by J M Bannon
Preston sat in the reliquary in a simple wooden chair holding his book and waiting for Rose to return. He had removed the journal from the old book box he carried it in while on his journey and was running his fingers over the metal and gem work of the cover.
He was alone, not entirely; he always had Azul with him but physically he was alone in the reliquary. Rose and Detective Williamson had agreed to help. Dolly went to Scotland Yard to see if he could dig up information on Lorelei’s whereabouts. A nice gesture, but they had no idea how that woman’s mind worked. Rose had left him to help his chauffeur Brentwood get settled upstairs. She promised to return and conduct a session in the theurgy chamber to help him re-center. He got up out of his chair to look at the cabinets, she had a small but impressive collection. Nice and roomy with ample space to put in more cabinets as Rose built her collection of relics.
< Ahh Is that the staff of the Voodooist, > whispered Azul in Preston’s mind.
I assume it is.
Preston put his hand against the glass of the cabinet. The glass was cool on his hand but the longer it was there he felt the pins and needles of the spectral tingling his soul. “I Do.” Preston spoke out loud.
He walked back past the curtain towards Rose’s studio. The space was deceiving, and he didn’t pay close enough attention when he came in to remember how big the house was. He went into the studio arcana. The space had four long laboratory tables and sections for work in liquids, gases, and then what resembled a cross between a wood shop and a blacksmith forge, allowing for the crafting of solid, liquid and gas. The biggest area was dedicated to Rose’s mechanical works and several projects were on the bench in various states of construction or deconstruction.
< Our girl is indeed quite talented, look at what she has built here. Her understanding of the Aether and Arcane married to this mechanical expertise of hers is remarkable. >
“Yes, she sees that the relics of the past as rudimentary arcane devices to learn from. Through her use and study of the metaphysical she is developing an applied science and mechanical control of the arcane.”
< You're so logical with all of this my friend. It is all at arm’s length, intellectual, analytical, and yet your soul is bound to the journal as is mine. >
The sound of Rose’s boot heels on the floor broke his trance. “Preston, good to see you on your feet. Do you think you are up for a projection? It may be just what is needed to clear your head.”
“I’ve gone so very long without an episode Rose, but I’m worn out I don’t know if I have the will to hold on."
“Let’s give it a go,” he said as he followed Rose across the hall.
The two entered the room that Rose referred to as the theurgy chamber. It reminded Preston of a bathhouse. The room was dimly lit but what light there was reflected on the white marble surfaces that covered the walls and floor. In the center of the floor was a large sunken tub, big enough for six people to fit comfortably. Preston gazed into the water, it had a greenish glow.
“This is quite flash, Rose. I bet the Necronists have nothing this fancy.”
Rose sat down on a bench with a plush velvet cushioned bench along the wall and removed her boots. The Greenly tall boots she was wearing required her to undo three straps that tightened the boot around her calf then unlace from the ankle down. She had taken off the coverall and was dressed simply in a white silk shirt, caramel colored leather bodice and a navy riding pants. With her boots off she rolled up her pant legs and rolled off her stockings. “I constructed a gemulet just for this pool and have been building a construct for several months.”
Preston followed suit and removed his spats shoes and socks, then sat down to roll up his pant legs. He realized that Rose planned to sit on the edge of the pool and dangle her feet in when he saw her dip her toe in then lower herself down submerging her legs to just below the knee. She was working up her pant legs higher to keep them from getting wet.
“What about the tinctures?” Preston asked.
Rose smiled, pointing at a fixture on the wall of a cherub holding a pitcher which was the spout, “first off, the property has a natural spring that is pumped to a cistern so the house and the room have running water. Then I have a circulating pump that runs through a dosing pot in the studio, so the levels are always topped up.”
Preston stepped over lightly as the marble was cold on his feet, still holding his journal in a bear hug. To sit down, he needed to let go of it, so he set it down on the floor at the edge of the pool then settled into a seated position with his legs in the water. He looked down and noticed running underneath his bottom around the entire tub was inlaid in silver and gold.
“Wonderful touch inlaying the precious metal ring into the surface," admired Preston.
“I thought you would like that, wait until you see inside,” and with that Rose took a deep breath, closed her eyes, rested her hands on the metal inlaid ring, and began her incantation of projection. Preston joined her putting his palms on the silver circle then began whispering his chant.
* * *
7:50 PM Rose’s Theurgy Room and Astral Sanctuary
Rose was sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet dangling in the water watching as Preston materialized in the astral construct. He immediately laughed. “Really, you designed the same room in the gemulet,” said Preston,
“Not just this room, the whole house. The gemulet at the bottom of the pool is like any other gemulet, struck in silver and gold and encloses a crystal containing Thanatalic Quintessence, but it is unlike any other gemulets I have made in sheer size. Since it would be permanently affixed to the bottom of the pool I made it larger and therefore it can bear a bigger mental construct within it. I guess I was thinking so much about the house that it made sense to imagine it in here,” Rose mused.
