Rise of Sirius: III: Cleopatra VIII

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Reid’s eyes snapped upwards as he pivoted, stepping back to shield Aphrodite.

His gaze met the burnt gold eyes of a great cat that crouched between the rose briers, throat rattling. A woven collar of red stones marked it as a pet, but one that could choose to be as deadly as the black hound beside it, which seemed as if it had been chiseled from the Egyptian stones. Judging like death, it was ready to kill at a sign as the cheetah bared its teeth in a hiss, leading Aphrodite to cling to Reid’s arm.

“Back up, Ro,” Reid said calmly, training his eyes on the cat’s. “Start back to the gate.”

“Not without you!”

“Mau! Anubis! Heel!” A woman’s voice rang out as the wind dropped, and the jaws snapped shut with a little trill. The woman stepped out from the shadows of the portico and waved a girl down the steps.

“Chione! Fetch Mau and Anubis back to the veranda, and show our guests to me.”

The child hastened to do as she was told, reaching through the rose-briers to grasp the animals’ collars.

“Don’t you growl at guests,” she chided in a whisper.

Reid released his tension but threw Aphrodite a bemused look.

“As you said, ‘she didn’t spare details.’”

The girl who knelt there grasping the animals’ collars might have stepped out of some form of Egypt herself, her heather dress mimicking the folds of the ancient world, with a collar banding her neck and shoulders in embroidery of stylized irises and papyrus. Discordant with her costume was the worn strand of rose-glass beads and the emerald-cut pendant upon it.

“I am Chione. I apologize,” the girl began, peering at them, troubled. “Mau isn’t meant to wander the grounds. Were you expected?”

“We had an appointment, or so I thought,” Reid replied, wary of the way Anubis continued to stare at him.

“He will not hurt you now. Please, follow me.”

With a glance back, Chione led both the animals and guests up to the veranda with its flagstones and urns of ivy and dripping roses in shades of cerise and lilac.

“She’s so young,” Reid murmured aside to Aphrodite. “She can’t be older than thirteen. She shouldn’t be working.”

“I know,” Aphrodite whispered regretfully. “Perhaps she’s supporting her family? This dreadful economy could do it.”

“Perhaps.”

The woman they had seen had vanished, presumably inside, where mosaic marble floors of rose and ivory led through a grandly painted hall, the ceiling full of gilt stars. Aphrodite gazed upward, leaving Reid to guide her. She spotted Orion’s companion and gave Reid a nudge with laughing eyes. He tried to scowl back in warning but failed so epically he might have kicked himself, if they hadn’t made an abrupt right turn into a courtyard, one of a rectangular pair parallel to the grand hall. A pool rippled and reflected the willows and fig trees planted around it.

On the other side, they entered a richly decorated room, painted a ruby ochre with stylized irises bordering floor and ceiling, a parlor which opened directly into the sunroom. Palms marked the corners of the room and gave a green backdrop to a piano, velvet seats, and gold fixtures, the whole room punctuated by the scent of the white roses gathered in clusters in every corner.

“Her favorite flower is an easy guess,” Aphrodite noted.

“Yes, the Lady has bred many varieties herself,” Chione informed them. “All the flowers in the House come from her gardens.”

She waved the animals over to the sunroom windows, where they surveyed the grounds for further intruders among the now torrential raindrops.

“Please, be seated,” the girl bade Reid and Aphrodite. “The Lady will be with you-” she paused as a subdued knock on a side door interrupted her. She opened it to hold a muffled conversation, then returned.

“My apologies. The Lady has received an unexpected urgent appointment, but she shall return to you shortly. Please, be at rest until then.” She retreated to sit quietly with the animals, leaving Reid standing near the windows.

As he watched, he saw the shadow of a sedan pull up through the splattering drops and vanish around the corner of the house, leaving a trail of mud across the brickway.

“Mm-hmm,” he muttered to himself.

Aphrodite was wandering the room, stroking the roses and studying the paintings and statuettes placed among the ivy. She turned back, away from the statue of a winged woman which graced the mantlepiece.

“I thought we didn’t like that song.”

“What?” Reid looked up from the rain and became aware that he had been humming ‘Stormy Weather’ to himself. “That song gets in my head whenever I hear it. And anyway. . . it seemed fitting. It’s Jewel’s birthday. I know she never thought I’d be here.”

