by Geonn Cannon
The man on the other side of the door chortled. “Well, I think the rest of the crew deserves a bit of that reward as well, don’t you?”
Amenemhat closed his eyes and stifled a groan. Would he have to kill every man aboard this vessel to remain unmolested?
“Paul is quite greedy, you know...”
“Heh. Don’t I know. I’ll tell the cap. Don’t be too rough with ‘er, Paulie!”
Amenemhat listened to the sound of receding footsteps and let out the breath she’d been holding. She walked back to the porthole and stared out. Rain streaked the glass but he could still clearly see the city shrouded in fog, its golden lights glowing like starlight. Amun had brought him this far, and he had faith his god would continue blessing his quest.
“Soon, Henuttaui. I am coming to wake you. Soon.”
He smiled and went to the bed. He was exhausted and needed sleep, and the trip would afford him much time to plan and learn about this strange new world in which he’d found himself.
By the time he arrived in Egypt, he would have everything he required to wake his beloved.
Chapter Seven
Upon their arrival at the Keeping house, Agnes immediately ushered Trafalgar and Dorothy upstairs to offer them a change of clothes. Dorothy was forced to take something from Leonard’s wardrobe. She paused before removing his trousers, standing in front of the wardrobe completely nude and very aware of that fact. She glanced down and immediately averted her gaze. Well. There that was. She cleared her throat and tried to avoid thinking about her new and unusual anatomy, but when she stepped forward she felt it move against her thigh.
“Good lord, that’s distracting...”
Apparently Leonard’s preferred style of undergarment was a pair of pale pink linen shorts. She stepped into them and was forced to adjust things. She grimaced and tried to finish the task as quickly as possible, but it seemed to be more difficult than she expected. There was no arrangement that felt comfortable to her. She tugged at the linen, shifted her hips one way and then the other, and nearly gave up on the idea of underwear altogether when she somehow found a position that worked.
She quickly donned the trousers and a tan shirt. The material felt strange against the bare skin of her chest and she left the bedroom feeling as if she were only half-dressed. It was no wonder men were able to prepare for an evening out so much faster than a female counterpart; they had a fraction of the tasks to perform before showing themselves to the world.
Leonard and Agnes were in the study, standing over a table where they had spread out an impressive collection of books, journals, and reference guides. Dorothy had no idea how long the two had been married, but they operated as a single entity. They were in their sixties, contemporaries of her grandmother and still very active in their field. Leonard’s white hair had grown long enough to tend toward curly, while Agnes wore her black-and-silver hair tied back in a long plait. Agnes looked up as she approached.
“Desmond, there you are. I...” She shook her head. “I apologize, Dorothy.”
“It’s all right. I’m feeling a bit confused myself.” She stood across the table from them. “What have you learned?”
Leonard said, “Nothing specific on Amenemhat, of course. I didn’t expect to have anything immediately on-hand which referenced him by name. I focused instead on the ka statue and the inscriptions Trafalgar described. I thought perhaps it might be a spell from the Book of the Dead so I did a bit of digging.”
Trafalgar entered the room in one of Agnes’ dresses and stood beside Dorothy, nodding for Leonard to continue his speech.
“The Book of the Dead is, of course, a funerary text meant to prepare souls for their journey to the afterlife. From what I can gather it’s your basic ‘ashes to ashes’ litany. Nothing special or significant about it. But it also doesn’t contain the characters you described from the statue. So I dug a little deeper and discovered the Books of Breathing.”
Dorothy prompted, “And that would be?”
Agnes said, “They are also funerary texts, but with a different purpose. The Book of the Dead was a guide to send a person’s soul to the afterlife. The Books of Breathing contained spells to ensure the person’s soul continued to exist in that afterlife. I believe it was a way for them to retain consciousness and awareness even after losing their earthly vessel. It stands to reason this Amenemhat fellow used a spell from the Books of Breathing to release his soul without taking the next step and moving on to the next life.”
