Catspell

by Colleen Shannon

  They complained, but at her insistence they finally got into the sturdiest coach and clattered up the street, out the gate. Arielle knew the police would question them and she hoped that Shelly and Ethan could come up with a likely story to keep the bobbies from intervening. As she virtually flew up the stairs to her room, she also knew that if the police were witness to the battle between three cat creatures, she and Seth could never set foot in England again….

  In the crypt, Luke, or what remained of Luke, had the earl cornered against a wall, one paw tearing into his shoulder, the other at his throat. The claws, as black and hard as a wolf’s, toyed with the earl by retracting and kneading, as a cat’s would. Indeed, Luke purred, so satisfied was he at cornering his prey, like a contented cat.

  The claws had not bitten into the earl hard enough to draw blood. Yet.

  “Do you really prefer to die rather than tell me where the book is?”

  The earl slumped, his eyes closing as if he couldn’t bear to look at Luke. “I honestly do not know. I gave it to Miss Holmes to read and have not seen it since.”

  Luke’s claws came out, slashing at the earl’s clothes. The earl winced at the ripping sound, and with all his might, shoved Luke away.

  He tried to run as Luke stumbled backward, but Luke’s claws latched onto the back of the earl’s thick dressing gown. They began to dig in, through layers of velvet and silk lining, penetrating the cotton of his night rail to his skin. As they imprinted themselves, about to draw blood, a roar came from the entrance to the crypt, so loud that it echoed like a death knell in the stone chamber.

  Immediately Luke released the earl and turned. His legs were spread, huge arms that were part werewolf, part lion, ready to grab as he crouched to lunge.

  Seth stood in the opening, majestic against the new day, his black mane rippling in the breeze as he stared at his brother with golden eyes. He was fully a lion, enormous and powerful, as he walked into the crypt, but when Luke lunged at him, he stepped aside rather than engaged. Luke crashed head first into the marble wall, falling to his knees.

  Seth leaped over him to stand protectively before the earl. “Luke, I do not want to kill you, but you’re leaving me little choice,” he said in that hissing cat’s tone still tinged with a hint of human sadness.

  “Luke is dead,” hissed the cat creature. “Mihos rules.”

  The earl ignored Seth’s jerk of the head at the door and stayed put. He glanced between the two amazing creatures, his gaze torn between fascination and repugnance. Occasionally he glanced at the door, as if expecting Arielle.

  “Indeed. He rules you,” Seth retorted. “Is that what you wanted when we came here? To be a servant to the blood lust of a cat and know no joy but in killing? This makes you better than our father?” Seth reared up on his hind legs as this time, Luke rushed him so fast he didn’t have time to dodge.

  The two beings grappled, Luke still standing on a titan’s powerful human legs, more stable than Seth could be on four feet. Luke dipped his head, the fangs that were much larger than Seth’s dripping saliva, as he snapped at Seth’s throat. Seth reared his head back, claws slashing at Luke’s back, pulling him away. Luke’s teeth snapped air.

  But Seth couldn’t combat Luke’s new strength, especially in four-footed form against Luke’s more agile two. With a mighty heave, Luke picked Seth up and tossed him through the air. Seth landed half on, half against Isis’s sarcophagus lid. With a scrape and groan, it fell to the floor.

  Shaking his head, half stunned, Seth struggled to his feet and turned to face his attacker, but Luke’s green eyes were wide, staring past him. Seth turned to follow his gaze inside the casket.

  The white silk lining, dingy with the passing of the years, was all that met their astonished gazes. It was empty. The mummy was gone.

  Outside the gates, Shelly and Ethan were doing their best to persuade the skeptical detective to investigate Luke Simball’s flat.

  “I tell you, he’s the only one with the motive and the opportunity to commit these murders,” Ethan argued. “Man thinks he’s a lion, I’ve seen him try it. Scary, the way he can use knives to make it look like claw marks.”

