by Robyn DeHart
“How do you tell what is what?” she asked tartly. “None of these bottles are labeled.”
“It is not difficult to know the difference between rosemary and rose oil,” Sabine said.
Cassandra eyed her for a moment, then recognition lit her icy blue eyes. “The scents.” She stood and walked back to Sabine and Calliope. “But first, we need to make certain that the two of you hold still. We can’t have you trying to be brave while I’m distracted. Where is some rope?” she asked.
“Why should we help you tie us up?” Calliope asked, then crossed her arms over her chest. Her diminutive frame did little to make her appearance formidable.
“Because, old woman, if you don’t, I’ll simply shoot you and then I’ll know the girl here will hold still. Should I just do that instead?” Again she held the gun to the woman’s throat.
“No, please,” Sabine said quickly. “There’s rope, under there.” She pointed to a shelf to their right. “On the bottom. I’m afraid it’s rather thin, since we only use it for parcels. We’re currently out of rope for tying up people.”
“Watch your tongue and don’t move,” Cassandra said. She walked over to the shelf Sabine had indicated and bent to search for the rope.
Sabine wasted no time in seizing the free moment and picked up a chair, slamming it down over Cassandra’s back. The woman screeched and dropped the gun. Sabine dove for the weapon, slamming her body onto the hard floor and reaching for the pistol.
“Bitch!” Cassandra yelled. She clawed at Sabine, holding her ankle and preventing her from getting any closer to the gun. Calliope jumped on Cassandra’s back and tried her best to choke her. Cassandra stood and grabbed Calliope’s arms. The older woman was no match for Cassandra’s strength as she flung her off and onto some shelves in the corner. Sabine had nearly wrapped her fingers around the gun when she heard Calliope’s cry.
She looked over to find Cassandra leaning over her beloved aunt with a small dagger pressed to her cheek. A drop of blood dripped down her aging face where the woman had cut her.
“Leave the gun alone, Sabine.” Cassandra’s cold voice filled the room.
Sabine stilled. It was too risky to attempt to snatch the gun, turn, and fire. She couldn’t be certain she’d hit her mark, because she’d never shot a gun before.
“Get the rope,” Cassandra said.
Sabine complied and stood with the rope.
“Now then, if you two can agree to not do anything stupid, I would prefer not to bloody my hands tonight. It’s not that I won’t do it.” She jerked Calliope to her feet and led her to a chair. “But I much prefer to have these sorts of tasks done for me rather than doing them myself. If you comply with the rest of my wishes, I won’t send my man back here to finish the job. Do we have an agreement?”
Sabine met her aunt’s eyes and saw raw fear filling the blue depths. “Yes, you have our word,” she said firmly. She tried to smile reassuringly at Calliope, though doubted she managed it with any confidence.
With no more conversation, Cassandra tied them both to chairs, with the backs against each other.
“Where was I?” she asked once she was finished. She made her way back over to the bottles. “Ah, yes, the smells. I don’t want to trust you to tell me which bottle, considering you might try to poison me.”
“I might,” Sabine said honestly.
“I can still call out my dogs,” Cassandra said. But she said nothing more as she went about pulling the corks and smelling one bottle after another. “Lavender, thyme, lemon, rose.”
Sabine could see the bottle with the elixir. It was a small bottle made of blue glass, buried in the midst of the scented oils.
Cassandra picked it up, popped the cork off, then held the bottle to her nose.
Sabine held her breath.
She put the cork back in and moved to return the bottle.
Sabine relaxed.
Cassandra stopped. She pulled the bottle back to her nose and inhaled deeply. “This one has no scent.” Then she turned to face Sabine. “You can’t imagine what I’ve gone through searching for it. Countless hours and more money than I’d care to consider. This is it, isn’t it?”
Sabine said nothing.
“It is, I know it. I can feel it.” Cassandra’s smile had changed from one of glee to the wild-eyed grin of madness. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve searched for this? I won’t let you or anyone else steal this from me now.”
Again Sabine didn’t answer. There was no need to engage in a conversation with the woman. It was best to keep quiet and maybe she’d leave them here, safe, as she’d said she would. Though Sabine doubted Cassandra’s word meant anything.
“Ever since Max told me about the fountain of youth that ran through the center of Atlantis, I’ve wanted to possess it. I knew he’d find it eventually. And he did. He led me straight to you.”
Sabine’s heart contracted. Had he told this woman about the elixir and where to find it? Were they working together, setting a trap for her that she’d willingly stepped right into? The thought sickened Sabine. She’d given Max her body, had nearly given him her heart.
Cassandra set the cork down on the countertop and brought the bottle to her lips.
“Don’t drink it!” Sabine said.
“Why wouldn’t I drink it?” Cassandra asked. “It will make me young and beautiful forever. Women everywhere will crave my secret.” She clicked her tongue. “Too bad I’m not interested in sharing.”
“Too much elixir will kill you.”
Cassandra smirked. “Nice try, but I’m not going to fall for that.” Then without another word, she tipped up the bottle and drank the entire contents.
