the woman could hold down any fort, any time, on any given notice. “If by chance a woman named Simone Lefevre should call, find out where she is, get her number, and call me right away.”
Then he dialed the number written on the scrap of paper. He let it ring more than a dozen times before disconnecting the call. Damn. With a last glance in the direction of the high-rise building, he made up his mind. He would go to Redford. Surely this Esther Brown would return home soon. Maybe with Simone.
These trips between London and Redford were becoming habitual, Nick thought as he turned into the traffic. He might as well move to Brierley Hall and commute. He kept trying the phone number from the cell phone, finally reaching Esther Brown just as he approached the Redford exit from the motorway. At first Mrs. Brown was reluctant to tell him anything other than that she’d had a recent guest by the name of Simone Lefevre, but when he identified himself, she seemed to ease up a bit.
“What do y’ want of her?”
There was much Nick wanted of Simone, including her love and forgiveness, but at the moment, only one thing mattered. “I want to know she is safe.”
“What’s happened to her?” Esther’s voice prickled with alarm.
“I don’t know. I hope nothing. But she’s missing from her flat in London. She hasn’t shown up for work, and…well, there are some, uh, unusual circumstances surrounding her disappearance.”
“Oh, dear,” the woman said. “I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
The hair at the back of Nick’s neck stood on end. What did the woman mean? “May I come to see you?” he asked. “I think we need to talk about this in person.”
Five minutes later, he was on Esther’s porch, and she opened the door before he could ring the bell. He could tell by the look of sick anxiety on her face that she cared very, very much for Simone.
Over the ceremony of tea, a ritual that served to anchor an otherwise insane and impossible conversation in reality, Nick listened to Esther’s story about her “craft ancestor,” and of the old woman’s firm belief that misuse of the perfume oil had cost Mary Rose and John their lives. “I…I think it’s likely that our lovely Simone might have done the same.”
“But why?” Nick was in agony, not because he believed the woman, but because he felt so helpless.
“Because she loves you,” Esther said, leaning toward him, peering at him intently. “And because she believed that the only way she could be together with you was in dreams.”
Nick stared at her, stunned. “She…loves me?” he managed at last. “She told you that?” Surely it was he who was hallucinating now.
“She told me everything,” Esther said, patting his hand, grandmother style. “She wants to be with you, but she is afraid of getting hurt all over again.”
Nick’s heart lurched. “She has every right to feel that way,” he admitted, “but I swear I would never hurt her like that again. I know it sounds…insufficient, but I never meant to hurt her in the first place. I made a bloody awful mistake.” He looked up into the old woman’s eyes. “What can I do to make her believe that?”
“First, you have to find her.”
“I don’t know where to look.”
“You’ll find her in the dream world.”
Nick blinked. Batty. Esther Brown had to be nuts. But not wanting to offend her and wishing her solution made sense, he replied, “I have no way of entering that dream world now.” He produced the perfum
e bottle from his pocket. “She used all the perfume.”
Esther frowned and rocked back and forth for a long moment, as if considering something. “Wait here,” she said at last. “It will take me a little while. Pour yourself some more tea.” With that, she shuffled off in the direction of the kitchen.
Nick stared out into the garden while he waited. The beauty of the lush foliage and flowers belied the feeling of dread that gnawed at him. Why was he here, wasting valuable time on some old woman’s ridiculous plot when he should be…?
But he didn’t know where he should be. There was no other place he knew to look. Why not in the dreamworld?
His eyes focused suddenly on a nearby bush that looked familiar. Its gangly stems rustled in the early evening breeze, and upon them, lined in a symmetric row, were reddish buds just ready to burst into bloom. My God, the old gal’s got the mahja plant, right here in her garden, he realized, incredulous. That’s where Simone must have learned about the perfume. From Esther Brown.
Long minutes later, Esther reappeared through the doorway, carrying a small jar with her. “I gave Simone all the potion that had been handed down to me, hoping she could make more, so I don’t have any to give you. But I think maybe this might suffice.”
