The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven

by Harmony L. Courtney

  Arthur thought back to the first week Benny Maplethorpe had been his new cellie.

  The man had had no idea what it was to be in Maximum at all; he’d never been anywhere beyond Minimum prior to this stint, and it was a long one. So, between the lessons Maplethorpe had learned the hard way and the things Arthur had taught him, the man had adjusted rather quickly in order to keep from too much trouble.

  Is that why he preferred to hibernate in the cell more often than not? Or was he truly not interested in what was happening with the other inmates?

  Not that Arthur blamed him, really… different men, he’d noticed, had different ways of coping with what’s going on that there really wasn’t a right or wrong way. And so, Maplethorpe in many ways had been the ideal roommate: never stole from or lied to him, or put him down: all things Jeremiah Paxton had done when he was alive and sharing a cell with Arthur.

  Shrugging at the man, Arthur walked toward the cell door and leaned into the bars, trying to see if there were any officers nearby. He banged a couple of times on the bars, hoping to get someone’s attention.

  At the very least, he hoped to get his mail read and, if possible, replied to before the next day’s yard time and mail.

  He could only hope that, given how things had gone with Mark a few years prior, he would end up with less time, and Mark would do some. And he hoped that the letters awaiting him held good news for him, without any preaching, that he could think on something positive as he waited for the verdict of what’s been happening with Mark, too.

  Sometimes, he just wished he could choke the man and get it over with, but after all the time he’d done already, what would the point be?

  And who would he most need to call if the news in one or more letters is unsavory?

  Twenty Three

  Paris, France… February 13, 1707

  “Mon Cher Mère,” the letter began.

  Mary Beatrice shivered as she leaned against the sole linden tree at her still-uncomfortable, newer residence, thankful that her daughter was within a reasonable distance now.

  Le duc de Lauzun and his wife had been more than pleasant, despite her misgivings toward them, and she felt awful about it, but there was nothing to be done for it. The man just irritated her. He seemed to perpetually frown, even if it wasn’t intentional, and his mode of dress was startlingly over-proportionate to his status whenever he was out in public.

  Hoping for the best but expecting the worst, she forced her thoughts back to her son, and his letter, tilting it so she could examine it in better lighting. She forced her face to remain calm, and began to read, her heart pounding like a drum within her:

  It has been brought to my attention that several people, the French and the English, have been seeking my life in exchange for the thrones, which Father left to my care. Monsieur Beausoleil and two others in Cousin Louis’ employ discovered a plot against my life; a plot co-created by two nations; two royal families’ servants attempting treason and murder.

  Things have been difficult here, but it is not my own safety that I am concerned about right now. I am afraid that you and Louisa Maria are not as comfortable as you have led me to believe, and I am concerned to see that there is, once more, this dishonesty and secrecy between us.

  Do you not believe that I care about what happens? That my heart is so focused on myself that it crosses not my mind that things are also difficult for you? Pour ces choses sont de la plus haute importance pour moi, en dehors de reconquérir les trônes Dieu a ordonné pour moi de siéger. Il me daunts pas qu'Anne a été de tenter de faire empirer les choses, à ce stade. Je ne peux pas changer cela; je ne peux que faire comme je crois que la Vierge Mère et son fils, le Christ, sont à la tête.

  Quel serait le père dire? Mieux encore, ce serait dire Edward, s'il avait été ici dans ce lieu, au lieu de I? Je ne suis pas tout à fait sûr ... mais je prie les saints et solliciter les conseils de la Sainte Mère et Jésus, son fils, que je ferai droit par vous deux. Vous avez peut-être dans les quartiers du duc de Lauzun, mais vous êtes ma responsabilité, dans mon coeur.

  It may be a long while before I am able to communicate with you in a transparent manner once more, and therefore, I must ask you... I must ask that you pray for me, that I can safely do the will of God. I do not know if this will lead to life or death in this world, but I would like that to be as he has ordered. And I would like to be able to make things better for you and Louisa.

