Gene of Isis

Molier gave a cry ahead of raising his hood and burying his hands in his sleeves.

‘I am so sorry.’ Devere realised his mistake and enclosed the curtains around him to look outside. ‘I can’t see her,’ he admitted, frustrated, as he emerged from the far side of the fabric. ‘She is gone, and I have no idea where!’

‘I know where she is heading next,’ Molier announced from beneath his hood, and our hopes were raised. ‘Rome,’ he informed us. ‘And as coincidence would have it, I myself, and other officials from this library, are to embark on a journey to Rome on the morrow…your party is very welcome to join us.’

Clearly, Devere was disposed to accept, but I, however, was not.

‘We shall get back to you on that count, Mr Molier,’ I said quickly. ‘We have much to consider before laying any firm plans, you understand?’

‘Of course,’ he said.

‘I’ll send word before evening if it is possible for us to leave tomorrow.’ I took my brother’s arm and when we had departed the library I was relieved.

‘You have some very creepy associates, Mr Devere,’ I commented in an aside to him.

‘I should not have waited to speak with her.’ Devere was cursing himself. ‘God knows what she thinks of me now, if she has connected me with that thing!’

‘Thing?’ I repeated. ‘That’s a rather cutting description for anyone. Mr Molier wasn’t quite that bad.’

‘There’s something definitely not right about that man.’ Devere sounded deadly sure about that. ‘Let us hope that we never have to find out what that defect is.’

‘Whoa.’ I put Ashlee’s journal aside. The story was starting to spin me out, or perhaps it was lack of food that was making me lightheaded. ‘This is too much.’ I slid off the bed to put the kettle on. I badly needed a cup of tea. Does Albray really expect me to believe that my new employer is a vampire and that Ashlee Granville could walk through walls! ’Give me a break!’ I prepared my cuppa feeling frustrated and annoyed—but why? Was it because I didn’t believe Albray could be so gullible as to swear to the truth of the story I was reading? No, that wasn’t what had me all flustered.

Keeping your company, each day brings its own rewards.

It was both enchanting and perplexing reading a tale that Albray was a character in. I so envied Ashlee’s relationship with him—if they really were as close as the journal boasted. I wanted him as a confidant and a friend too, not just as a teacher and protector. Why was it that Albray would let his guard down with Ashlee and not me? Was it because I was so wanting in psychic ability? A magical flair certainly seemed to be the main female attribute that Albray found alluring—it figured that it was the one attribute I didn’t have.

I had to pull myself up at this point and remind myself that Albray was a phantasm, or a hallucination, or something to that effect. Whatever he was, it was certainly not a healthy relationship to be obsessing about.

The storm was still giving my tent a good battering, and rather than go straight back to my reading, I thought to check my email. Andre had sent me a note to ask how I was faring in the storm and if I needed anything. There was also an email from C & M constructions. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Christian Molier’s name on the bottom.

Surely this is not the same man that killed Albray, or the same man Ashlee fled Paris to escape? I calmed myself with my realistic reasoning. ‘Unless Albray means Molier is a reincarnation of the man that murdered him, but they have the same name.’ Perhaps this Molier was a descendant?

In the email Christian Molier apologised for not being at Mt Serabit to welcome me to the team, explaining that he had a very high melatonin output, and strong sunlight affected his mental capacity.

Indeed, melatonin came from the Greek words melos, meaning black, and tosis, meaning labour, and thus people with this condition were referred to as ‘night operatives’—which could have been where Albray got his vampire notion from.

Mr Molier also informed me that he knew where to obtain some of the white powder that was found in the Hathor Temple last century, and that a barrel would be delivered within days.

This was good—I could test my theory. Still, I had the distinct impression that this was the last thing Albray wanted.

As I was online, I thought I might surf the net and investigate another part of Ashlee’s tale that had me intrigued—the Mary Magdalene connection.

Albray had said that Ashlee was a descendant of the Black Madonna, which, if proven true, would mean I was as well! Devere had also hinted at some godlike gene that was passed down through this Grail bloodline via the female descendants.

I started my research with the god-gene and discovered that recently it had been discovered that the prominent gene of succession is carried within the blood of the mother, known as ‘mitochondrial DNA’. I also found an article online which talked about the Gene of Isis and the Grail bloodline, which sounded like a pile of chivalric propaganda, but I wanted to see what it had to say.

The writer spoke of a bloodline that extended back through time to the very dawn of civilisation. It spoke of select men being fed the ambrosia of the gods in order to heighten their mental, emotional and physical ability.

Interestingly enough, Gra-al, an old Mesopotamian term, was translated as the ‘nectar of supreme excellence’. The Celtic word Graal meant ‘cup of the stone’.

The article went on to say that an ancient Royal Scottish Order of knights were known as the Order of Sangreal, and they were closely allied to the European Order of the Realm of Sion. The knights of both orders were adherents of the Sangreal, which defined the true Blood Royal of Judah: the bloodline of the Holy Grail.

Which means that Albray is most probably connected to the same brotherhood that Earnest Devere later joined. ’Even wonderfully clever Ashlee hasn’t worked that one out yet,’ I smugly mumbled to myself.

What is that you’re doing?

Albray startled the life out of me. He was leaning over my shoulder and staring at my computer screen in