The Peculiar Case of Agnes Astor Smith

by Constance Barker

  “I need to find...,” I paused, leaning against the wall and cringing as the sting of antiseptic touched my scrapes. Evidently tour guides carry around a small first aid kit in their bags.

  “She can’t have gone far. Good Lord, what are you two even doing here?” Isabella muttered.

  “I have no idea.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I couldn’t help feeling absolutely useless as Isabella busied herself with fixing up my scraped knees. I felt like a toddler preparing to pitch a tantrum, wanting to insist that she let me loose so I could find my boss. Not just my boss—my friend, granted she was a friend who would readily fire me. I knew it was pointless to carry on sprinting down the hall, however, especially with two bum knees. I resigned myself to watching Isabella work, her tongue poking out from between her lips as she wrapped my legs with bandages. It seemed over the top and although I was touched by her concern, I had other things to worry about. Sighing, I let my head droop back against the wall behind me.

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Isabella muttered, tucking her medical supplies back in her bag before swinging it over her shoulder and rising to her full height. I frowned, feeling like a kicked puppy and probably looking the part as well. “I guess you want to find your friend? She looked to be heading back towards the exit,” the tour guide mused, flinging my arm around her shoulders and moving to guide me forward. I should have allowed myself to be led, truth be told. At least if she was leading me through the ruins I couldn’t get hurt or lost. However, something tickled at the back of my mind, and my thoughts turned back to the ghostly figure I’d seen in the boathouse.

  “Do you know where the House of Neptune and... uhm,” I began, my memory briefly failing me.

  “ The House of Neptune and Amphitrite, yeah. I know where that is. What, you don’t suppose you’ve done enough exploring for one day?” Isabella said quietly, but guided me back in the direction I’d come from. She made a face as we passed the hole in the wall that the strange man had presumably made, tutting under her breath. “More and more wannabe archaeologists. I’m going to have to report this to the guards, and once again, get reamed,” she muttered, and I felt a rush of remorse.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized immediately, and she considered me from the corner of her eyes.

  “Eh. It’s only a matter of time before I end up getting fired, anyway. Starting to feel like my time in this place is up,” she said, her voice tempered with a melancholy tone. I hesitated, not sure I liked the way she was speaking. I didn’t have awfully long to think about it, however, as she guided me into a massive chamber. “Anyway, this is where you wanted to come. Lead the way, because I have no idea what you two are after,” she sighed, releasing me but continuing to keep a hand on the small of my back—in case I happened to stumble again, I suppose. Even though I’d already said as much, it didn’t seem particularly smart to repeat the fact that I had no idea what Agnes and I were searching for, either. Something about this place called out to me, though, and I knew there had to be a reason everything seemed to point to this place. I walked carefully, casting my gaze across the chamber we were currently striding through. I was sure that whatever I was looking for would jump out at me once I found it, but perhaps I was feeling more confidence than was truly warranted. All the same, Isabella simply hummed under her breath as she walked alongside me. I reflected on what she had told me, wondering if the inexplicable scent was the reason she seemed to always find me. Gardenias, she had said. I scarcely even knew what the flower looked like, let alone smelled like. My feet continued moving as I mused over everything that had happened in my time in Naples, taking a sort of comfort in the hand pressed against my back. While Agnes had been kind to me, I was under no illusion that she actually needed me. I was likely disposable in the eyes of the older woman, and feeling as if my company was actually treasured, for once, was a nice feeling. Isabella’s humming stopped, and she laughed breathily before pulling me to a stop. I looked up, reddening as I realized I had nearly walked straight into a wall. At the very least I could pretend that I was just interested in the remaining mural on the wall... very interested, considering my face’s close proximity to the stone.

  “Sorry,” I said softly, taking a step back. The tour guide chuckled, shaking her head a bit.

