Evelyn Poole listened for the sound of her maid closing the door. She regarded herself in her dressing table mirror. She needed rest, her face was beginning to show the strain of the spell faltering. Mrs. Poole left the spell lapse and examined the ruined half her face. A scar clawed its way from brow to chin, over her eye and mouth, an angry track of four parallel welts.
It was the mark of a cat.
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Vanessa found herself at the base of the stairway in Mrs. Poole's house. She noticed Mr. Khoury sitting next to a potted palm studying her. He bowed his head slightly and said, "Miss Ives."
"Might you be able to tell me why I'm in Mrs. Poole's house."
"It gets more complicated than that. Firstly, ask yourself how you know this is Evelyn Poole's home."
"I haven't any clue I how know," replied Vanessa.
"You know because you are not in her house; you are in Mrs. Poole's dream."
"And yourself, Mr. Khoury. Are you in her dream, as well?"
"No, I am in your dream — or awareness, if you will. As I said, it is complicated."
"Why are you in my "dream" if I may ask?"
"I'm here because you have an affinity for the men of my family."
Vanessa asked, "What do you mean?" She found Mr. Khoury gone.
"To whom are you speaking, Miss Ives? How rude of you to call upon me unannounced — and to enter my home of your own volition." Mrs. Poole spoke from the top of the stairs. "Aren't you afraid to be here. You should be. Are you here to "beard the lion in its den?"
"That is an unfortunate turn of phrase." Vanessa mounted the staircase and drew herself to stand with Mrs. Poole. "Sekhmet is gone. She has no interest in you, or your plans. Why should the corrector of Ma'at be concerned with someone — something — like you?"
Vanessa began rising off the floor and floating above the staircase. She built up velocity and felt herself slammed against the floor at the base of the stairs. She gasped at the surprise and the pain of it.
"Ah, poor Miss Ives," mocked Mrs. Poole. "As pretty an angel, a dark angel. It seems that like other "dark angels" you're destined to fall. Are you acquainted with any dark angels, Miss Ives?'
Vanessa felt her internal organs constricting, as if innumerable tiny threads were being drawn about them. She passed through the pain and floated above the scene, She saw herself lying at the base of the stairs and Evelyn Poole with her foot pressed on her chest. A burst of light exploded out Vanessa knocking Mrs. Poole back to lie prone on the stairs.
Stairs. So may stairs.
Vanessa was on a suspended staircase, there were a myriad of staircases. They intersected at all angles, some spiraled, some curved, some were painfully straight. Distances blurred and doubled back on themselves. The roof? The Sky? She looked up at black and white tiled floor, or was it a chessboard. Clouds drifted by, she looked down, and could only see fog. As she ascended the stairway she had the sensation of constantly falling. Vanessa climbed on towards the cloud shrouded chessboard.
Below she heard pounding footfalls and Mrs. Poole gasping, "We will meet in a domain I know well."
At the top of the stairway, Vanessa stepped into a void — and found herself in a round chamber that was walled completely in windows. Windows that revealed anything that dwelt her dreams. She wondered if the windows were specific to the dreams, perhaps fears? of whomever gazed into them.
"Miss Ives," Evelyn Poole spoke to her from one of the windows. She tried to enter into the room but could not. She pressed her hands against the window."
"I thought you said we'd meet in your domain?" Vanessa mocked. "Don't frown Madame Kali. It will put lines in your face — and we both know how much you treasure your beauty. Did you know that in ancient Egypt, women considered that the ideal of beauty was that of a cat. Did Dr. Lyle mention that to you? Their make not only protected their eyes from glare but the kohl outline gave a them a mysterious look. The look of a cat."
Mrs. Poole tumbled onto the floor of the chamber and quickly rose to confront Vanessa.
"This is still not your domain, Mrs. Poole, if that is your name. Just how old are you, and what were you originally called."
"That's not important, Miss Ives."
"How old are you. Just how far back can you remember."
"I can remember much. I have seen empires rise and fall, always filled with the like of silly, preening, vainglorious men like Sir Malcolm. Men of empire are quite laughable."
"Mrs. Poole, do you remember Seti I who ordered carved an assertion of his divine origin at Speos Artemidos. The inscription acclaimed that Seti was the egg of Ra, whom Pakhet has given birth to, whom the One Great in Magic has made come into being . . ."
Evelyn Poole interrupted, "Wrong. It was Hatshepsut who ordered that carved to announce her divine origin. Seti was a preening general, nothing more."
