Rise of Sirius: IV: First to Rise
Evening stole in through the remnants of rain; automobiles filled the drive to the Hopes’ home, and the chandelier lights twinkled, throwing a warm light out onto the lawn, a warmth needed to make up for the chills the family still felt every time night came. Every night, especially on Jewel’s birthday.
No one could ever be sure, and didn’t ask, whether Mrs. Hope’s tears didn’t fall on the peaches beforehand; for the punch always tasted like sorrow touched by autumn sunlight, and left them all choked up and valiantly engaging in the nearest conversation.
No one was sure, either, that her husband Don didn’t head out into the garden during the party to put his pain into the woodstack for the soon-to-be lit fires in the chilling weather, and no one dared to suggest that the metallic racket Tony made in the garage wasn’t for the same reasons.
And as for Reid - they had learned to leave him be, to break through waves of flashbacks as he stared at the wall behind the kitchen counter, where Jewel’s photos and a handful of her home-made ornaments, all stars and butterflies, still hung, glinting in the candlelight.
So many shadows, as those cast by the flickering flames. Himself, flickering like Sirius, through sapphire of sorrow, the violet of memory, and the scarlet of vengeance.
Mostly he thought of Jewel, of the raid he was about to make, of Chione, and Aphrodite.
He couldn’t keep leading Aphrodite on, couldn’t let her hope that anything was more than platonic. She was . . . just a sister, a sister to try to patch the empty space Jewel had left in him. That was all. He had to ease Aphrodite free of his presence when she didn’t need Sirius.
The raid - no one would see him slip the Reinastella out of the garage, not if he left the headlights off. Still, he couldn’t leave the costume with it, in the event someone happened across the automobile and discovered it was the Reinastella. No, he’d left the costume at the observatory. It wouldn’t be out of his way.
The clock chimed nine bells, slowly stirring him.
“Jewel… I can’t stay,” Reid muttered after some time of struggling. He thought the flickering flames were lightning strikes and flinched, awaiting the inevitable rattle that never came.
“You know I have to go. . . find whatever is happening. But I’ll visit you when it’s done. You can. . .come with me, if you’re able to.”
Ask her for a gift?
It was a foolish thought. It would break him to receive nothing. He faltered, watching the candlelight dance along the glass protecting the photograph of the Pieta, around which Jewel’s ornaments were strung.
It couldn’t hurt – oh, but it could.
He shut his eyes and buried his fingers in his hair. It was really getting out of hand.
He had been letting it get long, but he didn’t really care, did he? It might as well be wild. It suited Sirius. A little smile came unbidden, remembrance of one afternoon at the Liljedahls’, where he’d made a similar observation that he ought to cut his hair.
“I like it,” Aphrodite had pronounced. “It suits you better than all the oil the rest of men seem to use. Leave it just like that, won’t you please?”
He had laughed that she had a preference, possibly influenced by her own decision to leave her hair long, but he hadn’t minded.
Aphrodite, Aphrodite! He couldn’t think for two seconds without her crossing his mind, if he wasn’t thinking of Jewel.
Well, asking Jewel had been Aphrodite’s idea.
Jewel, Jewel. . . what use was a sign if he could believe it merely coincidental? No, there was only one thing.
“Please. . . give me a reason to live instead of dying every day!”
He choked, wondered where she was, drained the glass and nearly broke it when he slammed it down and swung over the bench, slipping out into the night, leaving the music to fade behind him. The sky was halfway clear, the stars glimmering between wisps of muted cloud.
Sirius would rise in the pre-dawn hours. He could only hope that his alter-ego would have found what he was looking for by then.
“Reid?” The urgency of Tony’s voice shattered the stillness and sent a few sleepy doves scattering from the veranda roof. The boy was silhouetted in the doorway by the kitchen lights, now blazing.
“Tony?”
Reid turned back, wondering what he had done this time during his flashbacks – broken a glass, misplaced one of Jewel’s ornaments, dumped paprika into the peach punch like that one time – that only time he did that to tease Jewel on her birthday.
“Reid, it’s Aphrodite. She’s on the phone. I think you’d better speak to her before you go.”
Troubled, Reid caught the door from him and ducked into the hallway alcove, where the phone had been left off of the hook. Relapse – that was probably it, visiting Cleopatra and holding Bruno’s ring might have worn out her mind and pitched her into panic; why had he taken that risk and let her insist on going?
“Aphrodite?”
“Reid?” Aphrodite’s voice came over the wire, a little shaken.
“Is anything wrong?”
