“Evidence linking her to the bank robbery in Middlebury, the rental house in Ticonderoga. Email exchanges between her and Kora, a.k.a. Diane Jones, and Charles Goodwin. Along with evidence at the various crime scenes, it’ll be a clean sweep!” Li said.
Li also told her they found a manifesto penned by Muran. In it, the FBI agents discovered the ravings of a woman obsessed by the idea of restoring human civilization to its prehistoric glory with her as their queen. “There are parts of the manifesto we won’t release publicly, but if you’re interested, I can arrange for you and Anlon to view the volumes when the dust settles.”
“Volumes? What’s in them?”
“She recorded a history of her queendoms. The history goes back thousands of years. My supervisor in D.C. chalks it up to the overactive imagination of a lunatic. I’m not going to try and change her mind, but you and I know differently. Oh, and she apparently kept mementos from her conquests. The field agents can’t tell if they are authentic ancient artifacts or modern reproductions, but we’ll get them checked out by experts.”
“Interesting. You mentioned Kora earlier. Did they find anything more about her?”
“Funny you should ask. According to the manifesto, what Muran said at Calakmul was true. There’s a whole chapter devoted to her bitterness over the loss of her daughters, Kora and Alaera. She really did blame Malinyah for their deaths.
“Here’s where it gets bizarre, though. In other chapters, Muran wrote of other children she bore in other lifetimes. Hundreds of them. Guess what? She named all her firstborn girls Kora, in honor of her first daughter. I guess she wanted to keep the memory of her fresh.”
As Jennifer pondered Li’s comment, another explanation came to mind. In order to transfer a mind from a Sinethal into a new body, Muran needed an assistant to operate the Tuliskaera. As Muran had painfully discovered at Fernando Pó, that person needed to be skilled with the Tuliskaera, so as to facilitate the electromagnetic transfer without blowing up the Tyls.
Her Kora replacements must have served as her assistants over the millennia. But, if that were true, Jennifer thought, something must have happened to the Kora living at the time when Muran was entombed on Fernando Pó. Someone had successfully transferred Muran’s mind into her Sinethal before she died, and someone had constructed her Maerlif on Fernando Pó. Both required the skills of a person very experienced with the Tyls. If it had been one of the Koras, though, she hadn’t stuck around long enough to find Muran a new body. She left Muran’s Sinethal and other Tyls inside the Maerlif, and there they gathered dust for over a thousand years until Evelyn Warwick happened across it.
“Does the manifesto say anything about the last of the Koras? The one we dealt with at Calakmul.”
“It does. She was born in 1944, during the years when Muran called herself Diane Caldwell. We checked with the Brits. There is indeed a birth record of a Kora Caldwell in 1944, with the mother identified as Diane Caldwell…and the father? Charles Goodwin.”
“No way!”
“Yeah, I biffed that one. When we were in La Quinta, I told you and Anlon his social security number was issued in the 1940s. I assumed that meant he was born in the forties, but in those days, SSNs were issued when people entered the workforce, not when they were born. If I had looked closer at the records, I would have seen his 1922 birthdate.”
“How would that have made a difference?” Jennifer asked.
“I guess it wouldn’t have made any difference, really. Other than it would have further confirmed the SSN record was bogus,” Li said.
“What about Anabel, or, Evelyn Warwick? I assume Muran’s journal mentioned them?”
“There wasn’t any mention of Anabel, but Muran had a lot to say about Evelyn. She did revive Muran, and she did botch it up. It’s interesting, but Muran seemed to believe the mishap ultimately helped her.”
“Really? How?”
“She believed the injuries made it easier to acclimate herself into the life of Clara Ambrose. People around her wrote off her new behaviors, and the loss of Clara’s memories, as effects of the explosion. It sounds as if Evelyn helped foster the impression.”
“Did Muran write about what happened between her and Evelyn? Does it pinpoint when Evelyn took her Tyls?” Jennifer asked.
