The Soul of the Sun (The Argos Dynasty)

by Genevieve Crownson

  But Margaret was dead. I’d watched her die.

  Realization came quickly. My God she’d done it. I had watched them both long enough to know that this scene had already played out; she’d gone back in time. I started to panic.

  Now what?

  In two seconds, they would literally see me standing there, just beyond the curve of the porch less than three feet away. Just one lift of the head and Emma would know I had gone through the time portal with her.

  I needed backup. I closed my eyes and connected with my fellow soul seekers. In moments, I heard Aniketos’ voice echo in my mind.

  “Stay perfectly still, Watcher. You are in a very dangerous situation. Your full cooperation is required for us to succeed.” I trembled in fear at the ominous words. The director spoke again, “We are going to re-molecularize you. All of us must participate to hold you in this form, so you’d better hope she doesn’t stay long. We will collect our energy together now. Stay focused and alert.” There was a momentary silence, then a low hum became audible. His voice interrupted, “It’s time.”

  I was lifted from the ground as if I were a feather. My muscles went limp as an explosion erupted through my entire body. I pixilated. Everything blurred, and then slowly came back into focus, I moved in. I was invisible.

  I followed them into the house, and watched as the amulet came together. This couldn’t be good for us. The director’s anger over this turn of events was evident; it was so disruptive to the group energy I thought I might be catapulted back into physical form. Fortunately that didn’t happen, but as time went on, I noticed myself becoming weaker; the circle would be unable to hold me much longer.

  The desire to stay in this time and use what I had learned was strong, but if I didn’t return right when Emma did, there was no predicting the consequences. The amulet was now whole and more powerful than ever. I couldn’t stay; I was a sitting target. On advice from the circle of soul seekers I would return immediately with the girl.

  I watched her hug Margaret goodbye. There were only seconds left.

  I spoke to the circle quickly. “She left a letter, it must be destroyed. Do we have enough power?”

  Aniketos' voice roared in my ears. “Do it now, and erase Margaret’s memory of this encounter. Hurry.”

  I took the circle’s energy and did as I was asked, but there wasn’t enough time. Margaret’s memory and the letter would remain.

  Fortunately, just as I felt my body about to fully restore itself, Emma took over and we shot back through the portal.

  Whew, that was cutting it close.

  I certainly didn’t want to be the one to find out what that amulet could do if I broke the laws of time.

  We had taken a great risk, but the information received was vital.

  We were back in the blink of an eye. Emma’s power made me thirsty with greed. I had just had a small taste of what she could do, and I wanted more.

  60

  The rain fell in sheets around me, it was gloomy and depressing, but I didn’t feel a drop. I was completely encased in light; I was a moving, breathing, flaming yellow orb that no one could penetrate. I watched in amazement as my broken leg instantly healed and the torn pajama fabric cinched itself back together. My jaw pain ceased. I closed my hands over the amulet, now humming with intensity. In a split second, I was vibrating with the same power. The wind picked up and the sky loomed black. The moon lay dark behind an inky sky and somehow strange chanting words flowed out of me. Lava hot and fraught with meaning, they rose to a fever pitch. Every word was a part of me, part of my being. Words from another time, Tanga’s time, slipped from my lips as though it were my native tongue. It was the inscription on the amulet, of that much I was sure.

  I stretched my glowing hands out to Thomas. “I call on you Lady Isis. Protect Me. For I am the one, the Soul of the Sun. I plead with you and your son Horus to give refuge. Patroness of Nature and Magic bring all my power and your power together to glorify what is right and true in this world. Honor your name and those we safeguard from harm. Let time be taken from no man. Amen.”

  He was laughing at me.

  “You stupid little twit, did you honestly think that would work? You think that I can’t take what’s mine?”

  As he spoke, I chanted the same words, repeating them over and over. I saw fear cross his face just for a moment when he realized I was using the amulet’s power. A brilliant beam of light continued to radiate from my core. It was strange, the light now shone gold instead of blue. It must have changed when it sealed together. I continued to watch and to my astonishment, he became transparent and, with a puff of smoke, evaporated into the heavens. I could hear his heart-rending screams echoing through the ocean’s storm. Drained completely of energy, I crumpled, exhausted, onto the sand.