  It distresses me that I did not.

  But now, it is time to reclaim the thrones that God granted me, but Anne has claimed as her own. I do not know if success will be with me, but I must believe that there is a way. Edward m'en voudraient de ne pas être courageux, et mon père m'en voudraient de ne pas rester à sa place. Pour cela, je dois faire. The heaviness of waiting even this long has brought me low, and the thrones of England and Scotland taunt me from afar.

  Is this truly God’s will? I do not rightly know… I only know that the thought of letting Him down pains me greatly, and I was bred and trained for this very moment; for this task.

  So, either way, I must do this... for the memory of those who have gone before me. I must do this, that Louisa will see me as a man again, and that my country... my nations of rule... will see me as their leader once again.

  I do not care that they seek a Protestant leader rather than a Catholic one. God has ordained me; France, Spain, and Modena, as well as Rome, have seen this to be true.

  Je suis sur le chemin de Londres à cette époque, et ce que sera, sera. Sais que je t'aime, et pour leur faire part de mes nouvelles avec ma chère soeur, dont je suis très long de voir à nouveau...

  Votre fils,

  James Francis Edward Stuart

  Mary felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as she stared for long moments at the words before her, too shocked to comprehend all she had read.

  England?

  He was really going to attempt to go to England, again, after his arrest and dethronement in the eyes of the people, against her better advisement, and that of King Louis? He just said himself that his life was in danger, and that there were plots against his success.

  The melancholic and over-worrisome young man would be a terrible embarrassment, or a huge success… and she hated to dwell on which side of that coin he would land. Her baby boy had grown up and become a man without her even realizing it; not totally. She’d spent time with her children, but not enough.

  It was a coin that had already flipped once, with embarrassing results that had shamed Louis into retreating from calling him King any longer.

  How could he?

  James Francis had been adamant, and lost to his half-sister and, in spite of it, he was trying once more to claim what James had left him with?

  A pang of bitter joy and triumphant sorrow hit her as she regained her composure.

  It certainly wouldn’t do for le duc or duchess – or any of their house and yard staff – to find her here, on the verge of tears. She would be mortified, and they would be embarrassed for her.

  Mary folded the letter back up and lifted it to her nose.

  It smelled of rose water and musk.

  The scent of her baby boy, no longer a baby, but a man. The scent of a man on the verge of either great success or horrid ruin.

  “Ma Mère,” she heard Louisa call from somewhere behind her; somewhere out of sight, and higher off the ground. “Vous êtes très bien, j'espère? C'est cette news de James Francis, au dernier?”

  “Oui,” she called back, turning around. She still did not see Louisa, and finally, looked up to see her in a window, hair hanging over the edge of it, leaning down. “Oui, it is. Come down, please, and I will… I will explain things,” she said again.

  Several minutes later, Louisa was flouncing toward her, the hem of her heavy rust-colored dress in hand as she moved. Her golden brown hair was now combed back and tied, and her brown eyes danced within her long-featured but slightly plump face as she approached.

  “So,”
Mary began, looking around to see if there were other listeners. Seeing nobody, she continued.

  “So your brother is on his way to London,” she began, holding up a hand when her daughter moved to interrupt. “Let me finish…. He’s on the way, and may have already landed upon the shores of England this day. And he sends his love, and best regards. He… he is seeking to reclaim the thrones of his father; of your father. And he has asked us to pray.”

  “But, London,” Louisa exclaimed. “Why, he could get k-“

  “Oui, I’m well aware of the stakes,” Mary told her daughter, interrupting, not wanting to hear the word; not wanting her mind to go there.

  “Well, then,” Louisa said, grabbing her arm, then lifting her hem back up once more, “I guess it’s time to go find somewhere to pray. Today. Before it is too late.”

  Mary allowed her daughter to pull her, careful not to slip in the grass or drop the letter that still rested in her hand.

  Indeed.

  A place to pray, away from ears that may betray… but where?

