Ancient Illusions

by Joanne Pence

  The tornado raced to the walls of the laboratory and then along them, leaving a trail of fire as it went.

  “We’ve got to get out,” Michael said to Ceinwen, and pushed her ahead of him out the door before the fire trapped them. Stedman had already fled the room.

  At the top of the stairs, Michael turned to see the fire reach the laboratory door just as his father did. William Claude somehow managed to make it into the hallway unharmed. But then the fire flared out from the laboratory and grew into a wall between William Claude and Michael.

  Beyond the flames, Michael saw his father glaring at him, his mouth distorted with hate as he spoke. “So you finally drew upon your power. And as usual for you, you’re too weak, and too late.” His father turned in disgust and walked away toward the stairs to the tower.

  A snake-like trail of fire broke free, away from William Claude, and slithered along the ground directly toward Michael and Ceinwen. Michael stared after his father a moment, then grabbed Ceinwen’s hand and ran down the stairs.

  It was as if the fire had become an evil flaming serpent, with intellect and purpose, and once on the ground floor it veered from them and raced toward the library. “No!” Michael cried. “Damn. It has rare collections. Priceless knowledge.” Michael grabbed a fire extinguisher from the kitchen and sprayed the flames as he ran into the library. He stood amazed to see that the fire had snaked directly to the shelf with Lafcadio Hearn’s books and papers. They burst into flames as if fueled by gasoline.

  He did what he could to save other books. Michael could hear in the distance, above the roar of the flames, Steadman phoning the fire department.

  “Michael, you’ve got to get out of here,” Ceinwen cried. “The fire is growing too fast.”

  He wasn’t listening, but kept trying his best to save the library. He was managing to contain it in the location of the Hearn papers, but still, the fire had soared up the bookcase and was licking the ceiling. The sound of crackling and whipping of wind caused Ceinwen to grab his arm. “You’re more important than the books. Leave them!”

  Seeing her in danger trying to save him finally got through to him. He faced her, his eyes tortured and frightening.

  “Come on!” she insisted, taking his arm and pulling him through the foyer to the front door. The St. George killing the dragon tapestry that he’d always hated was also in flames.

  He followed Ceinwen outdoors and they ran a safe distance from the fire before they stopped and looked back.

  When they did, the entire house appeared to be aflame.

  They heard the sirens as fire engines approached. Stedman had already gone to open the gates.

  As the firetrucks pulled up to the house, Michael saw the silhouette of William Claude at the windows in the tower room. The fire raged behind him. He could feel William Claude’s hatred and contempt.

  Michael yelled at him to get out of the house, and told the firemen his father was in the tower room. He pointed out the deck outside the tower, knowing that they had the equipment to climb to the top of the mansion.

  But as they raised the ladder, the windows in the turret blew out. The interior had become an inferno and smoke billowed out into the starless night.

  Still, two firemen climbed up to the deck to see if William Claude had somehow made it out. They found no sign of him, and the tower room burned so fiercely, they couldn’t get close enough to attempt a rescue even if they had seen him. The clear assumption was it would have been a fool’s mission to try.

  Chapter 62

  Michael and Ceinwen stayed on the property until the fire department was sure all flames had been extinguished. One of the EMTs wrapped them in blankets to ward off the nighttime chill and their shock at what they had been through, including the certain death of Michael’s father.

  When questioned about how the fire started, Michael told the fire chief his father had been working in his laboratory on the second floor, and the fire seemed to have begun there. He believed that was why his father hadn't run downstairs and out of the house, but had gone upstairs, hoping for rescue. But the rescue didn't arrive in time.

  At daybreak, the damage to the house became clear. The second floor and the turret room had been gutted, but the first floor, except for a corner of the library and the tapestry in the foyer, had suffered incredibly little damage. The fire investigators couldn't hide their surprise at the bizarre way the fire burned. They had never seen such an usual pattern. One of them muttered that the fire had had a mind of its own.

  As soon as it was safe to do so, the firemen made a more thorough search of the house. Soon, the chief came to Michael. His face showed his confusion.

  "What is it?" Michael asked.

  "There's no body. We searched everywhere, but we can't find your father in the house. It was a damn hot fire, but there should be remains."

  Michael stared at him, speechless. "You're sure?"

  "Absolutely. Are you positive you saw him on the third floor?"

  “There was a lot of flame and smoke, but I know I did.”

  The chief stared for a moment and then turned away shaking his head.

  Ceinwen put her hand on Michael's arm. "Stedman also seems to be gone," she said.

  At her words, Michael went to the garages, which stood a good hundred feet from the house. The Bentley wasn't inside. Michael called the fire chief over to the garage. "It seems my father and his valet must have driven away. All I can think of is that my father felt guilty for having started the fire that did all this damage, and wanted time to himself."

  The fire chief wasn't pleased. "But you said you saw him on the third floor. You told my men he was up there."

  “I thought it was him,” Michael said.

  “It may have been a strange shadow," Ceinwen said. "I also thought it was William Claude, but obviously, we were both wrong.”

