It was no angel. It was Eleanor. Beside Eleanor was Ruth. She turned her head towards the strange red-haired woman and handsome man. She remembered his name: Robert. Robert and his captive, Sarah, kidnapped from the future, during an era when Robert lived in a country across the ocean. The flames ate at her shirt now and her breasts began to bake. The events of the past months rushed through her mind. She had learned of a plot by Robert and the Doctor to snatch women with Immortal blood from the future and impregnate them in the past. They planned to wrench control from the women of the Bastille and use the Tapestry’s power for themselves. They had already killed one woman— Elfi—and now kidnapped Elfi’s descendant. Abbey tried to reason with Robert, but their talk turned violent as he hit her. He tried to rape her, driven crazy by the idea of fathering a child. They fought.
This was not a new issue of contention for them; Abbey had rebuked him many times over the years; each time she was the voice of calm reason and his was the voice of a man driven to the edge of sanity by lust. He claimed Abbey as his property years ago, back before she was the mouthpiece for God. Back then, she was young and ignorant to the ways of men and stood her grounds as a girl would—with coy words and avoidance. Now the time of the girl was through.
She should have killed him that day long ago. But her heart defied her rational mind and rather than kill him, she solicited a promise that he would stop his misuse of the Tapestry. He betrayed her. Now he stood watching her burn, relishing the death of the only person who knew his secret. The only person who had the knowledge and strength to stop him. She knew Robert would make sure she didn’t resurrect from this death. This was the end of her Immortal life.
As the flames ignited her hair and boiled her arms, she tried to cry to Eleanor and Ruth. “ROBERT! STOP ROBERT!”
The roar of the crowd drowned her out. Her words became lost in the din of the crowd. The last thing she saw as the smoke and flame consumed her was Eleanor and Ruth crying in despair.
84
Mathers stood transfixed by the sight. For the past hour, he watched as the Immortals worked with smooth precision.
Before the main gate opened and the townspeople filtered into the living museum, some twenty or thirty people emerged from the fabric. Instantly, they crowded behind the sewing women and took their position among the throng, joining hands and chanting. After that lot stepped out, several people wove their way from the crowd onto the table, disappearing into an embroidered scenario. When through, the women around the Tapestry stood, folded the section of fabric in an elaborate pattern, accompanied by a song of loud rejoicing, and carried it away to the base of the ancient oak tree.
The first wave of Immortals, having just emerged from history, picked up the next section to be repaired and brought it to the low table. In less than an hour, the Immortals had repaired three of the twenty-five by twenty-five sections and were working on their fourth. There were many more exiting than entering, thus leaving a huge crowd of onlookers to block the view from the general public.
Mathers looked behind him and noticed many familiar faces from town: Janet and Sal, the mayor, the busty high school girl from the Dairy Queen, and the waitress from the diner. Lynn Swanson stood at the edge of the throng, looking dynamite in her peasant shirt and tight jeans. He smiled at her, but she didn’t see him.
“It’s time,” Eleanor said.
He looked at her and she nodded. He nodded back. As she led him to the huge wooden table, the group of seamstresses stood, folded the fabric and carried it away. They were replaced by women who unrolled another huge section of Tapestry that was particularly tattered and torn.
“Remember,” Eleanor said, “stay here. I do not know what will happen when we emerge, but it is sure to be exciting.”
“I want to go with you.”
She shook her head. “Impossible.”
“Eleanor,” he said in a quick, hushed tone.
She squeezed his arm. She looked up as the women spread the fabric out and flattened it onto the table. “The spell I cast should give the embroidered entry point a soft golden glow to it.”
Mathers glanced over. Exactly as Eleanor had said, there was a faint glow hovering over a section of the fabric. “What will happen if you… you know.” She shrugged. “I shall be lost to history. But that is of little consequence. We are already lost to history, are we not?” She broke away from him and patted his shoulder. “If we do not see each other again, it was a pleasure, Detective Mathers.” He watched her weave through the crowd and stand next to the table. The women began their chant. Then Mathers saw a flicker of light from behind Eleanor and looked up to see Zenobia standing within a cluster of Immortals, chanting. Her eyes were wide and she stood peering at Eleanor with an odd grimace on her face. In her hand, she grasped a huge knife which reflected the sunlight streaming through the trees.