  “Miss? Miss? Are you all right?”

  My head was heavy. I struggled to extricate myself from the murky fog that was swirling in my brain. I managed to latch onto the deep Irish brogue that was calling me back. I peeled open my eyelids and found myself staring into deep, emerald-green pools; they were the most magnificent color I’d ever seen. He had to be an angel. Black curls glistened and tumbled forward across his forehead. His cheeks were rosy against creamy white skin, his lips were lusciously full.

  His hands gripped my shoulders. He was breathing heavily and drops of water teetered and splashed off his nose onto my face.

  He smiled at me. “There you are! I thought I’d lost you for a minute.”

  My mouth was dry and my head felt like it was full of bricks. I croaked oh-so-graciously. “Who are you? Where am I?”

  “I’m Tristan, Tristan Keenan here to save a lady in distress. I was just out for a bit of a run along the beach and found you out here lying on the sand.”

  I shook my head a bit, trying to fight the blackness. I blinked and found the cliff had disappeared as if it had been a figment of my imagination.

  “I think Miss, that you might need a doctor. I don’t see a bump but something surely made you pass out.”

  “It’s all right, I’m okay now. And please stop calling me Miss. It feels weird, my name’s Emma, Emma Diamond,” I said as I struggled to my feet. I thought I saw a look of recognition cross his face but it was quickly gone.

  He smiled and stretched out his hand to assist me. I noticed how strong he was. The well-formed muscles of his arms and chest strained against his soaked blue t-shirt.

  “Well Emma, I can’t be leaving you here on your own. Do you have anyone back home that can be looking out for you? Make sure you’re alright?”

  The knife pierced my heart as I remembered. I was alone. Granna was no longer with me. “No, no one,” I replied sadly.

  “Ah, I saw that shadow cross your eyes, you’re a lonely one, aye? Well now, that makes two of us. That is, if you don’t count Zen, my cat. Please allow me to take you up to my place so you can rest for a bit. It’s not far, just over there.” He pointed in the direction of a small cluster of cottages. “I wouldn’t mind rustling up some soup and sandwiches for you.”

  I stood but my knees were so wobbly I had to lean on him for support. I knew I wouldn’t make it home without his help. And the thought of going back to that empty house filled me with dread.

  Still, I hesitated. “I don’t even know you. I can’t just go to your house.”

  “Why ever not? Don’t I look like a trustworthy fellow? Besides, I could’ve already taken advantage when you were out cold.” He flashed an impish grin.

  I laughed. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying, never trust a stranger?”

  “Aye, I have, but I think this time we could make an exception,” he said, looking down at my shaky legs.

  I stole a peak, assessing him out of the corner of my eye. More black curls had spiraled loose in the rain. I fought the impulse to brush them back. My God, on second glance he was even more handsome. Now I could clearly see his athletic body. He certainly did a lot more than running with muscles like that. A sharp pain
slashed across my forehead and pulled me from my drooling reverie.

  “Ouch!” I yelped. I winced and grabbed hold of my head.

  He looked at me with concern. Wow, I could have melted into those green eyes. This was ridiculous; I was acting like a lovesick school girl. I pulled myself together and tried to focus on what he was saying to me.

  “There now, we’ll have no more argument. I know I’ll be having your Granna’s approval to escort you back to my abode.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “You knew…I mean know, Granna?” No one knew what had happened, and I certainly didn’t want to open that can of worms with someone I’d just met.

  He grinned, revealing pearly white teeth. “Not in a formal sense no, but that’ll be too long a story to be getting into in this rain.” He held his hands palms up and gazed at the sky. The rain was coming down in buckets.

  “Try me,” I persisted.

  “No, you’ll not be getting that out of me until we have you warm and dry. I know it’s a warm rain but it can still seep into your bones. I’ll set you up with a bowl of soup and then we can talk. Come along now.” And with that, he hoisted me up and carried me back to the house.

