“I continued southward, into the kingdom of Aksum, and then beyond kingdoms. At last I came to the banks of the Zambezi River. It reminded me of my own river, the Nile. From the tribes along the riverbank, I heard stories of an ancient civilization that had flourished inland, in a mountainous country. I followed these threads of story, traveling from tribe to tribe. At last I reached the tribal lands of the Amahaggar. It was the chief himself who led me to the entrance of that kingdom within the mountain. ‘We do not go here anymore,’ he told me. ‘We do not wish to disturb our ancestors’ ghosts. But you, priestess of the River Goddess’—for that is how they understood my description of Isis, who resembled their goddess of the Zambezi—‘for you it may be the home you seek.’ And so it was. Among those silent halls I found, not papyrus scrolls, but stone tablets filled with ancient wisdom, for the Kôrites had their own philosophy, their own alchemy. They had been great miners, and I studied their knowledge of the Earth, of minerals and rocks. The stones of the Earth have their own energic powers, which modern civilizations are beginning to understand. That is why, after millennia, the British came, and the Belgians, and the Germans—those savage tribes, the Gauls and Franks and Goths, now in Africa to ravage an ancient world they did not understand. And one day, they brought me Leo and Holly.”
“I had been asked to go by the British East Africa Company,” said Professor Holly in his deep voice. He looked down into his coffee cup as though it contained something of import, but Catherine could see that it was empty, except for the dregs of his coffee. “They had stumbled upon some of the ruins of Kôr among the foothills, including the tomb of a Kôrite queen. On her head was a crown made of gold, with rough diamonds in it as large as those found in the mines of South Africa. They hoped that if they could translate some of the texts in the tomb, they would find information about ancient mines—particularly of gold and diamonds. I am a linguist—they had heard of my work deciphering the languages of the ancient world. So they paid for me to take a leave of absence from Cambridge and travel to Africa. I brought Leo, who had been my ward since he was a child. He had been the son of my best friend, who died, alas, too young. Leo was no scholar—indeed, if I had not continually urged him to attend to his studies, I believe he would have spent all his time on the cricket fields or sculling along the Cam.”
Leo Vincey smiled—the first genuine smile Catherine had seen on his face. For the first time since she had met him in the Café New York, when she and Mary had tried to warn him and Horace Holly about Professor Van Helsing’s dastardly plans, he looked human and likeable.
“Poor Horace,” he said. “I was such a disappointment to you. I could never concentrate on learning my Greek declensions—and when you wanted me to study Sanskrit! No, there was only one thing that interested me at university, besides sports.…”
“What was that, Mr. Vincey?” asked Beatrice.
Girls, thought Catherine. I bet that’s what he’s going to say. He looks just the type.
“Geology, Miss Rappaccini. Even as a boy, I had been fascinated by the theories of Charles Lyell. I had climbed all over the rock formations around Cambridge, studying strata. Our housekeeper had to dust around my collection of rocks. I took my degree in geology, much to Horace’s chagrin. He would rather I had been a sedentary scholar, like himself, but I preferred to climb things. I was working for a mining company in Wales when he was offered the opportunity to travel to East Africa. I immediately threw up my job and offered to accompany him. It was my fault we were captured by the Amahaggar, but I wanted to explore the caves of Kôr without the interference of the East Africa Company representative, who was interested only in prospecting. He did not give a damn about the history or geology of the region except to the extent there was gold or diamonds involved. So at my insistence, we rode into the hills by ourselves, with only a pair of sturdy ponies—directly into an ambush!”
“The Amahaggar initially welcomed the British,” said Ayesha, frowning at him—but Catherine thought it was an affectionate frown. “They had an ancient tradition of hospitality. But when they realized that their forests were being burned for coffee plantations, that the animals on which they depended for food were being shot by big game hunters who would cut off trophies and leave the meat rotting in the fields, they became significantly less welcoming. They started fighting back. They were right to capture you,” she said. “You were encroaching on their land.”