She handed Nick the jar, which appeared to be full of chopped red cabbage or radishes.
“What’s this?”
“Open the lid and smell it,” she said, watching closely.
Nick did as she bade him and instantly recognized the scent of the perfume. He also felt the familiar tingle of sexual arousal spread through his body, the effect he’d tried to duplicate and failed. “Where did you get this?”
“Th’ flowers are out there in the garden,” she replied openly. “I just chopped some of them up to release the fragrance.”
Just chopped them up. And they instantly gave forth with the sensual effect he had been struggling for weeks to chemically recreate. Nick shook his head. No way. She’d added something else to the mix as well. The elusive “magic” ingredient that gave the potion its power?
But he didn’t pursue it at the moment because the effect was strong and had him under its spell. “What should I do?”
“Take it home to Brierley Hall with you and use it…now, tonight, to find Simone.”
The country house was closed and dark. Nick was glad he hadn’t phoned the housekeeper ahead. What he was about to do defied all logic and reason, and he wasn’t anxious to have any witness to his madness.
Hurrying up the wide old staircase, he made his way quickly along the portrait-lined gallery to the bedroom at the back. The room had slept his ancestors for over two centuries, and now he claimed it as his own, along with the recently elongated Rutledge family bed, although both room and bed were seldom used. When he died, there would be no heir to this place, and he wondered briefly who would next inhabit this rambling old estate. Who would want it?
He stood in the doorway, feeling his heart battering against his ribcage, his breath washing heavily through his lungs. His nerves were taut, his libido on fire, not only from his recent whiff of the essence of the crushed mahja blossoms, but also in anticipation of what might soon take place.
Drawing the heavy curtains fully over the window to seal out the remaining daylight, Nick wondered if he had any hope of success. Was Simone trapped in the dreamland? Was she truly in danger? For these and a hundred other questions, he had no answer. The only thing he knew was, he had to try.
For Simone had told Esther she loved him, and for her love, he would go anywhere, do anything.
He placed the jar of mashed flower blossoms on the nightstand and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Simone loved him. Did he dare believe the old woman?
Nick tugged the tie away from his neck. He unbuttoned his shirt, remembering the deliciously passionate undressing Simone had given him the night she’d followed him home. He closed his eyes and groaned aloud. Did Simone love him? He prayed Esther was telling him the truth, for Simone was the only thing in the world that mattered to him anymore.
Simone.
He must find her.
Nick reached for the mysterious, powerful mahja blossoms and opened the lid to the squat jar. Would the essence of these few coarsely ground blossoms be strong enough to take him into the dreamworld? If he went there, would he find her? Would she want him to find her?
He closed his mind to further doubt and took a giant leap of faith.
Inhaling deeply, he called forth an image of Simone in his mind. He saw her, naked in the golden sun, lounging beside the triple pools that trickled pleasantly from one to the next, down the terraces of the white marble temple. He felt her desire for him, her anguish over their separation. He heard her silent plea for him to come to her.
His heart filled with such love and longing he feared it might break, and he knew he must embark upon this journey without delay. It was his only hope.
Already in a near-trance, Nick managed to remove the rest of his clothing and pull down the bedcovers. Slipping between the cool, crisp linen sheets, he lay back against the pillows and brought the jar of flower petals to his nose. He breathed in their scent again and again, until he felt himself drifting toward the edge of consciousness. The essence of the mahja oil fueled his already passionate desire for Simone as he entered the dreamworld, and he vowed he would not return until and unless he reclaimed the woman whose love he had once so foolishly thrown away.
He must not, would not, lose her again…
Nick surrendered his consciousness and dropped into the subtle, shifting haze of the dreamworld. But instead of arriving among the familiar swirling indigo mists, he was instead enveloped by a heavy, hushed silence, a thickness in the atmosphere he hadn’t experienced before. He hesitated, listening for a whisper, a sound that would let him know his beloved was nearby. But the only sound he heard was that of his furiously palpitating heart, echoing noisily in his ears.