“That is incredible,” Preston could see that Rose was proud of her talent to architect an astral construct. From his experience and study, it was an impressive feat for someone so new to this type of work.
“It took time, but I have constructed the entire interior of the house in the astral sanctuary. I have to say I am pretty proud of my work."
“You should be.”
“You feel better?” asked Rose.
“Yes, there was the physical stress of the travel that triggered more intrusions from Azul. Then his endless chatter stresses me more, thereby getting me even more anxious. In here I can break that cycle.”
“So, tell me more about this Lorelei and what you want to do.”
Preston drew in a deep breath. “We had this secret hiding spot. It was special to us and when the obsession finally overwhelmed me rather than say goodbye I took my belongings out of the box that the key she sent me unlocked. I left the key by her bedside and left in the middle of the night. She got the message. Lorelei must have kept the key and sent it to me without her father’s knowledge.
Lorelei is a genius and spirited. She has always had a head for puzzles and mind benders. She initially helped me to decode the journal and while doing so we became lovers. Lorelei and I were everything to each other but this damn book took my soul. It was back when I was first losing control, I didn’t even know I was making plans to leave her, well, I knew but I didn’t know. Does this make any sense at all?”
The door to the theurgy room opened and in walked a swarthy looking Persian with a long grey beard, old, but youthful in spirit. Rose jumped up from the pool and reached for her belt.
“I can explain better than my companion,”
Was this Azul? Thought Rose.
“How did you get in here?” accused Rose, trying to catch her breath after being startled by the unwelcome visitor.
“I don’t know, but somehow my prison linked to your sanctuary. Preston, think of how surprised I was when a door appeared? Well, of course, I would open it and here I am. Now I must say my dear Sister you
are to be commended, this is fantastic.” Azul looked around touching the walls then sitting on the cushioned bench. “I know a thing or two about multidimensional constructs having been trapped in one for nearly five hundred years and what you have done with yours is exceptional. Wouldn’t you agree, Preston?”
Rose was shocked to see the Sufi cleric with her own eyes and separate from Preston. She had heard his intonation through Preston, but to see him in her astral sanctuary was off-putting.
“Relax, I mean you no violence. I had to open the exit and here I was,” explained Azul.
“What do you mean you can explain it better than him?” redirected Rose.
“The more Preston worked with the book the easier it was for me to sneak out. Much like a hypnotic state, I would give him suggestions, hints, that helped him to learn. Back then I needed him to stay focused on the book so I nudged him away from her. It was me that used his curiosity of the unknown against his affection for her,” said Azul.
“What type of person plots and tortures a person so?” asked Rose.
“Before you pass judgment on me understand that Preston was to an extent complicit and continues to be my companion,” related the old Aryan.
“What is he going on about, Pres…”
“Haven’t you wondered how I became imprisoned in my own Journal. Why would that happen? You never told her,” Azul interrupted looking at Preston.
“It never seemed important,” defended Preston.
“You see my dear Rose, I am like you, an outcast from my coven. I started as an academic in Sufi mysticism then like Preston here I yearned to learn more and that is when I met the Hermetic Brotherhood. They taught me about the powers beyond the material world. When I could not get enough, I looked to other teachings to know the source of truth.”
Preston interrupted, “The reason his journal was so cryptic was that he was an apostate of the Brotherhood. He kept secret that he was recording and stealing all their rituals.”
“I also documented my journey as the Brotherhood chased me around the Mediterranean trying to recover what I had taken. The journal is not just a tell-all, but a story of a man on a journey.” The cleric smiled. “Who doesn’t love those?”
“Rose should know the story, in the end, they caught Azul and rather than have him continue running around trading their secrets with other practitioners, they imprisoned him in an enchanted object, in this case, his book. He had created a gemulet and had it encrusted on the spine. His brothers turned his sanctuary into a prison,” Preston asserted.
“While we are confessing to the Sister, have you shared that it was you who created this situation?” retorted Azul, wild-eyed and smiling.
“You tricked me,” whined Preston.
Azul threw Preston a perplexed look and said. “No, your curiosity got the better of you. Take responsibility, you coveted my knowledge so much you found a way to pierce the prison and now we both must suffer each other’s company.”
Rose’s head swirled as the two went back and forth. "Is this what its like in your head?” asked Rose.
Preston pulled his legs out of the water and made his way over to where Azul sat. He sat next to him. Both of them looked up at her like schoolboys caught shoplifting. “The truth is Rose, I chose this. It is a physical strain but rather than figuring a way to close the fissure I have been conversing with Azul to learn and as compensation I give him time to experience the material world.”
“Maybe you two should just stay home, I will follow up on what happened to Lorelei,” suggested Rose.
“Frankly, Sister while you may be a power to be reckoned with when it comes to spiritual force, you do not match Lady Traube’s genius. She wants us to find her but she will make this a game and the clues will be complex and likely personal for my companion Preston. For this to be a success we will all have to go, I promise to behave” assured Azul, patting Preston’s leg.
“Then it’s settled.” She went over and shook both their hands on the agreement. What am I getting into? With that thought she began the incantation to return to Hawkin’s House on Earth.