“I conceded that long ago, my love,” he said. “And I thanked you, if you remember, for saving our lives.”
“I should have let them run their spears through you,” she said, shaking her head and smiling with pursed lips. “Except they would not have done that. The Amahaggar had no tradition of killing except in war. Criminals were exiled, not executed. Not knowing what to do with these two, they brought them to the caverns deep in the Earth where I lived and studied the ancient teachings of Kôr. And then I saw Leo.…”
She looked at him. For a moment, it was as though they were the only two people in that room. It felt so intimate that Catherine wondered if she should turn away.
“He was the image of Kallikrates—as though my beloved had come back to life. I do not know what happens to the spirit after death. I know that the energy of which we are made returns to its source. Can it be embodied again, thousands of years later? Pythagoras thought so. It seemed to me that, just as I was beginning to feel old and tired, just as I was thinking of ending my life upon this Earth, Kallikrates had returned from the dead.”
“What do you think, Mr. Vincey?” asked Clarence. He was looking at them both closely. Well, he had his own complicated romance to figure out—no wonder he was interested in this one! He too was in love with a beautiful, dangerous woman.
“When I saw you,” Leo said to Ayesha, “it was as though I had seen you before, in a dream or another lifetime. I recognized you at once as the woman I loved, and would love until the day I died.”
This was getting… intense. Catherine felt a little uncomfortable. Should they really be listening to this?
“So you came back with him to Budapest?” said Clarence to Ayesha.
“To Vienna, where the Société des Alchimistes was headquartered at the time. The Amahaggar were being driven away from their traditional hunting grounds, into the mountains of the interior. I knew that even if we stood together, we could not prevail against the British—there was little we could do against the guns and explosives of the British East Africa Company. Before I left, I told the chief and his counselors to head north to Ethiopia, where European rule had not yet encroached. I hoped that there the descendants of Kôr could survive the depredations of the European powers. And I was intrigued by Holly’s descriptions of the scientific advances that had been made in the last century. It seemed to me that the age of darkness had passed, and men were once again studying the world empirically. The knowledge of the ancient world was being regained, and discoveries were being made that even the priestesses of Isis had known nothing about. Holly was giving a paper at the annual meeting of the Société des Alchimistes on the ancient sciences of Kôr, so Leo and I accompanied him. The former President of the Alchemical Society was about to end his term. He was old and did not wish to seek reelection. Count Dracula wanted to be the next president. I decided to run against him—and won. And now here I am. The world I knew disappeared a long time ago—my mother, my father, my brother and sisters. The priestesses of Isis, Heduana, and Tera. My city of Meroë, the kingdoms of Nubia and Egypt. Even my gods have passed away from the world. But I have Leo and Holly, and Lady Crowe, and Frau Gottleib, and now Kati to keep my company. I have my work as President of the Société des Alchimistes. It is enough.”
Was it? Catherine wondered. Ayesha’s hair had no gray in it and her face was unlined—she appeared eternally young, like the statue of a woman rather than a living one. But in that moment she seemed as ancient as the Earth itself. Catherine thought, for the first time, that it must be terrible to never grow old and nev
er die.
“And these energic powers,” said Beatrice. “What are they? You have told us that all the things which seem so solid, the table, these chairs, the stones of this building, are made of energy. But how do you draw upon that energy?”
“Watch,” said Ayesha. She raised her hand, and suddenly they were in a garden, with a circular pool where the table used to be. It was filled with lotus flowers, and dragonflies flitted above its surface. They were standing on the paved area around it. On three sides, the garden was surrounded by stone walls over which they could see palm trees. Beneath the walls were long beds filled with a profusion of plants: trees and shrubs and flowers. On the remaining side rose a large stone building, brightly painted in ocher and yellow and blue, with pillars that terminated in lotus blossoms. The sky was blue overhead, with a scattering of white clouds. The sun fell warm on their faces.