He acted on instinct. He leapt forward and shoved through the crowd. He threw the prone bodies aside and reached the table in three strides. “No!” he shouted, reaching for Eleanor. Then several things happened at once.
The chanting stopped and he heard someone scream. Zenobia shoved the knife into Eleanor, who stumbled from the impact, flailing at the air. Eleanor grabbed Mather’s wrist to stabilize herself, but the momentum from the thrust sent her tumbling into the Tapestry and through the glowing embroidered patchwork.
And Mathers fell into the Tapestry with her
85
She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the stone floor. Her head pounded and her face ached. Images spun through her mind: Robert, Elfi, Sarah, smoke, fire, flashes of swords, fists hitting her face, blood running down her shoulders—memories spinning into a kaleidoscope of visions.
Then it stopped. Like a curtain rising, she saw all of her Immortal lives in a clear dawning of understanding.
She remembered who she was.
She felt a tickle on her chin and scratched herself. Blood stuck to her fingertips. Robert had broken her skin.
“Do you see what you made me do?” he asked. “If you would listen to me, I would not have to hit you!” He stood over her, fists clenched in rage, his eyes flashing in anger.
“You need to learn your place! Who do you think you are?”
“I am Jehanne d’Arc, daughter of Jacques and Isabelle d’Arc. I am Amelia Earhart. I am Abbey Emerson. I am an Immortal witch and a woman of the Bastille.”
With a quick jerk, she brought her foot up between his legs, connecting with the soft tissue. He doubled over in pain and she bent both her legs, then let fly with a double kick to his stomach. Robert flew backwards, landing with a loud thud on the stone floor. He rolled in agony as she stood over him.
She stepped to him and placed her foot on his throat. “And you, Robert de Baudricourt, are a traitor.”
Detective Mathers felt the hard stone slam into him and he rolled across something cold and wet. He lay on his back, staring up at a high beamed ceiling in what appeared to be some kind of small storage room.
“I see you came along for the ride,” Eleanor’s voice came from beside him.
He tilted his head and saw her grinning at him. “I didn’t have anything else to do today.”
She reached down and offered him a hand. “This does cause problems, Detective.” He went to take her hand and saw blood covering her palm.
“Zenobia. She stabbed you.”
Eleanor nodded. “I know. Merlin and I have long suspected Zenobia of such treachery, and this confirms our suspicions. Will you take my hand or not?”
“You need help. How bad is the wound?” He stood up and tenderly lifted her arm, inspecting her side for the entry point.
“Detective,” she snapped, “I cannot be killed by this, I assure you. And as for the blood,” she wiped her hand on her dress, “my son led one of the bloodiest massacres in history. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? His name was Richard?”
Mathers saw a smirk spread across her face and smiled back. “Sorry. I...it’s an occupat
ional hazard.”
“No,” she said, taking him by the hand. “You are a male. And it is delightful to see chivalry these days. I thought it had gone the way of the boot strap.” She tugged him towards the door.
“Eleanor,” a thought suddenly striking him, “if Zenobia knows that wound wouldn’t have killed you, why did she stab you there?”
Eleanor’s smile faltered for a split second before she tugged at his arm and said, “Come. Let us find our girl.”
Abbey never saw the punch coming. One moment she stood on Robert’s throat, staring down at him, the next she flew across the room and landed on the floor, her head cracking on the stone. By the time the black spots before her eyes disappeared, Robert had made it to the door and out.
She jumped to her feet and ran after him. She tackled him as he half-ran, half- limped down the corridor. They tumbled across the floor, the rough masonry tearing at her shoulder and skinning her knees. He recovered quickly, kicking her aside and sending streaks of pain down her arm where his boot made contact. She screamed. Robert chuckled.
“France’s best warrior, eh?” he spat on her and ran.
