The Osiris Stone: Shield Skin Book 2

by F. E. Arliss

  It took a week for Emery, Millicent, Dorothea and the twins to find a wardrobe that suited each of their personalities and was also functional should it be necessary to protect themselves. None of them thought it was as fun as shopping was supposed to be. In the end, they decided to divide and conquer. Millicent and Dorothea went off to Harrods, while the younger three ended up finding what they wanted in several shops in the Dover Street Market.

  The first few days were frustrating and tiring as they tried many items and were satisfied with none of them. In the evenings they took in several theatre shows, something neither Emery nor the twins had ever seen. They enjoyed it.

  Days also consisted of visits to the British Museum’s Egyptian gallery and several other cultural outings such as the Tower of London and a ride on the London Eye, the gigantic Ferris wheel that showcased London from the air. The twins and Emery couldn’t wait to get off of it. Mur practically hyperventilating at the lack of space, the height, and the vast sprawl of London’s skyline at his feet. Ray spent most of the time blocking his twin’s sight in order to keep him calm. The older generation seemed to have enjoyed it the most.

  They also learned to eat properly, as Dorothea and Millicent described the awkward method of holding the fork upside down in your right hand while constantly herding the items around your plate with the knife in your left. They’d gone each night to an older, very traditional restaurant named ‘Rules’, where the ancient gnarled maitre’d had greeted Millicent with, “Welcome back Lady Thorneridge.” Their tartan kilts and woolen sweaters were in no way out of place here. Though none of the other diners were dressed in traditional highland garb, none of them stared or appeared shocked by their dress. It had taken the pressure off the younger generation as they concentrated on learning the new dining method and on eating things they’d never tasted before. Who knew snails could be so tasty?

  It hadn’t taken long for the younger generation to master eating with the continental method, as Dorothea called it - as all three of them were ambidextrous to begin with. Still, Emery thought, it didn’t bode well for society - all this last minute training in order to ‘fit in’. It was tiring and disgruntling.

  Finally, they’d found items that the twins - used to no underwear, ragged shorts, and usually bare-chested and barefoot - could stand to wear. Close fitting, ultra-lightweight athletic-style boxer briefs solved the underwear problem. The twins had seen them as a fitted dive-short and that worked for Emery.

  Then came pairs of tailored, above ankle length synthetic trousers and athletic-fit quick-dry wicking dress shirts in plain white. It had taken several days of trial and error before it became obvious that the twins were not going to wear anything that a mainstream young London man might wear. In the end, they ended up with clothing from a Hong Kong clothier that specialized in super thin, tailored, fast-drying clothing for trendy young Asian men.

  It was an accident that they finally found shoes that the twins would wear. They’d been going to meet Millicent and Dorothea at a small, quiet tea shop near Harrods when Mur had ground to a halt in front of a small glass-front window. In it, on the narrow display ledge in a corner, were a pair of navy velvet slippers embroidered with a helm wheel and anchor.

  The soft rubber sole, memory foam lined footbed and obvious nautical theme, cinched it. They were soft, comfortable, and would grip the deck of the Hunter. They also didn’t pinch anywhere. The dapper elderly man had also insisted on showing them narrow velvet belts that matched the slippers. Once they’d been threaded through the waistband of the pants and one side of the soft breathable dress shirt tucked in, the effect was dazzling. The twins were outfitted. To Emery they looked like they’d stepped out of the pages of an upscale men’s fashion shoot. No one else knew what a trial it had been to get them outfitted this way. Even their braided hair looked ‘cool’.

  Emery hadn’t deviated much from the twins look herself. She too wore the narrow, above ankle length pants, but in black instead of navy. The soft ‘smoking slippers’, as the elderly store clerk had described the soft velvet shoes, had also been Emery’s choice in black, along with a matching, narrow black velvet belt. Emery’s slippers depicted a honey bee instead of the helm wheel and anchor. The only place she’d deviated drastically was on the shirt. She didn’t want a collar - they drove her crazy.

