Beneath the Hallowed Hill (27 page)

“What a death,” Michael said.

Their informant nodded again, satisfied with his response.

“I don’t get it,” Anne whispered, but the acoustics of the room echoed her words back to everyone.

“He was a sacred sacrifice, ya see,” the man explained. “Like in the old days when a king died for the good of all.” He struck the back wall with the palm of his hand. “Right here at the opening of the cave.”

“His life force was offered to the divine forces,” Michael said. “When the fertility of the land and herds waned, the old King sacrificed himself in a sacred ceremony, and a young and virile man replaced him. At least, that’s the popular understanding.”

Several of the men nodded, looking as if they would offer themselves on the spot. Anne shuddered and reached for Michael’s hand.

“Let’s find ourselves a comfortable spot.” Garth’s voice rang out.

Anne settled between Michael and a woman she didn’t know on a kind of concrete curb that ran around the room. She took her crystal key in her hand and waited.

Bran drew out a short dagger and flourished it in the air at each of the quadrants, reinforcing the sacred space, much as Grandmother Elizabeth had during her first such ritual on the winter solstice last year. He added a chant, singing vowel sounds for each direction. A female voice joined him at a descant. By the time Bran stopped, Anne was deep in trance. The walls of the concrete building melted, giving way to living earth veined with the roots of trees and bushes. Farther in, clustered crystals shone in the dark tunnel that opened in the back. Wet rock reflected moonlight and the light of ancient torches. She steadied herself and surrendered to the crystal in her hand. It sat quiet, waiting.

Garth began to speak about the White Spring, Merlin, and the sacred entrance to the Crystal Cave. Eventually his words turned into a croon and the key in Anne’s hand came to life. It reached out with a stream of energy and nudged Michael’s, and the two entwined their life force. The small stone grew heavier and heavier until she had to lay her hands on the floor and let the earth support its weight, but the stones both wanted to touch the floor. Michael laid his down first and Anne moved hers next to it. They touched, and a burst of light blinded her.

She woke inside a small hut, coughing from the wood fire in the hearth. Something stirred behind her. She turned. An old woman sat in the corner behind a low table. A milky film covered her open eyes. The woman groped in front of her with claw-like hands. “You have come at last,” her voice rasped. Her breath came in labored bursts. “The time grows short, Anne Morgan Le Clair.”

Anne jerked violently at the sound of her name, but the crone shushed her. “Listen to me. You must return what Megan let loose.”

Anne woke to water gushing all around her. It rose quickly, covering her mouth. She sputtered and coughed. Someone pulled her head up.

“Get the key.” She recognized Michael’s voice. “It’s all right. You can pick it up.”

Rough hands chaffed hers. Someone pulled her hair from her face, then kissed her. The warmth and urgency of those lips brought her all the way back. She looked around wildly. Water cascaded through the concrete conduits, then overflowed and spread across the floor in transparent sheets that sparkled in the torch light. No, it was a candle.

Anne stood in the midst of cheers for White Spring. Some lay in the water, splashing like children. Others sang their thanks to the Tor, to Bridget, to the gods and goddesses in general, to Gwyn ap Nudd, the King of the Fairies. Garth grabbed a large goblet from the altar, dipped it into the gushing flood and passed it around from mouth to mouth.

Michael still held her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, pushed the rest of her wet hair behind her ears. “I guess it worked.”

Bran arrived in front of her, holding the crystal key by its chain, and offered it to her as if he were giving her the Grail itself. He bowed low when she took it, then bowed to Michael. “To the Lord and Lady, who have given us back our spring.”

“Everyone did it.” Anne took her crystal back and put it around her neck. “And there’s more to do.”

“Yes,” Garth was there suddenly, “but for now this is enough.” He offered her the goblet. The sacred water of White Spring never tasted so sweet.

Chapter Fifteen

The next morning, Anne woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of male voices coming from downstairs. Feeling groggy, she stood in the hot shower, letting the water wash over her, remembering the wealth of wet she awoke to the night before. Michael took her home to recover more fully, while Garth stayed behind to talk with the group. She dressed quickly and went downstairs, the squeaky step protesting her weight. Michael and Garth sat at the kitchen table, heads together. It reminded her of Egypt, where she would arrive for breakfast to find Michael and Tahir deep in conversation.

“Queen Anne.” Garth lifted his cup to salute her. His eyes were red and puffy. “How are you this fine morning?”

“Good, thank you.” She squinted, unaccustomed to the bright sun. “Why do I keep passing out? I’m just like that woman in the ‘
Perils of Pauline’
tied to the railroad tracks, always needing to be rescued.”

“Quite the contrary.” Garth slammed his mug down with such force that it slopped coffee all over the table. “It is you who have rescued us. Twice now.”

Anne grabbed a kitchen towel and tossed it to Michael, who mopped up the spill. She poured herself some coffee and sat down at the table. The Tor rose in the sun outside the window. “Tell me everything.”

“It is you who must tell us what you experienced,” Garth said. He sounded a bit tipsy, but it probably came from being up all night.

“But—” she started to protest.

“Yours is the missing piece. Afterwards we’ll tell you everything, I promise.” Michael’s voice was soft.

“Oh, all right.” She took a big gulp of coffee and told them about waking up in the Morgen’s hut and the message she received.

“Who is this Megan?” Garth asked.

“A character from Cynthia’s book.” Anne tucked her damp hair behind her ears. “I guess she’s not just a character.”

“So it would seem,” Garth said.

“Do you know what she meant?” Michael asked.

Anne shook her head. “There’s really nothing in the story so far that matches this. Megan went to her initiation, got sent to work in the Crystal Matrix Chamber and then on to Avalon.”

“Let’s look at the manuscript.” Michael started to get up.

