Threshold of Destiny (The Mysterium Secret Book 1)

by Linn Chapel

  The next morning, Tressa rose feeling more refreshed than she had been in many days. She dressed in a soft blouse and a pair of summery pants she had bought in London, then walked with Peter and Luke up the lane to Arbor Cottage for breakfast.

  The dew-covered hedgerows on either side of the lane were bursting with spring-green leaves and fresh blossoms of hawthorn and honeysuckle. In the morning sunlight, Tressa could see her surroundings better and she discovered that the Langley cottages lay at the bottom of a gentle valley. Down the middle of the valley, the tiny private lane followed the course of a burbling stream.

  When they arrived at Arbor Cottage, they found a note on the door. Gone to Bath to return the car. Please come in.

  Hugh must have written the note, Tressa thought, for the words had been printed in a neat and orderly hand that was nothing like Holt’s slanted, energetic cursive.

  Following her brothers under the vine-covered arbor, she stepped inside the front door. Arbor Cottage was empty, but they found that Hugh had thoughtfully provided them with breakfast. On the kitchen table lay a platter of rolls, a silver bowl filled with hard-boiled eggs, a jar of marmalade, and a pot of tea covered in a quilted tea cozy.

  Steam rose from the teapot’s spout when Tressa pulled the cozy off. Their host must have left for Bath not long ago, she realized.

  “I wonder when Holt will wake up,” she mused as she poured a cup of tea.

  “I think he’s already awake,” said Luke. He pulled up a chair and scooped a dollop of marmalade onto a roll. “I noticed that both cars are missing from the driveway. He must have gone with Hugh to return the rental car.”

  So, Holt would be away from Langley for hours. Tressa wasn’t sure if she felt disappointed or relieved. Pensively, she stared into her half-empty teacup until Peter urged her to fill a plate and eat breakfast.

  It wasn’t long before Luke had spread out his printed map upon the kitchen table. Soon he began to concoct a plan for taking a taxi to the nearest town, which was Wells. He’d earlier tried to access the Internet with one of his most secure methods, but to no avail. In a town like Wells he was bound to find better reception.

  Once he was on the Internet, he hoped to perform a little electronic snooping on Margot and Ted at the Operation’s headquarters. He’d also search for a means of contacting Dr. Hayes in California about the dangerous state of affairs that had developed.

  Tressa felt her spirits rise. The long history of Wells intrigued her, and a visit to such an ancient town would be a welcome treat. Luke called for a taxi, taking care to use the old estate phone which sat on Hugh’s desk instead of a mobile device.

  An hour remained before their driver was to arrive, and Luke seemed ready to fill the time with more talking, planning and details. Tressa silently made a decision to slip away, for she’d much rather explore the garden outside. Maybe she’d even be able to find her way to the old Langley manor house, which had to be somewhere about the estate.

  She tiptoed out of the kitchen to the entryway, hoping Luke and Peter wouldn’t spot her departure.

  Twenty-two

  Unnoticed, Tressa ducked under the leafy arbor that framed the door and emerged in the front garden of Arbor Cottage. Dewdrops were still clinging to the mossy flagstones of the central path and on either side of her, apricot tulips mingled with white narcissus in carefree abandon. A short distance away stood an old, gnarled apple tree in full bloom.

  Luke’s voice drifted from an open window. “Someone’s got to take charge,” he was saying defensively.

  “Are you our brother, or our boss?” Peter retorted, but Tressa could tell he wasn’t really angry.

  Slowly she made her way down the path toward the white garden gate. The sound of voices grew fainter and fainter.

  Bending down, she fingered the petals of a purple iris. Nearby, a small spiderweb hung in the shady recess near a stone bench. Its thin strands shone faintly with dew in the shadows, and in its center crouched a small black spider, waiting.

  Straightening, Tressa walked on, coming to a patch of lily-of-the-valley growing near the gate. Tiny white bells hung in rows along the small stems, filling the air with their sweet scent. Tressa watched a honeybee make its way from bell to bell, buzzing steadily, and then fly over to investigate a cluster of violets that nodded above a tuft of heart-shaped leaves.