  Instead, she’d stopped in front of an underwear shop called Wolford and slipped inside to buy the sleeveless, high necked black bodysuit she’d seen in the window. Then the shop girl paired it with an oversized, royal blue cashmere sweater, pulling it over her braided head (the antlers were currently tucked into bubble-wrap and stashed in a safe at the hotel). After tweaking it a few times, the shop girl had shown Emery how the deep blue made her eyes shine brilliantly and how the lightweight, high quality wool would keep her warm almost anywhere. She looked classy and sophisticated. She also looked like she belonged with the twins, but was not one of them. That suited her as well. Though she had to admit, she could have been the female triplet.

  Sitting in the cozy, upscale tea shop waiting for the crones had been an interesting experience. Emery had been around same-sex couples all her life. There had been gay boys and lesbian girls in her high school, as well as at St. Andrew’s - though they’d tried to hide it there as much as possible. Emery practically snorted at the thought. Society and its bizarre conceptions of right and wrong. How was what another person felt about attraction anyone else’s business? Emery wasn’t going to try and understand societal thought - too exasperating.

  For the first time, the twins saw young gay men their own age interacting in public. A good looking young man wearing a dark business suit had ordered tea and was nibbling at the offerings in front of him when another young man entered. This young man had been trendily dressed in jeans and a pullover. His partner had eagerly approached, kissed the young businessman quickly but lovingly on the lips, then slipped into a chair at the small table and said, “How’s my wife’s day?” This odd question had elicited a long description of the pretty young business executive’s activities. Ray and Mur had watched this with obvious curiosity.

  That evening when Mur had been feeling lazy at dinner, he’d asked Ray to go get him another bottle of water by saying, “Wife, would you get me another bottle of water, please?” Ray had done so smiling sheepishly.

  A few days later, when Ray, feeling petty and tired after too much time in civilization, had snappishly ordered Emery to help him with his luggage by saying, “Wife, help me with my things!”, Emery had turned on him viciously and to everyone’s surprise gritted out, “Not on your life, Mur’s wife!” Both twins had simply grinned. Emery had rolled her eyes and huffed. She was nobody’s wife!

  That was the problem with humans, Emery thought grumpily. They were always trying to push you into a role. The role they wanted you to play. So annoying!

  That night on the train, they all slept deeply - the rocking lull of the slow train the older women had booked was comforting for all of them. As they took their time approaching Paris, they were rocked to sleep in their berths. Sometimes things just needed to be slowed down in order to be dealt with from a better perspective.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Paris

  The coven’s contacts had narrowed down the possibilities for the Canton blood-priestess. The ideas ranged from the century old, third-generation owner of a small Chinese restaurant to the rather ageless looking owner of a renowned security company that specialized in body guards with martial arts skills. No one was really sure who the Canton priestess would be - or if the lead would ever amount to anything usable.

  After several days of viewing the Eiffel Tower, strolling gardens, and following leads at two of the possible Chinese restaurants, Mur and Ray could no longer be cajoled into eating one more meal of noodles or rice.

  Forget it, they assured Millicent - they were not eating Chinese food again! They needed some fish or lamb chops and they needed it now! They’d proceeded immediately to L’E
ntete, a resolutely British bistro and had fallen onto a plate of sole and green beans as though they’d been starving for decades instead of having had lamb chops the night before at the same table. Emery could see that food was definitely a comfort when challenged with stressful situations and odd foods that included bok choy.

  The next day when they were to meet the final lead, Millicent and Dorothea had both sighed out together, “Let’s hope this is the woman we need!” Emery had agreed. They were now ensconced in deep, velvet-upholstered chairs in a private room in the Hotel Crillon. Strangely, the twins and Emery didn’t feel out of place in the gilded atmosphere with its velvet upholstery and lavish chandeliers. Thorneridge Abbey also dripped with crystal and sported gold-gilded chairs upholstered in velvet. Granted the chandeliers were candle-lit and the chairs badly worn, but still, the atmosphere was every bit as refined - if quite a lot tattier and not as brilliantly lit.