“The temple of Isis at Philae,” said Ayesha. “And my home for many years. Reach out—touch something with your hand.”
Beatrice leaned down and tried to lift one of the lotus flowers from the pool. Her gloved hand went right through it.
“Illusion,” said Ayesha. Suddenly, they were back in her office. “Parlor tricks that a circus mesmerist might aspire to.”
“But—how did you do it?” asked Clarence.
“Consciousness is not only in the brain,” said Ayesha. “It is in the body and beyond the body. Each of you is surrounded by the energic waves you generate. I reached out with my own consciousness, and I altered those waves. They transmitted not what your physical eyes saw, but what I directed you to see. However, that is not true power. This is true power.”
She walked over to the table, reached out her hand, and put it on a stack of manuscripts. “These are the ones you’ve rejected, are they not?” she said to Holly.
“Yes, but is this absolutely necessary?” He shoved his chair back several inches. Its legs screeched on the floor.
“You would have discarded them anyway. Why not use them for a demonstration? Watch,” she said to them all. Under her hand, the stack of manuscripts burst into flames. In a moment, all that lay on the table was a pile of gray ash.
“God damn!” exclaimed Clarence, and immediately looked chagrined at the outburst. “Excuse me, ladies. I didn’t mean—”
“Even that,” Ayesha continued, “is not true power. This is true power.” She reached out to Leo, who had not moved his chair back, and touched his cheek where Catherine could see the scratches left by Lucinda’s fingernails. “In another day or two, these scratches will be completely healed, and Leo’s cheek will once again be unblemished. If I had not healed them, he would have borne those scars until the day he died.” She stroked his cheek. He put his hand over hers and held it there. It was strange to see the two of them looking so tender.
“Now,” she said in her usual crisp tones, turning and moving away from the table, “our break is over. Holly, Leo, and I have work to do, and no doubt you do as well. Beatrice, as a member of the Société des Alchimistes, I expect you to report back to me on your progress in locating Lydia Raymond and dealing with her mother. This is yet another experiment of the society let loose upon the world. I believe you and your fellow members of the Athena Club are capable of dealing with it—I have great confidence in your abilities—but if you find that you need the support of the society, call upon me, and I shall do my best to assist you. Dr. Raymond was, and perhaps still is, a dangerous man—your world is not ready for the power he seeks. The priestesses of Philae trained to use the energic powers of the Earth from the time they were children. They did so within an intellectual framework and for a spiritual purpose. Dr. Raymond attempted to produce the same results through surgery, with none of that training or preparation. It is no wonder that his experimental subject went mad. I want to make sure that he and the results of his experiments are stopped. Mr. Jefferson, it was a pleasure to meet you. If you wish to speak again about the ancient world, in which you seem to have a particular interest, come see me. Now Leo, if you could escort our guests out? And if any of you would like more kifli, do take some with you. There is plenty left.”
Dutifully, they trooped back out, following Leo Vincey. Clarence had taken several more of the kifli and was chewing on one, with his hand beneath it to catch any crumbs. As they walked down the hall, Catherine heard him say to Beatrice, “You told me about her, but you didn’t really tell me about her.”
At the front entrance of the Academy of Sciences, Catherine turned to Leo and asked, “Have you ever wanted to live forever?”
He smiled at her—his second genuine smile of the day! It was a sad one. “Ayesha has not offered to make me immortal, and I would not ask her. Kallikrates did not. I know very well, Miss Moreau, that I shall grow old while she stays eternally young. I shall die, while she endures as long as she herself wishes. But perhaps, if Pythagoras is right, someday my spirit will come back and be reunited with hers. At least, I choose to believe so.”
She shook his hand. “Goodbye, Mr. Vincey. You’re not the conceited ass I thought you were.”
