by Amy Marie
His answer catches me off guard. And yet, the name rings a bell.
Leya Esperanza. Inigo.
I’m overwhelmed with flashes of Aurora’s life. I see the young girl, Leya, and her uncle, Inigo. I watch the finding of the necklace again, and even more memories after that. Everything leading up to the vision in the courtyard.
“Inigo was the name of the exhibit designer,” I say, opening my eyes to observe the middle-aged man suspiciously.
His eyes widen at my words, but he nods his head. “My grandfather, and namesake.” He goes on to explain, “My parents died when I was very young, so my grandfather raised me. When the dementia set in, his niece Leya took us in. I always called her my aunt, but she was really my first cousin, once removed.”
“She worked with Aurora. She’s the one that broke the jar and found the necklace.” Surprise flickers across Inigo’s face as I speak.
“Yes, but how do you know that?” he asks.
“It’s a long story. My real name is Nora Hutchinson. Can you take us somewhere safe?” I ask, looking around uncomfortably.
“Follow me.”
“Welcome to Maison de Esperanza,” Inigo announces when we reach his cramped second-story apartment on Rue du Temple. Little natural light shines through the shaded windows and there are stacks of books laying haphazard throughout the space. A broken in couch and coffee table crowd the living room, while a breakfast bar with three stools separates the kitchen. A few black and white photos of the Seine River are framed above the couch, the only touch of decoration in the bachelor pad.
“Do you have any candles?” I ask Inigo, walking right past him and inviting myself in.
Dylan bolts for the kitchen and turns on the faucet to a slow but steady drip.
Joe heads to the windows, throwing back the shades and opening every panel to let some air flow in, despite the rain. Tara’s right behind him producing a small potted plant and placing it on a shelf in the corner.
“You carry live plants on you?” Rafe asks her with a laugh.
“Swiped it from the neighbor’s railing planter,” she replies with a wink. “But I do carry seeds on me at all times these days.”
“What’s all this?” Inigo asks in astonishment after I relocate a scented candle from the bathroom to the coffee table.
Always carrying my trusty lighter and pepper spray, I use the lighter to spark the candle to life. When the wick catches the flame, a veil of protection dances around us, naked to the eye, but felt by at least four of us.
“It’s a safeguard. It will protect us from the people that attacked the museum,” I turn to answer him.
“I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re talking about,” Inigo shakes his head. “But you do have some other explaining to do. When we were in front of the pyramid, you passed out. And then again, back on the street… you closed your eyes and saw something. After that, you knew about me. How?”
“You may want to sit down,” I begin.
“No,” he says, too impatient. “I can tell there is too much. Go ahead and sum it up.”
“You might not believe me either way,” I say.
“Nora,” Rafe interrupts me with a hesitant voice, “I think he might.” He’s facing the far corner of the apartment where there’s a cozy desk and bookshelf. Above the desk are numerous clippings, drawings, and articles. As I step closer, I can see some of the articles have to do with archeological discoveries in ancient Egypt, others involve religious cults. Most of them revolve around the sun deity Ra.
I turn back to face Inigo. Unsure of where to start, I take a deep breath.
“I carry the soul of light. It allows me to envision glimpses of past lives from this soul. It also allows me to harness the energies of light, though I’m still discovering and testing those limits. Aurora had that power too, I’m just not sure how much she knew about it. There are others, like me… different souls,” I point to Dylan, Tara, and Joe, “different powers.” I move to the window to stare out at the constant storm clouds that have followed us wherever we go. “You can tell something is happening out there,” I add. “There’s an evil that wants to destroy us all. We’re here to fight it,” I say, pulling out the dagger from my bag. “We’re here to restore the balance.”
“There’s so much more,” Dylan chimes in. “But you did say sum it up.”
“Why were you looking for the necklace?” Inigo finally asks after a moment.
“We think it may help. It’s connected to this dagger, we’re just not sure how. And now that the letters are gone with Mr. Sinclair, we may never know.”
“Not true,” Rafe springs up from his seat, surprising me.
“What d’you mean?” I ask.
“Mr. Sinclair! Remember when we were talking about the letters? He said he was so intrigued that he wrote a book about them!”
“Oh yeah,” I recall. “You think his book might help us?” I ask, incredulous.
“We have to look!” he says. “Inigo, can you look up on your computer any books written by an author named Broderick Sinclair?”
In seconds, Inigo has his laptop out on the counter, and we all crowd around as he types the name into the search engine.
I let out a shaky breath as the results pop up.
“Oh my God,” Rafe says under his breath.
The first result that pops up gives us our answer:
The Flame of Immortality — by Broderick J. Sinclair.
Chapter 13
The Flame of Immortality. That was the last line Uncle Mike added to the Statera. His final clue. He found Broderick’s book before he died!
“There’s a bookstore around the corner,” Inigo says, heading for the door.
“I’ll just download a copy,” Rafe stops him. “It’ll be safer to stay here.”
“Millennials,” Inigo mutters under his breath.
“I can’t believe the title of the book was in the Statera all along!” I run my fingers through my hair the same way I’ve seen Darcy do countless times before when he was frustrated.