  A solitary bird – a thrush, by the sound of its call – was sitting in the branches of the old apple tree that leaned over the garden wall. The thrush’s song swelled in harmony with the buzz of the honeybee.

  Her senses were heightened and she felt free, and safe. It’s just like a dreamscape.

  Maybe Holt was right about England’s landscape. Maybe the land itself was affecting her in some deep way. She wondered if he were right about time, too. Maybe it really did flow differently in England.

  She suddenly wished that Holt were walking through the garden with her, so that she could talk to him about it. He’d understand.

  “Tressa, we need you!” came Luke’s impatient voice. “Stop daydreaming and come inside.” He stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips, looking like a tall, thin, and very determined dictator.

  She sighed but dutifully joined her brothers. Once inside, she found that they were planning to make some protection petitions in the time that was left. Tressa helped them with the preparations, for she was in agreement with them about the necessity. Crossing the Atlantic to hide away in the west of England didn’t change the fact that their Mysterium heritage put the three of them at risk in the Unseen World.

  Luke found a candle and matches in a cupboard and placed them in the middle of the kitchen table. After lighting the candle, he handed Tressa a packet of cards, similar to the set she had at home. They made a neat stack in the palm of her hand.

  Her task now was to choose three of the cards, and so she fanned them out and considered the colorful images. Each of the cards depicted a different figure within a border of green-and-gold Celtic interlacing. One of Brother Brendan’s fellow friars in Ireland had composed the artwork, and then Brendan had found a means of printing the cards in sets. They reminded Tressa of the Tarot cards that she’d seen during her college years.

  Fortunately, she’d never noticed a strong occult atmosphere any of the times she had come upon some other students dealing out Tarot cards. She’d been able to watch them without falling prey to a dark spirit like the impostor that had attacked her when she was younger. But she had sensed an odd mood among the other students, a mood that had been filled not only with curiosity, but also with fear.

  She would have been fearful, too, if she had believed in a fixed, unchangeable fate. But she didn’t, for it flew in the face of common sense and everyday experience. Although the figures on the Tarot cards had seemed very colorful, she had known that they were just as unreal as that notion of a fixed destiny.

  The figures on the set of cards in her hand had all lived and walked on common, Earthly soil at one time. None of them had their Earthly bodies anymore, but their spiritual bodies could be spotted coming and going through the Unseen World.

  Tressa must have been musing over the cards for too long, for Luke prompted her testily to proceed. She nodded and withdrew three of the cards, setting them on the table in a neat row.

  Luke surveyed them. “English martyrs. Good idea, Tressa.” He began the protection petitions that would surround each of them in the Unseen World with a protective glow that the dark spirits found repulsive. “Deus in adiutorium meum intende.” O God, come to my assistance.

  In the misty air of the Unseen World, an echo of his words would be audible, and any demons in the vicinity would recoil. Tressa and Peter joined in, using the Latin words that Brother Brendan had taught them. An English translation of the petitions existed, but the old friar had insisted they learn the older Latin version, telling them that the demons would recognize it more quickly.

  When the last words had been spoken, Luke placed his fingers on the fir
st card. At the top ran the title: The Man of Conscience. Underneath, a man in long robes lay bleeding at the foot of a medieval altar. Armored attackers surrounded him.

  They spoke together. “Thomas Becket of Canterbury, ora pro nobis.” Pray for us.

  A thin wisp of white smoke twisted upward from the tip of the flame. It rose higher and higher until it passed through the ceiling. Tressa knew that the vapor was something other than smoke, for once she had tried blowing on it, but it had continued to curl upward, undisturbed.

  The rising wisp that wasn’t really smoke was a familiar sight, but this morning Tressa felt an unexpected burning sensation in her fingertips, as if she had touched the flame itself.

  Then, just as suddenly, the pain ebbed away.

  Peter placed his fingers on the second card, The King’s Counselor. In the middle of the card stood a hearty, good-natured man in the robes of a Renaissance statesman. Beside him was a headsman’s axe.

