Chapter 5- Jewelry and Poetry
Location- Greenshire Hall, Wales, England
"How did you know she's the Chosen One?" Sark had thought he was the only one who had known.
"Come now, Mr. Sark, it's written all over her face," Sloane smiled. "That, and you seem to have formed a personal attachment to her, which is appropriate with you being the only living direct descendant of Rembaldi,"
"You know something," Sark's eyes grew bigger. "You know what's on the chip?"
Sloane shook his head, "No, but let's find out,"
They both stood over Sark's computer, waiting for the files to load. Finally, a word document popped onto the screen. It read:
There is one last artifact, an amulet, which only my Chosen One can find. This is the one that will rejuvenate Ildire, my greatest work. Until the amulet is found, my Chosen shall never know her self what is important. In a column tall between the fingers' diamond, the bells will ring when the amulet is found. This is the church; this is the steeple, the bell ringer used to scare all the people.
Having come in contact with blood of my blood, the woman shall make her name known. Drenched in darkness, and soaked in red pain, she will rise in stature, becoming more and more equal to her own self. She shall prosper yet will never grow; see but never live. This woman, born on an unlucky day in the last moon, shall bring about the Second Coming. Not in the form of another, but by her own actions and the actions of Her Chosen One.
And thus ends the writings of Milo Rembaldi, 1557.
"The blood of his blood can only be you, Mr. Sark," Sloane said, watching for the young man's reaction.
"This is so unclear, unlike the others where the meaning was evident," Sark shook his head.
"Actually try to figure it out. Use information you already know to find out what you don't" Sloane coaxed, as if teaching him.
"The young woman can only be Lynx now," Sark decided. " 'Drenched in darkness' has to be her amnesia. 'Soaked in red pain' that could be the second night she was here when she-"
"She painted Irina's cellar red, or so I heard," Sloane smiled. "You have to tell her about her destiny,"
"Me? Why?" Sark asked.
"Because, I feel she has a bit of a soft spot where you're concerned," Sloane turned back to Sark's bookcases.
Sark heaved a sigh, "Alright, but she probably won't listen to me," He walked over to his painting, knocked, then walked down the passage.
"On the contrary, I think she will," Sloane smiled as he watched Sark's back disappear.
* * *
"Marcia, I need you to take a memo," Sydney called to her assistant.
"Yes, Ma'am," The intern hustled over from where she'd been talking with Weiss. "What do you want it to read?"
"Tell Director Dixon that I will be taking a short vacation. Tell him I haven't been feeling well, and have taken time off to help plan my wedding," Sydney dictated.
Marcia looked up from her note taking, "Can you do that?"
Sydney glanced quickly at her and smiled, "I don't think he'll miss me. He has Michael and Weiss and all the others to go save the country,"
"But, Miss Bristow," called Marcia, "I still have my internship!"
"Oh, well, Weiss could use an assistant. I'll have you transferred to him," Sydney gathered her coat and bag. "See you, Marcia," she called as she walked out of the office.
"Hey! Marcia!" Vaughn ran up. "Where's Sydney?"
"Agent Bristow just left, Agent Vaughn," Marcia told him. "She's taking a leave of absence,"
Vaughn sighed, "Ah, well, maybe it's all for the best,"
Marcia was confused, "What's for the best?"
"Nothing, go file something Marcia," Vaughn told her. She walked off in a huff just as Weiss walked up.
"What'd you do to the intern?" he asked.
Vaughn sighed, "Nothing,"
Weiss sensed something, "Hey, what's wrong?"
"I said nothing," Vaughn made to leave.
"Oh, come on. I'm your best friend. You can tell me," Weiss coaxed.
Vaughn looked around, "Alright. You remember that investigation I did back in July?"
"Yeah, Lifetime, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, well, it's back on. I got a hold of the documents from Sydney's interrogation of what happened in Cancun. What really interested me were the two operatives. She said they seemed to be only in their late teens and were very skilled in combat and strategy. Some of their moves were Kav Maga, and others were Kung Fu. They also threw their weapons instead of setting them on the floor."
"Sounds like they received extensive training," Weiss commented.