Vanessa noticed a desert landscape in one of the windows. It was a wadi, a boundary of desert and the last vestige of water. The sky was violet with a lacework of stars. Mr. Khoury was leading a caracal on a leash. The cat wore a golden solar disk between her elegantly plumed ears.
"Pakhet, night huntress with sharp eye and claw," Mr. Khoury spoke. "Goddess of the Mouth of the Wadi." He bent down an released her lead. The caracal leapt through the window in a rush of wind and rain."
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The rain traced a delta down the window panes. Sembene searched through his assortment of powders and herbs. He knew that when Miss Ives returned - if she returned - she would need to drink a certain potion. He'd never made this mixture before, but Sembene knew the ingredients and their measures. It was old knowledge that had been passed through generations.
He heard movement near the doorway. He knew it was Sir Malcolm. Sembene called, "Come in, Malcolm. I'm making a tisane for Miss Ives. Have you looked in on her. I have a feeling she may be waking soon."
"Sembene, I know full well what you are preparing is in no way a tisane."
"It can be compared to concoctions made by many old country mothers made across Britain."
"Are you alluding to witchcraft, Sembene."
"I allude to healing. Miss Ives has traveled far and will need this to adjust to being back here. Do you not trust me, Malcolm."
"You know the answer to that. Your gift is to see the truth."
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The rain laden wind knocked Vanessa to the floor. She looked up to see the vaulting, multi paned roof, like a conservatory. Were she and Evelyn Poole the wretched blooms that blighted this greenhouse. Looking through the glass roof, Vanessa couldn't discern the time of day. The sun and the moon raced in quick succession across the sky.
Mrs. Poole's mouth was moving in an inaudible spell, her hands wove patterns in the air. It did her no good. The caracal paced around her and launched herself through the magical boundary. One paw clawed its way down Mrs. Poole's face. Vanessa heard a shrill scream shattering the the glass dome as the glittering fragments rained down like tiny hail stones.
Pakhet was now a woman. A uraeus and sun disk crowned her intricate braids and her skin was dark against her elaborately pleated, brilliantly white dress. She smiled at Vanessa and disappeared into a luminous ball of light that rose into the sky.
She awoke disoriented, feral; Vanessa scrambled up to grasp desperately at the headboard of the bed. Her guttural mutterings alerted Sembene to grasp her head and force his potion into her mouth. He held her as still as possible for several moments, insuring that Vanessa swallowed the mixture.
Sir Malcolm, who'd been napping sitting in a chair, was startled awake; his refined, handsome face not quite registering comprehension at what had transpired. He inquired, "Vanessa?"
"Sembene , you are almost as formidable as my nanny was," Vanessa sputtered. "That was absolutely wretched. What was that thing you forced me to drink?"
"A tisane, to help you."
"That was no tisane, Sempene," she retorted. "That was more like some sort of witches' brew."
"I'd mentioned that to him," Sir Malcolm commented.
Sembene stated, "It has worked well, and Miss Ives is returned to us. That is the important thing."
Vanessa sat up and pulled kneess up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Do you think I might have some l'essence de boeuf?"
"Sembene, see that Miss Ives gets some beef tea," Sir Malcolm replied.
"Beef tea, sometimes you can be so prosaic," Vanessa said. She regarded sunlight warming the counterpane, and thought to herself how delicious it was to luxuriate in the sunlight like a cat. Curious that she should think of that.
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The small black cat rubbed against Ferdinand Lyle's ankles, making sure to thoroughly mark him as belonging to her. She marked him using the scent glands on the sides of her head, her paws, and her tail. Dr. Lyle picked up the little animal and gently stroked her above her eyes, just where the scarab would be on a statue of the goddess Ba'ast. His own cat, named Baast, purred happily an clasped his arm with both her front paws. She carefully kept her claws sheathed.
He smiled and said, "You are my very own special dear. You are such a good cat and because you are my darling Baast, I've had Cook fillet and chop up a lovely fish for you and also pour you a dish of fresh cream. Would you like that?"
Baast meowed her approval.
Dr. Lyle let her jump down and run toward her meal. She nibbled her way through her fish and delicately lapped up the cream.
Later, as she sat on a broad window sill cleaning her whiskers she gazed at the setting sun. The blazing orb was reflected in her gold-green eyes.
Yes, she would watch over Ma'at, because Baast, too, was the Eye of Ra.