When she opened her eyes, she saw the book was resting on the silver conduit that surrounded the pool. She dropped into the pool, waded across and pushed the book off the silver and gold ring.
Preston came back. “My god, that was strange,"
“The book was on the circle. That proves to me something I have thought for some time now, you are both bound to the journal,” stated Rose with conviction.
11
Thursday, the 7th of June 1860
4:30 a.m., Hawkin’s House
Preston had wire-typed Traube, to request his return airship. The response came the following day.
TRANSMITTAL 05061860 01:42
TO: PADDINGTON STATION T12
GILCHRIST, PRESTON
FROM: TELEGRAPHEN-BAUANSTALT TRAUBE 01
SALUTATIONS
MY HEART SOARED WHEN I READ YOU WILL COME TO KONIGSBERG TO HELP FIND LORELEI.
THE ESPERANCE IS IN DRY DOCK BEING REFITTED AFTER MY PARIS EXCURSION. I HAVE ARRANGED TRANSPORT FOR YOU WITH AIR CAPTAIN REIDUN FALK ON THE PEREGRINE. ARRIVAL 6th JUNE DEPARTS ON YOUR DIRECTION.
SPARE NO TIME OR EXPENSE.
GUS
Preston was informed of the Peregrines’ arrival on the evening of the sixth and Rose and Preston chose to transit to Prussia at first light. The sun had not yet risen as Brentwood packed the car for Preston and Rose to drive to the London Aerodrome and transit from England to Prussia.
Rose emerged from the house with an assortment of bags, Brentwood hurried to her helping with the luggage and trunks. “Ms. Caldwell, you are in dire need of service at this home. May I take it upon myself to run advertisements while you're away?”
“No, William you may not. Why does everyone want to fill my house full of servants looking after me?"
“It’s not just you. Your niece and sister need the help. Don’t resist your blessings: sometimes it is not about what you need but what those around you may be in need of including those who serve. The city is full of poor souls looking for work.” Brentwood appealed as he strapped the luggage to the back of the carriage.
Preston was already in the car. Surprisingly, he had fallen asleep on the passenger side requiring Rose to crawl into the carriage on the street side.
Pāora Te Potangaroa walked out of the park. Rose turned to him, “Pāora, I am going away and I don’t know when I will return. Please go on with your life, I think it's dear you want to help but it is too dangerous and I don’t want to take responsibility for your well-being. You were almost killed on that ship."
The Maori handed Rose a bracelet. It was identical to the one he showed her on the ship but smaller, suitable for a woman’s wrist. He took her wrist and tied it below the leather bracer she wore on her right arm. “Now I will be with you on the journey. Kia pai te waimarie ki a koe, a ka whai hua koe ki etahi atu, it means may good happen to you and through you, “ then Pāora opened the car door for her.
Rose got in and just looked at him not knowing what to make of this man. The driver engaged the engine and with a lurch the car took them away from Hawkin’s House to the London Aerodrome.
12
Thursday the 7th of June 1860
5:15 a.m. London Aerodrome
The car pulled up to gate four of the aerodrome, the entrance for smaller private craft. Rose felt out of her element; inside she would always be that poor little girl from Chester.
When Oscar Owens arrived in the alley behind Sydney Street, Bethnal Green, Rose was two months arrears in rent and her sister had shown up with a six-month-old baby a few days before. She didn’t fully grasp what the Banker was prattling on about with talk of trusts and being given a bequest. What she did understand is when she asked if this would cover rent, Owens proceeded directly to the landlady and paid her rents, then took Rose, Violet and baby Rosie to a hotel. Her pride resisted, but he said this was not charity, he would take this out of th
e funds she had been given and it saved her from being out on the street.
Two years later she had adjusted to her new life. A London townhouse in Paddington rebuilt to her specifications, her sister had settled in and her niece was happy and healthy. Rose could continue her work with more vigor given she now had the respect and support of the Metropolitan Police and the funds to experiment in the studio arcana.
Even her good friend Preston had made progress. While he still struggled literally with his inner demon, a predicament he created in reaching for forbidden knowledge, he was about to get onto an airship. This was a miracle for someone unable to leave his home for three years.
Yet, her life felt borrowed and out of place. Here she was pulling up on the tarmac in front of the private terminal. Brentwood unpacking the bags and Aerodrome porters scurrying out of the terminal to help. Rose looked up and counted her blessings. She needed to stop thinking like that poor girl from Chester.
“You can’t help but look up, can you?” Preston seemed refreshed and less nervous after his sleep in the car. The theurgy session had the calming effect Rose had hoped for.
Up strode a woman with shoulder length brown hair wearing a short shearling jacket, a men's dress shirt the collar open and plunging, tucked into leather leggings which in turn were tucked into her calf high dress-patrol boots. She carried a holster slung over her right hip openly, sporting a revolver with her gloves tucked into the gun belt.
“I like the Jacket,” said the sky captain. Rose was wearing her long squall coat with its crimson lining.
“I was about to say the same,” replied Rose Caldwell.