“Mr. Augustine could’ve written the author’s name down and saved us some trouble!” Dylan remarks.
“Maybe he wanted to be careful in case the destructors got their hands on the book. He was probably trying to protect Mr. Sinclair,” Rafe points out.
Not that it did any good.
My guilt returns once again, making itself comfortable at the forefront of my mind.
“I can copy and paste the book into a word processor and print it out,” Inigo offers, interrupting my thoughts. “The more of us that read, the faster we can cover the book.”
“I’m not a fast reader. How about I order us a pizza?” Dylan says as he plops down on the couch and turns on the TV.
A news story is covering various natural disasters around the world. “Earthquakes of this size are not common in the Atlantic…” the reporter drones on in the latest report describing terrorizing earthquakes up and down the coastlines of all continents. We all crowd around to watch the catastrophic news as the pages print.
Rafe gives me a worried look and pulls me aside. “These disasters are getting worse. I’ve tried to text and call Char to check in, but I’m not getting any response.”
Inigo splits up the pages and begins handing them out to each of us in groups of chapters.
“Just give her some time,” I tell him. “Let’s concentrate on these chapters, there could be something important. After that, we’ll try Besim or Dansé.”
He gives a distracted nod in reply as the rest of the book is handed out.
My chapters are from the beginning of the book. They describe an alternate creation story, based on Egyptian myth:
On the primordial mound they were separated, light from dark, sun from moon, the eternal Ma’at. The chaos outside this balance raged at the creation, slithering to find a way between the two.
The darkness reached down, and from the mound formed an eye to allow the light to see how it could shine. In return, the light t
ook what remained of the mound to form a heart in the darkness, to ensure the dark would not be tempted by evil, for evil can have no heart. These tools became the first creations of creation, and they could be used for chaos or quintessence, nothing or everything, based on the eye of the beholder.
The last sentence weighs heavily on my mind. It’s been my greatest fear about power all along. As I read along further, a sensation overtakes me. It’s as if I’m witnessing the beginning as it happened. I can picture these gods of Egypt as the humans they really were. The people we were.
“There’s something here!” Tara says, interrupting my thoughts.
“I think I have something too,” Joe says. “You go first, honey.” He motions to his wife.
“This chapter talks about the Ben-Ben stone. It says the Bennu bird represents Ra’s soul. Every twelve-thousand years the Bennu would find its way back to the Temple of the Sun where life began, led by the beacon of the Ben-Ben stone that once was the primordial mound.” She looks up from her papers. “The Temple of the Sun, isn’t that in Mexico?” she asks.
“Actually, there’s more than one,” Rafe answers. “It’s kind of interesting,” he continues, ever the scholar. “Different cultures built similar temples all along the equator to follow the sun.”
“There’s also the lost temple in the city of Heliopolis,” Inigo adds.
“Why do I know that name?” I ask.
“It’s the ancient City of the Sun. It’s where I did my archeology training, up on the northeastern side of Cairo.” He points to his desk in the corner of the room where his research is spread out. “It’s where the original dig was made when the jars holding the necklace were discovered.”
“That can’t be a coincidence. The book makes it sound like it might be an important place. Maybe we should go there?” I say, pointing to the papers in Tara’s hands.
“There’s a sun temple there?” Rafe asks Inigo.
“Yes. Well… allegedly. No one’s found it though,” he admits.
There seems to be a collective sigh in the room. More empty riddles.
Tara moves over to hand her paper to Rafe. A worried expression crosses his face as he reads it. He looks up to catch me watching him and quickly changes the subject.
“What about you, Joe?” he asks.
“I don’t understand a lot of this metaphorical crap, but this part definitely jumped out at me.” Joe holds up his papers to read out loud:
“In every gift, a balance is maintained. The heart of the rose blooms eternal life and the eye pierces immortality.”
The rose and the eye. When we asked Mr. Sinclair if the letters mentioned a necklace, he said no. We didn’t think to ask if they included an eye.
“The heart of the rose blooms eternal life,” I say, holding up the dagger. “It’s talking about this. The dagger can curse eternal life.”
“And the eye pierces immortality,” Rafe finishes. “The necklace.”
“Does that mean the necklace will kill someone who wears it?” asks Dylan.
“No,” I hesitate as the meaning sinks in. “If it pierces immortality, it will make the wearer mortal. It means the one who wears it would be able to be killed! Sweet Jesus!” I’m not sure if I want to laugh or cry as the realization hits me. “The necklace could break Darcy’s curse!” As soon as the words are out I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me when I remember what happened at the museum.
The necklace is gone.
“But the necklace was stolen,” Dylan echoes my unspoken thoughts in despair.
“Yes, it was,” Inigo says softly after a moment. “But not today it wasn’t.”
My neck snaps around so fast it makes a pop. “What?” I ask him.
Inigo stands up, and disappears into the other room. After a moment of rustling around he reappears holding a small shallow lockbox.
“You see, it couldn’t have been stolen from the museum today… because my Aunt Leya stole it in 1955.”
Chapter 14
“H-How?” I stutter in my question, staring at the box in his hands.