  “Thomas More, ora pro nobis.” Pray for us.

  Tressa watched another wispy curl of white smoke rise up to the ceiling and pass through it. Again her fingers burned painfully, and then the sensation was gone.

  It was her turn now, and Tressa placed her fingers on the third and final card, The Outlaw. It showed a very young man, a priest, his face serene. Behind him dangled a hangman’s noose and an axe. Tressa had always wondered how he’d found the courage to remain in England in disguise, knowing the kind of gruesome death he was bound to face. She thought again about Holt’s ancestor, the Langley martyr, who had shared the same fate in the days of the English Reformation.

  “Edmund Campion, ora pro nobis.” Pray for us.

  As Tressa watched the twining strands of gossamer smoke rise upward, once again her fingers burned, and then the pain was gone.

  How strange. She wondered if the pain had something to do with being in England. It was here in this country, after all, that the three martyrs had died.

  I wish I had some of their courage. It seems as if all I can do is worry.

  After a short silence, Luke blew out the candle.

  A taxi arrived to bear them off to Wells a little while later. In the back seat, Tressa gazed out at the countryside of Somerset where the morning sunshine revealed a springtime landscape of rolling, green fields intersected by hedges and stone walls. In the distance, Tressa spotted the towers of a cathedral rising up from a pocket in the hills.

  Coming ever closer to the cathedral towers, they rounded a final bend and arrived in the small, quaint village of Wells. Tressa marveled at the cobbled pavement and medieval shops as she stepped from the taxi. If she could blink away the shiny modern vehicles on the narrow street, she’d be back in the Middle Ages, she thought.

  Peter seemed just as impressed when he emerged from the taxi, but Tressa knew that he was probably thinking more about camera angles and video backgrounds than the historic atmosphere.

  After Luke had finished paying the driver he led them up the street, for he had been studying a map of Wells on the way to town and he knew where to find a café with Internet access.

  “Everything looks so old!” Tressa exclaimed as they walked along.

  “Wells got lost in a loophole in time,” said Luke. “I read about it in a book that was on the shelves at Hugh’s cottage. Look, there’s Wells Cathedral up ahead!”

  A short distance up the cobbled street, the soaring stone towers rose up into the sky. Tressa’s gaze ran in amazement over the rows and rows of statues that stood in sculptured niches around the portal. She thought she could make out biblical figures in the lower rows and saints in the upper ones. Christ was in the center, above the portal, surrounded by angels – depicted in the usual way, with wings and human forms.

  “It’s incredible,” said Peter. “How old is it, Luke?”

  “Eight centuries and counting. The Anglicans still hold services in it, too. Wells Cathedral may no longer be Catholic, but at least it wasn’t ruined during the Reformation, like the abbeys.”

  Tressa had seen aerial shots of ruined Catholic abbeys in one of the books in her collection at home. The broken symmetry of the ancient stone arches, standing windswept and alone in the green fields of the English countryside, had given her a sense of lingering sorrow. She was glad that Wells Cathedral had not suffered a similar fate.

  As Peter and Luke moved on, Tressa took one last, admiring glance at the sculptures and the huge portal of the cathedral, and then followed her brothers down a small side street.

  “It’s hard to believe that attending a Catholic mass was ever illegal in England,” Luke was saying as he walked ahead with Peter. “The world has changed so much that no one really cares what you believe or if you believe anything at all.”

  A wry laugh came from Peter. “That’s because no one thinks there’s anything real behind what you believe.”

  Tressa followed them, walking pensively in the cool shade of the narrow street. If more humans were aware that they could open their eyes in the Unseen World and look around, they’d know better.

  “Peter, you’re a more logical thinker than you let on. Why don’t you take a break from making those crazy videos?” said Luke. He went on, but his voice became fainter and fainter as he walked ahead with Peter. Tressa smiled, knowing that Peter would never give up on his dreams.