  “You apologize too much. It’s fine. This is actually my favorite spot in the entire ruins,” she paused, tapping her fingertips against the wall. “Gardenias. My favorite, remember?” She smiled, and I was relieved that she seemed unperturbed by my distraction. I looked at the mural, finally able to place what flower she was talking about as I saw them painted in meticulous detail. Though the mural had faded, it was still in rather impeccable condition. I was acutely aware of the tour guide’s hand still resting on the small of my back, but I said nothing for fear of driving her away from me. I exhaled a sigh, musing that it seemed that I had come to another dead end. A gorgeous dead end, but a dead end just the same. I traced my fingers along the mural, my fingertips brushing a stone that seemed just slightly off kilter. I paused, feeling a slight sizzling sensation in my skin as I touched the stone. I made note of the image painted on the particular stone: a vaguely off color gardenia. I took a step back, and Isabella watched me rather strangely as I examined my own hand. The tip of my fingers were slightly charred, and I quickly brushed the ash off of my hand before my companion could notice.

  “I guess you didn’t find what you were looking for, then?” Isabella asked, her voice echoing in the chamber. I hesitated, taking note of the off kilter stone for a moment longer before drawing away.

  “Not really. That’s okay, though. It was nice of you to keep me company. I know you probably have better things to do,” I smiled. She chuckled, her cheeks tinged pink as she shook her head.

  “You really overestimate my schedule. The guys up top are pretty much looking for a reason to fire me at this point. Might as well give them one,” she paused, her hand tensing before she awkwardly patted me on the head. In spite of how condescending it should have seemed, I couldn’t help but laugh, giving her a slight shove.

  “I’m not a dog,” I said plaintively, flattening down my hair. She shrugged, turning to walk away from the mural.

  “You’ve got the kicked puppy look down, though. You can see how I’d be confused,” she mused aloud, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to say. “And anyway, I’m the one who should be thanking you. You and your friend have certainly made things interesting around here. I just feel kinda bad that I’m not able to help as much as I’d like,” she muttered, holding her arm out for me to take. I could only guess that she thought I was still unsteady on my feet, and though I was sure I could manage, I took the proffered extremity with a small smile.

  “Well, my friend is actually my boss. I’m not sure how happy she’s going to be that I decided to go off on an adventure of my own while she was...,” I paused, realizing that mentioning the fact that we were chasing someone wasn’t exactly prudent. “Well, who even knows what she’s doing,” I muttered. Isabella hummed in the back of her throat, a soft sound of acknowledgement. We strode to the entryway of the House, stopping short as Agnes stormed down the hall. I immediately flinched upon seeing her, and while I was fairly certain she wouldn’t actually hurt me, she looked as if she would like nothing more.

  “Having a good time, Miss Bean?” She asked icily, and I managed a weak smile. She lowered her eyes to my legs, quirking a brow. “What on Earth happened to you? Are you some kind of clumsy child?” She demanded. I shrunk away, suddenly aware of the hand settled soothingly on my back once more.

  “It’s my fault, really. She wanted to find you, but I insisted she see my favorite mural here,” Isabella said casually, examining her fingernails. “I’d apologize, but I’m not really all that sorry. You’re kinda being a jerk, here,” the tour guide continued, sounding as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “I’m being a jerk, am I? I’m a scholar and this is my assistant.
We’re not here for some little play date. I have things to do, and I’m not going to waste my time with some ninny of a girl who keeps distracting my employee,” Agnes gritted out, grabbing me by the arm. I wanted to defend my new friend, but I also knew Agnes wouldn’t be any more willing to hear me out than she was for Isabella. I shot the tour guide an apologetic smile, but she didn’t meet my gaze, continuing to examine her nails.

  “You’re free to do what you want, lady. Just like I’m free to do what I want on my own time. If I want to spend my day with a nice young lady, there’s nothing stopping me,” she said calmly.