  “Send some of your men to his flat,” Shelly insisted. “Where’s the harm in searching? I cannot yet prove he’s the culprit behind these murders, but I’ve verified his whereabouts cannot be accounted for on the nights in question. And I do have the documentation to prove he is the estranged son of the diplomat who was the first to die in this strange manner–after Luke Simball immigrated to London.”

  The housekeeper, who had remained behind on her own insistence after the other servants left, nodded vigorously. “Aye, and the earl hisself didn’t trust him, that I know. He didn’t like him around Miss Arielle, got Mr. Seth’s help to protect her, he did.”

  The detective hesitated, but then he jerked his head at several of his men. They took a carriage and careened off.

  None of them noticed that, during the clamor of argument and departure of several carriages, the marquis had tied his animals to a tree and disappeared. For once, Shelly was too occupied in doing all she could to give Seth and Arielle time to note that the marquis had slipped inside the gates…

  The Scotland Yard man tilted his hat back to eye Shelly severely. “Now, Miss Holmes, I’ve done as you asked. Kindly be honest with me and tell me why you’re trying to keep me out of this estate. What is going on in there that you don’t wish me to know about?”

  Shelly opened her mouth, closed it. For once, she was speechless.

  Ethan smiled smoothly. “Strange things. You would not approve.”

  The detective’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at the gates and moved toward them.

  Ethan blocked him. “You know. Things that go bump in the night. Mummies walk. Ghosts fly. That sort of thing.”

  The detective looked at him askance. Shelly’s eyes had widened with horror. Ethan’s tale was all too close to the truth. But the way he spoke made the recount sound ludicrous.

  “A seance,” Ethan finished baldly. “The earl does not want anyone but his immediate family in attendance. Which is why he sent us packing. Do you want to interfere at such a private time for him and his daughter?”

  The housekeeper nodded vigorously. “Aye, they had one just the other evening. Strange goings on, they were.”

  Glancing at the rising sun, the detective said suspiciously, “I’ve never heard of a seance in broad daylight.”

  “Nobility,” Ethan said dismissively. “They always do things cart before the horse. Now, old chap, shall we do things the right way, horse before the cart, and go for a spot of tea so we can discuss the most important aspects of this case?” He put a casual arm about the detective’s shoulder and led him toward his carriage. The man hesitated, but finally followed, telling the last two bobbies to return to the department.

  Looking bemused but impressed, Shelly waved at Ethan. He glanced over his shoulder and winked at her, then ushered the detective into his passenger seat, spreading the carriage blanket over the man’s knees before taking the reins and sedately setting off.

  “Amazing man,” Shelly muttered.

  “Aye,” agreed the housekeeper.

  “Just don’t tell him I said that.” Shelly swung on her heel toward the gate and noticed the marquis’ blooded team chomping at their bits where he’d tied them up.

  “Oh God,” she groaned and broke into a run through the gates. “Go on into town and stay there until we fetch you.”

  Muttering at the ‘trange goings on,’ the housekeeper tied her apron more securely, settled her cap, and walked toward the main road.

  Inside the crypt, for the first time there was a flicker of fear in Luke’s eyes. He glanced about, turning this way and that, but there was no sign of the body. He glared at Seth, advancing again. “You did this. You stole her body to make me think she’s finally arisen.”

  Seth moved to meet him, answering only with his own aggression.

  As they both cr
ouched to spring, a soft voice said from the doorway, “No evil thing of any shape or kind shall spring up against me, and no baleful object, and no harmful thing, and no disastrous thing shall happen unto me. I open the door in heaven. I rule my throne. I open the way for the births which take place on this day.” Arielle stood in the door, radiant as never before. She was fully human, yet somehow beyond mortal as she spoke the ancient ritual.

  “I am she whose being hath been wrought in his eye. I shall die a peaceful death and walk the afterlife not the half life.” In her mother’s magnificent raiments of gold encrusted with jewels, wearing the royal diadem of the serpent and the vulture of her ancestors, she seemed the embodiment of Cleopatra--with the same power to mesmerize.

