The Destiny Code
The Soldier and the Mystic
Suzette Hollingsworth
Icicle Ridge Graphics
To Amy Brazil
a psychic sage
who gave me a dream with her vision
To Susan Bartroff
whose creativity, kindness, wisdom, and friendship are treasured
Thank you for giving me an image of myself
"Other cultures are not failed attempts at being you: they are unique manifestations of the human spirit.”
– Wade Davis
Praise for Suzette Hollingsworth’s novels
“The Great Detective in Love” series is a finalist in the Chanticleer Mystery & Mayhem awards, Goethe Awards for Historical Fiction, International Book Awards, and Readers’ Choice Book Awards.
Other books by Suzette Hollingsworth
“The Great Detective in Love” historical mystery:
Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Sword Princess
Sherlock Holmes and the Dance of the Tiger
Sherlock Holmes and the Chocolate Menace
Sherlock Holmes and the Vampire Invasion
To be released in 2019:
“Daughters of the Empire” historical romance:
THE SERENADE: The Prince and the Siren
THE RESISTANCE: The Contessa and the Shadow Knight
“The Great Detective in Love” historical mystery:
Sherlock Holmes and the Confirmed Bachelor
Copyright © 2018 by Suzette Hollingsworth
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-7321508-4-3
Cover design by Molly Phipps of https://www.wegotyoucoveredbookdesign.com/.
Heroine’s costume detail by Clint Hollingsworth, https://www.amazon.com/Clint-Hollingsworth.
First publication October 2018
Imprint: Historical Romance
“Daughters of the Empire” series
“The Destiny Code” is a revision of “The Paradox” published by Bookstrand, which sold so few copies it can barely be considered published. For all intents and purposes, “The Destiny Code” is a newly published novel.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
This is a work of historical fiction. As such, there are historical figures who actually lived contained within the pages of the book; the author has done extensive research and attempted to represent them honestly, but some leeway must be given as she has never met them in person. For all the remaining characters: names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. So what is real and what is not? We no longer know.
Printed in U.S.A.
Publisher: Icicle Ridge Graphics
Created with Vellum
Acknowledgments
To be a writer is a magical journey, to be in a place of creativity and openness to the whispers of the universe. At times it feels like one is in the presence of God, and at other times it feels like one has been punched in the gut. Like all endeavors in life, one can be debilitated and frozen by self-doubt and criticism and nurtured by centeredness, connection, friendship, and listening to the muse. So, whatever your journey, give up facebook and you will be better off. People survived for 200,000 years without it.
I wish to thank my editors: Peter Senftleben, Sherrie Holmes, and April Kihlstrom.
This book would not be possible without my wonderful husband, Clint Hollingsworth, who is an exceptional editor/artist/writer and an award-winning author.
I’m blessed by the writers in the Beaumonde who are so knowledgeable on historical research and generous with their expertise. A special thanks to Nancy Mayer, Allison Lane, Shannon Donnelly, and Cheryl Bolen among many fabulous authors and historians. I must naturally thank those authors who started me on this journey of loving beautifully written books: Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer, Mary Jo Putney, Amanda Quick, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, and Jo Beverley.
Additional thanks to Gehan Hanafi, Advertising and Promotion Manager at Shepheard’s Hotel in Cairo, Egypt, for her courtesy and professionalism. The Honorable Hesham Moustafa Khalil (NDP), deputy chairman of the Parliamentary Culture, Tourism and Media Committee reachable at [email protected].
I wish to acknowledge the remarkable experience of meeting Nanci Drew, a Shamanic Intuitive Healer, and Hatum Aly, Managing Director of Tourism at Egypt Gate Travel at [email protected].
And to Harvey Gover, faculty librarian at W.S.U. and U.S. Long-Distance Librarian of the Year, 2008, for nurturing the spirit and soul as well as the mind.
“The Destiny Code” is especially dear to me as it symbolizes the journey of self. To those persons who have believed in me even when I lost faith in myself: my husband Clint, my dear friends Charlsie Sterry DDS and Susan Bartroff (also a great editor), Virginia Hashii (who first told me I was a writer beginning this journey), Amy Brazil (who encouraged me to keep writing), Harvey Gover (who was the rock of my childhood and in my heart forever), the Beach Girls, and my readers.
And, of course, to all true friends everywhere who keep our dreams alive when they falter in our hearts.
