“No!” I cried out, breaking free of the grip that held me. I lurched towards Martin, swinging a wild left hook towards his face. He looked moderately surprised, but something told me that he wasn’t as oblivious as he made himself out to be. He took the blow, hitting the ground with a grunt. The men who were holding Isabella and Agnes seemed to almost... glitch, somehow. Their grips loosened, and Agnes slammed her elbow back into the face of her captor. He cried out in pain, and before I could even react to the turn of events, Agnes had gripped me by the arm and was pulling me along. “Izzie—” I began.
“Present,” Isabella gritted out, dragging her leg behind her as she tried to match our pace. Her face was twisted in pain, and blood marked our path, but Agnes released me and made to help the other woman in our mad dash. “No. You two... get where you need to be. Whatever this whole thing is... it can’t fall into this guy’s hands,” she hissed out, drawing away from Agnes.
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’ll kill you, now that he knows he doesn’t need you,” I said harshly, gripping her by the wrist.
“I’m not trying to be a hero here, Little Bean. Just don’t let me slow you down,” the former tour guide said wearily.
“We need to keep moving,” Agnes asserted, and the thundering of feet could be heard following us through the halls.
“Find what you need and do it now,” Isabella barked out, glancing over her shoulder. She smirked a little, pushing me ahead. “They can’t use their guns or they’ll all be arrested. This is freakin’ beautiful. Just beautiful,” she chuckled, grabbing a stone off of the ground and lobbing it at the nearest man. It struck him right between the eyes, and he collapsed to the ground, knocking several of the men surrounding him off of their feet as well.
“Martin isn’t done yet. He knows that Abigail is the key to the puzzle. He won’t let us go without a fight. We need to move quickly,” Agnes muttered, pulling me along.
“The key to what puzzle!? I don’t even understand why all of this is happening! I’m just your average woman, there’s nothing special about me! This is obviously much deeper than you ever told me, Agnes,” I said desperately.
“Now isn’t the time for an existential crisis, here, little Bean,” Isabella mumbled, her breath coming in labored gasps.
“I’ll explain everything once we’re back in the States—” Agnes began, and I barked out a disbelieving laugh.
“You mean if we make it back to the States,” I said, nearing hysterics.
“Outside of a body bag, that is,” Isabella offered helpfully, pausing in her stride. “There’s too many. We can’t hope to get... whatever it is Aggie here needs, if they’re hot on our trail. We need to take some of them out,” she continued, rummaging in her bag. I looked on, hoping that she had something of use in there. Instead, she withdrew a chocolate bar, desperately pulling at the wrapper before taking a large bite.
“How can you eat at a time like this, you... you—,” Agnes hissed out, unable to finish her sentence.
“If I’m going to die, I’m going to die happy at least. Want a bite?” The former tour guide offered, tossing the bar towards Agnes before coming to a complete stop. Agnes grabbed it out of the air, looking confused as Isabella turned to face our attackers.
“You can’t hope to beat dozens of men on your own,” I hissed out, trying to pull her along.
“I can at least stall them a bit. I may not be the key, but I’m not going down in the history books as some mediocre tour guide who couldn’t even keep her job,” she said with a sly smile. I made to argue, but she was already darting in the opposite direction.
“She’s an idiot!” I swore loudly, and Agnes barked out a laugh, pulling me along.
“Recklessness is in her blood, my dear. As much as it pains me, she’s right. If they’re all trailing behind us, we can’t expect to escape with what we need,” she muttered.
“Are you suggesting we let her martyr herself out of existence?” I demanded.
“I’m suggesting we move quickly before she has to.”
I surged ahead, determined to solve this mystery before anyone else had to get hurt. Agnes met my pace, and though we could hear the sounds of a scuffle behind us, we didn’t pause. All I had was a hunch to go on, but it would have to do the trick. I led Agnes deeper into the ruins, until the sounds of the thundering footsteps behind us faded into the distance. I frowned a bit, praying to whatever powers that be, hoping that we were fast enough to escape with our lives. Agnes seemed a bit uncertain as she began to trail behind me, the path we were taking becoming a more familiar one.
“The House of Neptune and Amphirite? We’ve already been here, Abigail. There’s nothing here. Anything that was here... it’s gone,” she said derisively, and I chuckled a bit, drawing her in the direction of the mural Isabella had shown me in a time that seemed so long ago. I could remember the sizzle in my fingertips, the way that oddly colored flower seemed to stick out from the rest in a way that was inexplicable.
“You’re working under the same theory they are. This mural was important to Isabella, and...,” I paused, realizing how ridiculous I would sound if I tried to articulate myself. “I may be the key, but each of us playing a part isn’t mutually exclusive. She brought me here when you were chasing Martin. It’s as if it were almost fated,” I explained, pausing in front of the mural as we came upon it.
“Every guide in these ruins probably has a favorite place! What makes you think this is so important!?” Agnes demanded.
