Gene Of Isis Part 16

'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 pa.s.sed 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 circ.u.mstances appear, but I a.s.sure 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? 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 G.o.d 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 how 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.' 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 l.u.s.t 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 apt.i.tude for the brotherhood. He was a good G.o.d-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 bypa.s.sed 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 t.i.tles would pa.s.s to our heir.'

I sat and digested the information, then asked, 'And the name of this brotherhood?'

Mr Devere served me a challenging look. 'If they find out I have lost their prized daughter daughter and her favour, I am a dead man. I don't need to break any more of my vows to the chapter.' and her favour, I am a dead man. I don't need to break any more of my vows to the chapter.'

I rolled my eyes, thinking he was exaggerating.

'You think Hereford's death was an accident?'

There was a brief explosion of shock inside my being.

'That was my big mistake.' Devere came to the point. 'I thought I was on the side of the righteous. I never thought they'd kill Hereford! I had always intended to tell Miss Granville everything, everything, but when she pinpointed the Grand Master of my chapter as having threatened Hereford the day before he died, I was forced to lie to my wife about my a.s.sociation with the brotherhood. Now she has found me out.' but when she pinpointed the Grand Master of my chapter as having threatened Hereford the day before he died, I was forced to lie to my wife about my a.s.sociation with the brotherhood. Now she has found me out.'

He handed me Ashlee's letter, having told me the worst of it. 'What does this brotherhood want with Ashlee?'

Devere took a deep breath and shrugged. 'I am not in the higher echelons. I cannot pretend to know the extent of their aspirations. But this much I do know: it is only the females of the bloodline who carry what is termed the Gene of Isis.'

'Genesis?' I noted the play on words. Devere nodded to confirm an a.s.sociation.

'This legacy pa.s.ses to the female's sons and daughters, and can be activated in the males of the line by coupling him with a female of the blood, or by feeding him an alchemical substance known as Fire-Stone.'

'So your mother must have been a female of the line, and you must be one of the Star-Fire princes?' I referred to his new psychic talent as proof.

'So it would seem.' He almost sounded like he regretted it now. 'I am told that this is the first time in centuries that a marriage has taken place between two descendants who bear the mark.' He hung his head. 'I fear it is our offspring who will be of greater interest to the High Grand Masters of the order.'

'They are trying to breed some kind of superbeing,' I realised. 'For what end?'

'I don't know.' Devere was annoyed at having to concede ignorance. 'However, if I am not an integral part of Ashlee Granville's life, then I shall be shut out altogether and made to disappear. The brothers will go on manipulating her life, as they always have, and she will be none the wiser.'

'Oh, I think she is wiser now.' I gave Ashlee her due. 'As you have discovered, it is very difficult to keep anything from Ashlee-and, to date, she has been repressing her ability. Now that she is free to do as she pleases, it's going to be a lot harder to mislead her. And they'll have to find her.'

'Oh, they will find her,' Devere a.s.sured me. 'The brothers are widespread from Scotland to Egypt, from Ireland to India, and everywhere in between.'

'If we don't tell anyone she's missing,' I suggested forcefully, 'then how shall the brotherhood know? Especially if we send correspondence home that indicates she is still with us.'

'That would allow us a little more time,' Devere conceded. 'If you would aid me to employ these new skills of mine to find my wife, then perhaps all is not lost,' he appealed, his eyes so like my beloved's, although a paler shade of blue.

'I will help you,' I said, not yet convinced his intentions were as pure as he claimed. 'Only, if you are lying to me now, Ashlee will see through you at a glance and I will be happy to have her deal with you and your brotherhood in any way she sees fit!' This was a threat, and no feeble one at that. 'If what you are saying is true, then Ashlee needs to know the whole of it. And as her friend, it is my duty to find her.'

Real or faked, my brother-in-law was very relieved at my decision. 'Thank you.' His grat.i.tude was heartfelt and emphatic. 'Do you know where my wife was headed?'

I realised he'd just been waiting to get me on side before springing that question. 'I have no idea, she didn't say,' I told him truthfully and perhaps a little harshly, for the truth obviously crushed him. 'But my guess is that she'll head deeper into Europe.' I tried to be encouraging. 'Paris is the next major stepping stone from here, so that should be our first stop.'

'Our first stop?' Devere actually flashed a fleeting shadow of a smile. 'You mean to imply that you plan to join me on this fool's crusade?' first stop?' Devere actually flashed a fleeting shadow of a smile. 'You mean to imply that you plan to join me on this fool's crusade?'

'Well, I can't be of much use to you if I stay here.' Yes, it was insane, but suddenly the idea of not knowing what I'd be doing tomorrow or where I'd be had great appeal.

'James will never allow you to travel with me, alone, alone, through Europe.' through Europe.'

'Then we will just have to convince your dear brother that it is his duty to help us find our lost sister.' I served Mr Devere with a wink. 'But my brother's political agenda-' I held up a finger to hush his concern. 'Just leave my Lord Oxford to me.'

FROM THE TRAVEL JOURNALS OF MRS ASHLEE DEVERE.

Post-revolution Paris was my kind of town. In the vacuum of Napoleon's departure, the city had become a hive of artists, writers, theologians and radical thinkers. If you spoke decent French, and it was commented that I did, the Parisians were very helpful and to the point.

This city may not yet have been as organised and developed as London-many of the streets were covered in a black muck that was a mixture of human and animal waste and mud-but construction had started on several very ambitious new landmarks, in addition to a gaslight system for the city streets. A grand art gallery, the Louvre, was nearly completed and already hosted many exhibitions and fine works of art. At one end of a wide dirt road in the city, a construction site marked the unfinished Arc de Triomphe. The growing city also boasted its first railway line, between Paris and St Germain. There were some very fine tea and coffee houses, which proved to be excellent centres for obtaining information.