Contents
Chapter 1
2. Another Realm
3. Inside the Sphere
4. The Queen’s Ball
5. The Dreaded News
6. August 25, 1882
7. The End of Dreams
8. The Turning Point
9. The Vision
10. An Unexpected Destination
11. The Man in Charge
12. Thunderbolt
13. A Charged Meeting
14. My Destiny Awaits
15. Unforgettable
16. True Colors
17. Possessed
18. The Professionals Take Charge
19. Daydreams and Progress
20. Cleopatra’s Spell
21. Giza Guide
22. The Curse of the Pharaohs
23. Hidden for Millennia
24. The Poor Relations
25. Only You
26. In the Presence of the gods
27. Turning Point
28. Future Plans
29. Medical Mystic
30. Storyteller
31. The Spell is Cast
32. The Dye is Cast
33. An unruly heart
34. Resilience
35. A Weaver of Yarns
36. The truth comes out
37. Parlor Games
38. Shoe on the Other Foot
39. An Urgent Missive
40. The Journey’s End
41. Seductress and Saint
42. A Shared Love
43. Valley of the Kings
44. Uncovering Secrets
45. Family Ties
46. Irrefutable Truth
47. Domestic Tranquility
48. A Prophecy Realized
49. Occupation
50. Late for Work
51. A Magical Spell
52. Reunion of the Damned
53. Return to the Garden
54. The Paradox
55. Full Circle
56. Wedding Breakfast
57. The Himalayas
58. A Welcome Visitor
59. Alone
60. Children are the Future
The End
Magical Amulet
Also by Suzette Hollingsworth
Author’s Notes
About the Author
Chapter One
“Fold!” Val Huntington boomed as he viewed his hand with disgust. He took another swig of whiskey and threw his cards on the table. In one swift movement he placed his winnings in a leather pouch as he simultaneously pushed his chair from the table in an almost undetectable motion. “I shall take my leave of you, sir, and thank you to bathe before our next encounter. It will make for a less memorable occasion, which can only be to your advantage.”
“Eh, the night’s young, gov’nor,” Val’s greasy companion growled encouragingly as he hurriedly retrieved the small amount of money left in the center of the table, his eyes moving greedily over Val’s leather pouch, still visible. A stiff grin forced its way into his expression, revealing teeth darkened by tobacco.
“And so it is,” Val agreed. Assuming a nonchalance of manner, Val cloaked the intensity with which he watched the burlesque man seated across from him. “There are finer pleasures to be had than wasting my time with a stinking soldier.”
Observing a brief flash of anger in his opponent’s eyes, Val placed his hand deftly on his pistol under the table, watching for any signs of trouble.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, m’lordship”—the hulk of a man seated opposite Val frowned. Momentarily his unshaven face assumed a contrived humility—“I were honorably discharged,” he mumbled with a forced politeness.
“Right.” Val made no effort to conceal his amusement. “Discharged.”
Val surveyed the illustrious establishment in which he found himself. It was dark and dirty, and his companion smelled like…like…well, it defied description. Possibly there was a dead camel somewhere that could match it, but that was questionable at best.
It was even damp in here. Damp. How was that possible in the desert?
There were a dozen card players left in the room, all having had too much to drink, and most as dirty as their surroundings.
The earl of Ravensdale felt a smile forming on his lips as he pictured the elegant setting and companions of his stylish London club, mentally comparing the conjured image to his present circumstances.
With the reflection, melancholy encroached upon his mood, but the young officer refused to surrender his amusement. His might be a morbid, unnatural smile, but it would be a smile nonetheless. After what he had seen in his life, he’d be damned before he would let a mere gaming hell dampen his spirits.
Involuntarily Val reached to his neck with his free hand to straighten the Ascot knot, the cravat which had been all the rage when he left London. Instead, his hand found the emblem of the 7th Dragoon Guards, the Princess Royals, reminding him he wore only his officer’s uniform.
If only there were something reminiscent of a more dignified and civilized existence. Val glanced at his shining black Hessians and reflected that his boots might be the whole of it.
Clippity-clop-clop-clop. He could hear the sound of horses’ hooves on a rocky pathway forming a lonely cadence. He could almost hear the moon and know its fullness.
At White’s or the Cambridge Club in London he wouldn’t have been able to hear someone in the next room, much less the sauntering of a steed outside the building.
Most noticeable was the absence of laughter. The room’s inhabitants—he could not truthfully call them companions—were lost in their own small worlds contained in their pocketbooks and their whiskey glasses. There was none of the amiable banter that occurred between friends for whom the socializing was the most important aspect of the card game and the club setting.