  He was as strong as he looked. In no time we were standing in front of a beautiful little sand washed cottage, it was alit with a cheery warmth that beckoned to me like an old friend. Funny, I thought I knew every inch of this beach but I’d never seen this place before. I wondered if it was new. I glanced around; the dunes seemed smaller than I remembered. I sighed. I was losing it. But best not to let this kind man know I was a lunatic. I turned to him. “It’s a lovely house,” I smiled as brightly as I could.

  “Thank you, Zen and I enjoy it.”

  Once inside he set me down and pulled out a chair. I settled back and took in my surroundings. The kitchen was painted a soft yellow, and gleaming white cabinets hugged the wall. There was a center island equipped with a stainless steel stovetop and sink, another full stove and double sink stood against a back wall. Red gingham curtains hung from the window, the curtains perfectly matched the cushion I was seated on. Three other chairs were tucked neatly into the sturdy old fashioned kitchen table. It felt warm and cozy. I sniffed appreciatively. The smell of cinnamon and sugar filled the room.

  “You bake?” I asked surprised.

  “Yes I bake. It’s what I do. I’m a chef at a local restaurant here in town, so I’m allowed,” he said teasing me, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

  Embarrassed, I stuttered. “Oh, right, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just you don’t look like the chef type. What I mean to say is…” I felt myself turn bright pink as the heat rose in my cheeks.

  “And what type would that be?” he asked with amusement, the corners of his mouth crinkling up.

  I gulped. Why did he have to be so charming and cute?

  “Well you know,” I said wringing my hands feebly. “Chefs are usually more roundish? Um…” My voice trailed off. I was becoming more flustered by the minute.

  He grinned, displaying a megawatt smile. I felt myself quiver despite the warm kitchen. I really had to get a grip on myself. Drooling over perfect strangers, especially under the circumstances, just wasn’t appropriate. Fortunately for me, he politely changed the subject, allowing me to remove the large foot from my mouth.

  “Why don’t we have some of that soup I promised you, eh?” he said going to the refrigerator and pulling out a large pot. “This won’t take a jiffy to heat. We’ll be having something warm in you in no time.”

  He set the pot on the stove and turned on the gas. He swung around to face me and smiled. “I’ll be right back; I’ll just be getting us some dry clothes while we wait for the soup.” He disappeared down the hallway.

  A couple of minutes later, he reappeared holding a cotton top and some navy sweatpants. He had changed into a cream colored t-shirt and some jeans. I felt my skin go warm and tingly despite the fact I was soaked to the skin. It was an odd sensation for me, to experience such a strong attraction, and it made me nervous.

  “Here, go put these on,” Tristan handed me the shirt and sweats. There’s a bedroom down the hall with a fat black cat sprawled on the bed. That’s Zen. He’ll not be bothering you.”

  I rose and followed his directions to the bedroom, being careful to close the door behind me. I turned and found I was being observed by a pair of glittering gold eyes.

  Zen.

  “Why hello Zen, you’re a handsome boy aren’t you?” I went over to the bed and sat down beside him. I reached over and began to stroke his soft fur. The tears that had been threatening for the last hour gushed, unchecked down my cheeks. New thoughts arose and I wondered what I would do with Granna’s body. I had no idea how I was going to explain away how she’d passed. How could I cope without her? And what about the other bodies he’d said were buried in that room? I suppose I would have the job of contacting families about their loved ones. My hands shook; should I call the police? What would I say?

  Zen purred under my massaging hands. “You like that don’t you boy?” I said giving him one final scratch under the chin. I stood up and stripped off my wet clothes, embarrassed to realize my blue dress was torn and caked in sand. Wait a minute, where were my pajamas? This wasn’t my dress. Trying not to think about it, I hastily donned the shirt and sweats. Remembering the amulet, I quickly took it from my wet clothes, relieved to find it hadn’t disappeared with my pajamas. I clutched it in my palm for a moment, before stuffing it into my pocket. Still feeling chilled, I rubbed at my arms. I scanned the room, noticing that it was very neat and tidy. A colorful patchwork quilt covered a queen-sized bed and a small brown side table held an assortment of books. A plain bureau stood in the corner; a blue sweater hung from the peg on the door.

