We spent much of the time in my study searching for information regarding the Crimson Thread of Fate spell. Unfortunately, disuse relegated details on the spell to obscurity. I sent a missive to Jones, asking him to join us. I never received a reply, and something told me the two of us were on our own. The sun seemed to take years to set as we searched, and I thanked the divine when the sky finally turned to purple.
We dressed comfortably, seeking function over fashion. Elaine carried enough blades to cut every throat in London without using the same knife twice. I admit, it left me feeling empty-handed, but I only needed my arsenal of spells.
The last vestiges of light had faded when the stairs of the Masonic lodge closed behind us. Torches in the sconces were already lit. Mathers’s doing, I hoped. We followed the long corridor to the spiral stairs, only the sound of our shoes upon the stone breaking the silence.
Take care, Aleister, Vex whispered for the first time in over a day, making me jump.
Bloody hell, you nearly stopped my heart, I thought back. Where have you been?
Away, Vex said, more serious than I expected
Away to where?
Confirming suspicions.
And?
I cannot tell you more now.
I didn’t like that.
He continued. I put contingencies in place, but I do not know their effectiveness. The Book cannot come to the Isles, Aleister. We cannot fail tonight. You cannot fail.
I glanced at Elaine beside me, her face set, and eyes keen. It shocked me to realize that I trusted her. Perhaps more than anyone, save Julian, who I’d been unable to contact for assistance. That she could earn that in such a short amount of time was astonishing, but I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather have with me to face this.
We won’t, I said. And I truly believed it.
The doors of the temple sat open when we reached the bottom of the stairs. A man stood at the altar in full ceremonial robes, his hands upon the stone. He turned as Elaine and I passed through the temple doors and the knot of anxiety in my chest loosened when I recognized Mathers’s face.
“You arrived later than I wished,” he said, his voice tight. A sheen of sweat covered his face. When he saw me looking, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and I hoped the man’s nerve held through the evening. “But there’s no changing that now. Ready?”
“Very. What about you, Mr. Mathers?” Elaine said
“Please, call me Samuel. We seek to thwart a coup together. Two actually. That warrants the use of first names, I think.” A glimpse of the man I saw at the initiation returned in his smile.
“Samuel, then.” I failed miserably at returning the expression. Instead, I glanced at the altar. Everything seemed in place. “Well?”
“Ready as ever, I suppose,” he said with a sigh.
“Walk us through the ceremony,” Elaine said, gesturing toward the altar. “It will make it easier to find Thompson.”
“An excellent idea,” Mathers said, leading us closer to the altar. A large, black, leather-bound book sat in the center and Mathers dragged it toward him. The pages crackled as he opened it and laid out the ceremony for us. Three distinct events made up the rite, starting with casting the circle and consecrating the participants.
“Next,” he explained, “the gathered beseech the gods for guidance and knowledge.”
“Which gods?” Elaine asked.
Mathers shrugged. “Each supplicant chooses their deity or deities for themselves.”
I glanced at the statue of Isis above us, wondering how the mother goddess would feel about that.
“Lastly, the rite ends with a communal celebration where practitioners socialize before closing of the temple. Altogether, it’ll take an hour, maybe an hour and a half if everyone attends.” Mathers shut the book and slid it back into place. “We’ll offer wine and libations during the opening of the temple, making it the best time to look for him. One of the gathered will pass the goblet to everyone in the circle, affording them the perfect opportunity to peer under everyone’s hoods.”
“I’ll take that honor tonight, if you don’t mind,” I said.
Mathers nodded and placed one hand on my shoulder and reached into his robes with the other. “You’ll need to know what Dover Thompson looks like.” He pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me. “That’s a sketch of the man. Rough, perhaps, but enough to identify him.”
I unfolded the paper and studied the drawing. The sketch depicted Dover Thompson as a thin man with high cheekbones and thin lips. His hair fell to his chin, and stubble shadowed his jaw. Beside the image, Mathers had written additional description; Brown hair, dark eyes, pale skin. I passed the drawing to Elaine. “This will work.”
“Since Aleister will present libations, you should cense, my dear. Take this.” Mathers handed the censer to Elaine and took the sketch back, folding and tucking the paper into his robes. “When I call for consecration by smoke, light it and bring it to each person in the circle, anointing them with smoke. If Aleister can’t identify Thompson during his pass, you will provide a second chance.”
“Hopefully we’ll need no more than that,” she said. “Did you prepare robes for us?”
Mathers nodded and produced two black robes from beneath the altar. Elaine and I changed quickly, only just managing to squirrel away our things before hearing footsteps on the stairs.
I placed a hand on Elaine and Mathers’s shoulders. “He’ll make his move tonight, I guarantee it. If he completes his spell, the British Empire will fall.” They nodded, shoulders squared, eyes hard and determined without a trace of their earlier nerves. Good.
