Lady Sativa (6 page)

Orient nodded, his full attention distracted by Lily’s presence. She was still sitting, talking to Maxwell. All that could be seen of Andersen’s face under his bangs and reflecting glasses was his pouting, self-indulgent lips. , Orient didn’t know if it was Maxwell’s personality or his proximity to Lily that brought up a sense of annoyance. He got up and went into the hall.

“Come doctor,” Germaine waved from the front door. “I’ll help you with your luggage.”

When Orient went outside, the icy wind immediately permeated the warmth he’d come to take for granted. He picked up the suitcase containing the screener and hoped that exposure to the biting cold hadn’t frozen the mechanism.

“These must be Sybelle’s,” Germaine said. “They match her beautiful suit. I’ll take care of her luggage. Come with me. I’ll show you your room.” He put two of the suitcases under his arms then picked up the other two and walked ahead of Orient into the house. As he followed him Orient recalled that he’d found Sybelle’s bags to be extremely heavy. Yet Germaine handled them as if they were hollow stage props as he led the way up the long stairway to the second floor.

Germaine set the bags down in front of a door at the head of the stairs. “This is your room, doctor. I’m sorry that this tragedy has prevented us from making you more comfortable.”

“Please call on me if there’s anything I can do to help you or Mrs. Bestman.”

It was difficult to tell if Germaine’s small smile was rueful or mocking. “Thank you, doctor. We shall all try to comfort Hannah in this time of sadness. Sleep well.”

Orient opened the door and stepped inside a comfortable, wood-paneled room appointed with a full-sized four-poster bed. Near the bed, next to a ceiling-high window, was a bookcase holding an assortment of volumes. A door in the far wall led to a bathroom and shower. Orient undressed, put oh a terrycloth robe, unpacked the rest of his clothing, and then began working on the equipment.

He’d just begun to wipe the moisture from the laptop casing when he heard a light knock. The door opened slightly. “Are you awake?” a high voice asked. ,

The door opened wider and Sybelle peeped in past the edge, her eyes wide under an orange-flowered bed hat. “Marvelous darling,” she whispered, “I was hoping you’d wait up.”

“Wait up for what?”

Sybelle closed the door behind her and came over to the bed. She pulled her quilted pink robe tighter around her and sat down. “There’s something that bothers me about all this, Owen,” she announced.

“It must be quite a shock.”

Sybelle lowered her voice and leaned across the bed. “Carl would never use a rifle. He detested violence. And certainly he wouldn’t have used his
brother’s
rifle. And there’s something else, too.” She waited until a murmur of voices outside the door had passed before going on. “The thesis in his will. The Lycanthropic Schizophrenia experiments,” she whispered triumphantly.

Orient unscrewed the back of the screener. “Must be an interesting study; the myth of the man-beast has been around for a long time. Even a few cases in modern psychiatric records. But nothing definitive. Still rare and incurable.”

“I knew Carl for ten years and he never mentioned a word about his research. Sybelle jabbed Orient’s shoulder. “And Daniel Hazer told me the same thing.”

“We were friends for a long time before you knew I was involved with telepathy,” Orient reminded as he began wiping off the main tubes. “And Professor Hazer seems to be a forgetful sort.”

“Yes. He is absent-minded.” Sybelle tapped her forehead. “He’s so completely involved with his healing that he’s sometimes unaware of time. He’s helped thousands of people all over the world. I’ve been to his clinic in Brooklyn. He takes ordinary snapshots people send him and from the vibrations makes accurate medical readings. Simply
stunning.
He cured an aunt of mine of terrible stomach cramps. He located a small clamp that had been left inside her after an operation. It had been there for years. Never showed up anywhere. But Daniel found it through a photograph I gave him of my aunt. Her bad side. I called her doctor in St. Louis and when he checked he found the clamp.”

“Still doesn’t follow that Hazer would know everything about Carl’s work. Hannah and Neilson seem to be satisfied it was suicide.”