Ah, well. War takes some of the frivolity out of life.
Bloody hell. Captain Lord Ravensdale cursed under his breath, interrupting his own thoughts. Why the devil am I in this den of jackals? He reminded himself that he didn’t need the money, and he probably wouldn’t be around to spend it if he had. This was the last place an officer of Her Majesty’s military forces should find himself.
Do I have a death wish? He laughed out loud at his own joke. The Crown had already taken that well in hand, and there was no need to offer any assistance. He wondered that England was so anxious to dispose of her young men.
“Does something amuse ye, m’lord?”
“Nothing at all, I assure you.” Absolutely nothing.
Still, being here in this hell hole is death with dishonor, while my other option is death with honor.
Though somehow he failed to perceive the difference tonight.
“Those…uh…pleasures you speaked of can still be found when we’re done playing, m’ lord,” the gorilla seated opposite him pleaded cajolingly while pulling violently at his beard, distorting his face as he spoke. Attempting to return the officer’s interest back to the card game yet again, he dealt five cards to each of them in a maladroit fashion.
“Ah, perhaps for you, but I am in the prime of life, and restless for a sweeter companion than yourself, Mr. Snipes.” The nearby tombs should be able to meet that requirement.
“There’ll be time enough for all what pleases ye, m’lord.”
“Not likely. And I could be dead tomorrow,” Val prophesied, resolute. “No time like the present for a soldier.”
Val allowed himself a brief glimpse into a rusting gilded mirror hanging crookedly on a faded and cracking plastered wall across from his playing table. As the earl sensed the heavy blanket of melancholy enshroud him even further, he instantly saw its reflection in his darkly brooding features. He had oft been described as devilishly handsome in the London circuit, but the image staring back at him did nothing to support that view, he concluded with disinterest.
“Aack! You’ll kill a squadron of stinkin’ Egyptians tomorrow and live to be an old man,” the giant countered as he spit on the ground.
Odd that you should mention stench my foul comrade.
“Not if the British Empire has anything to say in the matter, Mr. Snipes.” Val laughed morosely. “I will likely be a red stain on the horizon, having made no other impression on this earth, soon to be replaced by some other young sot.”
“You were born under a lucky star, m’lord, and that’s a fact,” Snipes proclaimed with a wavering grin and no small amount of envy, attesting that he was anxious to relieve the officer of the fruits of his good fortune.
“Glad to hear it. That’s a welcome, if surprising, bit of news.” Rising from the table, Val swung the leather pouch into his pocket in one fell swoop. His swift and decisive movement was in direct contrast to his swaying stance, a contrived effort to appear far more inebriated than he was. Val did not wish his companion to consider him threatening enough to require the full extent of Snipes’ attention, limited as that was.
Val quickly assumed a vague and indifferent expression as he stumbled. Rather than sitting down, however, he merely balanced himself with his hand on the back of the chair, placing himself in a stronger strategic position. He had no intention of relinquishing the advantage, but it was hoped that an advantage would not be needed.
“We’re not finished playing, m’lord.” Snipes drew his pistol, his smile simultaneously fading into a hard expression. “You put me money back on the table. Now.”
Val’s hopes vanished as swiftly as his expectations were met.
The large man laughed as he gave the appearance of one who thought how easily this would be accomplished. No doubt a man of Snipes’ size and resolve considered his slim opponent an easy target.
“Your money? May I remind you that you lost the coin in a fair game, Mr. Snipes,” Val said with a forced courtesy, his voice now low. He knew himself to be an amiable gentleman under the worst of circumstances.
“Fair?” Snipes scowled at his lordship. “Me hates quality what acts like they’re the same as everyone else, like they don’t have it ten times better.” He shook his hair out of his face lik
e a dog just emerging from the water. His hair and beard were long, not in adherence to style but out of neglect. He wore mismatched separates, tan trousers and a black coat. On some men this was a stylish look, but the coat was too short for his size, and he wore a low-cut vest, which further emphasized his girth. The one recipient of his attention was a well-oiled moustache, long and drooping.
A startling manner of appearance which might have added to the appeal of a warmer individual fell sadly short of the mark on the large man before him.
“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Snipes. That I should have the effrontery to stroll in here and drink and talk with everyone as if they were the same as myself. Unforgivable, to be sure.” This was not the first time Val had observed the resentment of his attitude of equality. Officers never fraternized with soldiers. It was an unwritten code.
The Destiny Code: The Soldier and the Mystic (Daughters of the Empire Book 1) Page 1