  The meeting was with the female head of a security firm that specialized in Chinese bodyguards. None of the group were in particularly good moods, having had enough of strange food, strange cities and beds not their own. They all just wanted to find the next clue that would help, then go home. They were tired, disgruntled and out of sorts.

  It helped that a warm pot of tea and some snacks consisting of small savory sandwiches instead of sweets had been delivered and they were all sipping tea and feeling themselves begin to unwind a little. At least this lead had a decent atmosphere and decent edibles, as Mur had muttered darkly before gulping down yet another cup of the fragrant black tea.

  When the pot had been refilled for the third time, a tall Asian woman entered. She was homely and square-headed. Unlike the English version of homely, which meant ‘sort of pretty’, Emery was using the American version, which meant ‘sort of not pretty’. The tall muscular woman’s head was very square and balanced on a long slim, slightly wiry-looking neck. She had long arms and strangely large mannish hands. That said, she was certainly polite, well-mannered and knew how to ask the hotel staff to brew a good cup of tea.

  “My name is Bai Ling,” the tall woman said, bowing faintly from the chest up. She came straight to the point, something that Emery was very glad of. So many of the people they’d met on this trip just seemed to beat around the bush on and on and on. It was a relief to meet someone who got on with it.

  “I’m Emery Harlow,” Emery said, rising to her feet and approaching the tall woman. They smiled at each other as Emery took the other woman’s hand. Not only did they have almost matching heights, they also had equally strong grips. Emery’s hand was warm, whereas Bai Ling’s was cold. That was the only difference. They smiled at each other again, instantly finding an unspoken kinship in their tallness and stronger than average strengths.

  “What may I help you with?” the Chinese woman asked Emery in a low voice. “Do you wish to hire a bodyguard?” Her gaze flicked over the obviously fit figures of Emery and the twins, then returned to hold Emery’s eyes. A small frown of uncertainty marred the perfectly groomed black brows that graced Bai Ling’s square face.

  “We do not,” Emery said calmly. “What we do wish is to contact the oldest blood.” With that statement, Emery sat down and poured herself another cup of tea. Somehow, she knew they were in the correct place. Don’t ask how she knew - she just did. Emery, still certain they were in the correct place, held out a hand to Dorothea. The older woman raised an eyebrow, but Emery simply nodded and left her hand out.

  Into the outstretched hand, the wrinkled crone placed a glittering set of finely crafted miniature deer antlers. One of the handsome twins stepped forward, took the dainty set of antlers from Emery’s palm and with a skill bred of long habit, gently secured the antler crown into place atop the intricately braided silver coils that already graced the young woman’s head. She was, the Asian woman could see, every inch the Wiccan queen.

  Bai Ling looked at Emery intently, met the younger woman’s eyes unwaveringly, then nodded her head slightly. The woman’s dark eyes assessed the two elderly crones, her head nodded again as she seemed to see something there that others did not. With that, she smiled at Emery once again and left the room saying, “Please wait.”

  Half an hour later, Bai Ling returned. This time she was accompanied by a young woman of about Emery’s age and the prettiest young man Emery had ever seen. They were trailed by a small Asian man who stood quietly next to the door and was clearly a bodyguard. His black suit, narrow tie and shiny black oxfords mirrored all the other employees that Emery had seen with Bai Ling and was clearly the accepted uniform for Bai Ling’s security firm.

  Bai Ling stepped forward and, sweeping one gangly arm towards the delicate young beauty at her side, said, “This is Remington Arana Hartsel and her lawyer, George Cox the Sixth. She may be called Remi and he may be called Six,” the Asian woman added, then stepped back to give the two groups a good look at each other.