“I just don’t like any of it,” Sybelle insisted, “especially Anthony being here.”

Orient opened the case that held the CDs and began to sort them. “He does make it unpleasant. It will be a pleasure to leave tomorrow.”

“We
must
stay for the séance,” Sybelle stated emphatically. “I wouldn’t dream of going without fulfilling poor Carl’s last wish. I’m sure he wants to tell us something.”

Orient wiped the moisture off the CDs and replaced them in the case. “What about Lady Sativa?” he asked casually. “You didn’t tell me about her.”

“Interested?” Sybelle teased. “She’s the competition.”

Orient smiled at her. “Did Germaine mention what sort of project she’s working on?”

“No he didn’t, but I’ve seen her before. She’s been in all the magazines in London. They call her the Moon Lady because during the full phase of the moon she can foresee the most amazing things. She called the Los Angeles earthquake to the day.”

“Sounds hard to beat,” Orient observed as he began placing the equipment back in his suitcase. “Don’t let your mind wander too far or you’ll have to hock your fur to get us home.”

Sybelle stood up. “Perhaps you’re right, Owen,” she sighed. “This has all been so shattering. I’ll speak to Mr. Neilson in the morning. And
do
stop fussing over that gear and get some sleep yourself.”

Orient was still thinking about Lily after he’d arranged his things and gone to bed. As he lay in the darkness, he heard the wind rattle the window and saw the shadows cast by the moonlight move across the glass. He remembered the golden perfection of Lily’s skin, the bronze hair spilling over her rounded breasts. It had been a long time since nearness to a woman had brought such an exhilarating attraction. He felt drawn to her as if she was an old friend—a dim, lovely recollection from a forgotten reality.

‘.The memory of Germaine’s face intruded On his thoughts. He hadn’t forgotten where he’d seen the count before tonight. As Orient recalled the looming image of his meditative trance, he noted that the surprise that scattered his thoughts when he first saw Germaine had been replaced by a sense of wariness.

In spite of his affable, courtly manner he remained unconvinced of Germaine’s sincerity. Orient got the impression that he was being carefully sized up by the count. The fencer testing an adversary. Orient yawned. It was absurd. He’d only seen the man once before. He speculated if the vision in his meditation was significant or just a phenomenon of concentration, like a radio picking up vagrant signals from another band. He fell asleep wondering if Lily and Maxwell were old friends from London.

In his dreams that night, he was running across the sand. He knew his pursuer was just behind him in the shadows... he saw a huge rock, stopped, and crouched down next to it. He strained to see, but there was nothing but blackness behind him... then a sudden noise nearby startled him and he began running as fast as he could... running... running... running—desperately from the pounding footsteps behind him.

4

The lemony sunlight dispelled the gloomy residue of Orient’s fitful sleep.

He limbered up his travel-knotted muscles on the carpet in front of the bed and began the basic breathing patterns. As his body relaxed, his concentration sifted out the dregs of jet lag and doubt from his thoughts.

After a brief meditation, he went inside for a hot shower, finished off with a driving cold spray that left his reflexes tingling. As he began to dress he felt completely refreshed. He checked his watch and saw that it was almost noon.

He decided that a blue cashmere turtleneck and heavy twill trousers would be best against the chill. He found a rolled-up pair of glove skin boots inside the sweater. He gratefully zipped up the lined boots over his trousers. They would keep his feet much warmer than the loafers he’d worn last night.

When Orient reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Sybelle standing near a large doorway. She pulled nervously at the black silk scarf around her neck and whispered something to Germaine.

The tall man was bent attentively over her. The intent press of his lips became a smile as he looked up and saw Orient approaching. “Good morning, doctor. Did you sleep well?” he asked, his voice melodious and calm.

“Everything is very comfortable.” He looked down at Sybelle: “How’s the reception today?”

“Marvelous darling. But I’m so concerned about the séance this evening. I do hope we can make contact.”