"That's what's strange. Their moves were CIA moves. I myself used the gun toss the girl used not to long ago in Japan," Vaughn looked weary. "I think they were some of the children from Project Lifetime,"
"What a minute, how can you be sure?" Weiss did not believe it. "If they were, they'd only be about sixteen, not twenty. And how do you know that they just know those moves? That gun throw could have just been reflexes."
"True, but I still think that they're from the project," Vaughn insisted. "It makes more sense then just coincidence,"
"Whatever, say," Weiss glanced around then smiled, "Did I just hear Sydney reassigned the new intern to me?"
Vaughn smiled and shook his head. Weiss always knew how to break the ice, "Yeah, she did,"
"Really?" Weiss raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Please, thank her for me,"
* * *
Sark stepped gingerly out of the wardrobe, careful not to muss his suit on the dusty doors. Lynx sat in her chair by the window, reading another article from her electronic encyclopedia. Sark approached her quietly and remained motionless behind her chair.
"What is it, Master?" Lynx asked.
"Lynx, I need to tell you something," Sark began. "It may seem to be a little, well, hard to hear, but if you're open-minded, I'm sure,"
"I already know, Master," Lynx said, staring out the window. "I wired your office and I heard everything. So, you think I'm this Chosen One? Is that the reason you kept me around? Is that the only reason?"
"Lynx, I-"
"Master, it's my turn to talk," Lynx stood up and turned around. "Why didn't you tell me before? I think I ought to have known this! Were you just using me? Did you just say you could get my memory back so you'd have the key to Rembaldi?" Lynx's voice continued to rise. "I'm not some robot you can use and control! Master, just tell me now if you were using me. If you don't, I'll leave your service forever,"
Sark stepped back. This was not the reaction he expected. He regained his composer before saying, "I would have made you an associate even if you weren't Rembaldi's Chosen. You're a very skilled individual that anyone in this world would love to have. I was never using you, just having you work hard. Besides, you should be honored to be Rembaldi's Chosen. Two other women have been seen as her, but you're it,"
"Two others? Who are they?"
"One was the agent you met in Cancun, Agent Sydney Bristow. The other is Irina Derevko," Sark told her.
Lynx sat down in her chair and hugged her legs to her chest, "I don't know what to do. I know I have a purpose now, to find the amulet and complete Ildire, but I don't know how or why. I feel so lost,"
Sark started to step forward, but caught himself, "The best thing to do would be to figure out Rembaldi's riddle. Do that, and we'll talk about a mission tomorrow morning,"
Just then, there was a harsh rap at the door. One of the old butlers entered the room, "Pardon me, Mistress Lynx, but there's a young man here who wouldn't go away unless he saw you,"
Carson bust in from behind the butler, "Lynx! Here you are! What on earth did you leave Cancun for?"
"Unlike you, Lynx knows how to act with decorum. She immediately returned here after completing her mission," Sark said crisply.
"Yeah, about that," Carson smiled wily, "Lynx, I need my underwear back. And the chip, I'll need that to deliver to Sloane,"
"He's here, and he's already seen the contents of the chip," Sark said, walking over to Lynx's bed. He grabbed Carson's pair of boxers and threw them at the man. "You have what you came for, now get out,"
"Not so fast, I didn't get everything I came for," Carson strode across the room and gave Lynx a kiss full on the lips. "I also came for her,"
Sark's eyes darkened. "Get out," he growled.
"Master, I need to speak with him," Lynx said, standing up again and staring at the ground. "Can you please leave?"
Sark looked uncertain, but headed for the door anyway. She's pretty levelheaded. I'm sure she knows what she's doing. "Alright, I'll leave," He still maintained his stoic glare as he closed the door.
"Carson, what are you," Lynx began, but was cut off by Carson's lips locking with hers. After a while, he backed up and gave her a hard look.
"You never even asked," Carson said, walking over to Lynx's bed. He sat down and began to remove his shoes, "I revealed something to you even Derevko didn't know, and you just go ahead and shut me up by sleeping with me,"
Lynx sighed heavily, "It's not like that. I had a duty to my Master to get the chip by any means necessary. Sleeping with you was just part of the deal,"
Carson leaned back, "So, I was just being used by you. Classic, just the way you say Sark used you to be the Chosen One,"
"It's not like that," Lynx sat down next to him.
