Lady Sativa (25 page)

“You have the CDs you made with Sybelle. I could study those and you could guide me. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could communicate telepathically?”

His thoughts accelerated as she spoke. Perhaps this was really why she was here. Germaine had sent her to learn the technique before getting rid of him.

“On second thought, maybe it’s an awful idea. It might be terrible to know your lover’s thoughts.”

“Very risky.” He wondered if her remark was significant.

“Perhaps Count Germaine could help us,” she ventured in a low voice.

“No. We’ll wait.” His mind tensed for her reaction, but it never came.

“All right Owen,” she murmured drowsily. “If that’s the way you feel, we’ll wait.” She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his shoulder.

He wanted to say nothing and go to sleep, but the insistent doubts finally forced him to ask.

“Do you still practice the Tantric forms?”

She stirred and he heard her take a deep breath. “Yes. Some exercises and meditation forms. But the Kundalini rite doesn’t take place for another year.” She paused. “Does it... bother you? Is that why you don’t want to see Germaine?”

Orient had asked himself the same question many times since that night. Whenever he recalled the sexual rite he’d seen Lily perform, his memory danced between jealousy and curiosity. He understood that her participation wasn’t evil, but his emotions weren’t as sure.

“You’re free to explore any path you wish/’ he said. “No other way.”

Her body relaxed. “I think it’s important, darling. I know that Tantric Yoga has always been looked upon as a forbidden form, but that’s only because of artificial sexual custom. The sexual power is used to release the natural energy at the base of the spine. The technique has been misused by evil men, but a skilled adept can turn the energy released toward good. If you like, Count Germaine could teach you the technique. Then eventually we’d be able to perform the rite ourselves. And we could remain as we are indefinitely.”

He wondered if she was offering him a bribe to lull his suspicions of Germaine. “Could be interesting,” he said. “But not until after the moon phase.”

“Good.” She.snuggled closer to him. “And then all the barriers between us will be gone.”

As he lay awake in the darkness, however, he knew the barriers would exist until he found the identity of the killer.

His mind went back to the first murder. It was possible, he admitted reluctantly, that Germaine had sent her that night, to keep him out of the way. Even as she slept beside him, Lily could be homing his movements for her master.

It seemed to Orient that his suspicions made themselves apparent in a hundred different ways over the next few days. Despite his effort to maintain normality he became less talkative and started spending long hours alone in his library. And when they were together, he was unable to muster any enthusiasm for future plans.

If Lily noticed the changes she didn’t question him. She lovingly overlooked his inability to communicate and continued to be cheerful and optimistic about their relationship.

He wanted to empty his mind of everything except her tenderness, but he couldn’t. Time filled his thoughts with the certainty that unless he remained alert against her love, it would betray him.

He was in the library one day, studying the data on the coming lunar phase, when the phone rang.

“Hello, darling,” Sybelle gushed. “How are you lovebirds doing? Where’s Lily? “

Orient winced. “Right now she’s out gathering twigs for our nest.”

“How sweet. Now tell me, are you two free for dinner this coming Thursday?”

“Don’t think so. We decided to cancel our nights out until after the moon.”

“Oh, yes, of course. What a pity. I wanted you to meet some dear friends from Paris. They’re also friends of the count. Oh, well, some other time. I won’t insist.”

“Some other time,” he said, doubly relieved he’d declined. He wanted no more ties to Germaine to burden his already strained relationship with Lily.

“You know, dear,” Sybelle said casually, “you might
reconsider
what you said and let me call the count. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”

His fingers tightened around the phone. “Did you tell Lily about anything we’ve discussed?” he demanded.

“Why no, of course not. As a matter of fact she once mentioned it to me. Why not try it? If only for Lily?”

“You know why.”

“But dear surely you can’t believe Count Germaine would kill someone? Lily would certainly know if he did. She’d have to be an accomplice. Don’t you see how silly that is?”

“Is it?” he grunted.

For a moment there was a shocked pause. Then he heard her indignant exhale of breath. “Owen Orient you are simply a male savage. That poor girl loves you and wants to help you.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No. But a woman can... oh, I’m wasting my breath. I suggest you think very carefully about what you’re saying. I’m going to
prove
to you that you’re absolutely mistaken.”

The phone clicked and went dead.

Orient replaced the receiver, sat back in his chair, and sighed aloud. Germaine had threatened to kill him and yet both Lily and Sybelle claimed he was faultless. And Sybelle had exploded at the hint that Lily could be involved.

The more he brooded over Sybelle’s reaction the clearer became the confines of the trap he was in. In the short time she’d been with him, Lily had managed to win over his closest friends. She could act with impunity and all his suspicions would be discredited. She’d completely undermined his defenses.

Of course, he could always go to some remote hunting lodge in Canada or Maine until the lunar phase had passed. But that would leave Lily alone in the city. If he was wrong and something happened to harm her, his life would be of no further use to him. He had to stay and wait for the moon’s whim.

Orient had always been taciturn, and on the mountain with Ku in Tibet he’d passed through months of total silence; but as the day or the full moon neared, the inability to communicate became a strain on his nerves.

Lily continued to go out during the day, but he withdrew further into the blank shelter of his studio and they saw each other only for a few hours at night. Their relationship had already deteriorated into the sullen armistice of a foundering marriage.

He continued to search through his manuscripts and microfilm for a way to protect himself against the coming tide, but found only extravagant invocations against dangerous spirits.

He couldn’t use any of them. His demon was already part of his chemistry and could only be exorcised by himself. There was nothing in his books he could turn to.