“I just – remember how you said you were only a phone call away? Sometimes I – I panic,” she confessed. “Sometimes it’s just that – things become creepy, after what happened, and then I overthink -”
“It’s alright, Aphrodite. At least there isn’t anything to worry about right now,” Reid assured her, inwardly sighing, relieved that she was only panicking still. Sometimes she couldn’t keep herself from calling.
Aphrodite drew her breath on the other end of the line.
“Ro? Is there something?”
“Well, I. . . it’s this letter that came for me,” she hesitated, as he heard the paper rustle faintly. “I don’t understand it, but it-”
“We never know when the wires may be tapped, Ro,” Reid broke in. “I’m coming over.”
“But I don’t want you to have to drive so far at this hour, if it’s nothing-”
“Ro. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” His voice must have soothed her because he heard her sigh, too, and heard her mother’s relief in the background as Aphrodite turned to announce that Reid would be arriving.
He slammed the phone down, sharing a look with Tony.
“Tell Virgil I’ll be late.”
Their Uncle Rorick was passing by, chatting with the boys’ father of a recent study of the newly named “super-novae.”
“They say it makes the death of a great star – stars are so magnificently powerful, but these were compressed so tightly each massive ball of fire collapsed into itself! They become a ‘neutron star,’ massively shrunken from their original form,” Rorick was saying. “Or so is my understanding at the moment.”
“Reminds me of a star I know,” Don said lightly, affectionately ruffling Reid’s hair as he paused. “Wound too tightly to let anyone fully in. Let Aphrodite in before you collapse, won’t you, Reid?” he whispered. “A little bird told me you let her down about the Vanderbilts’ ball last time and you’re planning to do it again. Give her a chance.”
Reid stared at his father with a noncommital sound, eyes sliding to Rorick.
“I’ll be stopping by the observatory later.” His voice was low, scarcely carrying above the sound of the piano as his cousin Anne played ragtime in the parlor.
Rorick nodded almost imperceptibly. “You know where to find the key,” he murmured, and with a nod, passed by, leaving Reid to jump back behind the wheel of the Deusenberg, abandoning the Reina in the garage, and buying the Obelisk more time to hide its secrets in the night.
He had promised her – promised that he would be there to save her, to not hesitate as he had once before. Mission or mission, the raid would have to wait.
Reid pulled into the Liljedahls’ and found all the windows darkened, but the veranda lights burning brightly.
Liljedahl swung the door open and drew Reid inside.
“Reid, I’m glad you could make it.” His tone was troubled as he pulled Reid farther down the hall after ensuring the door was locked.
The Liljedahls’ home was always marked by fresh flowers – both wild and cultivated, from the dense gardens surrounding the home - and artworks from Arthur Liljedahl’s collection. Cornelia’s taste lent itself to ornate crystal decor, the soft shades that transitioned easily from dining room to library, and the plush rugs in which even the tallest heels seemed to sink.
Reid always smiled here, even at his worst; the family was a cloud of sweet music and light laughter that drew him out of dark thoughts and made him see the wonder that the family was known for, their childlike joy in anything beautiful, anything that brought people together.
Only, that was not the case now. It was less cheery than static this evening. He turned to Liljedahl with a troubled frown.
“A moment later, and I couldn’t have. Is Aphrodite alright?”
“It appears she’s meant to expect, or all of us are meant to expect, a midnight visitor connected with Bruno.”
Taking up a crumpled piece of parchment, oddly antique, he passed it to Reid.
To the Goddess
I will call upon you as midnight draws upon the horizon
Wait for the bells and a knock at your door
Let no one interfere.
It was signed by another cartouche.
Reid’s nails scratched through the paper as he crushed it, just as Aphrodite’s father had upon reading it.
“That changes my plans. I’m not going to leave until I know you’re all safe. How has Aphrodite been taking this?”
Liljedahl sighed, running his fingers through his graying hair, and gestured to the living room entrance, closed only by the lace curtains draped aside.
“She’s doing her best! She tried not to call you, and though I’m proud of her on the one hand, I had to ask her to. I suspect that the last line of the letter equates to, ‘don’t call the police, or else.’ You’re the only one who might be able to help us, Reid. Please, watch over my daughters and Cornelia for a few minutes. I’m going to make coffee – it’s becoming a long night.”
So saying, he turned aside into the dining room, leaving Reid to knock lightly on the living room entry and duck through the curtains, hat in hand.