“Come to me!” He summoned her with all his will, but no ethereal beauty heeded his call, and he sensed he was alone in this suddenly disquieting wilderness.
His eyes strained to see through the vapors, hoping to catch a glimpse of the graceful figure of the lover of his dreams. But he perceived only the changing shades of light and darkness that wove around him as the familiar colors of twilight comingled with brighter auroras he had not encountered before.
“Simone!” he called out again, panic rising in his breast. “Where are you? Will you come to me?”
The eerie whistle of a cosmic wind replied in a lonely, melancholy wail. Was he too late? Had she disappeared forever into the ether?
Nick closed his eyes and dropped his head back, struggling against the scream of despair that threatened to break from his throat. No! It must not be! He would not let it be!
Behind his closed eyes, he saw the image of Simone he’d brought to his mind before dropping off to sleep, and with it came the realization that she was not here, not in this dreamworld, because she was in that other realm, that holy, sacred space into which they had traveled together the night she had come to him.
The white temple.
He must go there, but he had no perfume to use to transport him into that higher plane. He had nothing, other than the love in his heart and his desperate desire that she be his always.
“I pray to all the powers in the Universe, help me!” he cried into the void of the encroaching gloom. “Help me find her! Help me!” At the same time, he summoned every ounce of the power of his own will to take him to the woman he knew he would love beyond eternity.
Suddenly, he was thrust abruptly and violently into a maelstrom as the muted, brooding mists swirled into a storm of vibrant colors—electric blue, gold, violet, ruby, indigo, white and the edge of midnight. He felt himself being swept into the vortex of an unnamable oblivion, and as if he were caught in a sandstorm on the desert, or in a blizzard in the Arctic, he was blinded by the totality of his surroundings. He was hurled through time and space, the
continuum of infinity, with only one thought in his mind, only one name on his lips.
Simone.
He held the image of her face in his mind and called out to her with all the love in his heart. “Simone!”
As suddenly as the storm came upon him, it was over, and as the mists parted, he found himself on cool stone steps. He was at the foot of the white marble temple. Above him, brilliant stars bejeweled the midnight sky. Below him a lush jungle forest glimmered in tropical splendor, and he knew therein lay a mystical glade he’d once visited.
He at last sensed her presence, and his heart rejoiced. Simone! He called out to her in the unspoken communication of the dreamworld. From far above, he felt the pull of a faint response, and he began to climb the tower of steps that suddenly appeared, chiseled from the crystal mountainside. When at last he reached the top he saw her, just as she was in his mental image, resting on the bench, waiting for him. Her lips curved upward in a dazzling smile when she saw him, and she stretched out her arms, inviting him to come to her.
“At last, you’ve come,” she murmured.
Nick ran to her, overcome with emotion. Her drew her into his arms and kissed her. The feel of her body next to his reassured him that she had come to no harm. “Oh, Simone, my love, my love,” he whispered his relief, kissing the words into her scent-sweetened hair. “I would have died if anything had happened to you.”
She raised her gaze to his and touched his cheek. “There is no need to worry now,” she said, returning his kisses tenderly. “Here we are safe and protected from all that has kept us apart.”
Nick nodded, tempted by her soft assurance to follow her lead. “Nothing will ever keep us apart again,” he told her.
“Make love to me, Nick.”
She wanted no fantasy pleasuring as she drew him down against her on the cloud-soft bench. His every sense seemed filled to overflowing as he moved to honor her desire, and his own. He felt the heat of the sun’s golden white light penetrating his skin, warming them and releasing the lovely and familiar scent of flowers into the atmosphere. He tasted the hunger in her kisses for the love they had denied each other for so long, and as he entered her, he heard a light and lilting exclamation escape her lips, as if she were rejoicing in their oneness.