  Twenty Four

  Boston, Massachusetts… February 13, 1942

  As Steven approached the Rockford house, he noted a few men leaving the premises. “Game already over,” he called to one – Williams, who shook his head and kept walking, a frown on his face.

  Quickly knocking at the back door, which was used more often than the front, he heard Rocky shout for him to enter. An unfamiliar, large-bellied man, about 6’5”, revealed a missing top front tooth when he smiled as he ushered Steven inside.

  “Frank,” the man said, sticking out a bear paw of a hand to shake.

  “Steven,” he replied as he followed Frank through the semi-darkened kitchen, through the living room, and over to the den, where two groups of men sat huddled around tables, cards in play.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he continued. “Boss had something he needed help with as I was walking out the door. Took a few minutes.” He glanced around, not finding an empty seat once Frank had reseated himself. “So where am I going,” he asked as Rocky’s table finished a round, and the table where Skeeter sat began a new deal.

  “We’re even now, so either wait for someone to go out, or pick a table; don’t make no mind. Gin rummy over there with Skeeter; poker over here,” Rocky told him. “Just grab a chair from the kitchen.”

  Steven nodded his head and retrieved a chair, trying to decide which group to join. On the one hand, he thought tonight was just poker, and had been mentally preparing for it; on the other hand, he preferred gin rummy. He was better at it; more skilled and practiced.

  He had a moment of equivocal anxiety as he mentally floundered between the two. Should he go with the original plan, or hide behind what he knew and understood?

  Part of the fun was learning, wasn’t it?

  He pulled his chair up toward Rocky’s table, and DiMaggio and Tabor moved over so he had room.

  “Alright, then… next round, you’re in,” Rocky told him. “Just be patient.”

  Shalom waited until Steven had begun to walk again to follow behind him at a distance.

  That he’d been caught didn’t bode well for his detecting skills, but at least his brother-in-law hadn’t outright lied to him. Had he done so, Shalom wasn’t sure what he would have done. Called him on it? Gotten Warren, Peter, and Michael involved?

  Those things might shame Steven, but they wouldn’t help him with whatever was going on. So, he was thankful… thankful not to be put in that position at all.

  As Steven unknowingly led the way, Shalom prayed for a solution that would help them all.

  If the man was having money troubles, to the point of asking Peter for cash, then there must be something the rest of them were missing… but what?

  He had tried to wrack his brain thinking of possible reasons.. things that didn’t involve criminal activity, covert operations, or addictions, and the list was sadly short.

  Something was very wrong.

  As he kept walking, he saw the familiar faces of Ted Williams and Johnny Peacock, and greeted them as he kept walking. The looks on their faces said they weren’t in the mood for conversation, and Peacock actually blushed, looking away from him as he began walking faster.

  Shalom watched as Steven slid behind the fifth house on the right, and made his way closer to see if he could gauge what was happening. A third ball player passed him, and waved before turning in the other direction, having left the same house Steven had entered.

  Well, since I can’t just go knock on the door, he thought, following the muscular yet baby-faced Jimmie Foxx down the road past the house, through three turns, and into a restaurant.

  Once Foxx had ordered, Shalom approached carefully, trying to be nonchalant as he sat one table over from the man.

  “Hey, didn’t I see you over by Rocky’s place,” Foxx asked him, his eyes lighting up. “I think I waved at you.”

  Aha.

  Rocky.

  That was progress… at least a partial name.

  “Yeah, I hadn’t decided if I was going to attend or not,” Shalom told him, forcing his face to remain neutral.

  “Yeah, I get that. Got into the game… alright, I played five hands, and then decided I had better things to do with my money,” the man said, smiling, as he held out a hand. “And with my time,” he said pausing a moment to laugh. “I’m Jimmie, and you look familiar.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jimmie, call me Schwartz,” Shalom said, feeling the risk of his first name might get back to Steven. At least his last name was common enough there would be some wiggle room, if necessary.

  “Feel free to sit over here, if you wanna, Schwartz, I won’t bite,” the ballplayer told him, waving a hand toward the waitress again.

