Last Rite (Maggie Devereaux Book 3)

by Stephen Penner

  Once he was out of earshot, Ellen reached over and grabbed Maggie’s hand. “Thanks, Mags. I know you don’t really want to go to the museum, but Stuart’s right keen on all that science stuff.”

  “No problem,” Maggie answered with a smile. “I’m sure I’ll dig up something to interest me too.”

  28. Science through the Ages

  The National Museum of Scotland was everything one would expect. Only blocks from Edinburgh Castle, it was absolutely enormous, resulting from the merger of three previous museums: the National Museum of Antiquities of Scotland, the Royal Scottish Museum, and the Museum of Scotland. Boasting sixteen exhibit halls behind its Victorian Romanesque facade, it was the depository to some of Scotland’s most venerable national treasures. With over 8,000 objects on display, it would take a full day just to see a fraction of the art collection, let alone its exhibits on natural history, archaeology, and technology. It was a pinnacle of Scottish history and achievement.

  Maggie couldn’t wait to get out of there.

  The ‘Science through the Ages’ exhibit was housed in one of the rotating exhibits halls at the far end of the museum. That is, it was about as far away from Greyfriars as possible. Just walking from the hall to the front door of the museum was going to take her five full minutes. She’d just have to hope the exhibit was enthralling enough to keep Stuart and Ellen from really noticing she was gone. In addition to the ten minutes through the museums corridors—five on the way there, five on the way back—she figured another fifteen to find the grave and ten to fifteen to poke around and discover whatever it was she was hoping to find. So, all in all, she’d be gone about forty-five minutes. They’d probably notice her disappearance by then, but likely wouldn’t have done much about it yet. The museum was big enough she could suddenly reappear and credibly claim to have gotten lost looking for the restroom.

  The exhibit itself was divided into several sub-exhibits, starting with ‘Pre-History,’ then clumping groups of years together. The farther back in time one went, the more years were combined into a group. For example, ‘500 B.C.E.-1500 A.D.’ took up one room, while the years ‘1950-present’ were afforded the same amount of space. Maggie supposed science was an accelerating field, so that as the ball really got going, the pace of invention increased as well. Still, she guessed there was a certain bias against the knowledge of the ancients, born of ignorance. We didn’t know what we didn’t know.

  One display in the ‘Pre-History’ section illustrated her point. It was a model of Stonehenge. Feeling a private connection to the mysterious standing stones of Salisbury Plain, Maggie stepped over to the display as Ellen and Stuart dissipated into the rest of the exhibit.

  No one knows for sure why the giant formation at Stonehenge was built. It clearly held an astronomical use, as evinced by the manner in which its layout aligns with the rising sun on the equinox and solstices. But there are many who believe it must have served some greater purpose to have motivated those who erected it to move monumental stones over hundreds of miles. Most such theories claim a religious or political significance. Others point to its location along what have been termed the ‘ley’ lines of the planet. One recent theory even suggested the stones at Stonehenge were some sort of recording device, preserving in psychic vibration the knowledge of the ancients. But the truth about Stonehenge is that no one really knows why it was built.

  Maggie finished reading, then looked up and around. Ellen and Stuart were nowhere to be seen. She considered leaving just then, but the exhibit was commanding her interest despite herself. She began to wonder what scientific advances might have been achieved back at the time of Brìghde Innes. Walking though the sub-exhibits, she quickly found the one marked ‘A.D. 1500-1700.’

  Thankfully the stagers of the exhibit seemed to appreciate that not everyone might share an enthusiasm for scientific minutiae commensurate with that of Stuart Menzies’. Although there were certainly displays about the advancement of the most esoteric and specialized technologies, the more well-known advancements were given greater treatment, not unlike the Stonehenge model near the entrance, set out in larger, more visibly-interesting displays. The first of these in the ‘1500-1700’ section was a miniature solar system at the very center of the room. There were only six planets, but it didn’t take long for Maggie to realize the significance wasn’t the number of planets, but rather, their position relative to the sun and Earth. She was used to seeing the sun at the center of solar system models; the people of the 1500s, not so much. The plaque on the side of the display explained it more fully.