“Uh-huh. She recorded the precise date. May 10, 1941. Happened during a Nazi bombing of London. They both went into the same air raid shelter. A bomb cratered the shelter. Diane Caldwell was trapped in the rubble; Evelyn was never found. Caldwell assumed Evelyn had been killed until she got home and discovered her artifacts had been taken,” Li said. “Muran spent the last seventy-six years searching for Evelyn and the artifacts, with Goodwin’s help, and at least one Kora in the mix, too.”
“What about the reason? Why did Evelyn take them? What did Muran write about that?”
“Muran was just as baffled as we are. She called her ungrateful. She couldn’t understand why Evelyn had betrayed her.”
Later that afternoon, Jennifer and Anlon were visiting with Pebbles when Jennifer received a call from Tim Hall. She stepped outside the hospital room to take the call, then burst back into the room a few minutes later.
“I was right!” she said, startling Pebbles with her raised voice.
Pebbles, still blind from the transfer of her mind back into her body, flinched and cocked her head to follow the sound of Jennifer’s voice.
“Oops. Sorry, Pebbles,” Jennifer said.
“It’s okay. What’re you fired up about?” Pebbles asked, stretching her arms while suppressing a yawn.
“The Vermont State Police found Omereau’s Sinethal yesterday! Right where I told them to look,” Jennifer replied. “You can’t see it, Pebbles, but I’m flexing my biceps!”
“Haha,” Pebbles replied. “Get your own move, copper!”
“Well? Go on. Tell us. Where was it?” Anlon asked Jennifer, rising to stand by Pebbles. He laced his fingers with hers as Jennifer began her explanation.
“Okay. So, you know when we were at Antonio’s lab, making the fake disc?” Jennifer asked Anlon. “Well, when the disc was finished, Dylan said he hoped Muran didn’t use a metal detector. And, later, I was thinking to myself, I wonder what Anabel did with the Sinethal? And then I remembered something Tim Hall said when we went through the crime scene,” Jennifer said.
“And that was?” Pebbles asked.
“I’ll get to that in a minute,” Jennifer answered. Wrapped up in her triumph, she started to pace the room. “At first, I thought, I wonder if Muran did use a metal detector to search for the Tyls. I was thinking of all the stuff that’d been cleaned from the closets, the attic and such. Had they used a metal detector to hunt for signs of magnetized objects? Had they gotten pings that made them empty the chests in the attic, the pictures in the dining room, the drawers in the kitchen?”
“But, Jen, Dylan said Omereau’s Sinethal would have had a minimal magnetic signature,” Anlon reminded her.
“Right! Exactly!”
“Hold up,” Pebbles said. “Why, exactly?”
“The Sinethal is almost pure gold. Gold’s not particularly magnetic unless it’s bonded to another mineral, like iron ore,” Anlon explained. “A metal detector wouldn’t have found it unless it was right on top of it.”
“Or, unless Anabel had masked its magnetism,” Jennifer said.
Pebbles squeezed Anlon’s hand as soon as the words left Jennifer’s mouth. “You mean, making the hiding place seem more magnetic? Like, putting something magnetic near it, or putting the Sinethal inside something else that was more magnetic.”
“Yep.” Jennifer smiled and flexed her biceps again.
“You know I can hear your shirt stretch when you do that, don’t you?” Pebbles deadpanned.
“Haha,” Jennifer said. “Anyway, if my gut instinct was right, there were two hiding places that stood out to me, right off the top.”
“Ooh! I know one of them,” Pebbles said, breaking away from Anlon’s grip and rais
ing her hand. “The refrigerator, or freezer.”
“Correctamundo, señorita!” Jennifer said. “Most refrigerators have a magnetic surface, at least, most of the ones I’ve owned. So, I thought, Devlin had parked a Naetir inside his freezer, maybe he got the idea from Anabel, or vice versa?”
“A good deduction,” Anlon said. “Cold temperatures actually boost magnetism, too. So, it was in the freezer?”
“Nope. I figured that was a little too out in the open,” Jennifer said, a catty smile on her face. She paused, then said, “Okay…I did suggest the freezer to Tim, but it was my number two choice. Honest.”
“You’re killing the blind girl, here! Where’d they find the freakin’ thing?”