  “Know what you want,” she asked him, her blonde-grey hair piled high on her head, and the apron of her uniform splattered with mustard.

  Shalom glanced at the menu quickly, as though he were a regular rather than a first-timer and ordered a pastrami sandwich and coffee.

  “Comin’ up in a few, young man,” she said, the crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes becoming more prominent when she smiled.

  As she walked away, Foxx watched her a moment before returning his attention to Shalom. “So how do you know Rocky?”

  “Ah, well, we haven’t actually met face to face yet; someone invited me to attend, and they’ve told me a little about him, that’s all.” He glanced down at his hands a moment before looking into the man’s eyes.

  “Nothing to worry over, I was just curious. I only met him a few weeks ago, myself. Some of the other guys on the team had met him months ago, when he got here from New York,” Foxx said, grabbing some napkins and setting them on the table. Next, he opened the bottle of ketchup and set it next to the napkins as his drink was brought, followed soon by his food, and then Shalom’s sandwich and coffee.

  They ate their lunch companionably, the conversation more stop and go than steady. And for once, Shalom didn’t mind. It gave him time to think about what he was going to tell Shannen, and what he’d say to Jerusha; what the whole family would want to know.

  That Steven was playing cards, betting for money, was among the things he’d considered, but it had been at the bottom of the list, after issues at the office and other, more probable possibilities.

  “So, you think you’ll come play sometime,” Foxx asked him finally, as Steven was finishing the last of his coffee. “Cards, I mean. Rocky’s no shark or nothing, but he’s good. Especially poker. The gin rummy’s all right, but Skeeter’s a lot better at that, and Dom’s good on the dice, but… we all have our talents. Gamblin’ ain’t one of mine,” he said, his voice lower as he leaned forward.

  “I’ll have to consider it, still. I like dice, but I’m not great at it, either,” Shalom told the man.

  No need to say he’d only played twice, as a kid, for fun, against his sister, hiding in the backyard to do it so their father wouldn’t catch them.

  “Well, it’s been nic
e meeting you,” Foxx said. “Gotta stop and wire my brother before I head home… so you take care, Schwartz.” He slid a slice of gum into his mouth and stood, holding his hand out again for a shake.

  Shalom, following suit, stood and shook his hand, then turned to go pay his bill. “See you around, maybe,” he said, smiling.

  “I’m sure you will…”

  Twenty Five

  Vancouver, Washington… February 13, 2025

  Edward stooped to pick Confetti up as he walked in the door, thankful he’d caught her in time.

  What had gotten into that cat?

  He closed the door with a foot, set the cat back down, and then laid his suitcase on the table between the entry and dining areas before moving further into the house. Then, he kicked off his shoes and stowed them underneath the edge of the table.

  I’ll just move them later, he thought as he headed into the kitchen, following the aroma of pot roast and roasted vegetables. He stepped up behind his wife – making sure she heard him – and gave her a quick hug as he began to whistle.

  “You’re in a good mood,” she said as she turned around to hug him back. He could smell the wonderful powdery vanilla and cherry blossom musk scent as her Kenzo Amour drifted into his sensory field, combining with the evening meal.

  In the background, he could hear the boys talking about homework in the living room, and Cherish sat reading at the dining room table.

  “Well, I’ve got some good news, though I haven’t heard it yet, myself. Masao called a little bit ago, and he thinks he’s got the first part of the Hebrew text down,” he told her, widening his smile as he spoke.

  A thrill went through him at the thought.

  “Finally, there might be an even more significant breakthrough; finally, they might have some answers.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I guess he’s been working on it pretty meticulously. And he met with a couple he, Justice and Jason ran into the night we had our phone meeting, and had a great conversation with them yesterday, which I’m pretty excited to hear about. He wants everyone to meet with him next Saturday to discuss it. Something about their story, he said, might jive with what’s happening in some of our lives now,” Edward continued as he helped her move the food over to the pre-set table.