Gene of Isis

The sound of scratching on glass startled me. It was coming from beyond the drawn blinds in the cabin.

‘Are you all right?’ Devere requested an update, as he must have heard my gasp.

I approached the curtains and, swallowing back my fear, I drew the heavy fabric aside to discover a raven beyond the windows. It rasped at the thick glass with its claws, determined to penetrate it, and its angry squawks shot sharp waves of panic through my being, as if I was the cause of its senseless determination. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I answered Devere and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Shoo.’ I urged the creature to give up its impossible quest.

My attention returned to the painting despite the bird continuing to make its ruckus. I crossed the room to search for a latch around the inner back edge of the picture frame and upon triggering a mechanism, the picture swung open like a cupboard door. ‘I’ve located the safe.’

Albray had been justified in saying that the lock that secured the iron door was rather ingenious. It was a long-barrelled padlock with no keyhole, just consecutive rings of numbers. I had heard of such devices, known as combination locks. They were an invention of the master craftsmen of the Orient. As lock picking had become an art in recent times, this type of lock was used to protect the holdings of the major banking establishments in Europe. Some of these had over a million combinations and to run through them all without interruption would take about two thousand years. It was fortunate for me that most of the world’s inhabitants were ignorant of the art of psychometry. There were six numbered dials on this particular lock and as I placed my finger on the first ring of numbers I was compelled to roll it around to the number five; then the next dial suggested the number two, and the next number six.

‘What do you think you are doing?’

I heard a stranger’s voice echoing down the hallway beyond the room.

‘Someone is awake,’ my husband advised me through the door, and I heard him draw the gypsy sword that he still wore.

‘I’m almost there,’ I yelled back, hoping he could hold our foe for just a few more seconds. I locked the fourth and fifth numbers into place. Once the sixth number revealed itself, I expected the lock to somehow open, but instead the end of the cylindrical lock fell away to reveal a keyhole. ‘Damn it!’ I uttered under my breath, concerned for my husband as I heard swords clashing outside the door. I could not will the lock undone, but I could try to reach through the solid iron door.

It’s no different to changing the composition of the parchment, I recalled Albray advising me in the library. You have the ability to do this, but if you need faith in yourself then call upon the strength of your foremothers.

I closed my eyes to focus my intent on the thick cold iron at my fingertips.

Women of my blood . ..

If my intent will serve the greater welfare,

lend to me your expertise,

to turn this iron to air!

My entire body began to tingle with an empowering force that was distinctly feminine: soft, graceful and intuitive. I rested my hand on one of the strongest materials known to man, and willed the Fire vial to me. I had expected to feel crystal making contact with my palm, but what was drawn into my possession was velvet. I quickly withdrew my acquisition into the light of the Star vial.

Upon opening the red case I beheld the other half of the treasure I had been seeking—a vial, like that of the Star, that emitted a red light from a scarlet substance. I returned the Star to its usual resting-place in order to run my fingers over the glowing red treasure.

I am watching you, Mrs Devere.

I was startled by a malign whisper that registered in both my mind and my ears. The source was inside the room. It was only then that I realised the bird had ceased its protest. The temperature in the room had dropped. I swung around to confront the most horrific apparition I had ever encountered and could not prevent a squeal from escaping my lips.

For the most part the entity was composed of vapour. This seemed to be gaining entry to the room through the almost non-existent gaps around the closed windows. A pale, drawn face had taken form amid the vaporous presence: red eyes with yellow pupils that appeared all the more sinister in the red glow of the Fire vial lying in the open case in my hands.

I’d think twice before challenging me, the devilish entity advised me. I’ve been wielding these powers a lot longer than you have.

That’s when I recognised the phantasm. ‘Molier,’ I uttered, astonished, as I backed toward the door.

The entity smiled and a red substance dripped from the sides of its mouth. How can you possibly hope to outsmart a god?

I wasn’t about to debate the issue, for it was painfully clear that I had no idea of what Molier was capable of.

Upon my speedy return through the door, I collided with my husband and we both collapsed over a third party and onto the floor.

As I scrambled to my feet in a panic, my husband grabbed my wrist to reassure me.

‘It’s all right. I have already relieved him of consciousness.’ Devere believed my haste stemmed from fear of the swordsman on whom we’d fallen.

‘We have another concern.’ I looked back to Molier’s office to see the vapour spilling into the hallway from the keyhole and underneath the door.

‘What is it?’ Devere, spotting the phenomenon and sensing its ominous nature, got to his feet and we began to run down the corridor.

‘This is pointless.’ I abruptly halted and turned to confront the massing entity. ‘We can’t possibly outrun it.’