“In the garden,” Jennifer said.
“The garden?” Pebbles asked, her voice full of challenge.
“Yes, the garden! Remember, I told you six large objects had been removed from it. Magnetic objects. Stones. They had been arrayed in a circle, positioned equidistant from each other.”
“The sign of Omereau,” Anlon said.
“Exactly!” Jennifer gloated. “When I was at the crime scene, Tim said the entire garden gave off magnetic readings, but he also said the strongest readings were where the stones had been removed. I thought, what if she buried it deep, and then put metal or magnetic stones on top of it, to mask the low-magnetic signature of the Sinethal? It would have created the same effect as putting it in the freezer, only it would have been harder to find. Turns out, it was buried six feet deep, under one of the holes where the magnetic stones had been removed. In case you’re into symbolism, it was under the hole at the front left of the garden.”
“If I’m not mistaken,” Anlon said, “the bottom left icon on the Sinethal etching is the rhomboid, the one representing Aromaeghs.”
“Right,” Pebbles said. “And the Sinethal is a type of Aromaegh.”
While Anlon chuckled at Anabel’s trickery, Jennifer said, “You know what? When I went to visit her, she was gardening. I swear to God she was on her knees on the front-left side of the garden!”
Incline Village, Nevada
October 10
Anlon discovered the last missing piece to the mystery, the one that tied it all together, in the kitchen of his Tahoe home. After leaving Chetumal, Anlon had taken Pebbles to his winter home in Los Cabos. By then, her vision had been restored and her injuries mostly healed. He left her there with Jennifer and Griffin, who’d accepted Anlon’s invitation to join them. Once Pebbles had settled in, Anlon had traveled to Tahoe to ensure every speck of the crime scene was wiped away or removed from the house before bringing Pebbles home.
For most of the day, Anlon stayed in his office while the crew he hired to do the heavy clean-up work sanitized what could be salvaged and removed that which couldn’t. Late in the afternoon, one of the cleaning crew members popped up at the office door and asked Anlon to go through the packages and letters that had been strewn about the front hallway. “It’s all on the kitchen counter. Just put what you don’t want to one side and we’ll take care of it.”
When Anlon entered the kitchen and saw the blood-stained pile, he almost turned around and instructed the crew to trash the whole kit and caboodle, but he dutifully pulled up a barstool and evaluated each piece.
He pushed the dented book-package across the counter without even opening it. There was no way he would ever be able to look at the book inside without associating it with Muran and the kidnapping. Joining the dented package was the box with the howler-monkey stuffed animal. Given everything that had happened, the gag gift no longer seemed funny. Any other packages streaked with blood quickly found their way onto the growing stack across the counter, too.
Anlon approached letter mail in the same manner. Anything with blood on it was added to the trash heap…until he discovered a bloody envelope without a return address. It was postmarked Middlebury, Vermont. The postmark read September 9, six days before Anabel’s murder had been reported. When Anlon opened the envelope, he discovered a long letter from Anabel inside.
Dear Anlon,
I don’t know where else to begin, but to say, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the injuries you suffered on my account, I’m sorry for Devlin’s murder, and Matthew’s, too. I’m sorry I ever talked to Devlin about those horrid Stones, but most of all, I’m sorry for an awful decision I made long ago.
You see, I’m responsible for it all, for everything that’s happened. I wish I could tell you I had good cause for setting in motion all the wickedness that has transpired, but I would be lying if I did.
From there, the letter went on to explain much of what Anlon now knew about her history. She confessed to her real identity and admitted to luring Clara Ambrose to Muran’s tomb, and then helping Muran transfer her mind into Clara’s body, essentially murdering Clara. She also described how Muran had coaxed her cooperation.
She seduced me. She made me feel special, loved and wanted. She begged me to help her come to life again, promising the physical and emotional closeness we shared when I visited her memories. She promised me long life, the end of servitude, greater beauty and her love, and I fell for it. I fell for all of it. Every second in her presence was like a dream come true, a fantasy that seemed so real, I could feel her body against mine even after our visits.
