Gene of Isis mt-1

by Traci Harding

  ‘But your lover is not with you, so—’

  ‘I’m not like you, Andre.’ I shook my head and, thankfully, he conceded defeat.

  ‘If you change your mind…’

  ‘You’ll be the first to know,’ I assured him with a wave, and closed the tent flap behind him. ‘Ah…rest.’ I avoided my bed only long enough to use the loo, whereupon my weary body got familiar with my sleeping arrangement.

  I awoke to find my tent doing a jig. The clattering of the metal supports stirred me from my slumber, but the base of the structure seemed to be holding up against the wind well enough. I rolled off my bed and crawled over to unzip the tent flap to see how bad the storm was—I didn’t even get a chance to look outside before my lap filled with sand. I quickly refastened the zip.

  My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t stayed awake long enough to eat anything, and my eyes went to the desk to discover a tray of food had been delivered as I slept. ‘You really can be an angel at times, Andre.’

  There were two large bottles of water, fresh bread, some white meat that tasted like chicken, a salad in a small sealed container, dried fruit, nuts and a small carton of long-life milk that was sitting in a little bowl of water, which might have been ice many hours ago.

  It was daylight outside, thus it seemed apparent that I had slept through the afternoon and all night! Some light penetrated the tent, but due to the raging sandstorm it was barely enough to see my hand in front of me. I switched on my desk light to dig out my little electric jug, adapter, tea bags and sugar which travelled everywhere with me. I noted that Andre recalled my habit and sent along the milk.

  While the kettle boiled, I opened my bags to get myself sorted out. ‘Now, what to do first?’ I gathered my wits and decided I needed Albray. I retrieved the stone from my pocket and summoned him forth.

  What have you done? He flew into a rage the second he was present. I should have known better than to come here with an amateur…didn’t you feel me trying to get your attention’!

  I was confused for a second. ‘Do you mean the itching?’

  Albray rolled his eyes and nodded. And now you have given the key to the enemy!

  ‘The enemy?’ He’d lost me again. ‘Who is—’

  Molier! he hollered over my query. I should have known he’d be involved in this excavation.

  ‘How could you know about Molier, when you’ve been dead for eight hundred years?’ I reasoned.

  Do you want to guess who sealed my fate all those years ago? he challenged, the anger radiating from him.

  I shook my head, able to think of only one answer, but it was impossible. ‘Christian Molier?’

  Exactly right. Albray backed off to pace out his frustration.

  ‘I’m very sorry, Albray, but how was I supposed to know? Surely, you are mistaken about—’

  Haven’t you read about Molier in Miss Granville’s journal yet?

  ‘No, I haven’t—’

  You mean you haven’t even reached Paris yet?

  I understood that he was talking about Paris in Ashlee’s tale. ‘I was disturbed just as Ashlee was fleeing Devere’s chateau for Paris.’

  Then for god’s sake, read, Albray suggested, so that you at least have some idea of who and what you’re dealing with.

  I really wasn’t used to being treated like an idiot and I wasn’t about to start appreciating it now. ‘Well, if you had just told me what the hell was going on when I asked you, then I would have known, wouldn’t I?’

  Albray’s dark eyes shot back to me, but his rage calmed quickly to a more reasonable level. Forgive me, Miss Montrose, it is not my intention to insult you. It is for your own protection that I recommend that you try to comprehend who and what you really are, and Ashlee is a far greater authority than I. That is why I beseech you to please read her account of the facts.

  ‘All right,’ I agreed, being more disposed now that he’d moderated his tone of voice. ‘I shall read on.’

  Thank you. Albray ventured a smile.

  ‘Would you like to stay while I read?’ I inquired politely, secretly hoping for a yes.

  Albray nodded. I have avenues I might investigate for our cause, if you would leave me at liberty in your world.

  ‘And what is our cause, Albray?’

  I suggest you read on and decide that for yourself. He eagerly awaited my permission to be at liberty.

  ‘But how do I know I can trust you at liberty if I am unaware of what business you are about?’ I was just teasing. I did trust him, because, beyond the little conversation I’d had with him, he never seemed to steer Ashlee wrong.