Antoinette was sleepily mumbling poetry to herself from her schoolbooks, tiny puppy tucked in the folds of her frilly satin robe. Her mother, supervising the recitation, gave Reid a relieved smile as Aphrodite sprang up from the sofa to meet him. Her hands, unusually clenched to keep from shaking, betrayed her anxiety.
“Reid! I’m sorry for making you come. I know you had plans-”
“Aphrodite, I wouldn’t have abandoned you. I told you I’m here for you so long as you’re in danger.”
“But-”
“My other plans can wait,” he waved her concerns aside, taking up a post on the arm of the sofa. “Sit, Ro, if you’re not all going to bed.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think we could sleep, and I feel we’d awaken at those – bells,” she shivered, but she complied, taking up a seat nearby. She took up one of the sofa pillows and hugged it.
“Reid – please don’t let them force me again –I wouldn’t be so scared if they weren’t dragging my family into it!”
“Shh, Ro. I told you I’m not leaving.”
“But Reid – you don’t have any -” she faltered. Of Sirius’ weapons, was what she was thinking. She was used to the safety that his costume seemed to bring.
“The ‘tools?’” he murmured back, ever cautious of eavesdroppers. One could never trust a wall, these days, no matter where it was. “I have my revolver, Aphrodite. It’ll be alright.”
He was still thinking of the letter, and of the ring he had once again left in his pocket.
“Just a hunch. . . ” On a thought, he straightened out the paper once more, and laid the ring’s face against the cartouche. The shape and size were identical, if not the hieroglyphs.
“It’s a signet ring.”
He inspected the ring’s face, which held faint traces of what might have been red ink.
“It was used as a seal, as well.” Aphrodite offered him the attendant envelope. The turquoise seal was indeed marked by the same cartouche as on the paper. “What. . . bells do you think?”
“Either the clock striking midnight or quarter to, or the doorbell, I imagine.”
“We might have a hard time then, the doorbell isn’t working, and the clock only has a little chime.”
Reid discarded both papers on the table with a glance at the time.
“Hm. Well, the only way we’ll know whose name is on there tonight is to wait for the scribe. Don’t worry. I’m going to stay as long as you need me to.”
Antoinette broke off her recitation as she woke up enough to notice his arrival.
“Uncle Reid, Uncle Reid came! Do you want to play with Tumbler?” she demanded, traipsing up to him and pushing the puppy into his arms.
“That’s what you named him, eh?” Reid ruffled the spaniel’s ears and the girl’s curls in the same breath, eyes still flicking between the clock and the doorway. “I think you should tuck him in bed now, don’t you?”
“Well, I guess I ought to, but Daddy said a bad man’s going to come and knock down the house! I don’t want Tumbler to be scared awake.”
Liljedahl joined them, bearing cups of coffee, as well as cinnamon-milk for the girls.
“I didn’t say that, Annie, no one will knock down the house.” He handed a cup to Reid, waving away the wreathes of steam.
“They might try,” Reid said slowly, eyeing the too-bright hallway lights. Liljedahl saw the look and flicked them off.
The clock on the mantle quietly ticked off the seconds, filigree hands inching towards ten, then eleven. Reid’s eyes followed any hint of shifting shadow through the diamond glass panes of the door, visible through the living room’s colonnaded half-wall from the vantage point of the sofa arm.
Antoinette had fallen asleep on the rose-velvet of her father’s armchair. Cornelia sat tensely at the desk, hands crocheting, eyes as watchful as Reid’s. Liljedahl sat beside his eldest daughter, when he wasn’t pacing and glancing through the muffling velvet drapes.
“What I can’t figure is why they would warn the whole family,” Reid mused, turning the cup in his hands. “They must not want to blackmail you this time, Aphrodite.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Liljedahl squeezed her shoulder.
“Reid, I know what the letter said – but would you advise that we should leave here, at least take the girls and Cornelia away? We’re running out of time.”
“Under normal circumstances, I would say yes. Yet, I don’t doubt someone is expecting that, and the road may be watched; the wires may be tapped, so even if the warning doesn’t include calling the police, I don’t think there’s use in trying-”
To investigate his theory, Reid picked up the phone. Not to his surprise, it was dead.
And then the lights went out.
Antoinette tumbled out of the chair, shrieking that she couldn’t find Tumbler as Aphrodite jumped and Reid’s coffee nearly spilled as she caught his arm.
“Easy, Ro! Are there any candles or torches about?”
There were candlesticks on the mantle which Cornelia quickly lit, and in the dim light Antoinette, along with everyone else, was relieved to find that Tumbler had neither been doused in hot coffee nor stepped on.
