Earth, Sun, and Moon Saga Ch. 05

"What's going on here?" Lenore asked.

"Adding pockets," Gwen explained. "None of these dresses have enough pockets."

"We're going to a mummy party!" Asari said in between bites of a muffin she held.

"And doing a heist," Edward added.

"Ah, obviously," Lenore muttered.

They brought her up to speed about what they'd discovered at the museum and their plan to break into Duke Vane's house during a mummy unwrapping party to hopefully locate the artifact that had tethered Anubis and his assistant goddess Ammit to Earth.

Lenore sighed when they were done. "Let me get presentable. And we don't need to break in. I'm familiar with that old lecher. He'll be happy to invite us through the front door."

The London residence of the Duke of Cleveland was a Georgian-era mansion along Piccadilly which was even more opulent than Lenore's Hyde Park neighborhood. The mansion itself was a bustle of activity, with a row of carriages dropping off guests and their accompanying staff.

Lenore, who'd been living in and feeding off of London's high society since that city had a high society, was dressed impeccably. Her red hair was up in elaborate braids, she wore fine jewelry--emeralds being her stone of choice--and her dress exhibited the latest fashion trends of the times.

Edward kept his alias as a minor baron from Wales, a title regal enough that it lent him legitimacy but obscure enough that no one was likely to be able to call him out. Asari and Gwen kept their alias' as well, with the added connection of Gwen's Lady Genevie being related to Lenore's current character.

For Lenore and Gwen, they'd lived most of their lives this way. They moved from city to city, town to town, every decade or so. Long enough to have a life, living under an assumed name, but not long enough to set down roots. They'd move back, returning to previous homes decades later, reintroducing themselves as their own children, easily explaining their similarities in the days before photography.

A footman stopped them when they reached the front gate.

"Invitations," he said dryly. He was a bruiser of a man, and it was obvious what his role here was. Even Edward recognized hired muscle when he saw it.

"Good sir," Lenore started. "If you'd let the Honorable Lord Vane know that Lady Elizebeth Drummond and Lord Prescott, the Baron Powis are calling. I'm sure he'd love to have us."

The footman grunted, rather rudely, and replied, "Sorry, your ladyship, but this is a closed event this evening. No invitation, no entry. Come calling on the morrow and I'm sure his lordship would be glad to have ye for tea."

Lenore narrowed her eyes at the footman but before she could reply, Gwen stepped in front of her.

With one quick breath, she blew a handful of dust in the man's face. At least, it looked like dust.

"What in 'ell?" he sputtered, bringing a hand to his face. He sneezed once, loudly, then swayed on his feet, nearly falling over. He looked down at Gwen, confused. His eyes were already droopy. "What... did you... do?"

"Let us in, love," Gwen said, reaching up and gently stroking his face. "You're a good man, looking after your lord as you do. We mean him no harm. We're here to protect him as well."

"You are?" His words were slurred and he furrowed his brow trying to comprehend.

"Aye." Gwen pulled Asari in front of her so the droopy-eyed footman could focus on her. "This is Catherine Howard. Isn't she pretty?"

"Aye. A fine lass."

"Catherine here loves big strong men. Isn't that right, Catherine?"

Asari, who was looking seductively at the footman, said, "Oh yeah, that's me! Yes, I love big strong men. Perhaps you could give me a private tour of your privates?"

The footman grinned drunkenly and touched the brim of his tophat. "It'd be my pleasure, milady."

With that, he led them inside. Asari threw a hand around the big man's waist and let him lead her away. She turned around and waved at Gwen. "Thanks! Be back soon!"

Edward looked dumbfounded at this turn of events. "Sure she'll be alright?"

Lenore laughed. "What? Did you think she only had eyes for you, handsome? She likes cock more than she likes water."

"She'll be fine," Gwen said, reassuring him. "Time to do what we came for. You and Lenore stay with the party. I'll search for the artifact."

"Looks like it's just you and I, handsome," Lenore said, grabbing Edward's arm. "Let's see what an unwrapping party is all about."

Gwen disappeared down a hallway while Lenore led Edward to the drawing room. It was a large room with plenty of room for entertaining. Chairs and couches were set around a table, all of them occupied by guests.