  Feeling guilty about leaving my wet clothes on the floor I leaned down to pick them up. I froze mid-bend when I caught sight of the painting. It hung in a gilded frame above the fireplace, commanding attention with its bold dark colors. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed it before. I stifled a gasp. There was an all-too familiar figure on the edge of a cliff. In the background, a long shadow loomed ominously towards her like a black cloud.

  It was my dream captured in oils, and it was what I’d seen in my trance. A reality I’d acted out just a few hours ago. I shivered, despite the warm room.

  This was a painting I’d seen before.

  Zen meowed and jumped off the bed; he came and rubbed against me. I screamed, not expecting to feel the brush of fur on my legs.

  At the sound of my hysterical cry, Tristan raced into the room. “What happened, Emma? Why did you shriek like that? You’ll be taking a dozen years off my life!”

  “I don’t know…I guess I was looking at the painting and the cat…” Tristan interrupted me.

  “For heaven’s sake, girl—you’re pale as a ghost. Come sit down and tell me what’s wrong.” He ushered me to the bed and sat down beside me. He looked nervous and I wondered how much my knight in shining armor knew. What was he was doing with a portrait of me? Clearly, he had some explaining to do.

  “Who painted that picture?” I demanded. He glanced over at the painting and then turned his gaze back to me.

  “This is going to sound crazy Emma, but the woman in that painting haunts my dreams at night, and I receive no peace until I’m able to release her onto my canvas. She consumes all my waking thoughts and I have no idea why. Her face is always fuzzy, but still, her presence plagues me.”

  “You’re an artist?” I questioned. “I thought you said you were a chef.”

  “Ah, that I am, but painting is a way for me to unwind from the stress of life. I’m kept on my toes at work all day and to come home and do this, well—it feeds my soul.”

  I stared at the painting for a long while, trying to gauge how much I should reveal. Oh, what the hell, there was nothing else to lose. Everyone I loved was gone. But this man gave me hope. Despite all the oddness, he was someone I felt I could lean on.

&nb
sp; “Tristan, there is something you should know.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I’m the woman in that painting.”

  “I’m the woman that haunts your dreams.”

  61

  Margaret, October 2005

  I stood on the porch gazing out at the sun dipping below the blue horizon. Emma had returned to the future. A future I had no part in. And I knew, as much as I knew the sun would rise and set each day, that the note Emma had left me could alter my fate.

  The question was, if I changed Providence, what else would change? Would I be murdered as I had foreseen so long ago? Was that how I was meant to die? Or was it just another challenge to overcome?

  I stepped inside, my mind still in turmoil. It was quiet. Present day Emma was already asleep, even though it was early. Tomorrow was her birthday, a day that would forever change the course of her life.

  My joints ached a bit as I climbed the stairs; I paused on the landing to catch my breath. I really needed to exercise more, stay strong. I made my way to the bedroom, feeling suddenly weary from the day’s events. I crossed slowly to the vanity settling my tired old body in the chair. Normally I would have said age was just a number, but tonight I felt every one of my years. I turned on the lamp, the incandescent light cast a tepid glow over the surface of the vanity, illuminating all my knickknacks. I opened the main drawer and placed Diamond’s letter inside, then I reached my hand further back into the drawer and pulled out a gold locket. Abby’s locket. I held it in the palm of my hand and stared at it.

  “Oh Abby, what should I do?” I asked into the stillness.

  Still clutching the locket tightly I went to bed. I closed my eyes and fell into a restless slumber. In my dreams Abby appeared to me, she looked as young and beautiful as she had been on the day she died. I reached out to touch her but she remained elusively beyond my grasp.

  “Help me. Abby please, tell me what I should do,” I pleaded again.