“But where’s my kitty?” Antoinette wanted to know next, but the eerie ringing of bells and chimes drowned her out.
“The bells!” Aphrodite breathed.
They wavered, ghostly, rippling up and down the scale, lilting in and out of time.
“Tell me it’s a fantastic clock,” Reid whispered, lifting one of the candles higher, searching the shadowed edges of the room.
“One I didn’t know I owned, if it is,” Liljedahl answered grimly.
Reid’s eyes were shifting from where he knew the front door to be, to the dark doorway into the dining room. There was no sign of the door opening, or of anyone moving there.
“Are there creepy ghosts walking in our house?” Antoinette asked in a small voice, clinging to Tumbler and the now-found tabby kitten who seemed to see something no one else did.
“It’s just the power failure and a music box or some such thing, sweetie,” her father promised, though he didn’t sound so sure.
The bells tinkled, fading a trifle as in greeting -
Reid’s heart skipped a beat as he realized there was a face there in the gloom, a face barely distinguishable and inhuman – he shoved Aphrodite farther behind him.
“Who goes there? Come into the light!” Reid challenged, voice ringing through the ceaseless chimes.
The eyes sparked. Cat and puppy squeaked as Antoinette squeezed them in fright.
A gold aura burst around the figure, seeping into the shadows to meet the edge of the candlelight, emanating from a towering figure clad in white gauze and gold, but the face beneath the dual-feathered crown was tinged green, and the lips did not move as the eyes pulsated with each word.
“I am the god Osiris, King of the Living, Lord of Silence, First to Rise, God of the Dead. . . Hear me, you who shelter the foreign goddess, my sister: death awaits on the threshold. Take heed, and do not hinder the goddess’ steps when I return, or evil shall befall you in the land of the west before the sun sets.”
“Listen, Irish, or whatever your name is, it’s about time your kind left my daughter alone!” Liljedahl snapped, joining Reid. “Besides, as far as I’m concerned, the ‘King of the Living, First to Rise, etc.’ holds a different name than yours.”
But his words may not have been heard. The chimes stopped and the aura snapped. Reid made a dash for the doorway but came face to face with empty air as the lights came on and the clock struck midnight. In a moment’s panic, everyone turned to make sure no one had disappeared – but Aphrodite was still there, clasping her hands with some confusion.
A soft scratching sound drew all eyes to the door.
“You have the cat?” Cornelia whispered, turning to her youngest. The kitten was indeed still there.
For two breaths, all stood still.
“It can’t mean two visitors,” Liljedahl objected, nonetheless moving uneasily to the window.
“I think the cartouche was the calling card of our friend Osiris, but I wouldn’t doubt it was all for effect,” Reid muttered, slipping his revolver from its holster beneath his coat and waving the women into the kitchen, bidding them to shut both doors into the windowless pantry.
He strode to the front door and jerked it half-open as a shadowy figure sprinted out of the light.
“Hey!”
But the man was gone, vanished into the dark lane, leaving behind a parcel wrapped in brown paper. Reid had been certain the mantle clock didn’t tick this loudly – in an instant it clicked with Osiris’ warning.
“Back!” he rasped to Liljedahl, realizing that opening the door had pulled a fine twine which had nearly loosed that tied over the paper. Catching it up, he hurled it into the front gardens with all his might.
The blast threw pummeled rose petals, maple leaves, and gravel scattering as both men were momentarily blinded. The windows rattled a bit but that was all as the women ran from the kitchen in fear which quickly lapsed into relief.
“Reid!” Aphrodite caught his hands as he tried to blink his vision back. “What happened?”
“Just a little bomb triggered by the door, Aphrodite.”
“I told you a bad man would bring the house down!” Antoinette exclaimed, trying to cling to both pets and her father at the same time.
“Try the phone, sir,” Reid said aside to Liljedahl. “No one open any outside doors or windows until we’re certain that there are no other bombs.”
“They had to have known we wouldn’t let Aphrodite open the door,” Liljedahl muttered as he went to the phone.
“But they said not to hinder me, why would they try to kill me?” Aphrodite asked.
“I don’t think they meant to kill anyone, Ro, especially you,” Reid said at length. “That blast was only borderline strong enough to do more than injure. I suspect they’re preparing your free will to acquiesce to something, Aphrodite.”
He squeezed her chilled hands, gently extricating his own to take over the phone from Liljedahl, for evidently the lines had not been cut - exactly what they had done, he wasn’t sure.