“Reid, you never told me. . .” Aphrodite crossed the room and hugged his arm. “I’m sorry. Do you ever talk to her?”

“Sometimes.” He counted the raindrops that trickled down the glass and splattered on the ledge. “It’s just hard. . . not knowing where she is, like she’s been written off the face of the earth, of all existence, even.”

“No one writes her off, not God. Where there’s uncertainty, there’s hope. Ask Jewel to talk to you,” Aphrodite urged. “I know she’ll show herself to you somehow, if she can. I admit it, I’m a trifle jealous.” She tilted her head and crossed her arms. “I’m certain she would appreciate how often you think of her.”

Reid’s brow furrowed and he gave her a tired look. “I’m sorry, why should you be jealous of my sister?”

Aphrodite shook her head helplessly.

“Oh, Reid!”

She sighed and changed tact.

“Have you ever thought about asking her for a gift?”

“On her birthday? Why would she give me a gift?”

“Because she wouldn’t want you to be throwing your life away.”

He stilled.

“Reid, she wouldn’t want you to be working yourself to death. . . or worrying yourself to death. Ask her. If she’s alive, she’ll show you. I know it.”

“If,” Reid groaned quietly. “That’s always the catch, isn’t it. It’s going to be ‘won’t’ every time.”

Aphrodite shrugged unhappily, uncertainly turning back to the knick-knacks that had been fascinating her. Reid never seemed to realize how much she wanted to try and fill that hole in his heart and heal it, but she was beginning to think that she could do neither. At least ivy was eternal, even the imitations, she thought, touching the silk leaves, but it was carelessly covering some of the statues.

A sharp cry from Aphrodite and Reid leapt across the room to ward off -

Half-puzzled, he turned his eyes to the white-faced girl. “I’m sorry, what’s the matter?”

Aphrodite released a guilty breath and pointed to a turquoise statuette nestled among the ivy’s tendrils.

“It’s alright, Aphrodite. It’s not William. I’m sure it’s just a souvenir copy.” Reid bumped it back from the edge of the mantle and guided the girl away from it. “This may not have been a wise place for me to bring you to, after all.”

“You forget that I wisely argued.” Aphrodite gave a little laugh. “The storm, and - Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled the ring from her clutch. “Reid, where should I-”

Reid put a finger to his lips. “Hold onto it. Don’t speak of much here, Ro, we don’t know who could be listening, and it’s not just Chione.”

He nodded towards the handmaid who was still present and was watching them curiously.

“You’re right,” Aphrodite murmured, tucking the ring back into her purse as the door behind them swung open and the woman swept her way in.

She was tall, dressed as extravagantly as Chione in pleated gauze and scarlet silk, with loops of pearls crested by a star ruby draping about her neck and wrists. Her hair was coiled and curled under a toque of red velvet embroidered with a golden vulture.

Anubis joined her at once, leaving Mau curled up in the meagre light from the windows. Chione, too, arose and went to meet her.

“Chione! Ring for tea for our guests,” the woman commanded.

The girl obligingly pulled a broidered bell pull and slipped out at once to give the request to a maid on the other side of the door, leaving the woman to stand, musing, beside the piano, raiment folded as crisply as that of the goddesses of ancient Greece.

Aphrodite jumped when the woman’s hand wandered over the piano keys, letting out a few tinkling notes of some ancient-sounding melody. The door closed as Chione returned to receive the next request.

“Chione, play for us while I speak to our guests, won’t you?”

Aphrodite closed her eyes in pain as Chione dutifully complied.

“I missed the memo, what’s the matter with a piano?” Reid whispered.

“Bruno!” Aphrodite hissed back, clearly wanting to run out of the room. “He was always playing. Badly, too.”

“Ro, Ro,” he murmured.

“-Row our boat right out of here, please?”

“Not yet. I’m here. You’re safe. Trust me.”

He squeezed her hand as their hostess met them.

“I do hope that I haven’t kept you,” the woman smiled, stroking Anubis’ head. “I am Cleopatra. You are Reid Hope, are you not? I have read of your cases. Truly valiant efforts, may I say.”

She offered her hand to Reid with an air that made him feel he was back in Victorian times, expected to bow, but he only shook the ungloved white hand carefully and noted how the dark eyes slid to Aphrodite’s face.

A surprised smile played over her lips then.