A group of men stood around the table, deep in conversation about the large sarcophagus that lay on top of it. Other guests stood in groups of three and four, chatting with drinks in hand. A pair of pretty women, both in evening finery, sat chatting on one couch while a waiter holding a tray of cocktails on a silver platter made his rounds.

The first woman, no older than twenty, sat primly, her long peach-colored dress was a bit more revealing than current fashion deemed proper. It had a plunging neckline that showed off her cleavage, which was further enhanced by a tight corset. She wore elbow-length white gloves and her dark hair was done up tightly and accented with flowers of the same shade as her dress.

"That's Lady Margaret Finley," Lenore whispered to him as he took a drink from the waiter. "She's heiress to a shipping fortune." She gestured to the woman sitting next to Margaret. She wore a pale green dress and was a bit older, but not by much. "And that's Lady Anabella Beaufort, Margaret's friend and confidant. She's from one of the many broke noble families and is no doubt still on the prowl for a rich husband to lift her out of the poor house. Unfortunately, she has a reputation for being a bit of a tart. I should know," Lenore said, winking at Edward. "She tastes delicious. Her blood too."

"Do you see us humans as anything other than food or playthings?" Edward asked.

"Is that a serious question?"

"I guess not. Is that why Gwen was so guarded when you first arrived at the cottage?"

"Partly," Lenore admitted. "We didn't part on the best of terms."

"What does that mean?"

Lenore smiled. "You're young. And it's hard to comprehend just how long we've lived amongst you. You're not her first apprentice."

"I knew that."

"Nor was Albrecht."

"Wait. Your Albrecht was her..."

"You got it, handsome. I turned her apprentice. But in my defense, we fell in love and he asked."

"And that's why she initially agreed to help you. Because Albrecht was a part of your coven. And now... this is as much about revenge for her as it is for you."

"You catch on quick, handsome."

Edward sipped his drink while Lenore continued giving him the rundown of this slice of London high society. There were nobles, sure, but also several of the new men forged by the industry of the British Empire. Lenore pointed out Augustus Thomas, a middle-aged Scot who owned several textile mills, and Semore Wright, who owned a crown contract for operating coal mines. Both men were stout and serious and were accompanied by their young wives, who'd taken a shine to each other and were gossiping in a corner of the drawing room.

There was a clinking of crystal and they turned to see an elderly man holding a champagne flute. "Evening. Evening," he began. "Thank you all for coming."

Lord Vane was distinguished and impeccably dressed. He was nearing seventy and leaned on a silver-capped cane as he spoke.

"I'm glad to see you all in good health and cheer," Lord Vane said. "But it is time for our main spectacle." He turned to a tall man with a sharp-featured, Semitic face. "This is Dr. Ezra Gammel. He will be performing our archeological autopsy this evening."

Dr. Gammel gave a perfunctory wave to the room and turned back to a row of shiny surgical instruments he and his assistant were setting up on a separate table. A row of ancient-looking statues sat on another nearby table, each decorated with a different animal head.

Lord Vane continued, "Our subject arrives to us from her tomb in the Valley of the Kings. She appears to be the high priestess of an ancient cult. Based on the several mummified cats found with her, it is presumed she served the goddess Bastet. Hopefully, more will be elucidated during the proceedings, I'm sure. She's truly a remarkably preserved specimen."

With a wave of his hand, he ordered several servants to open the sarcophagus.

There was a murmur through the room as the first, ornate, layer of the sarcophagus was removed. Dr. Gammel quickly took over, directing the servants around casually. It was made of stone; shaped and painted to look like the occupant. Gold inlays banded the middle and were used to highlight the elaborate face. Based on the straining of the servants, it was heavy as well. They set the lid off to one side with barely containable grunts.

The inner coffin was made of wood and much better preserved. It was gorgeously painted and the features on the face were so intricate that Edward could tell that the occupant had once been very beautiful.

The servants lifted the inner coffin up, while another pair removed the lower section of the heavy outer shell from under it. That too they set aside.

Lenore giggled and whispered, "And I thought I had expensive tastes with what I slept in."