  The delicate young woman named Remington Arana Hartsel was a stunning beauty. She had very short, white-blonde hair, blazingly blue eyes similar to Emery’s, and a lean, muscled, but very petite figure. She was dressed casually in trendy Levis, lace-up biker boots, and a low vee-necked cashmere sweater. To Emery’s surprise she was dripping in jewelry. Not just little dainty jewelry either, but large, stunningly ostentatious, white and black diamond jewelry that dripped jet black skulls. It was so strangely the opposite of the young woman’s delicate looks that it was truly riveting.

  The young man, with his swept back light brown hair, whiskey-brown eyes, and snappy attire, was clearly her friend, but not her boyfriend. How Emery knew this, she wasn’t sure - but she just did. The very pretty Six was wearing a closely tailored royal blue suit, a pink and blue striped dress shirt and a narrow navy tie printed with pink rose buds. It screamed gay boy. Emery thought he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes on. Tearing her eyes off George Cox the Sixth was harder than she’d imagined.

  Turning back to the young woman, Emery stated, “We seek the oldest blood.”

  The petite blonde eyed Emery from her glittering deer crown and silvery-white braids to velvet slipper-clad toes, then said baldly, “Why?”

  Mur and Ray stood. The two crones simply observed from their seats on a velvet banquet. “I’ve been blessed with a gift that endangers my coven, and perhaps your clan.” Emery said this with a certainty that she had no idea had surfaced. The Osiris stone seemed to be guiding her.

  Remington Hartsel narrowed her eyes and observed the five people in front of her. The two older women were clearly crones of the coven Thorneridge. The embroidered crests on their clothing stated that clearly, but she would have known anyway. She’d heard of this coven. They kept to themselves on the Isle of Eigg off the coast of Scotland. They were said to be powerful, yet stayed to themselves. Remi nodded. “Continue,” she commanded, gliding forward and settling herself into a velvet chair.

  Emery lowered herself onto a footstool in front of the twins. George Cox the Sixth, sat on the arm of the petite woman’s chair. Emery narrowed her eyes at that action, glaring at the young man so intensely that he stood and moved to another chair. The young woman with the ultra-short cropped blonde pixie swiveled her head to stare at her best friend in surprise.

  Six just shrugged. He didn’t even know for sure why he’d moved, except that he’d gotten the feeling that the incredibly handsome woman wearing the silver deer antler crown had not liked him sitting on the arm of Remi’s chair. If she didn’t like it, he was moving. Instinct told him just to roll with it.

  Emery wasn’t sure she liked this Remi person, but they did seem to have power. She respected that. “We were gifted something that may have to do with some recent thefts of ancient artifacts from Egypt. If you’re aware of these thefts, I will proceed,” Emery said, letting the other woman know that she wasn’t going to blab everything she knew without confirming that they had the right person.

  A glimmer of respect showed in the other young woman’s eyes. “Very well,�
�� she said, nodding. “We are aware of those thefts. A moth amulet was stolen from the British Museum. It was part of an ancient chest plate used in a primordial ritual that supposedly resurrected the first of our kind.”

  “Your kind being vampires,” Emery commented bluntly. Six gasped at the directness of it. The twins and the crones simply sat, not judging the interaction.

  “Yes,” Remi said, raising her eyebrows, then added a simple nod. “Though to be honest, there are vampires,” she nodded towards Bai Ling, “and then there are those of the oldest blood. They are not quite the exact same thing.”

  “Why not?” Emery asked, curious as to what the differentiation might be.

  The petite blonde simply looked at the statuesque young woman in front of her and then turned to look into the far corner of the private room. There, from behind a floor to ceiling, pale blue velvet drapery, a ridiculously tall, completely bald man stepped into the dim light. He was dressed all in black and had dark, almost lightless eyes. Long, palely gleaming fingernails dangled at the ends of huge hands. ‘Claws’ would have been the more correct term, Emery supposed. He had longer than normal earlobes and was extremely pale. He radiated power. The scent of old blood, oud and cinnamon wafted from his figure.