  As Tressa emerged from the narrow side street she was briefly blinded by the sunshine. Bringing up her hand to shade her eyes, she peered about for some sign of Peter and Luke. Thinking they had gone down the nearest side street, she went that way, looking for them.

  The curving medieval lanes in Wells made no sense to Tressa’s American mind. As she searched, her sense of direction became confused. Before long, she was well and truly lost. She walked faster with a sense of dismay.

  Suddenly, she came out into the open and found herself gazing across a broad, tranquil expanse of water.

  A stone wall formed the opposite bank, and near the submerged foundation of the wall, several white swans were gliding along with effortless serenity. Just beyond the stone wall stood a castle-like structure. All around the watery scene, like a living frame, the spreading branches of stately trees were bursting with billows of spring-green leaves.

  A heady atmosphere of timeless peace seemed to settle about Tressa. Stepping closer to the bank, she knelt and dipped a finger into the water. Ripples spread outward, farther and farther, in great, wide, slow-moving arcs.

  Here in Wells, and at the Langley estate, the air seemed so full of dreams and legends. Watching the ripples spreading over the water, Tressa thought that she could stay in that spot, leaning over the water, forever.

  “There she is!” Peter’s voice called out.

  Tressa flinched in reaction. Breathlessly looking over her shoulder, she found that Peter and Luke were fast approaching. To her surprise, Holt had joined them.

  Twenty-three

  Tressa rose quickly to her feet and brushed back the wayward strands of hair that had fallen into her face.

  “Where have you been?” fumed Luke. “We’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

  “I was looking for you,” she explained, “but I must have taken a wrong turn. Before I knew it, I was lost.” With a questioning look, she turned to Holt.

  “Luke left me a note about your trip to Wells. When I returned from Bath, I decided to join you,” Holt explained. The hint of a smile was playing about his mouth. “I should have guessed you’d be by the water, Tressa. It’s a good place to be lost in thought, isn’t it?”

  She gave him back a grateful smile. Holt, at least, could tell how much she had enjoyed her unexpected interlude by the water’s edge.

  Luke pointed out impatiently, “We’ve wasted a lot of time searching for you, Tressa. You need to stop daydreaming and practice the memory-retention aids that I told you about.”

  Peter added with a straight-face, “Luke can send you daily reminders on that new multifunction phone he wants to buy for you.”

 
Tressa shook her head and said wryly, “Luke, you’re always boasting that your own life is in order. Then why is your apartment such a mess?”

  “My place might need a bit of spring cleaning, but-” Luke sputtered defensively.

  “And if you stocked your refrigerator with some real groceries,” interrupted Peter, “you’d build some muscle somewhere else besides your brain.”

  “Stop!” cried Luke, hands outstretched. “I’ve heard all of this before!”

  Holt’s mood seemed less distant and brooding than usual, and he even appeared to be enjoying their banter. When Tressa asked him about the beautiful stretch of water with its swans and castle-like wall, he turned to gaze out over the scene with a fond look.

  “The water forms a moat, but that’s not a castle on the other side, even though it looks like one. It was the home of the bishops in the Middle Ages,” he explained.

  As he spoke, one of the white swans that Tressa had spotted earlier swam up to a string hanging from a window in the stone wall. To Tressa’s amazement, the swan tugged on the string with its beak and a bell rang in the window above. A woman appeared in the opening and leaned out to toss bits of food from a bowl to the waiting swan and its companions.

  “The swans have learned to ring a bell when they wish to be fed,” added Holt. He sounded as if such a whimsical sight was only to be expected in the West Country.

  “Holt, it’s just like a fairy tale!” said Tressa, delighted.

  “Fairy tale? No, it’s proof that England is a nation of eccentrics,” said Luke as he watched the swans diving for the morsels of food. “In America, those swans would have their own team of animal trainers and the whole show would be staged. You’d have to pay good money for tickets, too, if you wanted to see them ringing for a meal.”

  They all laughed, for it seemed so true.

  “Holt, where are the ancient springs of water that you told us about?” Tressa asked, gazing curiously about.