"Then what is it like?" Carson grabbed her by the shoulders. "For two straight months I'd been consumed by you. I needed to talk, to see you. What happened may have been nothing to you, but it sure meant something to me. I just want you, that's all,"
Lynx was floored. Sure, she'd expected him to be a little P.O.ed about the whole thing, but she'd never expected him to confess something like this. After sitting for a while in silence, she sighed heavily. "I don't know what to say, except I really need you right now. Tonight has been quite a shocker," Lynx leaned her head on Carson's shoulder.
"Hey, I'm here," Carson seemed to have calmed down. He began stroking her face, "Tell me,"
"Later. Right now, I don't need to talk. I just need you,"
* * *
"Mr. Sark, have you figured out the riddle yet?" Sloane asked as the tall blond yawned his way into the manor's kitchen.
Sark nodded, "Took all night. When I figured it out, I felt stupid that I didn't know sooner," He sat down at his kitchen island and started reading The Times.
Sloane looked at him, "And? What is it?"
"I first thought of a church or cathedral. Well, that narrowed it down to the millions. Then, I looked around my library for nearly half the night for a clue as to what the second part of the riddle could be. In a fit of rage, I threw a large volume to the floor, and succeeded in crushing my foot. But, when I looked down at the title of the book, it was all clear," Sark poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the counter.
"And?"
"Notre Dame. The bell ringer, what's-his-name, was a hunchback that the people feared and ridiculed," Sark said. "I've already arranged for Lynx and myself to go there later today," He got up and made for the stairs to fetch the girl.
"You may not want to disturb her now," Sloane said. "She's still with Carson,"
"Now, what would they still be talking about-" Sark paled even more, if that was possible. "You don't think?"
"How else do you think she got his boxers off him? Don't kill the boy, Sark!" Sloane called as the Englishman dashed quickly up the stairs.
* * *
Once again, Lynx was the first to wake up. Only this time, she wasn't about to move. The room was very cold, but Carson wasn't, so she snuggled up closer to his chest. "Hmm," He awoke but kept his eyes closed. "You leaving again?" He asked sleepily.
"Not this time," Lynx slipped out from under his arm and sat up. Then, she leaned over and pounced on him.
"Oh, God I surrender!" Carson laughed as he rolled over and pinned her.
Lynx smiled, "Now, what's this about you not remembering anything?"
Carson's face fell a bit, "I went to Derevko about six months ago. Except for the month before that, I can't remember anything except my name, Carson Holloway. Derevko found me wandering the streets of Rome where I'd woken up and been living as a pickpocket. She found it interesting when I was able to take her necklace, earrings, and half the contents of her purse before she caught me. Even after the chase she'd put me through and meeting Masenkov and Erickson, she still had me kill off a few federal agents just to see if I was trustworthy,"
"So, you're like me? Can't remember anything myself until about five months ago. I was luckier than you in finding work. I woke up in Ireland. I spent nearly a month working as entertainment in a pub,"
"Entertainment? You were a stripper?" Carson smiled then gave her a wily look, "Does Sark know about this?"
"No, and I wasn't a stripper," Lynx smiled. "I was a headliner. Sang drinking songs mostly. Occasionally a pop song, but the guys didn't like that,"
"And so you ended up here?" Carson leaned down and began kissing her neck. "Kitten, I lov-"
Just then the door to Lynx's room burst open. Sark's eyes were fiery, and there was an air about him that made Lynx suddenly scared of him. He strode over to the bed and threw Carson off of Lynx. "What in God's name are doing, touching her?" he growled through clenched teeth.
"Master!" Lynx sat up, covering herself with the bed sheet.
"Stay out of this, Lynx!" Sark yelled at her. He never had yelled at her before. "You, I ought to have you killed for this!"
"Hey, sir, what's the deal?" Carson held out his hands then smiled. "Jealous?" Carson got a fist in his mouth for the last remark.
Lynx reached into a drawer in her bedside table and pulled out a handgun. "Don't you touch him," Lynx growled at Sark, surprised by her on gull. "Leave him be!"
Sark stared at her with the deer-in-the-headlights look. He glanced at Carson then backed up. Carson stared at her gratefully and wiped a bit of blood that came out of his mouth.