He threw back his handsome, golden head and laughed. “Thank you, Miss Moreau. I think that may be the most refreshingly candid thing anyone has ever said to me. I will do my best not to be a conceited ass, at least in your vicinity, so I may continue to earn your approbation.”
Catherine looked at him quizzically, wondering if he was mocking her, but he seemed entirely sincere.
MARY: Although he is a conceited ass, most of the time. I don’t really know what Ayesha sees in him.
CATHERINE: But at least he’s honest about it.
It was Catherine who decided that they should go to the Centrál Kávéház afterward. “This is our last day in Budapest,” she said. “We don’t have to be at the theater for a couple of hours—our final show! That should give us just enough time for lunch. Unlike Clarence, I can’t stuff myself on—what were those things called? Kifli. And unlike Beatrice, I actually need to eat. Where is that place the two of you always go?”
While an excruciatingly correct waiter was bringing them what they had ordered—roast goose for Catherine, stuffed cabbage for Clarence, and a linden-leaf tisane for Beatrice, who was feeling sick from the coffee—Lucinda was staring down at a cup of blood. Sometimes, she missed the taste of food. She could smell Laura’s lunch—an omelet and grilled tomato, with a cup of strong coffee. She found the scent both alluring and nauseating. She herself was having what was now her usual liquid meal. Pig, today, for a pig had been slaughtered on one of the surrounding farms, and for once Laura was not making her hunt. It was strong and rich—this particular pig had rooted in the forest, rather than feeding exclusively on slops.
“I still can’t believe Carmilla left for Vienna.” Laura attacked her omelet with a knife and fork. “We had been home seven days! Seven! I know Irene Norton and Mina need her help—I understand that. But when was the last time we got to spend a quiet evening together, without vampires to hunt or insane alchemists to fight? Do you know that tomorrow is our tenth anniversary?”
Lucinda shook her head and took a sip of blood.
Laura speared another piece of omelet on her fork, as though for emphasis. “We’ve been together ten years, and they’ve been wonderful years, filled with excitement and adventure. Still, I would like, just once in a while, to spend a quiet evening at home. What in the world is that?”
It was a cacophony of barking.
“Persephone! Hades! Stop that at once! For goodness’ sake, what has gotten into those dogs?”
“I hear a motorcar,” said Lucinda.
“A motorcar! Carmilla must have changed her mind.” Leaving her omelet half-eaten, Laura sprang up and rushed out of the room, too quickly for Lucinda to tell her that it was not Carmilla’s motorcar. The roar of it sounded quite different.
Should she stay or go see what was happening? Uncertain, as she usually was even about the smallest matters, such as what dress to wear on any particular day,
she rose reluctantly and followed Laura into the hall, then out the front door of the schloss. There, on the circular drive, sat a motorcar—similar to Carmilla’s, but not the same. Next to it stood a woman in an outlandish outfit—a close-fitting leather cap, a long canvas coat that went all the way down to her ankles, and leather boots. On her hands were thick leather gloves, and over her eyes were a pair of round goggles that made her look like a frog. She took off the gloves, put them on the seat of the motorcar, then lifted the goggles so they sat on her forehead, over the leather cap.
“Liebe Laura!” she said. “How wonderful to see you! What do you think? Is she not a beauty? But I remember you do not like automobiles. Where is Carmilla? I must show her my newest creation.” Who was this woman with the German accent? What sort of woman drove alone through the countryside in a motorcar?
“Well, you can’t, because she’s not here. She’s gone off to Vienna in your previous creation,” said Laura crossly. She kissed the woman on both cheeks. “It’s lovely to see you, Bertha, but really, she’s left again and I have no idea when she’ll be back.” She waved Lucinda forward. “Lucinda, this is our friend Bertha Benz. Bertha, this is Lucinda, who is staying with us for—well, a while, anyway. Bertha is the brains behind Benz and Cie Gasmotoren-Fabrik, her husband’s motorcar company.”
The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl Page 17