  “You’re not on your own time. You’re supposed to be doing a job, one you’re not doing worth a damn! I could have you fired—I should have you fired!” Agnes hissed out. It felt unfair that her anger was turned on someone who had been little more than a bystander, but I just couldn’t build up the nerve to correct her. I was afraid, as ashamed as I was to say it. Truth be told, I wasn’t all that sorry for going off on my own, either. While I didn’t have any actual fact to back my story up, I had a feeling that I had discovered something in that mural. The lingering tingle in my fingers insisted on as much.

  “I don’t need you to tell me I suck at my job, miss. I’ve heard it from a dozen others with a stick up their ass too. None with the entire tree jammed up there, like you seem to have, but...,” Isabella trailed off, her lips curling up in a smirk. “Well let’s just say I have experience,” she finished. I wished they would just stop arguing, or at least that Agnes would ask for my opinion. I should have been willing to voice my opinion as readily as either of them, but God knows what I had messed up by not helping Agnes chase that strange man down. He had something that the older woman wanted very desperately. I had no idea what it was, but as that very woman’s assistant, it was my job to get it for her. Instead, I’d been dawdling just because I enjoyed the company of a tour guide with a foul yet fascinating attitude. Agnes had a tight grip on my arm and I couldn’t have pulled away even if I wanted to. However, as she began to drag me along behind her, I was tempted to resist just for a moment.

  “You’re not even sorry that you got her injured. Honestly, Abigail, I would expect you to spend time with people of a higher caliber,” Agnes groused, and I waited for Isabella to correct her—I’d been injured when the tour guide found me. Agnes was the one who had left me behind. A part of me thought she knew that, but the opportunity to ignore it had been presented, and I didn’t expect the older woman to relinquish it so easily. For her part, Isabella said nothing, simply watching us go with her arms crossed. I wanted to shout out an apology, do something to make up for this whole mess, but before I could drag my eyes off of her, her lips curled into a smile as she winked and waved at me. Relieved that she wasn’t angry at me, but unsure of her motives, I fell into step beside Agnes.

  “I’m sorry, Agnes. I didn’t mean... I just had a feeling,” I began, quieting down when Agnes turned a glare upon me.

  “Your feeling lost Martin. I would have been able to catch him if I hadn’t realized I wasn’t being followed by my simple minded assistant,” she said coolly. Though I knew I should defend myself, I also hoped that if I just rode the situation out, Agnes would forgive me in due time. She seemed too tense to even offer a kind word as my legs nearly buckled beneath me again, but she supported me with surprising strength as she led me to Stefan’s car. “Get in. We’re going to do some research at the estate. I’m hoping we’re not too late, but at this rate...,” she trailed off, gritting her teeth and shaking her head angrily. “Just get in,” she ordered, circling around to the driver’s side to slip into the car. I joined her, fumbling with the seatbelt and feeling grateful that she at least cared enough about me to ensure I didn’t go flying through the windshield. Granted, that may have been more concern for her friend’s car, on her part. I expected that Agnes could be cold at times, but she had always been so kind to me. I suppose that was because I had always been on her good side prior to that day. I resolved that I would do whatever it took to make sure I made up for my mistake. I would prove that I deserved this job, somehow. In the meantime, I could only try to get on the older woman’s good side again. The friendly tour guide had at least taken the brunt of her anger off of me, but the woman in the driver’s seat ws still seething nonetheless.

  “I have a feeling that there’s time... to find whatever you’re looking for,” I said quietly, cursing myself for how meek I sounded. Agnes was quiet for a moment, seeming to muse over my words. Before she started the car, she turned to look at me, her expression serious.