  The fire chief pursed his lips at the possibility his men had faced unnecessary danger, but he seemed willing to be satisfied with the explanation. Soon he and his men left the scene, warning that no one should enter the house. It wasn’t safe, and fire and insurance investigators would be there later that day to take photos.

  When the cook, Patience, arrived, Michael sent her back home, telling her he’d be setting up a stipend for all the years she had worked for his father, but that she would no longer be needed.

  Finally, Michael and Ceinwen found themselves alone.

  “I’ve always hated this house,” he said, looking up at the ruins. “But I’m sorry to see it end this way.”

  “You can rebuild. The fire chief said the foundation is strong.”

  “No. Not now that I know its history and know that I wasn’t the only one who had hated living here.”

  “That’s true,” Ceinwen said. “But this land is beautiful, and it deserves a happy home. Yours or someone else’s.”

  His shoulders sagged. “Knowing what you know, what you’ve seen—and felt—how can you mention me and a ‘happy home’ in the same breath?”

  “I’ve seen terrible things happening around you through no fault of yours. But they’ve happened because of your family, not you. They aren’t anything to do with the kind of man you are. Stop beating yourself up. You’re a good, loving person. In fact, given all you’ve had to overcome, I wonder that you aren’t a complete misanthrope who, if around the nuclear button, wouldn’t gladly push it and blow this world to smithereens.”

  He had to smile at her exaggeration. “Even now, after everything, you can make me smile.”

  “Good,” she whispered, and kissed him. “Maybe we should leave. The investigators don’t need us here.”

  “Wait one minute,” he said, walking toward the house.

  “You can’t be of a mind to go inside. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “Michael!"

  He ran into the house.

  Ceinwen paced and grew beyond anxious until he came out again.

  “What were you doing in
there so long?”

  “Luckily, we left my jacket and your handbag in the breakfast room when we arrived back at the house. They’re smoke damaged, but haven’t burned, so we still have our passports and you have whatever else you women seem to fill your purses with. This thing is heavy.” He handed the bag to her.

  “Thank God,” she murmured.

  “And, I’ve got the pearl.” He reached into this pocket and pulled out the bronze. “It was still in the vice in the laboratory. It’s now back where it belongs.”

  She looked at the bronze she had once considered beautiful but now saw as purely ugly. “And the demons?”

  “I don’t know. If they’re here, they’re quiet.”

  “And if they aren’t?”

  Michael’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure.”

  They got into the small, banged-up rental car. Michael took one last look at the house. Where the window had once been in the stone turret, he thought he saw a woman with long brown hair gazing down at him. He recognized her and recognized the slight smile on her lips. He hadn't seen her smile often.

  He dropped his gaze a moment, working to control the strong emotions he felt. When he looked up again, she was gone.

  On the way back to Boston, Michael and Ceinwen stopped at the Hyannis Police Department to give statements. Jake had already offered explanations and filled in most of the details for the lieutenant in charge of the investigation, so they were quickly allowed to leave.

  Michael scarcely spoke as he drove, and Ceinwen had no idea what he was thinking. She didn’t ask, knowing he was a man of silences, that he needed time within himself to work through all he had learned, witnessed, and faced.

  After parking near the Boston’s North End, they bought beers and strolled along the Harborwalk. They found a place to sit while Michael phoned Jake. When he didn't get an answer, Michael sent a simple text: We're okay. My father seems to have disappeared—a long story that I’ll explain later. Thanks for all your help.

  Next, he called Jianjun and filled him in on all the horrid details about William Claude, the pearl, the demons, and the fire.

  “Now I've got news for you,” Jianjun said. “The two guys arrested by the Hyannis Police were among those who shot at us out on that mountain. I hear they're singing like birds."

  “That's good news,” Michael said.

  "Before Jake rushed off to catch a flight to Hyannis, he told me they had been given access to three million dollars at a Seattle bank, and they claimed they were ‘forced’ to take part in a four-man team paid to steal the pearl in both Idaho and Japan, as well as to create havoc and scare people in Idaho.”

  None of that surprised Michael.

  “They swore they had nothing to do with the deputy's death, the murders and mutilations in the backcountry, or the rancher whose horses they'd rented.”

  “Of course they didn't. It had to be the two other guys.” Michael’s words were purely facetious.

  “That's what they're saying, all right.”

  “Something tells me they'll claim anything to escape multiple murder charges.”

  “Jake's going to look for your father, too. He's sure he financed and planned the reign of terror.” Michael wasn’t surprised by that, still, it was hard to hear.

  “So,” Jianjun added after a short pause, “what are you going to do with the pearl?”

  “Good question.”

  “If you keep it, demons will follow you.”

  “But if I don’t keep it, wherever I put it may be at risk, just as Salmon was.”

  “Not if your father is gone. He has to lay low, for a long, long time. He was the one who caused the deaths out here, not the demons.”

  “Wherever—and whatever—he is, I suspect he’ll want the pearl again,” Michael said. “He’s powerful, evil, and mad with the desire for immortality. He’s out there and will come at us when we least expect it.”