“Everyone smelled a different floral scent when they were near Martin. She said she smelled the same thing in my presence. Gardenias” I paused, gesturing to the wall. “Gardenias.” I repeated, the very flower painted by the dozens in the very mural I gestured to. Agnes raised a brow, remaining behind me as I began to feel along the wall. “I don’t know what it is about her that made you and Martin alike think she’s so special, but I don’t think you’re wrong either. Heritage or otherwise... I don’t know what she has to do with your lover’s journal pages, but I have a feeling. We’ve been going with my hunches all along, haven’t we?” I paused, my hand brushing across the very stone that had charred my fingers the last time. A searing pain went through my hand, but I kept it in place, trying to pull the stone from its place in the wall. To my relief, it gave way, falling to the ground and revealing two pieces of paper, as well as some strange stone fragment.
“You have to be kidding me,” Agnes blurted, reaching out to take the items out of the hidden compartment.
“The puzzle pieces were all there. It was just a matter of assembling them,” I said quietly, looking up fearfully as the sound of footsteps neared the corner of the hall. Agnes tightly gripped her treasures, prepared to bolt at any given moment.
“Fancy seeing you two here,” Isabella piped up, bracing herself against the stone wall. I was surprised to hear Agnes whoop in celebration upon seeing the third to our trio, rushing towards her and gripping her in a hug. Isabella made a strange face, looking at me with confusion as she patted Agnes on the back. “Uh. Yeah, it’s really nice to see you too, Aggie. But I suggest we get a move on. I figure Martin and his goons only followed me so far before realizing they were on a wild goose chase,” she said carefully, extracting herself from the elder woman’s grip and looking between the two of us.
“I thought you were going to fight them,” I grinned, stepping towards her and thumping her on the forehead. She smiled wolfishly, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” she said teasingly. I rolled my eyes, gesturing to her leg.
“I think we all know that’s not true,” I replied. She shrugged a little, glancing at the items in Agnes’ hands before grabbing us both and pulling us along. “How did you manage to get them to chase you? How did you lose them, for that matter?” I inquired as Agnes and I trailed behind the former tour guide.
“Eh. Bait and switch, I guess. I shouted some crap about you guys running ahead, then acted like I was going to f
ight them to the death or something equally stupid. When I got the snot properly beaten out of me, I ran. They followed,” she explained, shrugging. “As far as losing them... I know this place like the back of my hand. There are some hidden paths that aren’t usually open to the public, so I figured I may as well make use of them,” she smiled.
“Do you know what I think, chunk? I think you actually planned to fight them, and when that blew up in your face, you needed to improvise,” Agnes said slyly. Isabella scoffed, paused, scoffed again. I couldn’t help but smile, happy to hear the two at their usual banter.
“The point is, they’re somewhere in the lowest levels. Regardless of how I worked my magic, all that matters is that I very much did so. Now, if you ladies will join me, that ends your after hours tour of the Village of the Papyri. Make your way to the nearest exit, and enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Chapter Twenty-One
When Agnes and I returned to the States, the first thing I did was call my father and tell him how much I loved him. He seemed a bit confused by the call, but I made no real effort to explain myself before hanging up. Being placed in a near death situation tends to make you appreciate your loved ones all the more, but I couldn’t exactly tell him that I’d nearly died. I was too old to be grounded or anything of the like, but I was sure he would find his way around that technicality. For her part, Agnes seemed to be her old self again, and I was all too happy to return to her manor when she called for me again. She had paid me triple what I thought was fair for. Of course I almost died so maybe you can't put a price on your life. Regardless, I was happy with my payment and ready to serve again when I got the call from her. I found her in the study, busying herself with scrutinizing the pages of the journals she’d found. She’d yet to make the big reveal as to who her secret lover was, but I hoped the information would come in time.
“What up, little Bean?” Isabella called out from her place in my usual chair. It was somewhat strange adjusting to the fact that Agnes seemed open to the third of our trio living with her for the foreseeable future, but Agnes never really went by the book. I had yet to determine if she was actually performing any duties around the home, janitorial or otherwise. Part of me wondered if Agnes was just happy to have the company.
“Hey, Izzie. Where’s your french maid uniform? I was pretty excited to see that spectacle,” I grinned, sitting beside Agnes at her work station. Isabella rolled her eyes, decidedly crunching on a chocolate chip cookie instead of actually replying. Agnes looked up from her work, watching the two of us interact with a small smile. In a way, Isabella and Agnes seemed to fit together as housemates. Not like two peas in a pod, but something you wouldn’t expect to go together-—they were like peanut butter and pickles.
“That would imply she did any actual work around here,” Agnes supplied, proving herself to be the sour pickles of the equation.