  In ancient times and throughout the Middle Ages, it was accepted as self-evident and theologically significant that the Earth was the center of the universe, and specifically that the planets and the sun orbited the Earth just as did the moon. In 1543, shortly before his death, Nicolaus Copernicus (1473-1543) published De revolutionibus orbium coelestium (On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres), which set forth his theory of a heliocentric solar system. Although his sun-centered model was simpler than Ptolemy’s Earth-centered model, and accorded better with empirical astronomical observations, it was quite controversial because it challenged the prevailing religious view that the Earth was the center of all creation.

  Copernicus’ model was vindicated nearly a hundred years later by two related events. In 1631, French astronomer Pierre Gassendi (1592-1655) documented the transit of both Mercury and Venus across the sun, confirming that these planets lay between the sun and Earth. Then, in 1632, Italian astronomer Galileo Galilei (1564-1642) published his Dialogo sopra i due massimi sistemi del mondo (Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems), wherein he established the superiority of the Copernican model. For this, as well as for the disrespectful tone of the book toward Pope Urban VIII (1568-1644), Galileo was tried and convicted of heresy, forced to recant his championing of the heliocentric model, and spent the remainder of his life under house arrest.

  Nevertheless, the model of the universe explained by Copernicus and championed by Galileo prevailed, becoming a prime example of the power of science to reveal the truth even when such truth runs counter to prevailing beliefs. This development is often cited as the beginning of a new scientific age of reason where science first established its superiority over superstition.

  Maggie looked back to the model with its large orange sun in the center. Sometimes, the most obvious truths can be obscured by our everyday observations. She looked around the room for any similar major displays. The only other was a portrait on the opposite wall of a man wearing what was, by modern standards anyway, an absolutely ridiculous wig. The painting looked familiar somehow. If nothing else, its style reminded her of the portrait of Brìghde in the art book. It hung centered on the wall, a light suspended above it, and obviously in a place of honor. She stepped over and read the plaque next to it.

  Sir Isaac Newton (1642-1727). Physicist and mathematician.

  Perhaps no one has had as great an impact on the advancement of science as Sir Isaac Newton. In addition to his invention of infinitesimal calculus (also developed independently by German mathematician Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646-1716)), Newton is best known for his monumental work, Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica (Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy). In it, Newton laid out his laws of motion, now commonly referred to as the Newtonian Laws, which were significant not only because they explained perfectly the motion of both small objects (an apple falling from a tree) and large objects (the moon orbiting the sun), but also because they were true independent of any higher meaning or intent. They simply were true and always had been and always would be, which meant they could be relied upon for future scientific and industrial development. When Newton published his Principia in 1687, he laid the groundwork for our modern science-based world.

  Next to the portrait, on a pedestal, was a reproduction of Newton’s great work, laid open to some undoubtedly significant page. Underneath it, a plaque read, ‘The Book that Unlocked the Natural Wo
rld.’

  Hm, Maggie thought noncommittally. There were still a few secrets left.

  She continued to wander through the exhibit, from era to era, until she found herself in the final room, the one with the most recent scientific advancements. She was so caught up in trying to understand the displays about subatomic hocus-pocus and quantum voodoo that she wasn’t watching where she was going and once again tripped over Stuart Menzies, who was crouched down to get a better view at some display Maggie didn’t even want to try to understand.

  “Oh, Maggie!” he beamed, despite the general rudeness of being stepped on. “We have to stop running into each other like this.”

  Maggie managed a weak nod at the joke. She wished she’d stayed back in the steam power displays.

  “Look at this one,” Stuart said excitedly, pointing at a display of a stuffed sheep. “This is Dolly.”

  “Dolly,” Maggie repeated, as if she were supposed to know. ‘Dolly the Sheep’ did sound familiar. Like a children’s story.

  “The first mammal to be cloned from an adult somatic cell, using the process of nuclear transfer,” Stuart explained. Well, sort of explained. Maggie understood ‘first,’ ‘mammal,’ and ‘cloned.’ That was probably enough.