“Wait a minute,” Anne protested. “You promised to tell me what else happened.”

“Fair enough.” Garth chuckled. “Even though we flooded the spring house last night, I’ve set a watch on the well. I’m not sure we’re done with this by a long shot.”

“I’m surprised,” Anne said. “Our results seemed pretty spectacular. I thought we’d float away.”

Garth’s eyebrows drew together. “Exactly. I don’t trust these extremes. Michael, my man?”

“Want a pasty? Garth went by Burns the Bread this morning.”

Anne shook her head. Her stomach didn’t seem to have joined her in this dimension yet.

“Speak up,” Garth said. He seemed accustomed to command. Anne wondered if he was in the military.

“I saw Robert.” Michael’s eyes shone.

“Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

“You were dead on your feet. I let you be.”

Anne reached a hand across the table. “What did he say?”

“No words. He radiated light. He looked so happy.” Michael squeezed her hand. “He handed me a Tarot card…the Wheel of Fortune. The wheel on the card spun in my hand and turned to gold.”

Garth nodded, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Meaning?” Anne asked.

“That our task is fated, but more than that, we are turning the wheel and moving into a new era. Human society will be rearranged.”

“What about you, Mister Buddha?” Anne addressed herself to Garth then winked at Michael. “He never talks.”

“My gift is not the visions of the Le Clairs,” Garth said. “I’m more tactile. I experience energy through touch.” He paused until Anne got antsy.

“And?” she urged.

He chuckled. “The energy of the Tor was fractured, as if the dimensions were bleeding into each other. We’ve almost got it realigned.”

“Almost,” Anne repeated.

He nodded. “I find it difficult to put into words.”

“At least we’ve made progress.” Anne took a bite of one of the pasties.

“A door is still ajar,” Garth said. “Let’s take a look at that book of Cynthia’s, see if we can figure out what the Morgen meant.”

“It’s in the study on the floor under the reading lamp,” Anne said as Michael got up. She turned to Garth. “Did you get any sleep?”

He tried to cover an enormous yawn with his equally large hand. “There will be plenty of time for that.”

Michael came back into the kitchen, a frown on his face. “Where did you say it was?”

“Right next to the chair, on the floor.”

“Well, it’s not there now.”

“What?” Anne stood up. Her chair scraped across the floor. “Of course it is. That’s where I always read it.”

“Show me.”

They walked to the front room together. Anne plopped into the chair and reached down for the manuscript, but found only the grey and purple pattern of the Persian rug. “Where is it?”

Garth stood with his hands on either side of the doorframe. “Think now.”

Anne stood and looked around the room, then beside the desk and all around the floor. She lifted up a stack of newspapers and looked under them, then shuffled through them. Michael opened the drawers of the desk and riffled through their contents.

“What does it look like?” Garth asked.

“Just a big stack of regular paper.” Anne pushed down a rush of panic. “You both search the house. Look everywhere. I’ll see if I can find the file in her computer.” She went to the desk, already knowing what she would find…or wouldn’t find. The dark wood grain of the desk stared up at her, but there was no computer on it.

They turned the house upside down, even the basement, but found nothing. Cynthia’s manuscript was missing.

Once they reconvened in the front study, Anne turned on Michael. “I told you to be careful of that housekeeper.”

Michael held up his hands. “We don’t know who took it.”

“Well, who else could have? She has the key. Why are you defending her?”

Michael’s brow furrowed. He looked to Garth for help, but the man stood leaning in the doorframe watching Anne through narrowed eyes.

“What?” she asked.

“I’ve known Tessa a very long time. I’ve always found her to be trustworthy.”

“Not you, too.” Anne flopped down in the armchair.

“Why do you think it was her?” Garth asked.

“She has a key. Besides, I’ve never trusted her, not since the first time I laid eyes on her.”

“Perhaps it’s because of some past life experience,” Garth said.

“Oh, for God’s sake. Both of you—” Anne sputtered to a stop.

Garth held up a placating hand. “Your intuition is something to attend to. I have a way to investigate her.”

“Good.”

“However, we should consider other options.” Garth looked at Michael. “You say Cagliostro is in the country?”

“Yes,” Michael said. “At his country house.”

“I won’t ask how you know that.” Garth’s mouth crooked in a smile.

Anne softened a bit. “Our family’s security man has remarkable abilities.”

“Cagliostro could have sent someone for it,” Garth suggested.

“He could have sent Tessa for it,” Anne mumbled.

“Or someone we don’t know about,” Garth said in an even voice. “It could be another person here in Glastonbury, someone who knew Cynthia…even a stranger, someone who felt what was happening and slipped into the house. It’s not your Fort Knox, after all.”

Anne nodded, conceding his point.

Michael looked at his watch. “I’m going to miss my flight unless I leave now.” He turned to Garth. “Do you think it’s worth pursuing the whereabouts of the other Atlantean crystals?”

“Absolutely. We’ve seen what these two little crystals can do.”

Michael studied Anne as if she were a temperamental cat.

“I have an idea,” Garth said. “We can do some trance work while you’re in Germany. See if Anne can reconnect to Megan.”

“But—” Anne reached her hand out to Michael then let it drop on the arm of the chair. “Oh, go. Just go.”

“Anne,” Michael knelt at her feet. “Sweetheart.” He took her face in his hands. “You know I have to do my duty.”

She nodded, a tear falling down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop acting like a baby.”

“It’s the ceremony. Your nerves are raw, emotions all at the surface,” Garth said. He turned to Michael. “Come back as soon as you know anything.”

“I will.” Michael stood. “I’ll go get my bag.”

“No, old chap, I’ll fetch it for you.” Garth climbed the stairs, the squeaky one at the top protesting his bulk.