  “Which is why you need to find a way to destroy it or completely bury it. Somewhere no one will ever be able to get it again. I can work up some options for you if you’d like.”

  “Good. And I’ll work on a few of my own. But more important than that, I have another task.”

  “Oh?”

  “To find William Claude.”

  “But Jake says he's going to do that.”

  "He'll try, but I have better resources. You, for one."

  Jianjun said nothing for a long moment, then asked, “So, how do you want this handled?”

  “I have to know where he’s gone to ground before he blindsides me again. The man has access to money and property all over the world. I suspect he has, or could easily obtain, fake IDs and passports. He won’t be easy to find. And he’s probably traveling with a companion, a man I only know as Stedman. I’ll try to learn more about him.”

  "Any photos of them?"

  "Old ones of my father. None of Stedman."

  "I'll look at driver's license and passport files—see what I can turn up. Should we assume he’s left the country or is still in the States?”

  “I’m sure he’s left. I'd begin looking at interesting cities in Europe, somewhere cosmopolitan enough that he won’t be too noticeable."

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Thanks,” Michael said. “By the way, is Kira still with you?”

  “Yes.” A pause, then Jianjun’s words sped up as he confessed, “I really care about her. I mean, more than I thought possible. And she says she feels the same. Well maybe not quite the same. I mean, it’s not like she loves me, I don’t think. But it’s a start.”

  “Jianjun, calm down.” Michael laughed. “That you two love each other is obvious to anyone.”

  “You think so?”

  “Definitely,” Michael said, with a smile in his voice.

  They soon ended the conversation. Michael put the phone in his pocket, and stared out at the water.

  “It sounded as if you received some news,” Ceinwen said.

  “Jianjun is happy with Kira.”

  Ceinwen nodded. “I’m glad.”

  Michael drank some of his beer.

  “What about you?” Ceinwen asked. He gave her a questioning look. “What will make you happy?”

  He studied the ground a long moment before speaking. “I don’t know.”

  She fell silent.

  “And you?” His gaze met hers. “The airport is near. You can be back at Oxford in a matter of hours.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I need to confess something. Something I should have told you a long, long time ago.”

  “Oh?” He looked worried.

  “I was never a student there. I was allowed to audit a couple of classes—allowed to because some friends pulled journalistic strings for me. I did it to get close to Rachel. I wanted to write an article or even a book about what happened to all of you two years ago in Idaho. But not now, Michael. Not ever.”

  He looked a bit stunned, then accepting as he nodded but said nothing.

  Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Just think, you’ve been hanging out with an Oxford fraud.” She struggled to make her voice light, even jocular. “Whatever will people say?”

  “They’ll say I was a lucky guy,” he murmured.

  It took a while before she could find her voice. “Was. That’s the operative word, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t want to be a part of my world, Ceinwen.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “You’ve seen how I live. You’ve seen the strange things that happen around me. You’d learn to hate the constant danger … to hate me, most likely.”

  “From what I’ve seen, you’re the one who should be wanting me around to keep you safe. Just like your hero, Lafcadio Hearn. He had an arranged marriage so that Koizumi Setsuko could help him survive in a difficult world. I’m not saying you need to go that far, but I am saying you’re in danger out there on your own. And with Jianjun’s interest in Kira Holt, he might not be available as often as you think.”
>
  “Perhaps,” he murmured.

  She waited, but when he said nothing more, she stood. “I guess we all have choices to make. And by your silence, I see you’ve made yours. It doesn’t include me, much as I might wish it did. Somehow, I think I always knew this whatever-it-is between us would end this way. Goodbye, Michael.”

  She walked away. She was about to hail a cab for the airport, when she heard him call, "Wait!"

  He ran to her. “I’m a jerk, Ceinwen. I hate the thought of you going, and I’m too much of a mess to tell you that.”

  She said nothing, waiting.

  He drew in his breath and continued. “Something tells me, if I let you go, it’ll be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done … in a lifetime of stupid mistakes.”

  Her expression remained serious. “You surely don’t know how to flatter a girl, Michael Rempart.”

  He searched her face. “You’re fascinating and beautiful. Lovable and clever. How’s that?”

  She smiled. “A good start.”

  “You already know that the smartest thing for you would be to run back ‘across the pond’ as you call it. But if you’re willing to take a chance …” He had never felt so tongue-tied in his life. “If we can give ourselves time, together, maybe we’ll find that we’re exactly what we want. And need. Together.”

  She put her arms around his neck. “Haven’t you figured out by now how much I love taking chances?”

  Chapter 63

  One month later—

  * * *

  Michael was sitting on the deck looking out at Idaho's Lake Pend Oreille. He had a cup of coffee and was reading a morning newspaper when Ceinwen came out with a tray of food.

  "Here's some breakfast," she said. "Welsh rarebit, which is nothing but a posh cheese on toast, seasoned and baked. It's time I tried a few of the cooking skills my mum tried hard to teach me."