  I’m afraid you’ll have to trust your instinct on that count, Albray replied.

  He knew that I felt well disposed toward him. ‘I think it is very unfair that you should have telepathic access to my thoughts and emotions, and that I should not be awarded the same insight into you.’

  No offence intended, Miss Montrose, he grinned, knowing his reply had cheek, but if you strove to perfect your psychic skills you could know anything you desire about me.

  ‘Did you mention that to Ashlee?’ I hadn’t read anything to that effect yet.

  It didn’t take long for Miss Granville to discover it all on her own.

  I hated the way Albray spoke with such admiration about her, when he obviously thought so little of me. ‘I understand that I must be a great disappointment to you.’ I couldn’t believe I was jealous of a dead woman and her relationship with this knight who’d been dead even longer!

  ‘On the contrary,’ Albray assured, ‘you are too smart for your own good…which is why you need to redefine your beliefs about the boundaries

  between fact and myth. Only then will you comprehend the events that are about to unfold in your life.’

  I considered his words, which were not exactly as complimentary as I would have liked. I wanted him to flirt with me, as he had with Ashlee. Every other man with whom I came in contact admired me, so why not this man? ‘Feel free to be about your business,’ I granted, not wanting to bore him with my insecurities.

  Just call if you need me and I shall return at once. He departed through the wall of my tent as I nodded.

  ‘It’s not like it matters whether he’s attracted to me or not.’ I struggled with my moodiness, but it was really depressing to consider that the most desirable man I’d ever met had been dead for eight hundred years. I dug out Ashlee’s huge journal and found the key to open it on my key ring. ‘Come on, Ashlee. Share your insights so that I might understand what the hell our friend is so worried about.’

  I opened to the page marked by a gold ribbon attached to the middle of the upper spine of the huge volume and noted that I was about a quarter of the way into the tale. I was tempted to turn to the last chapter and cut to the chase, but how much would I miss learning about Albray if I did? ‘Just continue where you left off,’ I lectured, not wanting to waste time debating the issue with myself. ‘Now, where was I?’ I scanned down the page and found my place…

  —my heart was shattered by my failed romance, but also exulting to be on the run, free of everyone and everything that had ever held authority over me.

  Next there was a break in the text and a special note that read: From this point on, the section of this tale that involves Mr Devere was copied from the Honeymoon journal of my dear friend, the Countess of Oxford, Lady Susan Devere. Eyewitnesses confirm that her contribution to this journal is a truthful and accurate account of events.

  LESSON 9

  ENLIGHTENMENT FROM THE HONEYMOON JOURNAL OF LADY SUSAN DEVERE

  No one noticed Ashlee’s absence until early afternoon the next day.

  Mr Devere’s manservant, Mr Tibbs, who had been instructed not to disturb his lord in the morning, ventured into his lord’s quarters later that day to find his new mistress and all her belongings gone and his lordship in such a fit of sleep that he could not be woken.

  I dared say nothing of what I’d seen late last night.

  The hous
e steward informed Mr Tibbs that Mrs Devere’s maid had told him that Mrs Devere was planning a surprise for her husband and had borrowed a coach to take to town and make arrangements.

  This prevented the alarm being raised until evening, but when Ashlee did not return and Mr Devere did not wake, my husband and brother began to feel uneasy.

  Ashlee hadn’t mentioned anything about poisoning her husband before departing, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to make him sleep as he did. We fetched a physician to look at Mr Devere, and the diagnosis was that he was in fine health. No poison, nor a blow to the body, had caused his fit of sleep; as long as he awoke within the next few days, my brother-in-law would be none the worse for the rest.

  This was quite true of Mr Devere’s physical condition, but when he did finally awake on the morning of our third day at the chateau, his emotional and mental condition were not so stable.

  My husband was with his brother when he awoke. I was waiting in the adjoining boudoir, hoping to obtain some clue as to why Ashlee had fled in secrecy.

  ‘No!’ I heard the cry of loss ring out. In fact, I suspected the whole household had heard it. The pain was so heartfelt that I couldn’t help but feel for the man. ‘God no, don’t let her have jumped to the wrong conclusion.’