Dr. Gammel's assistant set a cloth down next to the smaller inner coffin and laid tools on it. Edward couldn't immediately tell the assistant's gender, as she initially appeared to be a young boy. After a moment of staring, he realized she was a young woman, with a round face and short black hair. She was dressed in boy's clothes though; trousers and a simple shirt, which went a long way to hide her feminine features.

Most of the room was now standing, surrounding the table, and trying to get a better look. The two rich girls, Anabella and Margaret, giggled loudly as they whispered to each other while the titans of the British economy stood back, bemused expressions on their faces.

Dr. Gammel ran a thin knife around the edge of the coffin, slowly cutting the millennia-old wax seal as he walked around the table. He was muttering to himself as he worked, but Edward couldn't hear what he was saying. It sounded like a different language.

"Are you catching any of that?" Edward asked Lenore.

"I've never heard that language before," she admitted, with a scowl. "I don't like this."

His chanting continued until he'd walked entirely around the table, having sliced open the coffin. He stepped back and motioned for the servants to remove the lid.

As soon as they lifted it the smoke appeared.

It poured out of the coffin in a wave, the gust filling the room in a yellow haze. Edward buried his face in his elbow, coughing as it pierced his nostrils. It wasn't the smoke of a fire or even the burning smell of church incense but something harsher and more foreign.

All around him, he heard coughing from the other guests. He reached out for Lenore, who had been right next to him a moment ago, but he couldn't see her.

He started to back out of the room, his mind screaming that something was wrong, that he was in danger. But he felt rooted to the floor. A deeper, more primitive part of his brain seemed to be overriding that instinct.

The yellow smoke faded almost as quickly as it had appeared.

The other guests looked around at each other, each as confused about what had just happened as the others. They looked alternatively embarrassed or amused.

Before he could speak, Edward was grabbed and spun around.

Margaret and Anabella stood in front of him, their faces flushed, their arousal clear as day.

"Good evening, good sir," Lady Margaret said, thrusting her chest at him. "I don't believe we've been acquainted."

"We would love to make your acquaintance," Anabella agreed. Her eyes flashed at him, their irises unnaturally gold. "And you can make your acquaintance all over us."

Lady Margaret looked at him with the same golden eyes.

He tried to ignore them, to look away but his erection was already tight in his pants. It was making it hard to think.

"Lenore," he said, but the name was weak in his mouth.

When he spotted her, she was close to the sarcophagus. Her eyes were black and her fangs were extended.

She charged Dr. Gammel, clearly intending to tear him apart.

His assistant stepped in front of him and seized Lenore by the throat. She lifted her off her feet. Lenore struggled and Edward thought Dr. Gammel's assistant might throw the vampire across the room but she held her effortlessly with one hand.

Dr. Gammel approached and touched Lenore lightly on the head with a golden object--a large ankh. She went slack and his assistant set her down.

Lenore knelt before Dr. Gammel, a blank expression now on her face, and folded her hands demurely in her lap. Dr. Gammel looked down at her with clear disgust on his face. His assistant, alternatively, looked at her with a wicked smile.

"Lenore!"

Dr. Gammel spoke without looking at him. "She cannot hear you, boy. Once the judgment has begun, it cannot be stopped. And once the rebirth has occurred, she will be judged."

"What?"

Dr. Gammel smiled, his face looking more angular than it did just a moment ago. More wolfish.

"It's time for the ceremony to begin." Dr. Gammel announced. His ears lengthed. His nose became a snout. His teeth grew sharp and vicious.

His assistant smiled, her own mouth looking even more predatory. Edward realized she had the interlocking teeth of a crocodile. Around her neck she wore a gold ankh. It glowed with ephemeral electricity so obvious he could see it.

Edward wanted to scream, wanted to attack, wanted anything other than to be rooted to where he was. He raised his hands, a spell of force at his fingertips but Anabella reached around him and brazenly grabbed the front of his trousers. He was hard, more erect than he'd ever been in his life. That realization brought him to an abrupt halt. He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't think beyond the carnal desire in his belly. He was so hard it hurt.