“If it’s meant to be, we will,” Orient offered with little enthusiasm. Years ago, high on the mountain, Ku had initiated him as. an adept of the Serene Knowledge. Sometime later, while in North Africa he had been advanced to the second level. But occult science was part of the Serene Knowledge he accepted cautiously. The raw power was far in advance of the present capabilities of ordinary human control.

Germaine caught Orient’s reluctant tone. “Surely, you will assist us this evening.” He smiled. “You don’t disapprove of trying to contact the souls of the dead, I trust.”

“Only if the powers involved are invoked for weak motives,” Orient said evenly. “I’ll be happy to sit in.”

“I think it’s important darling,” Sybelle assured him. I told the count what I told you last night and he said that Carl never told him anything about his work in Lycanthropy. And the count agrees about the gun.”

Orient shrugged. “A man committing suicide isn’t logical. And many men prefer to work in secrecy.”

“Quite right,” Germaine chuckled with forced heartiness. “It’s the nature of the alchemist to work alone, eh doctor? A remnant of the days when inventors, scientists, and magicians were burned at the stake. Come,” he said as if the idea had just given him an appetite, “let’s have lunch.”

Hannah, Neilson, Lily, and Maxwell were seated around the dining table, waiting for them as they entered.

Hannah smiled vaguely and shook the little brass bell on the table next to her. A stout woman dressed in a white starched uniform took a step into the dining room, counted heads, and popped back into the kitchen. She reappeared in a few minutes with a large tray and began’ serving.

Orient glanced at Lily, sitting across from him. Her hair was a coppery flash against the clinging, black leather jumpsuit that outlined the long, supple curves of her body. She seemed engrossed in her whispered conversation with Maxwell. Orient wondered if the young Englishman had also declared himself Lily’s sponsor. He decided it was none of his business and tried to focus on what Hannah was saying.

“It couldn’t be avoided; I had to ask Anthony to leave this morning. I don’t want him to interfere with the séance.” Hannah’s neck was thin and very white against the black silk collar of her suit. Severely drawn-back hair accentuated the pointed, birdlike features of her face. Her eyes were set deep in blue circles that betrayed her insomnia and grief. “I was so tired of fighting with him,” she said softly.

“He’s a most unpleasant man,” Sybelle said, consolingly. “You did the best thing.”

Hannah turned. “I’ve put aside the crystals Carl left you. The package is in the library along with the things for Daniel and Maxwell.”

“You shouldn’t bother, Hannah, darling,” Sybelle clucked. “Why don’t you come stay with me for a few months?”

“Yes, I do plan to close the house and go somewhere. But I don’t know where yet.”

“I’ll be very interested to see Carl’s thesis,” Germaine said as he poured some wine into Hannah’s glass. “I had no idea he was interested in Lycanthropy.”

Hannah lowered her eyes. “Carl was working on something for years, but even I don’t know much about it.”

Germaine nodded. “Is it available?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t with the other documents in the lab,” she said softly. “But one drawer is still locked. We can’t find the key to it.”

“You’ll probably run across it,” he assured her, “no hurry.” He looked around the table. “Perhaps we should go over the agenda,” he said.

“When do we start, count?” Neilson rumbled.

“Right after lunch. We’ll have our regular five member meeting and then call in the candidates separately. Dr. Orient and Sybelle will give the first demonstration.” He turned and smiled at Lily. “Our young prophetess needs some time to prepare herself. We’ll see her in the late afternoon.”

Her amber eyes looked almost yellow in the sunlit room. “I hope Owen doesn’t mind warming you up,” she said, smiling.

“Owen won’t mind,” Maxwell assured her. “He’s of the old school. I know the breed well. A vanishing breed I might add, and all proper ladies and gentlemen.”

He was intent on the wine he was pouring and all that could be seen of his face was the smirking mouth.

“Perhaps I can help you further your studies,” Orient said calmly. “Our breed is full of surprises.”

Maxwell reached across the table and filled Orient’s glass with wine. “Interesting. Do you play chess?”