“Miss Liljedahl! Your presence is most felicitous! I had hoped we might meet, though I did not expect it to be so soon, or with such a companion. Then, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, after his defense of you in that ghastly affair with poor William. Quelle horreur! I do hope you have recovered?”

Reid was torn between frustration with Cleo’s assumption and appall at her half-thoughtless words. He didn’t know French, either.

“We all knew it would happen someday,” Cleopatra continued, turning to him, not noticing the way Aphrodite’s fingers clutched her handbag. “C’est la vie! And to such a charming name! Even my ancestress loved Aphrodite.”

“What happened, exactly,” Reid glowered.

“My dear Reid, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, to fall in love, bien entendu! One moment riding life alone, the next, coupe de foudre! Even bright stars fall, or tend to have a companion.”

“I’m sorry, but Miss Liljedahl is accompanying me only to make two appointments in one,” Reid answered stiffly, beginning to think Cleopatra’s French was as frustrating as Tony’s slang. “And the incident is still a cause of sensitivity for her, so it is best to speak of it as infrequently as possible.”

“Mais bien sûr! But of course. I only wish to give you my deepest sympathies in this matter, Miss Liljedahl, and I am pleased that you are well enough for this social visit. Please, be seated,” Cleopatra invited them graciously, settling herself on the chaise lounge across from the pair, and Mau, now awake, leapt up to place her head under her mistress’ hand, purring rhythmically. Anubis took up a seat at the end of the little table between mistress and guests, silent and still, identical twin to the dogs that framed the goddess Isis on the mantle.

Aphrodite murmured a thank-you, with an apprehensive glance at Reid, who was refusing to pay her any mind at the moment.

He did, however, relax slightly when Chione left off playing and fetched a tea trolley that had been wheeled to the door; the handmaid set about pouring tea and setting out painted porcelain dishes of sliced baguette, fresh figs, dates sticky with honey, and a brick of an unknown crumbly cheese which Cleopatra informed them was Greek.

“Chione is a beautiful name,” Aphrodite complimented the handmaid, admiring the girl’s measured, deft movements. “And she must be a wonderful help to you, Miss Ever-Ruby.”

“Please, Cleopatra. And yes, she is,” Cleo answered almost fondly, laying a hand on Chione’s arm to pause her in her serving. “Her name means ‘daughter of the Nile,’ for I drew her out of the creek here four years ago, our own ‘little Nile,’ when her family threw her away. She is my daughter now, and has been my greatest help in these economic troubles.”

“Threw you away? Why, Chione?” Aphrodite repeated, keeping Reid from asking what Chione’s name used to be.

The girl opened her mouth to reply, then thought better of it, leaving Cleopatra to explain, “They thought her life not worth anything more to them. Thankfully, I didn’t think the same!”

Something in Chione’s face was unconvincing. The only sign of a smile had been when she was curled up alone with Mau and Anubis. It was more acceptance than affection that Chione showed to her adoptive mother, Reid mused. Yet he had found out firsthand what tragedy could do to a man, and he was sure it could do more to a child.

“I’m sorry, little one. I’m glad you were found. You must be very grateful to Miss Ever-Ruby.”

Chione nodded and moved again around the table to pour the tea, a chalky shade of pink.

“Rose and pearl powder,” Cleopatra declared. “In the tradition of my ancestress, naturally.”

“A bit extravagant for these times, isn’t it?” Reid accepted his cup with suspicion for its contents.

Cleopatra shrugged gracefully. “I’ve learned to be nothing if not extravagant.”

“I’ll give you that. Your estate is regal enough for your ancestress.”

“Ah, c'était mon espoir! That was my hope,” Cleopatra laughed merrily. “I have pulled inspiration for its construction from many of the grand palaces of both the living and the dead, from Amarna to Djeser-Djeseru, the grand temple of the ancient queen and woman-king, Hatshepsut. I’m certain Cleopatra VII would have been proud to have a palace as grand, if only we knew the beauty of her own palace,” she sighed. “But enough of my ancestress-worship, my children. What matters have you brought to me, and which shall we consider first?”

Reid signaled to Aphrodite.

“Mine may be the smaller of the two,” she confessed. “I wondered if I might request an original design?”

Cleopatra clapped her hands in pleasure, startling Mau’s head from her lap, and Chione stopped pouring.

“Quelle joie, I know of your efforts and reputation as a patroness of New York designers, Miss Liljedahl, and I could only hope that you might grace my house! Please, tell me of your inspiration. We will craft a dress worthy of the goddess herself!”