The other guests were already progressing under whatever curse had just been released. The women were practically tearing at each other's clothes, trying to release themselves from restricting bodices and corsets. The men were no more restrained. Augustus Thomas, the textile baron, had seized a servant girl who'd happened to be in the room when the coffin was open. He had her over his knee like a wayward child, not spanking her, but groping her young ass through her petticoat while she squirmed under him. His wife was already kissing Seymour Wright while the coal baron's wife had seized one of the male servants and was busy undoing his trousers.

Margaret pulled him to the couch as Anabella worked on removing him from his dinner jacket. He couldn't resist. He didn't want to resist.

"It is time," Anubis announced, "to raise the dead."

***

The east wing of the estate was empty. All the servants of the household appeared to be occupied by the silly unwrapping party. Gwendolyn drifted from room to room trying to discern anything with magical properties. The problem was there were a few objects here with such properties.

Most were rather weak. In the study she found an old Persian coin that was imbued to land face up more often than not. In a bedroom there was a glass vase of Turkish make that was blessed to keep flowers fresher, for longer. A large medieval kite shield, hanging in a long hallway, actually had a minor curse attached to it: arrows could more easily find it as evidenced by multiple, deep gouges.

Gwen sensed all this by touching the objects and feeling the shape and form of their energy. It was not unlike being shocked by static electricity.

But there was no god vessel.

She supposed there ought to be two. One for each god involved. But she couldn't be certain. While a wood carving and stone circle might have been home enough for the gods of this island when it was still undiscovered by the "civilized" world, she was well aware more powerful gods existed. Thing was, most of them had long gone dormant. Christianity, which she still sometimes thought of as a religion of slaves and lepers, had succeeded in erasing the tethers between hundreds of ancient deities. They'd destroyed their temples, expelled their priests, and burned their holy texts. Then they built their churches and cathedrals on their ashes and made monks of their worshipers. Their god seemed of a whole different caliber and their success caused Gwendolyn to wonder, not for the first time, whether her plane of existence was merely a chess board in an unseen war between celestial beings.

It did her no good to contemplate such matters now.

The estate's main library was equally disappointing. Plenty of books, sure, but nothing giving off even the merest hint of magical energy.

She found a narrow staircase to the cellar. It was likely a servant's passage. Gwen descended the stairs quickly but cautiously. The cellar door was locked.

She touched the cool iron of the padlock and traced a small symbol on it. Using a flick of her fingers and a twist of her wrist, the lock popped open.

The occupants of this mansion likely referred to this space as a cellar but Gwen knew a dungeon when she saw one.

The metal cages that spanned from the ceiling to the floor were now used to store food and homewares but it was clear they once held prisoners. It may have been in this home's distant past but some history can't be so easily washed away. But, she figured, it was a fine place to store valuables.

It didn't take her long to locate what she was looking for.

At the dungeon's far end was a cell that held, for lack of a better term, the household's wealth. Though this was the era where most of the elite stored their money with powerful but safe banking houses, plenty still kept at least a portion of their wealth in the form of gold, silver, precious stones, and expensive storable goods like silk cloth. The Duke of Cleveland, apparently, did not trust banks. Gwen could sympathize. She kept caches of wealth, usually gold, all over the island and had done so for centuries.

None of that interested her though. What caught her eye was a small statue sitting on a shelf, looking rather unremarkable.

The idol of Anubis was about a foot and a half tall and made of polished ebony. It depicted the god in the same form he'd had in the fresco, the body of a man and the head of a jackal. Gold inlays highlighted his headdress, the bands on his arms, his loincloth, and the ankh he held by its hoop.

"Got you," she said.

She turned her focus to the cell's padlock and, like the cellar door, manipulated it with magic.

The feedback happened so suddenly and intensely that she was caught unprepared.

Magical energy, green like poison gas, exploded outward, throwing Gwen backward.

She slammed against the fall wall of the dungeon, the back of her head ricocheting off stone. Her vision blurred immediately and darkness crowded the edges.

She coughed, trying to find her feet but couldn't stand.

Gwen fought against her slipping consciousness and, just when she thought she could get up, lost the fight, and collapsed on the cold floor.

Dun, dun, dun! Tune in next time for the exciting (and sexy) conclusion to this flashback! I promise it's going to start red hot and then get downright weird. Hit those likes and stars, and make sure to leave a comment. I love hearing from you reprobates!