  Then, everything went quiet. I crept up to the door and placed my ear against it. I heard the sound of ripping paper and there was silence for a moment. Earnest suppressed a groan of despair.

  ‘What does it say?’ my husband beseeched his brother, and I assumed they’d found Ashlee’s letter.

  ‘She’s left me everything and fled,’ Earnest summed up, mournfully.

  ‘I am sorry, Earnest. I told you from the start that she would be trouble. Still, at least your marriage wasn’t a total loss. You’re a landowner now and—’

  ‘You don’t understand! I have to go after her,’ Mr Devere insisted. ‘I cannot lose her. My life won’t be worth living.’

  Then came a great thud.

  ‘Clearly, you’re not well enough to go anywhere.’ The strain in my husband’s voice seemed to indicate that his brother had collapsed and Lord Devere was struggling to aid him to his feet.

  ‘I just need some food,’ Mr Devere insisted. ‘Tell me, where is my sister-in-law this morning?’

  ‘My countess is in the next room, waiting for word about your condition,’ Lord Devere informed him.

  I smiled. I liked being his countess.

  ‘How much does she know about my wife’s disappearance?’ Mr Devere lowered his voice and I barely heard the question.

  ‘No more than the rest of us, I should think,’ my husband replied honestly. ‘My wife has been in my company a good deal, as you know, and was just as surprised as the rest of us when our sister-in-law went missing and you slept on unaware for two days.’

  ‘Two days!’

  I heard the rustle of paper once more, then footsteps coming toward the door.

  ‘Where are you going half dressed?’ my husband queried his brother.

  I tiptoed backwards to quickly collapse into a chair and try to look composed.

  I gasped when Mr Devere emerged from the bedroom naked to the waist, clutching a shirt in one hand and an envelope and letter in the other. Still, being a woman of the world myself now, I suppressed my shock and made nothing of his impropriety.

  ‘Earnest!’ my lord objected. ‘I really must insist that you dress yourself before addressing my wife.’

  ‘What is this?’ Mr Devere passed one page of the letter to me and dressed his upper body to appease his brother as I read it.

  ‘It reads like a sleeping spell, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Is it a spell?’ he demanded to know.

  ‘I do not believe in such things, Mr Devere. I would say it is just a coincidence.’ I gave my view calmly. ‘Perhaps if I could read Ashlee’s letter—’

  ‘No,’ he snapped and then regretted making his reluctance so obvious. ‘It is very personal.’

  I suspected from what Ashlee had told me that it was not sentiment that prevented him from handing the letter over, but some information more incriminating. ‘Really?’ I became rather indignant, and I stood. ‘Well, if you have finished interrogating me, I have a couple of questions for you…for instance, why my dear friend should feel the need to pack up and flee this house in the middle of the night!’ I was furious to have lost my best friend this way and I wasn’t afraid to show it.

  Mr Devere went very pale suddenly. ‘I know how circumstances appear, but I assure you that in no way have I abused my relationship with my wife.’

  ‘Then perhaps you could supply a more agreeable explanation.’ I handed him back the spell, recalling that Ashlee had also insisted that Earnest had not physically abused her.

  Earnest’s gaze met my own suddenly. ‘You were the last to see her.’ There was no accusation in his voice. He knew the truth of it and I glanced down to notice how his fingertips caressed the page I’d just been holding.

  It seems that intimate relations have a strengthening effect on my talents, Ashlee had said, when I’d spied her levitating luggage the night of her departure. What if intimate relations had sparked psychic talent in her husband as well?

  I didn’t know how much my husband knew about Ashlee’s secret, but I felt fairly sure he would not be comfortable with the sensual nature of this supernatural subject matter.

  ‘Could I speak with you privately about my wife?’ Mr Devere requested, as if he’d read my mind and wished to spare me any trouble with his brother. ‘After all, you know her better than anyone.’

  My husband looked at me, appearing concerned that he was to be left out of the conversation. ‘Were you the last one to see our sister?’ he asked.

