Gene of Isis

No, he confessed, but I can introduce you to a dead gypsy witch who does.

Chiara was an amazing spirit, full of information about all things mystical. Her price for acceding to my request was that she might ask a return favour of me once I made it to Italy, to which I agreed.

The sleeping spell should be easy enough for you to perform, she told me in her own tongue, mainly Italian. She was dressed as though she’d just come from washing the clothes and she kept wiping her hands on her apron.

‘How about a forget-me-altogether spell?’ I suggested an even better idea.

The jolly round woman laughed and said emphatically, You are a Grail princess! She became deadly serious. This boy…he never forgets you.

I didn’t like the sound of that prophecy, so I avoided seeking any further information on that score. ‘Did Albray tell you about my bloodline?’

There was no need. If Albray answered your request for protection and knowledge, then it must be so.

‘And you are sure this spell will work?’ It seemed so simple.

I know my craft, she assured me in a way that indicated I had not caused offence. Your ancestors are very powerful spirits. You shouldn’t be afraid to summon them to your aid. They will come, you will see.

‘What do you know of my ancestry, Chiara?’

Ah… she waved off the notion of pursuing that topic. Many, many things. But Albray is the historian .. . I just do spells.

I wrote Devere a letter as instructed, and placed a lock of his hair inside, as well as some thread from his clothes and a copy of my incantation. I sealed the envelope. ‘Sweet dreams, Mr Devere.’

Two days head start was the maximum time I could secure without risk of physically harming my subject. Although feeling betrayed, I could not bring myself to hate the man I’d grown so fond of, and I was sorry that his love was not as true as I felt mine was.

I gazed at my sleeping husband and wondered aloud. ‘How can it be that his treachery is not evident in his light-body?’

Because only conflict registers, Albray explained. If Mr Devere feels he has been doing the right thing, then he does not carry any guilt or remorse, and there is no dis-ease within him to cause blockages and shadows.

‘I see.’ It did make sense and it also made me angry. How little I must figure in his heart. His ego must be huge if he could believe he had done me no harm with his lies.

Holding the envelope above his sleeping body, I recited the spell Chiara had helped me develop to suit my intent.

Women of my blood from whence my essence flowed, lend me your charms, to create a deep repose.

This man I wish to sleep, I appeal you, make it so, until twice the moon does come and go.

Let him sleep deeply, dream sweetly, awake safely, and not miss me.

I repeated the spell twice more.

Chiara told you that a forget-me spell will not work. Albray had a chuckle at the addition I had made.

‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained,’ I justified, tucking the envelope under Devere’s pillow.

Fortunately, very few of my things had been unpacked yet. I only had three trunks, but I realised it might as well have been fifty trunks, with no servants to move them for me.

What about your new talent? Albray dismissed my complaints with a reminder.

I crept down the main staircase, my trunks piled one on top of another trailing me silently.

We could steal a carriage, Albray suggested.

‘These people are my friends. I’m not going to steal from them,’ I whispered.

‘Who are you talking to?’

I gasped when I saw a figure at the bottom of the steps. The trunks fell with a thud behind me, but I was quick to regain my focus and prevent them crashing down the stairs. It took a moment for my mind to register the voice and face—to my great relief it was Susan.

‘Susan, you scared me!’

‘Are you leaving, Ashlee?’ She sounded heartbroken, and a little perturbed by my floating luggage. ‘What has happened?’

‘It seems that intimate relations have a strengthening effect on my talents.’ I was frank and Susan was amused and then panicky.

‘Mr Devere hasn’t hurt you, has he? You both seemed so happy at dinner.’

‘No, not like that.’ Dinner suddenly seemed an eternity past. ‘My dear friend…I have to go, and I don’t have time to explain why. Please, just pretend this meeting never took place.’

‘When will I see you again?’ She grabbed hold of my hand to prevent my leaving. ‘Will you write?’

‘Under an alias perhaps. It could be our little secret. Can I trust you?’

‘Of course,’ Susan vowed in a whisper, ‘but why should you need an alias?’

I persuaded her to join me outside the front door and when my baggage caught up, I closed the doors behind