  “Oh,” Maggie replied. She’d heard of that.

  “Oh?” Stuart questioned her reaction. “Just ‘oh’? No, it’s much more than ‘oh.’ It was the culmination of the greatest scientific riddle ever: the creation of life itself. Life is biology and biology is just chemistry, but still, there’s something special, intangible, almost magical about life. Humankind has always longed to create life, to resurrect the dead, the beat back the natural and inescapable cycle of life and death, whether it was Mary Shelly or the Scottish scientists who cloned Dolly. The dream has always been the same, to unlock the secret of life. And this is exactly when we did it.”

  Maggie looked at the plaque. She was just a little girl when it had happened. And she didn’t usually like thinking about that time in her life. It was time to ditch.

  “I have to pee,” she announced, and walked briskly away.

  Stuart Menzies watched after her and smiled.

  29. Greyfriars Kirkyard

  The street between the museum and the graveyard—Candlemakers Row—was a bit busier than Maggie would have liked. It wasn’t a major thoroughfare, but the traffic was relentless that time of day. She had to check her impulse to dash across the street, and forced herself to wait for the cars to clear. No use in becoming a ghost herself.

  A few long minutes later, she’d made it safely across the street and looked up at the main gate to the kirkyard. It was wrought iron with the word ‘GREYFRIARS’ along the top. Just inside there was a statue of a dog. She walked over and read the inscription. It was devoted to ‘Greyfriars Bobby,’ a terrier who slept atop his policeman master’s grave for over a decade after his death.

  Now that was loyalty, Maggie thought. Certain Scottish men named Iain could learn a thing or two from that dog.

  Then she shook her head. No, no thinking about Iain. Iain was the past. She had to think about the future. Getting her Book back and starting over. Moving forward.

  What better place to start over than a graveyard? She shook her head again at the irony. At least she wasn’t whistling.

  Looking around, Maggie realized the grounds were more expansive than they’d seemed on the tour book map. Fifteen minutes might not be enough time to locate the defiled grave of her ancestor. Tourists milled about casually. There was nothing indicating the recent commission of a crime. She pursed her lips and tapped her foot, trying to decide which of four paths to take. Then she thought better of guessing and scanned the entry for a map. She found it off to the side, near the front gate.

  The oldest graves were to her right. That was where she would find Rebecca’s grave—or what was left of it. MacKenzie’s mausoleum and the South Yard with its mort-safes were to her left. Decisions, decisions. But the paths encircled the kirkyard and connected at the back. She could go to her right and if she located the open grave quickly enough, she’d have enough time to circle back by MacKenzie and the anti-grave robber contraptions on her way out.

  The grass was a deep, lush green, broken artistically by scores of gray stone monuments and headstones. Low-hanging branches shaded her way and a beautiful sandstone church—‘kirk,’ she reminded herself—rested sphinx-like at the center of the grounds. It was around this house of worship that the circuitous route would take her.

  She walked quickly, the time limits on her ditch-of-opportunity weighing on her mind and speeding her feet. She wasn’t entirely sure how much time she’d need at the gravesite. At least enough to read the headstone, peer into the grave, and identify some useful clue she could slip into pocket for later examination. Three to five minutes, she supposed. She took a bend in the sidewalk, ducked under a branch, and realized she’d be getting that three to five minutes back.

  Ahead and to the right was very obviously the grave she was looking for. It was obvious for three reasons: one, the mound of black earth piled up next to it; two, the blue and white police tape wrapped around a nearby tree and two headstones cordoning off the grave from the rest of the kirkyard; and three—much to Maggie’s chagrin—the uniformed policeman standing guard.

  “Damn,” she hissed. She should have realized it might be guarded. She hadn’t expected the police to need to guard a grave, but she supposed the crime was still pretty fresh, having just been discovered that morning. She frowned, but shrugged. There was nothing to be done just then. Maybe Stuart would want to go back to the museum again tomorrow.