  “I hope for your sake that you’re right, Miss Bean. I truly hope you’re right,” she said. That was seemingly that, as she turned to face the street and shifted the car into gear. I swallowed anything else I may have wanted to say, sagging in the seat as we made our way to the estate. This was going to be a long trip. That much was for sure.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Agnes was vaguely apologetic for her cold attitude the day prior, but not apologetic enough to warm the cold shoulder she was giving me. She busied herself with piecing together clues that seemed to fit together at the very least, and in spite of her mild irritation with me, I was determined to do all I could to help. She seemed wrapped up in studies about something called alchemy, which I can’t say I knew much about prior to an in depth explanation from the older woman. She seemed tense, her voice almost seeming to crackle with unspent energy—though I suppose I could have been letting my mind get away from me. At the very least, when I had approached her with the request to help her, she had nudged a book in my direction. The words on the cover were in Latin, but fortunately, there seemed to be English translations written at key intervals at the book. I idly wondered if Agnes had done it for my benefit, and the way she occasionally glanced at me from the corner of her eye only made me more curious. I’m not sure that she expected much from me, but I was determined to show she had made the right choice in allowing me to be her assistant. As cranky as the woman could get when things went awry, the entire trip would likely be the most excitement I could have ever ask to experience in my lifetime. I also knew that Agnes cared about me, as slight as she may have.

  “So... there seems to be a good many women involved in this whole... alchemy thing,” I said idly, flipping through the pages of the book. Agnes hummed noncommittally, glancing towards me with a faint smile.

  “Likely more than are even attributed to. When alchemy was at its highest point, women didn’t exactly receive the same respect that you and I would. Many wrote under the guise of anonymity, or in some cases, even used their husband’s name to publish their findings,” she murmured, looking a bit bitter. I could only wonder what troubled her so much about the subject, dismissing it as sympathy for fellow scholars. I nodded quietly, drawing my lip between my teeth and tracing my eyes along the lines of the book. I had been reading for some time, and though I was still a bit confused about the entire science, as it were, I had caught on fairly well. A name I saw repeated through the book was that of Nicolas Flamel, and I idly wondered if he was one of those men who used his wife’s knowledge to rise to infamy. It seemed he hadn’t truly gotten his big break until after he had died, or had supposedly died. Apparently a common theory was that the man had discovered how to make an elixir of immortality—one both he and his wife drank from. There wasn’t a lot of information about the woman: Perenelle Flamel.

  “I wonder if this Flamel guy was all he was cracked up to be,” I mused aloud. Agnes scoffed, and I glanced at her just in time to see her expression of disdain. “I guess you’ve studied enough about him to know, then?” I pressed, and she parted her lips for a moment before pressing them tightly together.

  “Alchemy is one of my many passions, dear girl. I can’t speak for other scholars, but something about the man just seems terribly... off, in my opinion,” she muttered, turning to another book and seeming to dismiss whatever I was going to say next.

  “It is a bit weird that people actu
ally think he was immortal. If he never died, don’t you think he’d have done something worthwhile with his later years? He’s been alive since the seventeenth century, if you were to believe the theories. I know if I’d been alive for hundreds of years, I’d have something to show for it,” I announced, flipping the book closed and reclining in the chair I was stretched out in.

  “Do you not suppose that common society would find it rather strange, if he were to be out and open about his immortality? He would be badgered to death for his supposed elixir of life. If I were to be granted immortality, I would be much more subtle about it,” Agnes said with a faint smile, glancing over her shoulder at me before returning her attention to her laptop.

  “I hardly think anyone would believe him. If you were to say you were immortal, you’d be tossed in the loony bin,” I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment. “It’s an interesting notion to consider, at the very least. Imagine the mountain of opportunities you would be granted with such a long lifespan. He could perfect any number of studies. He had the philosopher’s stone, so he could make as much gold as he could ever want. He already created an elixir of life. What if he were to focus on something like... oh, I don’t know; a cure for cancer, maybe?” I continued to wonder aloud, and Agnes scoffed again, as if she knew something I didn’t—which truth be told, was extremely likely. I had only just dipped my toes into the water of this whole alchemy thing, and she had been studying it for years. I could only wonder how she managed to make time for all the things she was so well versed in. There was one thing that was without question, and that was the brilliance of the woman who had chosen me to be her assistant. Did that speak in my favor? I certainly hoped so.

  “Flamel is a selfish, selfish man,” Agnes said quietly, and I nearly didn’t hear her.