“When we know more about who he is,” Leonard said, “We’ll have a better idea of what he wants and how to stop him.”
“Stop him?” Dorothy said. “The damage is already done.”
Agnes said, “To you, yes. But there is still immeasurable damage that could be done. He has the ability to leap from one body to the next. Imagine what havoc could be wrought with such an ability. If it ever got into the hands of a despot or a criminal, they would be unstoppable. I can’t even fathom if Genghis Khan or Napoleon Bonaparte had the ability to switch bodies.”
The front bell chimed and Leonard excused himself to answer it. Dorothy picked up one of the books and flipped the pages.
“You bring up a valid point, Agnes. I don’t suppose there are any copies of this Book of Breathing lying around, or any reference to how we might reverse the process from afar.”
Trafalgar said, “The process may be irreversible.” Dorothy’s eyes snapped toward her. “Not that I’m saying this is a permanent situation. If push comes to shove, we can merely... shuffle everyone back to the correct bodies. If you are barred from returning to the statue or back into your own body, I will step in as a... as a, uh... waystation. You into my body, my essence into Desmond’s, then Desmond and I shall...” She furrowed her brow. “I will require pen and paper.”
Leonard came back from the door. “Pen and paper will have to wait, Miss Trafalgar. Agnes, please get the first aid kit!”
The women turned and saw Leonard half-dragging Cecil into the room. He had been beaten until his face was a bloody ruin. Most of the bloodstains on his clothes seemed to be seeping through the cloth from within rather than dripping from his damaged face. One eye was already swollen shut. “Good lord!” Dorothy gasped, moving to help transfer him to the divan. Trafalgar laid down a blanket so he wouldn’t bleed into the cushions.
“The poor man collapsed on the stoop after ringing the bell,” Leonard said. Agnes returned with the medical supplies. “Thank you, darling. Cecil? Can you hear me?”
“My ears are the one thing they didn’t break.” His voice was slurred and lisping. Leonard began tending to the worst of the wounds. “Bloody bastards attacked me on the docks. Dorothy... er, the fellow in Dorothy’s body... tol’ them I was comin’ after her. They decided to be chivalrous. Didn’t give me a chance to explain.”
Dorothy said, “So you saw him? Amenemhat?”
Cecil nodded carefully. “While I was getting the stuffing beat out of me, I heard where he’s heading. One of the dockworkers put him on a boat to Cairo.”
“As expected,” Trafalgar said. “It’s unfortunate that Mr. Dubourne had to suffer so grievously to learn something so trivial as Amenemhat’s travel plans.”
Dorothy said, “It’s not trivial at all. We know where he is going. And he’s traveling there as a stowaway, which means he will have to travel at their pace. He’ll be at sea for at least a week.”
Agnes said, “There can’t be many vessels departing for Egypt what with all the revolutions and anti-British demonstrations going on. Finding out exactly which vessel he’s on should be child’s play, and then we simply track his journey.”
“Brilliant.” Leonard stood and gestured for Agnes to take over for him with Cecil’s wounds. “I’ll contact my associate Stavrou at the docks. If he doesn’t have the information we require, he can find it for us within the hour.” He hurried from the room to make the call.
Trafalgar looked at Dorothy. “I leave it up to you. We can pursue and
hope to catch up with them at some port between here and their destination, or we can get ahead of him. Go to Cairo and await his arrival in the hopes of laying a trap.”
Agnes sat next to the divan, taking over where Leonard had left off. “Why do you have to choose? Wasn’t the Mnemosyne Society founded on the spirit of cooperation? The two of you can go to Cairo and lay a trap while Leonard and I pursue to ensure he doesn’t slip away at any point of the journey. Or vice versa. We’ll go to Cairo and you pursue in case there’s an opportunity to regain your body before he arrives.”
Dorothy said, “You’re absolutely correct, Agnes. The question now becomes where will we do the most good.”