“Something less grandiose would do,” Aphrodite replied. “An all-occasion dress, if it would please you.”

“Greek style would suit you,” Cleopatra pondered, leaning her chin on her hand, scarlet nails brilliantly matching her lips. “What do you think, young Reid? Gold, crimson, ivory?”

“Make it blue,” Reid grumbled stubbornly, wishing she wouldn’t ask him as though it mattered. “For the true lady of all good and beautiful things, or seafoam, since that’s what the name actually means.”

“Ah, or both! If the sea can be both, why not a dress?” Cleopatra was delighted. “You’ll be attending the Vanderbilt’s autumn ball, cherie, won’t you, as I will? The dress can be done within two weeks, in plenty of time.”

There was a clatter as Chione’s hand slipped and the lid of the teapot bounced off the trolley, onto the table, and then to the floor where Mau pounced upon it, only to be disappointed by its cold nature.

Reid caught the Chione’s hand before the hot tea could spill on her arm as she jumped with everyone else.

“Forgive me!” the child exclaimed, but her eyes looked frightened for an instant as she looked around at Reid.

“Chione, do be careful,” Cleopatra sighed. “I’m glad it’s merely carpet, but please don’t spill the tea?”

“I – forgive me, I’m only very tired. I haven’t – been sleeping.” She stole a guilty glance at Cleo.

“Chione, Chione! Why haven’t you rested?”

“Sit with us, Chione, we can serve ourselves,” Reid invited, only for the girl to shake her head.

“Please, I have much to do, for there are not that many others working – not anymore, not since the economy slipped.” She kept faltering as if in trepidation.

“You can sit for a minute, Chione, then you may rest in your room,” Cleo allowed. “Remember that we must leave for the Obelisk at four o’clock. You can rest as much as you need to before you must prepare.”

Reluctantly, Chione took a seat beside Cleopatra but kept her hands folded in her lap, save when Anubis padded over and affectionately closed his jaws on her hand.

While Cleopatra gave fabric suggestions and took down Aphrodite’s number, Reid studied Chione. The girl’s eyes curved softly, wide with dark lashes like a doe’s, so much like Jewel’s in shape, if not in color – Chione’s were a clear misty green that shifted deeper with the light. Reid had a suspicion that her hair wasn’t truly black, judging by the wispy curl of deep auburn that straggled across her forehead.

The girl sat silently, gazing into the teacup she now held in both hands and rested on her knee. She was only tired, perhaps. Mau’s nose crept closer and closer to the tea, until Chione finally smiled and pushed the snout away, just as Cleopatra declared that the initial planning was done, and would Reid care to discuss his matter?

“I’m organizing a charity ball,” Reid started, mentally waving away flitting memories of Jewel’s tea parties. He set his cup aside, nudging it nearly out of sight behind the cheese. “Aphrodite has told me of your charitable efforts, particularly with children. The funds would go towards better supporting orphans and. . . children who work too young, to give them proper care and means of enjoyment.”

He certainly wasn’t making up anything as he went, but Cleopatra didn’t bat an eyelash.

“I’m forever delighted to assist in such endeavors. Please, do detail what plans you are considering?”

Out of the corner of his eye as he spoke, he saw Aphrodite cautiously fingering the ring, drawing it from her handbag.

She absently rolled the ring between her fingers, watching the irksome fruit fly that continually endeavored to reach the bowl of figs, only to be foiled by the saucer Chione dropped over them.

Cleopatra didn’t appear to notice the ring, too engrossed in Reid’s ideas for the ball; interjecting now and then such comments as, “Palms and papyrus flowers, really we ought to have them,” and “what do you think of importing scarabs? Live ones of course, not dead ones, that would be utterly macabre; they would give the place ‘atmosphere’, don’t you think?”

Reid did his best not to appear as galled as he felt. Aphrodite ducked her head, probably trying to hide a smile, and the ring slipped out of her gloved fingers and rolled into Anubis’ paw. He gave it a suspicious sniff as Chione dropped at once to pick it up and offered it back to Aphrodite. Cleopatra’s eyes followed the ring momentarily but she gave no sign of recognition; only a slight raise of her brows as she turned back to Reid, her eyes laughing behind her teacup as she sipped, her perfect lipstick never leaving a trace of red.