She clawed at the wall, pulling herself to her feet. Robert hobbled around the corner towards the streak of sunlight ricocheting off the walls in the intersecting hallway. Her hand brushed against something and she looked down. The wall she had used for leverage contained several weapons hanging from crude metal hooks. She snatched a foil and a long dagger and took off after Robert.
Eleanor and Mathers inched down the corridor. They had just turned the second corner when they heard a woman’s scream coming from behind them.
“Abbey!” Eleanor gasped.
Just then they heard Robert’s voice resounding in a fierce, angry tone. “France’s best warrior, eh?”
Eleanor nodded to the detective and they turned to run towards the voice.
Abbey caught up to Robert as he approached the doorway inside the small recess of the wall. She threw herself at him, knocking him off balance and the two of them crashed through the door and into the tiny storage room.
Abbey clawed at him as Robert scrambled along the floor towards the arched window. Just as his hands reached up to grab the windowsill, Abbey swung around on her butt, connecting her foot with his gut. The force sent him rolling onto his back, his head resting against the wall underneath the small porthole.
“Want an Immortal child, do you?” Abbey sneered. “Be my guest.” She plunged the small dagger into his crotch, where it pierced his genitals and stuck into the crevice between two stone blocks. “Immortal women decide with whom to conceive.”
“Abbey?”
Abbey spun around to see Eleanor and Mathers standing at the doorway.
As Mathers reached the doorway to the small room, the first thing he noticed was that Eleanor wasn’t going inside. The second was that from his vantage point behind Eleanor, he could see Robert sitting beneath a window with a dagger sticking out of his crotch and blood oozing across the stones.
“What have you done?” Eleanor gasped.
“I am Jehanne d’Arc, and I do what must be done.”
Eleanor rushed into the room and lifted her from the floor. “Welcome back.” She wrapped the young woman in her arms and held her tightly.
Mathers stood transfixed, not knowing if he should address the fact that Abbey was naked, or that Robert had a knife sticking out of his crotch. He slipped off his doublet and stepped into the room, holding the garment out in front of him. Eleanor took it graciously and wrapped it around Abbey. Thankfully, it was too large for him, so on Abbey’s small frame it hung like a very large T-shirt.
As he turned back towards Robert, Mathers spied him pulling a piece of fabric out of a crack in the wall beneath the window.
“Eleanor!” he shouted as he leapt at Robert.
“You think I had no escape plan?” Robert laughed as he unfurled the Tapestry.
Then all went black.
86
Mr. Graves sighed and wished Mrs. Bailey would either shut up or go back to making love to Feng Shi. He didn’t care which one the crazy coot did, but if she started talking about spreading her joy one more time, he would have to-
He saw movement in the trees several yards on the other side of the rope that separated the Faire grounds and the Bastille’s woods, which he knew were the ones that were off limits to the public. The small clump of foliage was too far away for him to get a good look, so he ducked under the yellow nylon rope and strode towards the scene of the disturbance. As he walked towards the area, the bushes parted and he saw a young man emerge, smiling broadly and counting bills as he walked towards the Faire grounds. What the-?
After taking another few steps, Mr. Graves saw a second figure emerge from the shrubbery and he froze, his blood running cold. The Grim Reaper was here. The Grim Reaper had found his way to the Bastille and stood less than a hundred yards away.
Abbey. He must save Abbey from Death. As Mr. Graves stood wondering about the best way to approach Death, the Grim Reaper lit a cigarette. Why would Death be smoking a cigarette?
He had no time to lose. If he didn’t stop Death, the Reaper would pay a visit to Abbey and that was not acceptable. As the cloaked figure headed back towards the Faire grounds, Mr. Graves broke into a run, closing the gap between himself and the smoking Death. He may die today, but at least he would die saving Abbey.
87
For the second time today Mathers fell through time. One moment he felt himself reaching out to Robert, the next he felt himself being pulled through a black emptiness. When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting in the middle of the small wooden table on top of the Tapestry while the near-naked Abbey tumbled out of Eleanor’s embrace and onto the grass amid the gasps of surprised onlookers.