"Now I'm going to take a shower, and I want the two of you to get along," Lynx said, backing up towards the adjoining bathroom door by the wardrobe, taking the bed sheet with her. "Or else!" She warned as she disappeared through the door. A few seconds later, the slight rush of running water sounded.
"You like her, or something?' Carson said outright.
Sark turned to him, "I beg your pardon,"
"Quit being English for just a second and just be a guy," Carson said, searching for his pants (he'd slept in his boxers). "Do you like her or not?" He found them rolled in a ball under the bed.
"That's none of your business," Sark said stiffly.
"Oh, I get it. Even after almost three months, and you still haven't slept with her. Man, that's pathetic, even for you," Carson laughed as he buttoned his pants.
"What about you?" Sark countered. "Is she just your, as you Americans call it, flavor of the week?"
"Hell no. Lynx means more to me than anything. Even my duties to Derevko," Carson sighed and smiled. "She's wonderful,"
Sark grabbed him harshly by the arm, "You will never take her again, you understand? I forbid it."
"You can't order my feelings for your pet kitten to change," Carson glared right back at him.
Sark raised his eyebrows, "Watch me,"
* * *
"Where are we going?" Lynx asked Sark stiffly as she sat down in her seat on the jet.
Sark could tell she was angry with him. Dammit, and she'd just started to warm up to him. Sark swallowed and said, "Notre Dame Cathedral. The last Rembaldi artifact is there,"
"Fascinating," Lynx said nonchalantly as she flipped through a car magazine. "What is it?"
"An amulet, and only you can find it," Sark told her. "You have to cross your fingers like this," Sark showed her how he crossed his two index and middle fingers, forming a small diamond, "and the symbol of Rembaldi should appear where you focus your fingers."
"Great," Lynx sighed.
"Alright, I know you're angry. Tell me why," Sark flinched slightly at the glare he got from her. "You don't fancy him, do you?"
Lynx sighed, "Of course not. It's just I thought you acted like a real jerk and overreacted. What's the big deal?"
"You slept with him, that's a big deal!" Sark stood up and nearly bumped his head on the ceiling. "You slept with a man you had no feelings for. And, what's worse, he, he defiled you,"
"Master, that wasn't the first time I'd been with a man," Lynx said.
"That doesn't matter!" Sark sat back down. "He's ruined you, haven't you noticed?"
"If you're worried about the fact that I'm more emotional now, Carson has nothing to do with it," Lynx said, shifting uncomfortably. She looked up at him, "Why's it matter to you anyway?"
Sark blinked slowly and then gave a furtive glance to the guards. After a quick nod from their employer, they slouched slowly out of the cabin. Then, without warning, he pounced on Lynx, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her with passion.
"Master?" Lynx asked uncertainly as he peppered her neck with quick kisses.
"Ssshh, not now. Talk later," Sark told her before kissing her again. She stopped him by tossing her head to the side. He drew up and stared at her, "What's wrong?"
"Master, please, don't" Lynx begged.
"Why not?" Sark asked. "You slept with Carson, who you have no feelings for, twice. And yet, you beg for mercy from me. Why?"
"Because, I'm afraid," Lynx confessed.
"Of what?" He ran his fingers slowly around the contour of her jaw.
"That I might like you," Lynx looked up at him with sorrowful.
Sark's eyes softened "Don't be afraid. I'll never hurt you." He resumed kissing her, even feeling her stomach and back. Eventually, she seemed to relax. Her hands even came up to explore his chest and stomach.
"Lord and master," she said softly.
Sark smiled slightly, "Ah, that's lovely,"
* * *
"Why would I want an ice sculpture of a dragon? I'm not Chinese!" Sydney said into her cell phone to the decorator as she sat down at the small table of the wedding store. She and Vaughn were there to sample custom cake frosting.
"I like dragons," Vaughn commented from where he stood looking through a bridesmaids dress catalog, the only magazine in the store.
Sydney sighed, "Okay, one dragon and one swan ice sculpture," she hung up. "We could put the dragon by the sushi, I guess,"
"Syd," Vaughn walked over to her, sat down and stared at her intently. "Relax. You're going to break out in acne, or get a cold, or catch the flu if you keep being stressed out,"
The store door opened and Jack Bristow walked through the door. "Hey, Dad," Sydney got up and embraced her father.