Max had knocked three times at the back door of Sabine’s shop with no one answering, but he knew they were inside. He could hear their muffled voices through the heavy wooden door. If Sabine wasn’t answering, something was wrong. It took only one great kick for him to burst through the lock. The door to the shop swung open. Inside the storeroom, he saw Cassandra standing over by the cabinets, a bottle to her mouth.
He scanned the room searching for Sabine and finally saw her with Calliope tied back to back in two chairs.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.
“Max, darling,” Cassandra purred. “Come to rescue your whore?”
He saw the pistol she had dangling from her pale hand. She straightened her arm and leveled it at him.
His stomach clenched. “Cassandra, what are you doing?”
“Taking what is rightfully mine. I’ve been looking for this for years, and now I’ll have eternal beauty.” She smiled broadly as her glazed eyes focused on the blue bottle in her hand.
“Sabine, are you and Calliope hurt?” Max asked, not taking his eyes off Cassandra.
“No,” Sabine said. “We’re all right. Max, she shouldn’t have drunk all of that elixir.”
“What’s going to happen to her?” he asked.
“She’s going to die,” Calliope said. “That much will most certainly kill her.”
“If you are trying to frighten me, it won’t work.” Cassandra set the bottle down and walked toward the restrained women. “I feel wonderful.” She looked down at her hands. “Look how smooth and lovely my hands look. Where can I find a mirror?” she asked Sabine.
“There is a handheld mirror in the drawer of the desk,” Sabine said. She motioned to the corner.
Max took the opportunity, while Cassandra was retrieving the mirror, to make his way closer to Sabine. “How long will it take?” he asked softly.
“I’m not certain. I’ve only known a handful of people to ingest it directly, and only because of grave injuries or disease, and then in very small quantities. A drop or two at the most, but an entire bottle, even a small one, will…” Her voice faded as she shook her head.
“It won’t be long now,” Calliope said knowingly.
“Oh, it’s working,” Cassandra said, her voice full of awe and glee. “Look at my face
. Look how lustrous my skin looks, how healthy.” She stared into the mirror, as if entranced by her own reflection.
“Is there anything we can do to stop it?” Max asked.
Calliope shook her head. “No. And it will be painful for her. Vanity is not a pretty way to die.”
As if Calliope’s words had commanded the elixir into action, Cassandra screamed in pain. She grabbed her face as the skin began to wrinkle and bubble.
“What’s happening to me?” she asked.
“We tried to warn you,” Sabine said. “The elixir is far too dangerous.”
Cassandra’s hands gnarled, and her face contorted in pain as she fell to her knees. Then she screamed, a noise so loud and so full of excruciating pain, it actually hurt Max’s ears. He made his way to Sabine and stood in front of her, holding her face against his side to block her from the sight of Cassandra’s painful demise.
“You did all you could,” he told Sabine.
“Max! Do something!” Cassandra screamed.
“I taunted her,” Sabine whispered.
“But you warned her. You couldn’t have prevented this.”
And then the screaming stopped, and Max knew that Cassandra was dead.
Spencer had followed Cassandra St. James’s carriage as it led her to Piccadilly, and she went into a small shop. Two hours later, and she still had not come out. He knew his lovely lady wasn’t the guardian. He’d spent several hours in her company the other evening, and after a while, his ring had dulled in color. And he’d known from that day in his office that the marquess hadn’t been the guardian; there had been no change at all in his ring that day.
The only explanation he could come up with was that somehow she had been exposed to the elixir. He’d decided to follow her and see if she didn’t lead him straight to his target. It was well past closing for those businesses. After an hour of waiting, Spencer had moved to the alleyway. There he stood across the street, shrouding himself in the darkness as he hid on the stoop of a milliner’s shop.
A man had entered a little more than thirty minutes before, and now another man, followed by a constable, stepped into the small shop. Something was happening in there, something he knew had to do with the prophecy. He could feel it. She was nearby. The guardian was in that shop.
Quietly, he walked across the street and kept his body up against the wall so he was not seen. He looked down at his hand, and the ring glowed bright, the color of fresh blood, just as it had done when he’d found the other two guardians. This was the place.
His grandfather would be so proud. Finally he would fulfill what his ancestors had begun. Atlantis had once been a handful of battles away from becoming the ruling nation of all, and his ancestors had been part of that. But then the guardians had fled, taking their elixir with them. And the military had suffered. Without the elixir to give them extra strength and cunning, they had failed and ultimately been destroyed and defeated.
But he had been selected as the Chosen One to see their plans through to completion. And now he was very close. Satisfaction and excitement surged through him.
Now he needed only to bide his time until he could get her alone. Or perhaps he didn’t even need her, only needed to get into that shop and find her amphora. If she was not sleeping here, she might not have the elixir with her. No, it was best if he followed her until he could have a few moments alone with her.
He had found the third guardian, and finally the prophecy would be fulfilled.
A couple of hours later, Sabine and Max finally arrived back at his house. The police had come and taken Cassandra’s body away. Thank God, Max had called on his friend Justin to come to her shop. She could only imagine trying to explain Cassandra’s death to an inspector. No doubt Sabine and Calliope would have been accused of poisoning the woman. But Max had given his statement swearing that when he’d arrived both she and Calliope were tied up, and Cassandra had consumed the liquid of her own volition.