“I work! I see to it that no snacks in your home go uneaten. It’s a crime how many boxes of treats you had, nearly expired...,” Isabella said dramatically, wagging a large bag of cookies. “Want one?” She directed towards me, and I chuckled as I shook my head.
“I’m not sure I want to know your definition of nearly expired,” I replied lightly. I received a cookie to the side of the head for my response, and Agnes leveled a glare at the other woman. Isabella played oblivious to our stares, looking at the ceiling as if it were the most fascinating thing in the room. I picked up the fallen treat, humming to myself as I looked over it. “At least there’s no mold on them. Color me impressed, Izzie,” I announced. Agnes laughed, pushing an open book towards me and resting her chin in her hand.
“Dear girl, you’ve changed so much,” she mused aloud, and I quirked a brow as I caught myself nearly biting into the cookie that had been on the ground. I made a face, chucking it across the room at Isabella. She caught it without even looking up, beginning to chow down on it as well. Agnes and I exchanged vaguely disgusted expressions, and her words belatedly struck me.
“I haven’t changed that much,” I muttered, flipping through the pages of the book she had given me. It was the usual fare about Flamel, and though I’d yet to determine the older woman’s obsession with the historical figure, I was sure I would learn more about it in time.
“You’ve changed so much!” Isabella called out, rising to her feet and limping towards the table. She held an old walking stick in her hand, and I sighed as I watched her struggle to make her way over to us. The injury to her leg had done more damage than any of us could have expected, leaving the young woman with irreversible nerve damage and a permanent limp. She was making strides adjusting at least—she’d refused to use any sort of aid in the previous times I’d seen her.
“You didn’t even know me before the trip. I like your cane by the way,” I said, examining the intricately carved wood.
“Aggie gave it to me. Apparently it’s from her collection of old doohickeys. She sure knows how to make a girl feel special,” she paused, taking a seat at the other side of Agnes. “And I may not have known you before the trip, but you’ve changed even from the first time we met,” she continued, drawing a book towards herself. She frowned at the illustration on the page she was on, picking the book up and holding it beside her face. “No resemblance, right? I swear, this Flamel business is getting old,” she muttered. I tilted my head, observing the two images and deciding to keep it to myself how alike they looked.
“That’s just an artist’s depiction, dear, not an actual photo. You do share the same scar, though,” Agnes said idly. Isabella sighed dramatically, slumping in her seat. “In any case. Abigail, dear, think of what a mouse of a woman you were before coming into my tutelage. I never could have pictured you going hand to hand with a man,” she smirked.
“One punch does not constitute hand to hand combat,” I replied sourly.
“I’ll look up the definition. But yeah, that was pretty cool,” Isabella said idly, grabbing a dictionary that she kept handy and flipping through the pages.
“You don’t have to look up the actual definition,” I hissed, yanking the book out of her hand and tossing it across the table. I paused, smiling in embarrassment as Isabella and Agnes watched me with matching expressions of disbelief. “Alright. Perhaps I have changed... just a bit,” I admitted. Isabella hummed, her expression vaguely victorious as she turned her attention back to her book.
“Now that we’ve settled that issue, we need to buckle down. We do have six more journal pages to find, girls,” Agnes announced, glancing over as Isabella rose from the table and shuffled away. “Where on earth are you going?” She demanded, rising from her own seat to trail after the younger woman.
“I’m making lunch. If we’re going to be planning some big adventure, Little Bean is going to need some fuel for her big beautiful brain,” Izzie called back. I snorted, but didn’t argue, moving to follow the two. They continued to bicker as we walked, though Agnes helped keep Isabella on her feet when the younger woman nearly lost her footing. Whatever the two said about each other, it was clear that they’d come to appreciate each other as friends.
“Pizza or tacos?” Isabella demanded, drawing me from my reverie. I hesitated, looking between the two of them with a curious expression. They both looked hopeful, and I knew I was the tie breaking vote.
“Tacos?” I replied hesitantly. Isabella cheered, and Agnes made a face as she grabbed the phone book and flipped to the nearest Mexican restaurant. Isabella offered to give me a high five, which I returned with a small smile. The two of them were strange, remarkably so. Agnes was fascinated with a historical figure that practiced some mysterious science. Isabella just happened to supposedly be related to the very same man. The circumstances that brought them together were odd, and I would almost slate it as fate. In spite of the way they had argued when they first met, they now acted more like sisters, or even a mother and daughter. They weren’t the normal pair, not by any means. All the same, they were my sort of strange, and I wouldn’t trade them
for the world.
After all, it wasn’t as if I could call myself average anymore. Perhaps I had my share of strangeness as well.
“Abigail! Do you want mild or spicy sauce!” Agnes called out.
“Spicy!” I replied, watching as the two began to bicker over that decision as well. Though we weren’t average by any means, that didn’t stop us from being human. Being human, after all, was the strangest notion in the world.
Catalog of Books
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The Peculiar Case of Agnes Astor Smith Page 14