"Syd, what's your father doing here?" Vaughn asked.
"I asked him to come," Sydney turned around. "Is that all right?"
Vaughn shrugged, "Sure, I was just wondering,"
"Good to see you, Michael," Jack reached out and shook Vaughn's hand.
"Okay, is everybody here?" Angelo Fredrik, Sydney's wedding planner came out of the back. "Oh, today we have the groom and the father of the bride here together! Wonderful! But, Sydney, I thought we would try on the dress before we sampled the frosting,"
"Oh, me and Jack can go and find something to talk about," Michael said, standing up.
"A groom who knows it's bad luck to see too much of the bride's dress before the wedding? Ms. Bristow, what a catch! You two go, and Sydney will try on the dress,"
Jack and Vaughn walked to the far end of the shop; near the table settings. "Jack, I need your input on something," Vaughn said.
"Sure, what is it?"
"I need to know about two certain persons involved with Project Lifetime," Vaughn said.
Jack's eyes darkened, "Agent Vaughn, I thought I said I didn't want to talk about this anymore,"
"No, you said not to ask you about it at work," Vaughn pointed out. "I just need to know if there was ever a black haired little boy and a brown haired girl enrolled in the project,"
"Vaughn, there were fifty children in that program, how should I remember just two?" Jack sighed.
Vaughn cast his eyes down at the floor and stared for a bit. Then, he looked up and asked, "Can you just get me a file of the children's profiles?"
"Why do you still keep at this?"
"Because it bothers Sydney, and I don't want her to be bothered," Vaughn said.
Jack considered, "All right. I'll get you the files from when they were first enrolled. I can't get their most recent ones, however."
Vaughn smiled, "The original files would be great,"
"I'll get them to you as soon as possible," Jack said just as his pager beeped. Vaughn's did too, and faraway in the back of the store they heard Sydney's go off as well. Vaughn looked at the number displayed: it was Dixon's. Something was going down at the Agency.
"We got to go," Jack said with authority. "It must be serious if they're calling in Sydney even if she's on leave,"
Twenty minutes later, all three of them walked into the briefing room of the agency. As they took their respective seats, Dixon started the meeting. "We have information from one of our undercover informants that Sark and Sloane have seen the Rembaldi manuscripts, and are going after the last piece which holds the secret to Ildire,"
"What is this last piece?" Sydney asked.
"We don't know, and neither did the informant," Dixon said. "All he did know was that it was somewhere in Europe, and that the only one who can find it is Rembaldi's Chosen One."
"Well, that settles it," Vaughn said. "If Sydney's the only one who can find it, then we don't have anything to worry about,"
"That's the key, Agent Vaughn," Dixon said. "Sydney is not the Chosen One,"
"What?" Sydney asked, shocked.
"Sorry Agent Bristow, but according to the informant, this is Rembaldi's Chosen," Marshall brought up a picture on the big screen of the meeting room. It was a tall, sun glassed young woman. "The informant faxed us this picture of her this morning,"
"That's the girl who I met in Mexico!" Sydney exclaimed. "She works for Sark with the other man,"
"Yes, we know, but the problem is that's all we know about her," Dixon said. "She has not records anywhere, personal or federal. In fact, the only other thing we know about her is that her nickname's Kitty Kat,"
"So we have nothing," Vaughn said. "Great. So, do we know where in Europe the last piece is?"
"Yes, the last piece was mentioned in a riddle in the manuscript," Dixon said. "We had Marshall decipher it when we first apprehended it. Marshall?"
"Now, Rembaldi was a very tricky guy. But, this last riddle was a fairly easy one to figure out. Its simplicity is what makes it hard," Marshall said, bringing a word document onto the large viewing screen. "The first part is obviously about a church. The second part refers to Quase Modo, the legendary bell ringer of Notre Dame,"
"So they're going to Paris," Sydney nodded, "Then I am too,"
Dixon peered forward, "Agent Bristow, are you sure?"
Sydney looked at him with conviction, "I've never been more sure of anything,"
* * *
"So, where in this cathedral is this supposed to be?" Lynx asked.
"Don't know, but it has to be in a logical place," Sark told her. They were both all business now that they were back to work, the plane ride over almost forgotten.
"Would it possibly be in the molding or the ceiling?" Lynx crossed her fingers the way Sark had shown her and peered through them.