The officer who picked up the phone swiftly passed it to Virgil. Reid was surprised to find that, despite the fact that Tony had thoughtfully called ahead and vaguely warned Virgil not to wait up, the commissioner evidently hadn’t listened.
“Reid? Where are you?”
“Virgil? Forgive the changed plans, I had to assist Aphrodite. We need a police guard around the Liljedahls’, at least for a few days.” He explained the situation.
“I understand, Reid. The men are on the way. Are you going home? It’s too late for your plans.”
“No, I promised you that I’d make it. I’ll be on my way as soon as the men are out here and we know it’s safe.”
“Just – make sure it’s actually Officers Michael and Davis, won’t you? We’ve had a little too many incidents around Aphrodite now to consider it too careful.”
Reid hung up, still puzzled.
Egyptomania and Egyptian gods was a strange way for the mafia to work. It couldn’t be only Bruno and his associates, could it? He thought of the man at the museum and mused again whether the archaeologist’s interest in a modern cartouche ring meant anything.
“Aphrodite, do you by any chance know an ‘Emrys Augustus Morgan?””
“Funny you should inquire. I met him at the Vanderbilts’ last year, and he’s invited me to attend with him this time -”
“What, Aphrodite! You can’t go with him.”
“Well, he’s the only one who can escort me! Besides,” she sniffed, tilting her head again as she hugged herself. “You said you wouldn’t go.”
“I said I couldn’t promise, not that I won’t – Aphrodite, Morgan is ‘on sus’ as Tony would so eloquently put it, and I would advise you to avoid him for the time being.”
“Then why-”
“Ro, I don’t always need to be your escort!” Reid sighed. “You know I can’t make promises in my line of work. He’s only a phone call away if you need him. I’m sure even Tony would be willing to help you out.”
“Tony?” she repeated in disbelief.
“Sometimes I wish you weren’t such a socialite,” Reid sighed, buttoning his coat and searching for the fedora he had discarded. Tumbler came by, dragging it by the brim.
“I happen to like people.”
“I know. I happen to not like them.”
“I know,” Aphrodite murmured, uncrossing her arms and wearily pulling back her loosening curls. “I’m not arguing. I know that it would be awkward. Anyway, Emrys is another one who says ‘goddess this’ and ‘goddess that’, and frankly I cannot fathom why no one will accept that there’s a martyr Aphrodite! But, he won’t listen. I think he likes me too much to care.”
Reid stared at her, trying not to clench his teeth as he felt himself tensing.
“I have a feeling I’m going to hate that guy.”
I always have to be the disappointment, Reid thought, slamming the automobile door shut.
It had taken another thirty minutes for the police to arrive and assist in checking for any other bombs before setting up guard; by that time, all the women had retired, leaving Reid unable to reconcile with Ro before he departed.
Reid had sped back home without letting himself in. In the very least, no one was around now to have any chance of viewing the Reinastella’s departure. He thought the headlights of a car flickered behind him now as he drove away, but it was gone, and his tired eyes were glad of the thermos of coffee which he had found waiting in the passenger seat.
He barely gave himself time to change into his costume at the Observatory before he was back on the road, heading for the sparkling citylight in the distance.
The bomb, the note, Osiris: they may have been unconnected from the Obelisk.
Or it may have been an attempt to stall Sirius, knowing that he was protecting Aphrodite – could they have guessed? But Sirius hadn’t shown up.
Still, he was ill at ease. Sometimes that was why he wore the costume, settling back into it like a shield and second skin.
Resewn from a deconstructed suit coat in deep gray, the sleeves were cut away over a laced polo in navy, the sleeves of which were lengthened to the wrist by bands of gray and blue, winging into half-gloves gauntlets; framed by the lapels of the coat was a rayed silver star, shifting in rainbow hues, bits of voile in claret, Nile green, navy, and violet, clipped from the hems of Jewel’s dresses, hanging silently, tucked away in her room where she had left them.
A slender dagger was strapped to his left forearm, a revolver hidden in his coat; the navy breeches were tucked into black hunting boots, the kind with the quiet heel that he could make as noiseless as he wanted. He almost hadn’t done it, that costume, really it was more his mother’s work.
But he needed a mask for his own work, if only to protect his family, and he had confessed a mask looked a little strange on its own – it needed to be worn with something other than an everyday suitcoat! He needed a name, too, before someone chose one for him. Jewel’s love of the dog star had solved both problems.
Sleep or no sleep, the Obelisk would come crashing down that night, Reid promised himself. The skies were clear and so was his mind, clear of flashbacks. He prayed that it would stay that way.
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