I could have all I desired, she told me, if I would find her a body into which she could pour her mind. Then, we could be together forever. There is no excuse for what I did, what she suggested I do. She knew how badly Clara treated me, I told her often enough. I was caught between a master who treated me like a slave, and a lover who treated me like a princess. I chose to become a princess.
Later, Anabel described her relationship with Muran after The Betrayer had taken Clara’s body. The two had maintained the façade of master and servant while their behind-the-scenes relationship blossomed into a torrid love affair. An affair that eventually soured.
I discovered I’d traded one kind of slavery for another. She was subtler in her cruelty than Clara, but she was cruel. Yes, she fulfilled her promises, introducing me to enjyia and sharing her gold. But we were never equals. She was always the master, I was always the servant. And the longer I served her, the more I came to hate her. Soon, I found I was nothing more than her chambermaid, and it made me angry. I confronted her, and she told me I would have to live with it. When I threatened to leave, she threatened to cut off my access to enjyia. When I told her I didn’t care, she intimated I would end up like Clara.
To prove her point, she dragged me outside and brought a Breylofte. She blew on the Stone and lifted me high into the air and then slammed me into the ground. It was hard to watch what Pacal did to you, Anlon, in more ways than one.
Anabel barely touched on her theft of Muran’s Tyls, but what she did write explained her motivation for taking them and what she did with them afterward.
I felt I had no way out. I stopped drinking enjyia, preferring to grow old and die to an eternity under her thumb. Then, a miracle happened, and I found a way to escape. But I did something petty. I took away some of her Stones, the ones she cared most about. I knew enough about them to understand why they were important to her, but I’d never actually used them. I don’t know why I didn’t destroy them, I guess I thought they might come in handy one day, so I kept them. I put them away, and I made a new life far away from her. My new life was more fulfilling than I could ever have imagined, and for a long time I forgot about Muran and the Stones.
She went on to describe highlights of her life after the theft — going to college, becoming an archaeologist, meeting Devlin and falling in love anew. At last, she detailed how and why she introduced Devlin to the Munuorians and their Tyls.
You may not believe me, but I never talked to Devlin about the Munuorians and their special Stones, until I got really sick. Yes, it’s true, I stoked his interest in certain mythologies, and I did plant certain seeds that likely led him to the first Tyls he discovered, but he learned to use them o
n his own, and he realized their historical significance without any hints from me.
When I developed cancer, I thought I could overcome it by starting to take enjyia again. I’d never made it on my own, but I’d watched Muran make it enough times to know the process. It did slow the spreading of the cancer for a time, but not enough to stop it. I was desperate to keep my dream-life going. I had already lived three lifetimes, but I was greedy for more, and I knew it was possible to have more.
So, I compounded my earlier mistakes by confiding in Devlin. I gave him Malinyah’s Sinethal, hoping he would talk to her and ask her for help. Yes, I knew what was on the black stone when I gave it to him, Anlon. Muran had talked of her sister often. I suppose I could have tried to talk with Malinyah myself, but I was afraid she would reject me. I thought she would sense my connection with Muran.
I asked Devlin to find out from Malinyah if there was a way to use the Tyls to kill the cancer, but Malinyah didn’t understand Devlin, unfortunately. She thought he wanted to know where he could find more Tyls. She showed him a map where he might find more of the Stones, but not much beyond that.
Then, I learned my cancer was terminal, and I knew I was beyond any magic from Malinyah. When I shared the news with Devlin, he was heartbroken. He said he would try to talk with Malinyah again, but I told him it was too late for that.
But there was a way he could still help me. I told him I knew how to store my mind on a stone like Malinyah’s, but I didn’t have all the pieces needed to do it. I asked him to help me find a Tuliskaera and a Taellin. I gave him two statues I had taken from Muran that showed him what the Tyls looked like — the statues in the pictures Jennifer asked me about when she visited last month.
Don’t you see, Anlon? I caused Devlin to stir up a hornet’s nest to save myself, and he died because of it. Then, you got drawn into my mess and stirred it up some more. And now all the buzzing has attracted the attention of the queen hornet.
Curse of the Painted Lady (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 3) Page 37