“The night of the opening gala,” Inigo admits.
“But Rafe said the necklace was recovered that night!” Tara insists.
“There was a necklace recovered, but it was a fake. My aunt and grandfather had a replica created and they planted it to look like the attempted theft had gone wrong.”
“But why?” asks Joe.
“I come from a very superstitious family. We believe in signs. They believed the necklace belonged with Aurora. And when she was killed, they knew it must be protected,” he says.
“Why do you have it?” asks Dylan.
“My aunt believed someone like Aurora would come for the necklace again eventually. After my grandfather died, she insisted I study Egyptology to find out as much about it as I could. She did everything she could to get that pyramid built as the landmark for the Louvre. She hoped it would be a beacon. She wanted us to be prepared, and I know she really wanted to meet you,” he says, turning to me. “I would’ve told you sooner, but I had to be sure.”
“May I?” I ask, reaching for the box.
He nods, handing it over. My hands shake as I turn the lock and lift the lid to view the golden necklace from my dreams. The triangle shape is designed surrounding a pointed oval, and in the very center, another circle that’s been divided into four wedges with a cross:
If the dagger has a hum to it, the necklace has a song. Energy radiates from the precious metal. An energy that connects directly to me.
Preparing for what I know will come, I take a seat before I reach into the box to lift the amulet. Everyone’s eyes are on me, but their faces quickly fade away as my fingertips connect with the gold.
After a moment, the weight of the necklace falls on my shoulders and chest. Realizing my eyes are closed, I open them to peer into the face of a bearded soul of darkness. Traces of Darcy can be found among the man’s features, but I recognize him at once because I’ve dreamt of him before.
“Kamenwati, the eye should be watching over you tonight. You take it,” I recognize the voice of Khepri when I speak. This is the couple from my first Egyptian dream, back when we were learning about the elemental souls.
“No, my sunshine, I would rather have you protected,” the dark soul commands with authority. He holds his hand over the pendant, brushing my chest. The heat from the midday sun is scorching here in the desert, but somehow his touch burns me deeper to the core.
“But you will be out tonight seeking the spirit of water. You will need the talisman to protect against the powers of Apep,” I make my own argument.
“I thrive in the darkness. No serpent will catch me,” he assures me, kissing my nose. “Remember,” his tone changes to make his demand, “you will not remove this, even when you sleep. The eye will watch over you. The serpent’s powers will be useless against you as long as it lays flat against your skin. If the chain breaks, hold the eye in the palm of your hand.”
“But—” I begin.
“Swear to me,” he cuts me off.
With a sigh of resignation, I relent. “I swear. But only if you swear you will be safe. I had the visions again last night. You were taken and I needed to resurrect you, but I did not know how. I was afraid, and so I hid in the temple.”
“The gods speak through your dreams. You should not be afraid, they may be sending a prophecy,” he chides.
“You are better at interpreting the dreams,” I tell him. “But I will learn.”
“Good. Now I must go,” he says, leaning in to kiss me goodbye.
“Meet me by the river tonight.” I hold back until he promises.
“I will, as always,” he smiles.
“Until the end?” I ask, knowing the dangers of our mission.
“Until the end,” he agrees, leaning his forehead on mine after planting a kiss.
As much as I want to linger in that memory of connection with my soul mate, the dream fades away and I’m brought
back to reality, holding the necklace in the palm of my glowing hand.
“That’s exactly how my aunt described it,” Inigo says with a shaky voice. “It glowed… in your hand… just like she said.” He’s clearly in awe.
“What did you see, Nora?” Tara asks.
I take just a moment to orient myself back to reality before responding. “The book is right. The necklace protects against the curse, but also against the powers of the destructor. I think it might protect against the possession too.”
“Wait, what possession?” Inigo interjects.
I ignore him, meeting Dylan’s eyes. His own grow round in reaction to the news. “That would mean…” Dylan trails off.
“If we can get the necklace on them, we can save them from her. And we can break the curse.” I grow quiet, wondering if the others have realized what that means. When no one says anything, I stay silent — nobody wants to state the obvious.
There’s only one necklace.
We can only save one of them.
The buzzer for Inigo’s apartment has all of us jumping out of our skin, and I lay the necklace back into the box on the coffee table.
“That must be the pizza,” Inigo says, moving to answer the door.
Everyone is afraid to speak, knowing the choice we face. It’s the choice I’ve faced night after night in my dreams since Lilly took Darcy. The choice between saving Darcy and saving the world.
I can tell Dylan is itching to say something, but the others are turning in distraction to the door. To my surprise, Rafe jumps from his seat.
“Mr. Sinclair!”
The older man — the man I’ve loved in another life like a brother — stands in the doorway. His clothes are torn and singed and his face is smudged with ash. He looks like hell, but that’s not even what’s wrong. I try to put my finger on it, but it takes me a moment. Then it hits me.
How is he standing?
“He’s possessed!” It must’ve been Rafe that yelled the warning.
Mr. Sinclair’s empty shell of a body takes a shaky step inside and wraps his arms around Inigo, putting him in a choke hold.