“Robert the traitor!” Boo screamed, leaping out of the crowd, sword in hand. She wore only blue paint and an angry expression. Boo flung herself against Zenobia, who clutched a knife in one hand and drew a sword from within her dress with the other. Instantly, the two women began flailing at each other, sending the sound of clashing swords ringing through the air.
Mathers felt movement to his left and turned to find himself staring into Robert’s sly grin. “Immortals heal very, very quickly,” he whispered before pulling the dagger from his crotch and plunging it into Mathers’ side. “Do you?”
“No!” Abbey screamed and jumped, slamming into Robert and sending them both rolling off the table and onto the ground. Mathers looked at the dagger sticking from his side and felt strong hands pulling him from the table. He looked into the eyes of Tomyris who blew him a kiss and winked. Then she mumbled something in a language he did not understand and darkness descended upon him.
88
Edna had her sights set on the young man with the full head of red hair and thick beard. He reminded her of her first husband, God rest his soul, who said he couldn’t take Edna’s craziness anymore and disappeared in his Ford F-160. True, several weeks later they found him in a snow bank frozen to death, but Edna always carried a bit of guilt about killing him. If she wasn’t insane, he wouldn’t have left and then he would never have crashed into the snow bank and died. He always liked her buns and if she were able to get this cute guy to squeeze her buns, then she could make up for killing her first husband.
She heard a scream off in the distance and turned to see Mr. Graves chasing the Grim Reaper. Death was touching himself and Mr. Graves shouted obscenities. Everyone knew that Mr. Graves didn’t swear. Mr. Graves didn’t even talk. If Death got him to talk, this was a very, very serious thing.
“Edna!” Mr. Graves shouted, waving at her. “Death wants Abbey!”
Edna’s blood ran cold. Death is after her little Abbey? “Well, he can’t have her!” Edna screamed and ran towards Death and Mr. Graves.
Just then, a loud crash came from her right, near where the women were having the quilting demonstration. Mr. Chow appeared from behind the ale booth, both hands covering hi
s crotch.
“People are coming out of the quilt!” he screamed in a shrill voice. “All kinds of crazy people are coming out of the Tapestry!”
“It’s true!” Mrs. Bailey said, huffing and puffing from the opposite direction. “I seen ‘em. They want Feng Shi!”
“They want my dick! Everyone wants my dick!” shouted Mr. Chow.
“Death is after Abbey!” Edna insisted.
“Stay away from my dick!” As if on cue, Boudicca and Zenobia erupted from the trees, swords clanking.
“They’re coming to cut my dick off!” Mr. Chow kept yelling.
As the two Immortals struck swords, Edna handed a loaf of bread to Mr. Chow. “Hold this.” The short man kept one hand clutching his groin and grabbed the loaf of bread in the other. With the deft of a major league pitcher, Edna weighed the bread in her hand, took aim and let the loaf fly with amazing force. It hit Zenobia directly in the back of the head and the woman stumbled as the blue woman’s sword came down on her arm. The poor girl screamed in pain and fell to the ground, clutching her wound. With blinding speed, the blue woman grabbed Zenobia by the neck and hauled her off into the trees.
“And that,” Edna said with a flourish, “is how hard stale bread can become.”
A thundering sound exploded from behind her and a huge Frisian horse ran past and leapt into the clump of trees where the two warriors had disappeared. “This is a very busy place,” Mr. Chow noted as he let go of his dick.
“Move!” Edna commanded. “Mr. Graves needs to stop Death!”
They set off at a run towards Mr. Graves and Death. As they ran, Edna could hear Mr. Chow yelling along the way, “The quilt! People come out of the quilt! It births people! Live births! Go see the live births!” People shot them startled looks, but Edna didn’t mind. Fuck ‘em. At least they gave her a wide berth and didn’t slow them down. Who knew how much damage Mr. Graves would suffer at the hands of Death. From somewhere she heard a woman scream, “There’s a crazy, fat black lady beating people up for Feng Shi.”
Guild Of Immortal Women Page 23