  She put her hands in her pockets and set out to complete her circuit. The South Yard was intriguing, jutting out from the rest of the cemetery like a long, rectangular peninsula, a gangplank of sorts, filled with fortifications against the grave robbers from the dawn of the Age of Science. Savages. She wondered if Stuart’s exhibit included a display on the resurrectionists. She shrugged again. Probably. Damn scientists.

  The mort-safes were especially intriguing. They were iron cages, only a foot or two high, each covering two temporary grave holes. The purpose was to allow the bodies to decompose enough to be of no use to the doctors. To that end, Maggie realized why the South Yard might have been set off so distinctly from the rest of the serene cemetery. It must have smelled terrible.

  She surveyed the area one more time, wishing something similar to a mort-safe had encased her ancestor, then headed for the exit. Bluidy MacKenzie’s mausoleum would be on her way out.

  If she hadn’t known where it was by the map in her head, the gaggle of tourists grouped in front of the circular, domed mausoleum would have tipped her off. As she approached, her deduction was confirmed by the tour guide who was standing in front of the mausoleum and regaling the crowd with a bit about Sir George’s ghost. Having been denied the opportunity to poke around Rebecca’s grave, Maggie supposed she had time to listen to at least some of the tour guide’s practiced spiel.

  “This is the tomb of Sir George MacKenzie,” the tour guide said. She was a young woman with red hair pulled back into a fuzzy ponytail and sporting a utilitarian backpack over her shoulders. “Also known as ‘Bluidy MacKenzie,’ he was the Lord Advocate of Scotland, and during the War of the Three Kingdoms, he sided with the Crown against the so-called ‘Covenanters,’ a group of devout Presbyterians who at one time were the de facto government of Scotland. A walled-off section of the cemetery was converted to an outdoor prison for the Covenanters, and MacKenzie oversaw the running of the prison. He was responsible for the torture and execution of its prisoners. The fact that he was interred so close to those whom he tormented may explain the high level of paranormal activity associated with the MacKenzie Poltergeist. Visitors here have reported strange sounds and smells, feeling general unease and unexplained drops in temperature, and even being attacked—receiving scratches and bite marks. In fact, the attacks grew to such a frenzied level that the Covenanters Prison is now l
ocked off to the general public and accessible only on our nightly City of the Dead tours.”

  “Oh! Is there a tour tonight?” asked one of the tourists.

  “Aye,” the tour guide replied with a grin. “Every night after the sun sets.”

  Maggie grinned too. She knew what she was doing that night.

  *

  Maggie was almost as surprised by how easily Ellen and Stuart accepted her lost bathroom excuse as she was by their willingness to go on the City of the Dead tour that night. She supposed they hadn’t really noticed, or cared about, her absence; it was a large, multi-room exhibit—she could have been anywhere. And she realized that they, unlike her, wouldn’t be going back to the kirkyard.

  “How did you hear about the tour?” Ellen asked.

  Maggie shrugged. “I dunno. I think there was something on the TV about the kirkyard or something.”

  Sort of true, she thought. The best kind of lie.

  30. Rare Books

  The hours before the City of the Dead tour gave Maggie just enough time to follow up on another lead she had stumbled upon. At breakfast, after the TV had turned to other news, Maggie had overheard an interesting conversation. Nothing earth-shaking, but notable nonetheless. The front desk clerk had come in to refresh the coffee and was discussing the hotel and its environs with one of the guests. Apparently the neighborhood was undergoing a bit of a revival with eclectic shops and trendy cafés popping up. The clerk had strongly suggested the cupcake shop across from the new rare books store. Maggie had decided right then that she would have to make time to go there. Not the cupcake shop. She wasn’t going to pay trendy prices for a cupcake. But a rare books store? She couldn’t pass that up.

  Besides, she had a hunch.

  You can take the man out of the occult bookshop, but you couldn’t take the occult bookshop out of the man. Or whatever. Maybe. Anyway, it was worth finding out. After all, Sarah’s ghost had commanded her to find Sinclair; who was she to argue with the Spirit Realm?