Sark shook his head, "Rembaldi's artifacts are always accessible. It's just a matter of finding them," They searched for nearly an hour. In twenty minutes, the cathedral would be closed for tourists, and Lynx and Sark would have to come back tomorrow. "We tried, kitten, but we'll just finish up tomorrow," he told her as they walked out.
"Yeah," Lynx said, downhearted. She looked up at a great statue of the Virgin Mary as they walked out. Something caught her eye, and she stopped.
"Lynx, what is it?" Sark asked.
"Master, do any other statues of Mary in the world have her wearing a necklace?" Lynx asked, walking up to the statue, crossing and focusing her fingers.
"No,"
Lynx smiled. She slowly and gingerly touched the jeweled necklace of the Virgin, and brushed away the thin layer of dust that had settled on the jewel and made it look like a part of the stone. As Lynx cleared the dust, a faint inscription appeared: the symbol of Rembaldi. Lynx reached around the statues head as Sark blocked her from the guards' view. She lifted the necklace off, and the rest of the dust fell to the floor. The chain was thin and pure gold. The amulet was a carved jade stone and was almost no bigger than a human eyeball. "I found it!" She said joyfully.
"Good eyes," Sark commented. "Now, put it in your pocket so we can get out of here,"
* * *
Lynx lay on her hotel suite bed. She held the amulet and watched it slowly turn as it reflected the room's light. "What's it supposed to do?" she asked as Sark came in, drinking wine straight from Normandy.
"Don't know except it activates Ildire," Sark said, staring out at the Parisian skyline.
Lynx rolled onto her back, "And what's Ildire?"
Sark shrugged slightly, "I don't know. No one really does except it's Rembaldi's greatest work. It could be a fatal weapon, some sort of machine, or simply a music box. But, now that we have the amulet, we'll all know soon enough. I talked to Sloane, and he's having Ildire moved to Greenshire. Just two more days,"
"It's exciting, I suppose," Lynx said, staring at the ceiling.
"Suppose? What do you mean, suppose?" Sark then considered, "Oh, well, you haven't dedicated most of your life to Rembaldi like Derevko and Sloane,"
"What about you?"
"Derevko found me when I was eight. My parents had died in a car crash and I ran away from the foster home they put me I in. At that point she was right in the middle of her research, and I got swept up in all of the excitement," Sark walked over to her, swirling his wine glass. "Lynx, are you sure you can't remember anything? Not even the faintest memory?"
"I have dreams sometimes," Lynx finally admitted. "They're never very happy. Usually they're me getting taken away or my family dying. And I can never see their faces. It's as if they're being hidden from me,"
"That's too bad. It would have been nice if you even knew where you came from," Sark commented.
"I just want to know who took away my memories and for what purpose," Lynx said. "And where I learned what I know."
"Memory loss can be traumatic," Sark said, sitting down.
Lynx shook her head, "No, my memories weren't lost. They were taken from me, and I want to know why," Lynx said harshly.
Sark set his glass down on the floor, and leaned over to kiss Lynx's face. Before long, they were both kissing and Lynx forgot that he was her Master.
"Lynx," Sark said, moving a lock of hair off of her face, "I swear to you, I will find out what happened to you, no matter what,"
AUTHOR'S NOTE- I'm so happy with myself! That and I got my hair cut and highlighted today, so I'm pretty happy about that too.
Character Bio- Carson
Name: Holloway, Carson
Call Sign: Playboy
Birthday: Unknown
Age: Unknown but assumed to be twenty
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 175 lb.
Eye: Blue
Hair: Black and short
Blood Type: O-
Characteristics: berserker blood, tattoo of snake on right ankle, single earring on left lobe
Parents: Unknown
Special Skills: Unknown
Education: Unknown
Personal Connections: Sark; Derevko, Irina; Sloane, Arven; Lynx; Masenkov, Dmitri; Masenkov-Erickson, Sheila
Personality: suffers from amnesia. Laid back and only serious when it comes to business. Likes to practice martial arts, especially kung fu and karate. Occasionally will assassinate leaders of military if asked, but prefers "commandeering" items to killing. Likes Lynx.
La la la! So tired! U_U . . .ZzzZzz
Love, Tsuri