In social situations, Nanny Beat conveniently transformed into my mama, but as she was not confident with conversing with her betters-and quite often didn't understand them anyway-she developed a hearing problem. This gave her cause to speak coa.r.s.ely, or to ignore people when the need arose.

In one sitting of afternoon tea we learned of some excellent accommodation, and when it became known that I spoke and read several different languages, I was told that the chief librarian of the a.r.s.enal Library in Paris was looking for translators at present.

The a.r.s.enal was a major depository for mediaeval occult ma.n.u.scripts: an extensive collection of magical, cabalistic, Cathar and hermetic disciplines. More recently the library had taken charge of all the books and ma.n.u.scripts that Napoleon had confiscated from the Vatican and many other monasteries around Europe. There were more than three thousand cases of material that were being translated at present. Apparently Rome was negotiating for the return of some of these texts to the Vatican, and a group of library staff were soon to embark on a journey to the Holy City.

Travelling by land was probably the most direct route to my destination: the longer land route down through Italy to Sicily would make for a short sea voyage and, due to pirates in the Mediterranean, less risky than any alternative routes. Perhaps I could arrange to travel with the library's party at least as far as Geneva. There I could brave the trek through the mountains and the cold of Switzerland and on to Venice, where I could catch a boat down through the Adriatic Sea and across the Mediterranean to Cairo. An alternative was to continue south through France to Ma.r.s.eilles and take the extended sea voyage via Sardinia and Malta.

It seemed like too great a coincidence to let pa.s.s without investigation. What's more, how could I forgo a peek into such a library to drool over all the texts that my schedule would not allow me time to read? Perhaps I might be able to come back here one day, but who could say? That was the most wonderful thing about my present life; I couldn't really see beyond the moment and I liked this constant being in the now.

Our terrace accommodation backed onto a lovely courtyard shared with several other terraces, all of which had their own table for taking tea in the sunny private area. The central feature of the court was a beautiful little tree surrounded by a colourful bed of flowers-trees in Paris were few and far between. We were a good enough distance away from the manure stench of the well-trodden thoroughfares, but a short walk down a paved street took us to the heart of Paris.

Nanny was concerned about how I planned to pay for our comfortable accommodation, so I confided in her regarding my secret treasure and she nearly had a fit!

'You can't keep such riches in something so easily lost or stolen,' she insisted in a whisper, as she looked over the red book.

'Then how should I transport it? I have no pockets.'

'The very thing!' Nanny clapped her hands. 'You leave it to me.' She winked at me confidently.

The next day Nanny headed off to go shopping, and I caught a carriage to the a.r.s.enal Library.

The library was a very imposing, two-storey, L-shaped structure. My carriage drove into the courtyard and I alighted at the door, which was positioned in between the two wings that angled back toward the street on either side of me.

Inside, I inquired after the chief librarian, whose name I had foolishly failed to learn. I was told to wait by one of the several gentlemen librarians. I couldn't see a woman in the place and yet there was nothing to indicate that the library was for men only.

A short while later, a middle-aged, dark-haired Frenchman introduced himself to me as the a.s.sistant to the chief librarian. 'My name is Mr Jenkins, Mrs Devere. I hear you are a translator, interested in our Vatican archives.'

'That is very true, Monsieur Jenkins,' I responded in French. 'I also wanted to inquire about a journey to Rome that some of your colleagues are embarking on in the near future. Mama and I also wish to make this trip, but as we have no trusted male company to accompany us, we wondered if-'

'Why, yes, of course.' He was quick to allay any doubt that we would not be welcome in the party, and did not bother asking after my husband. I was fast discovering that the French were more liberal in their views than the English. 'I am so very sorry that our curator is elsewhere today,' Jenkins said. 'I feel sure he'll wish to meet you.'

Why did it seem like my reputation had preceded me? 'Really? Why do you say that, for I am no one of consequence?'

'Well,' Jenkins paused to smile, or perhaps to think, 'it is so seldom a sister takes an interest in our work, especially an English woman.'

He made me smile, for I was not surprised to hear this. 'Is my French very ill spoken?'

'Not at all,' he a.s.sured me. 'It is your countenance that gives your origin away.'

'You are too kind,' I replied, sensing both compliment and derision in his statement.

He had a lovely aura though; not extraordinary, but showing a good person. There were little muddy patches around his third eye and gut, which I translated as meaning that he was fighting his instinct about something, and that he had some major concern with processing higher knowledge. Then again, it could add up to a suggestion that his imagination was a little stifled. Mr Jenkins presented as a scholar, but he lacked the individualistic air of an artist.

'If it pleases you, Madame, I can show you to the archive room.' He gestured to the door that led to the grand foyer. 'No one is in there today, but you are most welcome to have a poke about.'

My heart started beating nineteen to the dozen. What an opportunity. And for a woman at that! 'It would be a wonderful opportunity. Thank you, Mr Jenkins.'

'Right this way.' He led off. 'How many languages do you speak, Mrs Devere?'

'Six,' I stated plainly, trying not to sound boastful. 'And a little Hebrew.'

'Then you ought to fare well. You are required to sign our guest book and give a contact address in Paris for security reasons. We couldn't have any of our archives going missing without knowing where to start looking, now could we?' Mr Jenkins said as we headed into another wing of the building.

'Not a problem,' I replied.

'Our curator could return today, but if he misses you, can I arrange an appointment for tomorrow?'

'I would be most grateful if you would.' I was about to ask the curator's name but I was distracted when double doors were parted before me.