A vague memory tugged at his depression and his thoughts went back to Ku, who had given him the secret of telepathy as a trust. He knew now he hadn’t learned enough on the mountain. But as he brooded something from his past schooling as a neophyte came back to him.

The old monk had once taught him a formula to use if he ever needed martial assistance or protection from the League of the Serene Knowledge. As he remembered he became apprehensive. The rite required impeccable concentration, and his will was undependable. The formula of Mars was too powerful a force to invoke in his condition.

But then a faint surge of exhilaration pushed through his fears and he left the studio to prepare himself. He had to try it; for Lily, for himself, and for the trust his teacher had placed in his care.

When he’d found everything he needed, he went down to a small, basement room beneath the garage. The room was empty, except for a low wood table, and the walls and floors were lined with white tile. It was Orient’s altar room for performing special rites. He’d installed the tile himself to facilitate cleaning. He’d even built the altar table by hand, as dictated by the law of occult science. This law also required that an altar used for a rite be perfectly clean to prevent negative elements from intruding. He hadn’t used the altar room for two years, but now that he was ready it was spotless, thanks to Sordi’s efficiency. He took off his shoes and went inside.

He set the shopping bag containing his implements down on the floor and unfolded the large red sheet he was carrying under his arm. Red, the primary color of Mars, was the only shade allowed in performing the rite. He spread the sheet on the floor, in front of the table; then unpacked the objects in his shopping bag and placed them on the sheet.

When he was finished he removed his clothes, put them in the empty shopping bag, and placed the bag outside the door, next to his shoes.

He came back to the sheet and placed a square of red cloth, the size of a napkin, on the, altar table. Then he carefully arranged five small red candles on the square so that each candle was a point of an invisible pentagon.

Red was the color of Mars, five his number, and so too the instruments he used were all appropriate to the God of War. Almost everything was made of steel or iron; the long table knife that would serve as his sword, the automobile wrench that would be his rod of power, and the vessel in which he would burn sulphur and saltpeter, both minerals of Mars’ domain.

He placed the iron bowl containing the minerals in the center of the table, struck a match, lit the candle points of the pentagon, then touched the flame to the paper wrapped around the minerals in the bowl. The yellow fumes of the sulphur gave off the odor of decomposing eggs as he began the rite.

He sat down in a full Lotus position in front of the table. In his right hand he held the rod of power and in his left the sword.

He took a deep breath and began the breathing pattern, trying to charge his dim concentration. As his awareness increased, he understood the implications of the ritual and the fear returned. He opened his consciousness and began to invoke the force.

“Agla, Agla, Agla, Agla,” he whispered. “Almighty God of the four parts of the universe. Through the power of thy holy name... Tetragrammaton. Bless this carpet in thy name....” He lifted the wrench above his head.

“Bless this rod of power in thy name and that of Yod and of thine aide Paliel…”

As he lifted the knife above his head he felt a soft implosion of energy in his belly.

“And bless this sword of defense in the name of Gegurah of the Fifth Sephira, the Sphere of the God of Battle....”

Still holding the implements over his head, he changed his position until he was lying face-down on the sheet, with his arms stretched out in front of him.

“Bless these things in thy holy name,” he continued, “as thou blessed the cloak of Elijah in the hands of Elijah; so that, with thy wings I will be protected against all.”

His voice seemed to be enclosed in the walls of his skull; so that no sound he made escaped to disturb the silence in the room.

“He shall hide thee under His wings and under His feathers thou shalt trust, and His truth shall be thy protection.” He concluded. He closed his eyes and waited.

His consciousness rang with the echoes of the words and he felt another implosion tremble through his senses like a distant rumble in a subway tunnel Then he felt nothing at all-

He was vaguely disappointed as he dressed. He was sure he’d adhered to every intent of the rite and yet he’d felt nothing familiar. Of course, he hadn’t quite finished.

He felt almost foolish repeating the words as he folded the sheet. “Recabustira, Cabustira, Bustira, Ra... ” he droned before placing the sheet in the shopping bag with the other implements.

He took care that everything in the altar room was as he’d found it then opened the door, put on his shoes, and went upstairs to hide his instruments.

That evening Lily came back to the house with a gift for Orient. A silver penknife.

She seemed especially enthused at dinner and Sordi regaled her with stories of his misspent youth in Ischia, while Orient half-listened, still preoccupied with his rite.

He’d reached the conclusion that it had been a failure even though reason advised him to be patient Since it was the first time he’d actually performed the formula it was wise to wait for the result. But he was sure it was hopeless. He could have easily made a mistake, or just as easily be beyond anyone’s help.

That night when they were alone, Lily broke the long silence that had built up between them. “Did you like your present, really?” she asked shyly.

He tried to smile, but it didn’t come off. “Exactly what I needed.”’

She hesitated. “You seem so worried, darling. I wish you could talk to me about it. Do you want to?”

When he looked at her he saw that her lovely face was framed by the bronze hair spilling over her pillow, and her eyes were dark and pleading.

“Really nothing to talk about,” he murmured. “I guess I’m scared of what might happen this next moon phase. But all I can do is wait.”

You mean all
I
can do,” she corrected, lifting her head to kiss him.

He wanted to believe her, but he knew that there was nothing that could stop the moon from becoming full in the sky. The certainty made his lips as cold as stone.

The next morning Lily left the house early, without mentioning where she was going. Orient knew that he should be making a check on her movements, but he couldn’t seem to gather the courage to spy on her and confront her with her deceit.