Reid managed to convince her against bringing scarabs to the ball, hoping against hope that he would be able to cancel his partnership with Ever-Ruby; or ought he to wish that Ever-Ruby had no evil to hide?

“If this is all settled, we will take our leave,” Reid announced, rising as the rain began to lighten. Aphrodite and Cleopatra rose with him. “Thank you for your time, Miss Ever-Ruby.”

He shook the hand offered again.

“It has been a pleasure, mes chéris,” she assured them. “Do call me when you need anything at all for your fundraiser, young Reid, and Miss Liljedahl, please do check in with me on the matter of the dress. I’ll have some sketches ready in a day or two. Chione! Please see our guests to the door, and take Mau and Anubis with you.”

“No need,” Reid said hastily, seeing the way Chione jumped as though she’d nearly fallen asleep. “We can show ourselves out through the door in the sunroom here, if that won’t be an intrusion, and Chione can go to rest.”

“Very well. Run along, Chione. You have twenty minutes to rest before we leave.”

Cleopatra watched them head for the exit; Chione clucked softly to the animals, leading them to the parlor door, but as she put her hand to the knob, she turned back to Reid, who had paused to hold the opposite door for Aphrodite.

For a moment he would have sworn that Chione’s eyes were pleading, but it was fleeting, and she was gone.

Copyright Stella Maris Designs and Thérèse Judeana, 2024.

“I’d love to follow them to the Obelisk,” Reid muttered as he backed the Deusenberg away from the gate, after he had wiped the rainwater from the windshield. “But I have a party to attend and you need to get home, young lady.”

Reid lapsed into silence, Sirius glimmering through his facade. Aphrodite wisely choose not to speak, perhaps wondering if Cleopatra’s words still irked him.

They did, tearing him between ensuring that Aphrodite was alright, that revisiting Egyptian facades hadn’t been a setback for her, and staying distant. Beneath it all, he still knew nothing of the Obelisk, and wondered why he’d never inspected it sooner. Plans swirled, but Chione’s face kept giving him pause.

“Did you know Cleo had a daughter?”

“No. Cleopatra lives a fairly private life, which seems to include Chione.”

“Private, except where her good works are concerned. It’s a wonder that this doesn’t include Chione.”

“Reid. . . you don’t think it was Chione who stitched the SOS, do you?”

“She can’t be. As Cleopatra’s daughter and constant companion and handmaid, she wouldn’t be sewing garments,” Reid mused. “There’s one thing I know, Aphrodite. Indentured servants, and worse, have something in common with widow spiders. Where one is, there are likely many more. If Chione is serving against her will, there will be others: the tag is proof of that much, if Chione is in trouble.”

“What do we do?”

“You don’t do anything. I don’t need you to get in trouble again.” Reid focused on the road for a time, wrestling with the remembrance of Chione’s eyes.

“I can’t go back for her, not tonight. I have to get into the Obelisk because that’s the mission I’ve been given. If I find something there, anything else will fall apart and Chione will be freed.”

“Cleopatra didn’t react to the ring,” Aphrodite said after a moment.

“I noticed. It was a bit of a long shot, I suppose. Egypt and Egypt would have fit together well. Cleopatra doesn’t possess the magnetizing personality I was expecting, either.”

“No,” Aphrodite agreed. “Only fairly charming, I suppose. Did you find her suspicious?”

Reid sucked in his breath and held it for a moment, pondering the question as he pulled up the drive leading to the Liljedahls’ home.

“She didn’t give me a further reason to suspect her of anything,” he said finally. “I can’t judge her. It will take facts, and that will take a raid, tonight.”

Reid parked to walk Aphrodite up the steps to the door. Graceful columns wound by ivy formed a double gate upon the massive stone porch. Scarlet shutters matched the brightly painted doorway and the roses that nodded in the breeze, gilded by the lamplight.

It was a tasteful version of Cleopatra’s delusions of grandeur, Reid decided. It always felt safe here – and Cleopatra’s was the opposite of safe, it was strange, too strange for the modern mind, at least.

Aphrodite laid her hand on his arm before she went inside.

“Reid?”

“Hm?”

“I know I don’t need to ask you to be careful,” she whispered, looking up at him trustingly. “I know you’ll save them as you saved me. But I hope you won’t be hurt.”

“Mm.”

He didn’t promise. At least there would be no lightning that night. . . .but he predicted thunder – and lots of it.

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