  Seth and Luke both backed off as she spoke. Luke’s eyes had darkened with fear, but he began his own recitation, as if his ritual could counteract hers. “The slaughter-block is made ready as thou knowest, and thou hast come to destruction. I am Mihos, who stablisheth those who praise him. I am the Knot of the god in the Aser tree, the twice beautiful one, who is more splendid to-day than yesterday.”

  Luke batted at the book in Arielle’s hands, knocking it against the stone floor. The fragile volume broke into several pieces. Luke stalked Arielle, intoning, “I am the Lord of Eternity: I decree and I judge like Khepera.”

  Arielle seemed to awaken from a dream when the book was taken from her. She blinked, and the glow faded from her eyes.

  Luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He transformed, once more a golden god of a man clad only in a loin cloth. He extended his hands to Arielle. “Join me, lioness of God. Together we can rule eternity. We are gods, if we believe it so.”

  Seth sat quietly on his haunches, watching.

  Arielle looked at the beautiful golden man, then over at the lion who seemed almost bored. He made no attempt to transform, or to help her. As if he knew this final task was hers alone by her birth right.

  Then she looked at her father. He gave her an encouraging smile, as if he too knew, finally, that she was strong enough to do the right thing. He bent, gathered together the remnants of the book, and handed them to her, his own brand of apology.

  Immediately Luke transformed again, more fearsome than before, swiping at the earl. But Arielle shoved her father behind her and said without looking at the book, “I am the child who traverseth the road of Yesterday. I am To-day for untold nations and peoples.

  Looking radiant again, Arielle glanced behind Luke, to the back of the crypt. She was the image of her mother at that moment. She repeated softly, “I am the child who traverseth the road of Yesterday. I shall die a peaceful death and walk the afterlife, not the half life.”

  She peered into the dimness behind Luke, her eyes glowing in the gloom.

  Hissing, Luke turned, his arms spread, the ruff of hair on his neck and spine standing straight up.

  Isis stood there in her golden costume, looking as she had in her picture, forever alive, forever vibrant. She shimmered as she smiled at her daughter.

  The earl gasped and reached toward her. He was closest, and when he touched, his hand passed through her.

  Luke growled and sprang, but she was all energy, and no substance. He went right through her to the wall.

  Looking at him with Arielle’s glowing blue eyes, Isis said, “Repeat the words with me, daughter.”

  She and Arielle repeated the ritual from the book, both of them staring him down. This time, with every word, Luke seemed to lose strength. He growled and turned on Arielle, but Seth was there to stop him, and this time his swipe of a paw was met by a like swipe that slammed him to the stone floor.

  Arielle and Isis repeated the ancient spell again and again, faster in cadence, and Luke roared with agony, falling to his knees. He began to change before their eyes, briefly a wolf, then a lion, and finally, a man. A weakening man.

  As the ancient words echoed in the chamber, he sank to the floor, eyes closing.

  There was a stir at the door, and the Marquis stood there, astonished. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

  But then a giant wolf’s paw pulled him away from the door. There was the sound of a scuffle, a scream, and then running feet.

  No one in the chamber noticed, or cared.

  Weakly, Luke tried to recite his own spell, but he was now so weak that his voice was merely a croak.

  He was no match for the heirs of Cleopatra, for the ancient ways were much stronger in their blood. Arielle and Isis said in cadence, “I am she who protecteth you for millions of years. Whether ye be denizens of heaven, or of the earth, or of the South, or of the North, or of the East, or of the West, the fear of me is in your bodies.”

  Moaning, Luke began to fade before their eyes. All the beautiful golden color dissipated from his skin first, then his hair grew sparse and grey, his skin wrinkled and sagging over bent bones.

  Seth looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to watch. The earl whispered to him, “What’s happening? I do not understand.”

  Seth said, “Each soul carries the burden of the evil and good it does and must pay the price at death before entering the afterlife. Luke did much harm.”

  “But why are these rituals strong enough to kill him?”

  “Because Luke believes they are. And now Arielle has turned against him, he can never be immortal. She is draining the life from him and giving it to her mother so she can enter the afterlife at last.”

  Luke had reached out a weakened, ancient hand toward Arielle. “Please,” he gasped. “I love you.”