Trafalgar said, “Or where we can cause the most harm. If we pursue Amenemhat in the hopes of retrieving your body, we’ll have to take the ka statue with us. The risk of losing or damaging it will be far greater if we’re in transit. Going to Cairo and waiting will not only provide security, we can also use the time to learn about our adversary.”
“I hate to take advantage of Minty so soon after our last journey, but an airship is the only way we could reach Cairo before he does.”
Agnes paused in the process of bandaging a wound on Cecil’s face. “Well... not the only way.”
Leonard returned in time to hear the end of the conversation. “Agnes! They already have a means of traveling to Egypt.”
“Yes, but--”
“But nothing. We cannot betray a confidence.”
“Yes. But,” Agnes continued, glaring at her husband, “if they can shave even a few hours off their journey, it could mean the difference between success and failure. We must tell them.”
Dorothy said, “What on earth are you talking about?”
Agnes wiped smears of blood off her hands as she stood up. “We have access to a plane.” Leonard groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, but Agnes ignored him. “It would be your best option.”
Trafalgar said, “A plane capable of traveling from London to Egypt in the time required?”
Leonard sighed, “Yes. It would have to make a fuel stop somewhere on the Continent, but it could get you where you need to go by tomorrow.”
Dorothy raised an eyebrow. “Why haven’t we heard of this before?”
Leonard fixed his wife with a withering look that may have worked on a lesser woman. “The aircraft is a prototype. Its inventor is a friend of ours and asked that we keep its existence confidential. But I suppose given the circumstances...”
“The circumstances being our colleague’s life being at enormous risk,” Agnes interjected.
“...we could convince her to help you out. The plane only sits three, so you won’t be able to bring Beatrice with you.”
Dorothy said, “I would probably want her to sit out anyway, given her injury.”
“She won’t like that,” Trafalgar said.
“So I won’t tell her before we leave. I’ll ask forgiveness later.”
Trafalgar raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
Agnes headed for the door. “I’ll call her and see if the plane is even available and if it can fly in this weather. Won’t take a minute.”
“Meanwhile,” Leonard said, “my friend at the docks found the information we required. The only ship departing for the Mediterranean scheduled for a stop in Cairo is the Bessemer. Once you’re underway, I’ll make arrangements to begin our pursuit.” He looked at Cecil, who had passed out. “I assume someone will have to remain behind to care for poor Mr. Dubourne.”
Dorothy said, “Yes, I can’t help but feel utterly responsible for the drubbing he took. I shall have to find a way to make it up to him.”
Leonard made a sound of agreement, then looked toward the window. “The storm looks to be lessening, but let me get you a rainslicker before you go out in this mess again.”
Dorothy nodded her thanks. “I’ll get the clothes back to you as soon as I can.”
“At your leisure. I’ll have Desmond’s clothes washed and dried, and they will be ready for him to retrieve once this whole situation is settled.”
He left the room and Dorothy reached down to tug on her trousers.
Trafalgar cleared her throat. “A bit obscene, don’t you think?”
“Crumbs,” Dorothy said. “I’m sorry. There seems to be a science to dealing with... this... that I have yet to grasp. Perhaps I haven’t given men enough credit for keeping it under control. Or perhaps Desmond is remarkably endowed. I’m not exactly an expert in that area...”
“I doubt he would appreciate this discussion.”
“You’re absolutely correct.”
“Although...” Trafalgar furrowed her brow. “We’re contemplating a week in Egypt waiting for Amenemhat to arrive so we can capture him and reclaim your body. I find it difficult to believe you won’t need to bathe or... evacuate... in that time.”
Dorothy said, “I’ve been trying not to think about that, but you’re absolutely right. We’ll cross that bridge when we have to.”
Agnes appeared shortly after their conversation ended. “You’re in luck. Isidora has agreed to the journey. You have time to go home and pack for the trip, but remember to pack light. The plane has a very strict weight limit.”
“I should go to Desmond’s... do you have clothes at Threadneedle?”
Trafalgar said, “Yes, but I believe it would be easier to pack something at my actual home.”