  I needed to clear the air with Mr Devere now, and so I confessed. ‘Ashlee made me promise not to say anything and allow her time to escape.’

  My husband was clearly hurt that I’d kept the information from him. ‘Escape…from what?’ He wanted to know what was so unpleasant about his house and hospitality.

  ‘That is precisely what I wish to know.’ I looked back to Mr Devere.

  He looked at Lord Devere, silently appealing to him to withdraw, although he said nothing.

  ‘I see.’ My lord accepted that his brother would not speak in his presence. ‘I’ll be downstairs, should anybody need me.’ Lord Devere closed the door on his way out.

  ‘Now, explain yourself.’ I looked at my brother-in-law as he collapsed into a chair. ‘My dearest friend has fled god knows where, and now I am at odds with my husband. I would like to know why.’

  Mr Devere sat with his face in his hands for a moment, and as he looked up he tried to brush away his tears. ‘It is because I made a mistake…so grand and life-consuming that I cannot see how I shall ever correct it.’ The tears continued to flow in a constant stream down his cheek, but his voice was calm and unwavering. ‘I’ve never known fear before today.’

  ‘What are you afraid of?’ I took the chair opposite Mr Devere, now more concerned than angry.

  ‘That I’ll lose her.’ His voice wavered and he cleared his throat. ‘I am afraid of what is happening to me.’ He looked into my eyes, hoping I might be aware of his inference.

  ‘Ashlee’s talent has rubbed off on you…as it were.’ I tipped my head and repressed the urge to smile at my boldness—I was pleased to see my brother grin briefly, too.

  ‘So much power.’ He held out his hands so I could see plainly how they trembled. ‘I see things, hear things, feel things that I’ve never conceived of before! I felt so alive in my wife’s company and, without her, my newfound awareness will fade and I shall return to the shadow that I was. Your best friend is my addiction and now she is gone…do you see why I fear?’

  ‘But is it Ashlee, or the power she gives you that you are in love with?’ I was still undecided as to what course of action I should take. Obviously, Mr Devere would go after his wife, but would I aid him to find her? That depended on h
ow truthful he was prepared to be.

  Devere shook his head, perplexed by the question. ‘I was told I’d marry her when I was twelve years old. I’ve been training ever since, so that I might be worthy of her, able to protect her, please her. My whole world has revolved around her. Is my devotion voluntary…yes! Could I ever love anyone else…no! Am I in love with her? Well, you tell me.’

  I was flabbergasted by the confession, but I regained my wits swiftly enough to fulfil my lust for detail. ‘Who told you about ‘Ashlee and who trained you?’

  ‘It was the Dowager Countess Lady Charlotte Cavandish who told me of my destiny and introduced me to the secret brotherhood which guards the bloodline of the Star-Fire Kings.’

  ‘And Ashlee is part of this bloodline?’ I was totally intrigued.

  ‘We all are: Devere, Cavandish, Granville, Hamilton and many other highly placed families, yet my wife’s is the strongest female line. With the rest of the bloodlines, and there are many, the way to tell if the sacred blood is strong in the individual is a birthmark.’ Mr Devere revealed to me the red cross on his chest.

  I recognised it at once. Ashlee has one—’

  ‘On her back,’ Earnest concluded with me. ‘And I’ll bet Lady Charlotte has one too.’

  ‘Well…if my family is part of this bloodline, then why are my father and brother not members of this brotherhood?’

  ‘Ah…but they are!’ Earnest enlightened me. ‘Why do you think they have been so protective of Miss Granville? In fact, your aunt was the first woman to be admitted to the Scottish chapter.’

  ‘And my husband too?’

  Mr Devere shook his head. ‘No, James never had the aptitude for the brotherhood. He was a good god-fearing lad bound for the House of Lords. You know how he is with anything supernatural…the brotherhood would have just confused the issue for him, and this was plain to my order. So, they bypassed him, for I bore the mark and he did not. And I was chosen to wed the most promising daughter of the bloodline yet. Conveniently, I was just a second son, who could serve the bloodline for mating purposes. By wedding Miss Granville, the large family estates and titles would pass to our heir.’