  Tears misted her eyes, but still she chanted along with her mother.

  And soon, there was nothing left of Luke Simball but a pile of dust and a cotton loin cloth.

  Seth changed back to his human form, accepting the earl’s robe, and knelt over what was once his brother. He bent his head, and whispered his own brand of a benediction. Then he stood and opened his arms to Arielle.

  “See, my darling? You always had the power. Now you have the will.”

  She buried her face in his chest, sobbing, but she felt the whisper of the passing before the others and leaped away to reach out to her mother’s fading form.

  “Mother, don’t go.”

  The earl took a half step forward, too, but Isis had eyes only for her daughter.

  “Shhhh….such is the way of life, daughter, since the Nile was born of the sea. It is right that I go to the place you have prepared for me and wait for you to join me. Please, send me home. You know what to say.”

  Her voice trembled with tears at first, but then Arielle said strongly, “I am the child who traverseth the road of Yesterday. I shall die a peaceful death and walk the afterlife, not the half life.”

  Smiling, Isis faded away. For an instant, the shadow of Bast the cat goddess lingered, her eyes glowing, and then that, too, was gone. The words died more slowly, as if Isis knew they would echo always in her daughter’s heart.

  “You have learned well, my child. You are strong. Be the woman first, and rule the cat, as I could not. Use your power for good, and we shall meet again in the afterlife.”

  Then Isis was gone. But she would never be forgotten….

  Some hours later, the searching bobbies found Luke’s Egyptian knife, dotted with blood, along with several items from some of the victims, enough to convince them that they’d been searching for the wrong brother. But when they sent their entire force looking for Luke, they found not a trace…

  As for the Marquis, he had returned to his flat a changed man. He was pale as a ghost, all the arrogance shocked out of him, his jacket in tatters as if a giant paw had ripped it. He never told anyone what he saw that day, but he vowed to his man servant that if he ever came across Seth Taub again, he’d cross the street to avoid him.

  When his man asked for details, the marquis said only, “You’d not believe me. I have no wish to land in Bedlam.” And he immediately switched clubs.

  That night, the walls of Hafford Place rang again, for the
first time in a long time, with laughter. Shelly and Arielle were dressed in finery, the earl, Ethan and Seth in black tie and tails.

  When Seth flashed an enormous ruby in a sleek setting that showed a snow leopard wrapped around the band and holding the ruby, the earl took a deep breath but nodded his approval.

  As Seth knelt to place the ring on Arielle’s extended hand, the earl complained quietly, “Damn, I’m not sure I want a lion for a son in law. Does this mean I have to serve raw meat at the wedding?”

  Shelly smiled and patted his arm. “Perhaps steak tartare.” At his glared, she soothed, “No, but it means you must keep an open mind. Some things are meant to be, and sometimes the supernatural can be used for good.”

  Ethan stared at her intently as she said it, but she avoided his eyes as she’d avoided him all night. As soon as she could decently excuse herself, she retreated upstairs.

  She was packing her things when a quiet knock came at the door. She wanted to pretend deafness, but knew Ethan would not be put off. She might as well get this over with. She opened the door.

  His welcoming smile faded as he saw her traveling dress and her packed bags. “You were leaving without a word to me?”

  “I detest emotional scenes.” Shelly returned to her packing. “I’d have left you a note with this.”

  She tossed an envelope on the bed before him. He riffled through the thick wad of pound notes and tossed the envelope back like a gauntlet. “If you think you can buy me out of your life, think again.”

  “I merely offer half of my fee. You earned it. I never could have solved this case so effectively without your aid.” The admission was difficult, but she forced herself to make it. However, she could not meet his eyes.

  “Who would have thought such an indomitable creature is, at heart, an emotional craven.”

  Shelly’s angry gaze latched on his face. “Why can you not believe that I do not want your attentions?”

  He rounded the bed in two strides and jerked her into his arms. The kiss was full, flaming, and asked for or offered no quarter. Shelly tried to resist, she truly did, but he was rare champagne to someone parched for joy and the taste of life on her tongue…