Agnes said, “I’ll drive you. Come, ladies. Our lead grows shorter by the minute.”
#
Beatrice couldn’t stand lying on the couch for more than a few minutes, so she set out to make the most of her time as an invalid. She was still lightheaded but she could maneuver through the house well enough. She knew the best spots to pause and rest, and she knew everything she could use for support or lean against as she checked the locks and windows. She also decided she could work on the inventory, a job which would require her to remain seated for long stretches. It would also allow her to serve a purpose, be useful to Dorothy in a time of great need.
The townhouse next door had been transformed into a vault for items Dorothy brought home from her travels. Fragments of ancient maps, stone statues like the ones that had caused the current mess, golden idols, gold coins which had been collected in cloth bags, and many other things which seemed valuable but were otherwise unremarkable. Dorothy removed them to dissuade thieves from ransacking the sacred sites and then made it her duty to research each item’s history to discover which culture it belonged to. Then, if possible, she returned it to the proper owners.
Beatrice remembered six months ago when she and Dorothy had taken a quick jaunt to Mexico so they could return a chalice to the tribe who had lost it when they migrated north from South America. The ceremony in their honor had been a joyous affair in which she and Dorothy were both seduced by a young woman named Narida, who insisted on thanking them both in a very athletic and acrobatic manner.
She smiled just thinking about it. The tent had been sweltering and all three women were dripping sweat. Narida was seated in Dorothy’s lap, allowing Dorothy’s fingers to do all sorts of vulgar things between her legs, and she had leaned forward to put her head in Beatrice’s lap. Dorothy had looked up and met Beatrice’s eyes across the span of Narida’s back and she’d smiled, face ruddy and shining, hair dark and hanging tangled in front of her face.
Beatrice shuddered at the memory. Dorothy had taught her so many things about pleasure and sex. She meant what she’d said. If they couldn’t retrieve her body from Amenemhat, if it was somehow fatally damaged or straight-out killed, then Beatrice had no qualms about offering hers in exchange. Besides, the idea of having Dorothy Boone inside of her body...
“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, urging calmness before she got herself worked up. She needed tea. She pushed back from the table and went back downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs she turned and started down the short hall to the kitchen. She was almost to the door when she recognized the sound of water
running. At first she thought it was the rain, but it was definitely coming from inside the house. She stopped and turned to see if she could determine the origin, but a powerful force of energy hit her in the chest before she could fully turn.
She hit the side of the stairs hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She brought up both hands and summoned as much energy as she could in the space of a second. Fire in the form of blue energy twisted around her fingers but she never had a chance to release it. Something twisted the flames and pushed them back around her hands and tightened until both hands were squeezed into fists. The energy guided her hands down and pinned them to the plaster behind her.
“Come out and face me!” she bellowed.
A woman stepped through the study doorway into the hall. The ground floor was too dark to see her features, but there was no mistaking the lilt when she spoke. “I merely wanted to ensure you wouldn’t do anything rash when you realized I was here.”
Beatrice bared her teeth. “I thought I made it perfectly clear what would happen if I ever saw you again.”
Emmeline Potter, the Irish terrorist known as Virago, grinned, the meager light catching her teeth as she moved closer to where Beatrice was pinned.
“Now, Miss Sek... I know Dorothy Boone was spotted boarding a ship bound for Cairo earlier this afternoon. I’ve no idea why you didn’t go with her, but I’m not one to question opportunity. It’s time you and I had a chat.”
“I have nothing to say to you, beast.”
“On the contrary, I believe I have information you’ve been quite desperate to uncover. I know you’ve spent the time since our last meeting in search of the other two elementals. The last two members of our odd little family.”
Beatrice said, “And how would you know that?”
“I’ve been keeping tabs on you, of course. I’m sure you would have done the same for me, had you been able to find me.” She chuckled and reached out to adjust Beatrice’s collar. Beatrice twisted away, but Virago grabbed her chin and forced her to hold still. “I know where another elemental is. I’m willing to take you to her. But only if you ask.”