Justin had referred to the liquid as poison in the official documentation. He said it would be easier than attempting to explain the mystical elixir from Atlantis.
Weariness settled on Sabine’s shoulders like a great overcoat, heavy and cumbersome, as she followed Max up the steps into his townhome.
Behind them, carriage wheels rolled to a stop. “Max,” a man said. They turned to find Justin.
“What is it?” Max asked. “Surely you’re not here to arrest her.”
“No, of course not.” Justin made his way up the steps and into the entryway. “I wanted to let you both know that we picked up Johns, Cassandra’s man. He’s already confessed to a murder.”
Relief washed over Sabine so forcefully she nearly collapsed. “Truly?” she asked. Could it possibly be over even without the dove? Had the Chosen One simply destroyed herself through her own vanity? Perhaps that had been it all along—the elixir was the dove.
“The generals’ murders?” Max asked.
Justin shook his head. “He hasn’t given us any specific details, but I think it’s only a matter of time before it all comes out.”
“Still doesn’t make much sense,” Max said. “I don’t understand why Cassandra would kill military leaders.”
“The prophecy,” Sabine said. “If she was the Chosen One, it was commanded of her.”
Max nodded. “I can’t argue with a confession. And this is Cassandra; she hasn’t always made a lot of sense to me.”
“I thought you would want to know tonight,” Justin said.
“Appreciate it. Oh, and Justin, if Johns says anything about the prophecy, let us know. Perhaps we have it backward, and he was the Chosen One, and Cassandra was helping him. I just want to be certain.”
“Absolutely,” Justin said. “Well, you two have a lovely evening.” He smiled and gave Sabine a wink before he left by the front door.
Together, she and Max made their way to his study.
“Do you really think it’s finally over?” Sabine asked. “The prophecy, the Chosen One, all of it?”
He closed the door behind them. “Yes, I think it’s over. Would you care for a drink?”
“Perhaps a small one.” She stood in the center of the Persian rug. “Should we return that sword?” She motioned to the massive blade leaning against his desk.
He smiled. “Perhaps we’ll hold on to it for a while longer.”
He handed her the glass, and she took a small sip, allowing the brandy to slide down her throat slowly before she took another.
“I don’t know how Cassandra found out about the prophecy,” Max said. “Maybe I told her once.” He turned to look at the map. “I can’t imagine she saw it in there, though she has been in this very room many times. Hell, I don’t even think she can read Greek.” He rubbed his hand across his neck. “I know we talked about Atlantis a lot back then, it was nearly all I ever talked about. I was young and stupid and not very discreet.”
“This isn’t your fault,” Sabine said. Somehow she’d known he would blame himself.
His eyes met hers, and gone was any hint of humor or charm. This Max looked intense, almost deadly. “Yes, it is. She would never have found you had it not been for me.” He swore loudly. “She could have killed you.”
“But she didn’t.” She touched his arm. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t turn in to her touch either.
“She came into my shop the first time the day you did. After the poker game. I don’t believe she was following you. Vanity does cruel and terrible things to people,” Sabine said. But she knew he did not hear her. At least he did not believe her.
There was no point in arguing with him. There would be no consoling him. Frankly, she couldn’t blame him. But Agnes was safe. The elixir was safe, and Sabine should feel enormous relief. Yet anxiety still flowed like water through her veins.
She set her glass down, then made her way over to him. Quickly, before she could lose her nerve, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve done s
o much for my aunts and me, and you didn’t have to.” It was one thing to seduce a man, to touch him as a lover would, but to embrace a man with no other intention than to console him, that was an entirely different matter.
His arms tightened around her and pulled her closer to his body. He nuzzled her neck. Before Sabine knew it, they were kissing. Slow and gentle at first, like lovers kissing after a long time apart. Then their hunger increased, and the kisses became hotter, wetter, more intense.
Desire bubbled in her abdomen and radiated down between her legs. She felt herself grow wet for him.
Sabine tore at Max’s shirt, ripping it open. Buttons flew in several directions. She didn’t care, though; she needed to touch him, feel his strength. Next were his trousers. The other time he’d been nude with her, she hadn’t paid close attention; she’d been so focused on her own feelings and sensations. Now she looked, took in her fill. Long and rigid with muscles, his sculpted thighs looked like a statue of Adonis.
They couldn’t wait to move to the bedroom, so instead she pushed him down on his sofa. He sat and smiled up at her, raw desire apparent on his face. And she would have sworn there was something else, something far more tender, but she shoved the thought aside. Wanting more from Max would only lead to a broken heart. But for now she was finished trying to resist him. Their affair would be brief, he would tire of her after too long, but at least she would have experienced this kind of passion.
She straddled him, and the rock-hard sinew of his thigh twitched under her touch. She reached under her skirt, pulled aside the hole in her drawers, and glided down on top of him.
His hands encircled her waist as she began to move. Then he cradled her face with his hands and kissed her. Kissed her as if he loved her. Her heart soared. She tried to remind herself that actions could be deceiving, and no matter how it might seem in this very moment, Max did not love her. But she realized with a sudden, fierce certainty that she loved him.
